“Chance Encounters
 of the
Close Kind”

© 2010 by Anel Viz. All rights reserved.

 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

 

 2.  The Morning After

I woke up with the taste of semen in my mouth, my body sticky and pleasantly groggy from sexual satiation.  My balls felt wrung out, my asshole, reamed.  I didn’t know where I was, nor did I recognize the man whose bed I shared.  I couldn’t remember going home with; I couldn’t even remember meeting him.  I assumed it was at Jimmy’s.  I remembered going there.

I glanced around the room.  Our clothes lay scattered on the floor.  I was relieved to see a pile of open condom wrappers on the nightstand, though I couldn’t imagine how we’d gone through so many.  The clock beside them said ten-thirty.  I racked by brain trying to remember if today was a workday.  Probably not, if I’d gone clubbing the night before.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, then turned to examine the naked form sprawled on his back beside me, his goods as visible as a display in a department store window.  I couldn’t have done better if I’d been sober, not for looks, nor, judging by how I felt, for performance.  I could only hope I’d done half as well by him.

He had the pale skin, raven-black hair and full red lips Snow White’s mother had wished for her daughter.  I wondered whether the eyes behind his closed lids were dark or steely blue.  His smooth chest, only a hair or two around each nipple, rose and fell with his quiet breathing.  On his belly, rounded in relaxation, a faint trail of fine dark hairs ran down from his navel.  He had a narrow waist and strong legs.  His penis, large and pulpy, lay limply across his thigh.  I bent over and kissed the tip.

Apparently I hadn’t disappointed him, for he stirred in his sleep, reached out a hand to feel if I was still there, and pulled me to him for a kiss.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I’m afraid I forgot your name.”

  

Posted: 01/08/10