Episode
16 - Dry Humping
“Trace, it was nice meeting you,”
said Dennis, as he stopped in front of a small sport utility
vehicle.
They had reached Dennis’ vehicle more
quickly than expected, and Trace was caught off guard. He was
wholly uncertain of what would happen next or what he wanted
to have happen.
The date had passed smoothly enough. Almost
too smoothly, Trace thought. He was surprised he did not feel
any of the uneasiness he felt during his first date with Davis,
and as he looked into Dennis’ eyes, he realized he could
meet Dennis’ gaze evenly and without the slightest twinge
of nervous tension, unlike when Elan looked at him. This nerveless
calm left him ambivalent. He searched his feelings for some
sense of resolve, and he wondered if the date was a success
or a failure?
Seeking a sign, Trace looked Dennis up and
down, allowing his gaze to linger here and there. Dennis looked
as he said he would . . . Trace paused before deploying the
adjective average. Then again, thought Trace, what
will I look like at 33? This question allowed him to see Dennis
as being on the attractive side of average, a fair assessment,
and he reminded himself of his suspicion that we are all average
until airbrushed with desire. Trace suspected all he needed
was the incitement to desire to find beauty, and in seeking
the will to incitement, he realized this was the first time
he had surveyed Dennis’ body since meeting him this evening.
The close seating in the coffee shop did not allow much of an
opportunity to check him out, but Trace thought it strange he
had not even tried. He was suddenly aware he was uncertain if
Dennis had checked him out, meaning he was unsure of Dennis’
interest in his body, and lost his train of thought as the vexation
of vanity veiled his thinking.
Becoming increasingly uncertain of what he
felt much less what he should say or do, Trace focused on the
vehicle before him. His preference for sport utility vehicles
provided an easy reason for conversation: “This is one
of the smaller SUV’s. Is it new?”
“Yeah, I got it about a month ago. You
can check it out if you want.” Dennis unlocked the vehicle
with his key chain remote, and Trace immediately slipped into
the driver’s seat. Realizing he could never afford such
a vehicle, Trace realized Dennis could and quickly chastised
himself for having reduced Dennis to the quality of his vehicle
and reminded himself he did not want to be that kind of Connecticut
girl.
Sliding into the passenger seat, Dennis slid
the key into the ignition: “You can take it out if you
want.”
The double-entendre hovered in the space between
them. Trace looked toward Dennis; his flushed face indicated
the ambiguous line was more slip than slick, and he could see
a flicker of nerves in Dennis’ eyes. He realized then
he did not find Dennis as attractive as Elan or Davis, but this
flicker of nerves piqued his interest, and here, he stumbled
unknowingly upon an incitement to desire but felt its influence
in his gut.
With their faces closer than they had yet been,
Trace moved toward Dennis, and as the space between their mouths
lessened, the desire thickened between his legs.
Their lips touched, but their mouths remained
closed. Without the exchange of tongues or the turn of a lip,
their kiss remained dry. Trace had never kissed like this before,
and savoring the friction between dry lips, he dragged Dennis’
lower lip beneath his. A sudden burst of warmth broke across
his lips, as the lip curled beneath his, exposing a sliver of
wet silken skin from the inside of Dennis’ mouth.
Trace readied himself for the exchange of tongues,
as Dennis uncurled and stiffened his lip, and as the bit of
moisture dried, the friction returned.
Trace thought to insert his tongue between Dennis’s lips
but realized still lips speak. Withdrawing from the unproductive
kiss, Trace asked, “Would you prefer we not do this?”
“No.” Dennis clarified his response
immediately, “It’s nice.”
Reassured, Trace attempted to resume the kiss,
but Dennis turned toward the passenger window where he saw two
women giggling as they peered into the misty window from the
sidewalk.
“Let’s go to my place,” Trace
suggested, trying to prevent his impatience from seeping into
his tone.
Giddy with the surety of sex, Trace’s
excitement grew as he pulled into his driveway. His truck lurched
forward as he braked hard and shifted into neutral. Depressing
the parking break, he leapt out of the truck and waited for
Dennis to pull in behind him. Moments later, in the privacy
of his bedroom, Trace attempted to pick up where they left off
by initiating a kiss.
