Eliot Prince
“Are you sure?” I ask, my eyes wide. Then I sigh. “God, if the sex is good, and it makes me like you more, or maybe even fall for you, we wouldn’t be able to walk back from that…”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
But I bite my lip. “Wait, there are other things, too. Your dick is the size of a forearm. Will that even fit inside me?”
“Let’s find out. I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone, Eliot.”
I giggle a little.
“What’s funny?”
“Why are you uncut, by the way? It’s rare for an American.”
“Because I’m not American,” he smiles. “Well, I was born here, but my family is Catalan by way of Argentina, and Europeans were never really huge on the whole circumcision thing...”
“Okay, you lost me. Just fuck me, okay?”
I take a quick shower to make sure things are okay, and they are. When I return, I drop all pretense and just let my towel fall to the floor.
“What?” I ask, since his eyes never seem to leave me, or my body. “Why are you always looking at me like that?”
“Because you demand the attention. You’re stunning. Now get on this bed and let me fuck you, babe.”
I gasp and lean in, and that’s when our lips explode into each other’s. In this moment we are not two bodies, we are not two ages, we are not two different sets of circumstances. We are two souls merging, even for this moment, as one. We are like twins.
I take the deepest of breaths and try to get myself ready. He rests his tip against me.
“Ready?” he asks. I nod, but I don’t think I am.
“Wait,” I say. “What if my mom walks in, and you’re fucking her son…”
“Eliot! Jesus! Are you trying to ruin this?”
“Sorry, sorry. I’m just a worrier. Hold on, let me take a breath…”
I try to prepare. It doesn’t matter, though. I feel his tip enter me, and I cry out. I lean all the way back and suck in some more air.
He settles in a little. And then the feeling comes – a deep, guttural pleasure that stills my whole body. Is this what females feel when they’re penetrated?
“Wait a second,” I whisper, and he just stays there, halfway inside me, rubbing my nipples and leaning down and kissing my stomach. I never imagined I’d be brave enough to try what I’ve been watching in my gay porn movies all these years…
Inch by inch, I take him inside me. It burns with each new thrust, but after the burn I am rewarded with the best feeling I’ve ever experienced – it’s like being filled and being warmed at the same time, touching every nerve ending, igniting every fire. My friend Anisha once told me about a guy whose dick was so fat, he could make her orgasm just by sticking it in, because his girth meant that her G spot was touched every single time. Is this similar? Is Robert the gay version of that guy?
“How does this even work?” I ask, my voice pained, and he laughs.
“Trust me, there’s usually some maneuvering involved. But never like this. You’re the tightest guy I’ve ever had.”
“I don’t know whether to be flattered, or yell at you for causing such pain.”
“Pain?” he asks. “Should I stop?”
“God, no,” I ask, slapping my hands across the back of his legs. “I meant…no, you know what I meant. The good kind of pain. Keep going.”
He pumps his hips a little. I cry out again, but it’s better this time, easier. His eyes roll back into his head, and it makes me moan again.
Soon I don’t even recognize the sounds I am making; I just know I am shouting and moaning and making a ruckus. But I love it. I have never, in my life, given up control like this, and it feels like a revolution.
“Fuck me,” I breathe. “Fuck me harder.”
“You got it,” he says, and then he lifts my hips a little, pauses, then plunges himself in until I feel him deep in my abdomen. Oh, my God…
The way he moves his hips, the way he touches my body, the way he looks into my eyes with such authority and power and control – all of it is immediately better than anything I’ve ever had in my life. Sex was never sex until this. Living wasn’t living until now – that is how alive I feel.
I look around, and our eyes meet, and then meld together. I’ve never felt connected like this with anyone. Ever. Nothing outside this room matters, or even exists. Not while he is inside me like this, in every sense.
I cry out, too stimulated to continue. Then I come, my body rocking and rolling, and he screams into my hair as he comes, too, his dick throbbing and twitching inside me.
That wasn’t sex. That was art.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he sighs when we’re done, and I shake from head to toe and then look away. “What?” he asks.
“Nobody’s ever spoken to me like this, or treated me like this. Sorry. Just trying to get used to it.”
“Well it’s well-deserved.”
“It is?”
“Of course! All I can do is be honest. Let me spend the day with you,” he says.
“Really?”
“Yes. You won’t be able to escape me, actually. Wherever you go, there I’ll be…”
And for the first time, I don’t object.
In fact, I am done objecting.
To any of this.
For good.
~
We make love twice more through the early afternoon, since it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt and I can’t get enough. Finally I pull myself away so I can make an appearance around my family before evening. Since our day was sweaty and messy, I decide to take a quick shower in my room. I head back, singing and whistling to myself all the while.
But just as I undress again, I stop dead and turn back around. There is a Post-It stuck to the back of the door – on the inside of the door. It couldn’t have been David – unless he somehow did it while he was still here? Either way, the handwriting doesn’t look like his – I don’t think it does, at least.
My mouth goes drier than a bad meatloaf as I walk up and read the handwritten message:
I know what you did in that canoe