Mikey held his arms over his head, swiveling his body with a newfound freedom and no fear.
“Oh, George. I never knew it could be like this. And it’s with you. I feel like I can keep going...forever.”
George bent down and kissed him. “Good. You want to get on top?”
“Can we do doggy-style? Can we? I’ve never done it before.”
“Yes, we can, babe. We can do whatever you want.”
George raised to his knees and Mikey went around and entered him again from behind, pummeling him fast, like a wind-up toy. With this position, he was striking George’s prostate electrically every single time and his body quickly turned to mush. Soon, he collapsed forward, face-first into the mattress, and Mikey’s weight went with him horizontally, still thrusting deep and persistent.
They stayed in this position for a while, and George was unsure of what made him happier—Mikey’s discovery of sexual inhibition, or his own transcendental prostate-pounding. When he was near the brink of unloading in the sheets, George spoke. “OK. Let’s switch it up again.”
Mikey pulled out and George rolled over, lifting his legs slightly. The expression on Mikey’s face was pure unadulterated joy. It touched George more than he could have ever imagined—to bring such happiness to this big, beautiful, selfless man.
“Let’s go, big guy,” he said. Mikey entered him a third time and George welcomed him as if reattaching a missing appendage. Mikey quickly resumed his steady pace, and George rode the pulses in a state of sweet euphoric bliss.
“That’s it, big guy. Fuck me hard. Fuck me with that big goddamned custard launcher!”
Mikey was laughing now, full-on aware of George’s tactical barrage of uncharacteristic obscenities. He held George’s lower legs up as if he were doing bicep curls, his furry pecs and stomach flexing, revealing the ghosts of weightlifting past.
It was a beautiful sight. George only wished he could see it all from behind, Mikey’s fuzzy butt mercilessly mining him with determined and exquisite impalement.
“Are you ready to come, George? I don’t think I am. I think I can keep going.”
He was intuitive—either that or George’s face was showing fatigue.
“Let’s stop for a second.”
Mikey pulled out, lowering George’s legs. George sat up and removed the condom from him. He stroked him in his fist. “You feel that?”
His eyes were closed. “Yeah. Now that you got the condom off. Oh, that’s good, George.”
“Lay on top of me.”
He did as told, pressing into George’s spread legs again, nuzzling until they were both comfortably frotting. The pressure of Mikey on top of him—not just the groin, but all over—was divine. George’s hands fell to Mikey’s ass and squeezed.
“Kiss me, big guy.”
“I like it when you call me big guy.”
Mikey kissed George, and that was the extra push Mikey needed. He came, flooding their sandwiched bellies with slick, wet heat. When George felt the molten spill against him, he shuddered with his own climax, squeezing Mikey to absorb the aftershocks.
When their motion subsided, and their breaths leveled, they lay there, adhered.
“I’ve never been able to do that,” Mikey whispered in George’s ear. “You’ve given me the best gift ever, George.”
“It’s a desensitizing wipe—inexpensive and available at your local drugstore. You would have probably figured it out for yourself, eventually, or from someone else. But I’m glad it was me.”
“I don’t want it to be anyone else, George. I only want it to be you. I don’t need it from anyone else.” Mikey hugged him tightly.
George stroked his hair. “I didn’t think I needed it from anyone ever again. But I was wrong. And I’m glad it was you.”
“I love you, George. I know it’s too soon and I shouldn’t say it. But I can’t help it. I do. Is that OK?”
George thought about it. He thought about the way Mikey had come into his life, so randomly—not unlike the way he and David had met.
He felt elated to be on the cusp of that kind of love again—love he had all but given up for good. And though he wasn’t quite ready to say the words himself, it wasn’t awkward hearing them from this sweet soul... not awkward at all.