Finding dry locked lips once again, Trace attempted
to part them with his tongue, prompting Dennis to pull away:
“This is going kinda fast.”
Trace felt a pang of impatience, as he thought
things were not going fast enough, but stilled his impatient
tongue, so he could respond more evenly, but given his frustration,
all he could do was acknowledge the stated limit: “Then,
we won’t do this.”
Once again, Dennis was quick to respond, “No,
I want to. I just don’t do this anymore.”
“What do you mean?” asked Trace.
Dennis sighed as he sat on the edge of bed:
“Don’t you worry about It?”
Trace reasoned Dennis was uncomfortable with
their being virtual strangers in the intimate location of a
bedroom, but being uncertain, he answered vaguely by paraphrasing
Dennis’ concern: “This has gone kind of fast.”
Dennis looked at him warily, and Trace immediately
knew he had not said enough. He could not anticipate what Dennis’
concern might be, but with a hard cock pressing at his zipper,
he was fully aware of his. He had not intended to reduce his
words to the concerns of his cock, but looking down at a man
sitting on the edge of his bed, he could not help but negotiate:
“But it doesn’t feel like it’s gone quickly.
It feels . . .. Trace searched for a word that refused a lie
but invited interpretation, “comfortable.”
Smiling, Dennis took Trace’s hand and
pulled him down to the bed. “Yes, it does. Let’s
just set some ground rules.”
Uncertain of how successfully he had negotiated
Dennis’ concerns but not wanting to lose ground, Trace
agreed, “Okay.”
Dennis quickly set his limits: “Anything
goes as long as we keep our pants on.”
Trace shivered as he realized the referent
for Dennis’ concern, and he looked toward the door, feeling
as if someone had just entered the room.
Dennis squeezed his hand, “Does that
work for you, Trace?”
Uncertain if he should speak or what he should
say, Trace suddenly felt like pressing his luck: “How
about going down to boxers?”
Dennis shook his head, and Trace begrudgingly
conceded by nodding.
With the boundaries drawn, Dennis learned forward
and kissed Trace with a full-tongued abandon that contradicted
his prior caution. The sudden abandon of the kiss caught Trace
by surprise, and unprepared for the impulsive intensity he impatiently
orchestrated, he pulled away.
Dennis laughed as he pushed Trace to the bed
and crawled on top of him: “Anything goes, as long as
the pants stay on.” With that line in the sheets, Dennis
mounted Trace and ground their zippered bulges together.
The role reversal, the suddenness of the action,
the sound of denim rubbing denim, and the growing pleasure of
pressure on his hard cock distracted Trace from a realization
that sprung from the application of Dennis’ body to his,
and before he could think to remember what he was beginning
to forget, the thought dissolved beneath his pulsating cock,
which throbbed with convulsive emissions that Dennis either
sensed or felt, since he grabbed Trace harder and kissed him
more intensely, as he quickened his thrusts.
Trace was still catching his breath when Dennis
pulled himself from Trace’s arms and rose from the bed:
“This could be dangerous. I only live about ten minutes
from you, but for now, it’s best we stop.”
Trace nodded as he took stock of his aching
limbs and lowered them to the bed. His orgasm had used muscles
he was unaware could be involved in the process.
Dennis looked at Trace and laughed as he fished
his keys out of his pocket: “See, nothing came off, but
you did.” Kissing Trace goodbye, Dennis walked out of
the bedroom: “I can see myself out. You go clean up. I’ll
call you tomorrow.”
Trace propped himself up on his elbows and
watched Dennis walk down the hallway. He knew the sound of the
closing door was his cue to get up.
Walking into the bathroom, he grabbed a handful
of tissues and pulled his pants down. He pressed the wad of
tissues to his cock but feeling nothing wet, he looked down
and discovered he had not cum.
Tossing the wad of tissues into the toilet,
he flushed, and watching the swirling mass of tissues, he tried
to remember what he was thinking just before he thought he came.
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