He walks into the room and somehow everyone notices him; even the ones who are not conscious of doing so take note of his presence. He draws their attention just by crossing from the door to our table. But he only has eyes for me. It's always been that way from the moment we met. Even when he was supposedly ignoring me and scoping out potential tricks I knew he was only searching for substitutes for me. I was never far from his thoughts. Now I'm constantly in them.

"Hey, Baby," he drawls as he takes his seat and reaches for my hand, for my ring hand. Not unexpectedly he kisses my fingers despite spectators.

"Hey." Smiling softly, I look away from his face, from his incredible eyes that are busy promising me the moon and stars. As if I didn't already have everything I've ever wanted.

Satisfied that he's made me blush at least once tonight, he picks up his menu and peruses it with a tiny smile that tells me he's pleased. I'd do almost anything to see that smile, the one that barely changes the shape of his mouth. His mouth… I should probably concentrate on the menu in front of me but now that I've thought of his mouth I find that his lips are all I can focus on at the moment. Perfect, raspberry lips that swell when he's aroused, when we've been kissing for so long that we forget where we are or that a world exists outside of our immediate surroundings. Just thinking about kissing him makes me tingle.

"Penny for your thoughts," he says, cocking his head to the side. A lock of hair falls over his eyelid, hair entangling in his lashes and I reach over, any excuse to touch him, and brush it aside. More than once he's complained about the length of his bangs but I like them a little longer, gives his face a softer look. Compliments his gorgeous eyes and his beautiful lips. He says it makes him look a little too femme. Not hardly. "So," he asks again, "what were you thinking about?"

"You," I reply and he laughs. "Predictable, huh?"

"Yep," and gives me a much broader smile than before and it's just as affective.

Reaching for his ring hand, I take it and stroke his fingers with my own. "I love you."

"Better. Can't do without you."

"Don't ever have to," I promise then begrudgingly release his hand as the waiter finally shows up.

"Sorry, it's a little crowded in here tonight. Valentine's Day and all."

"Cosmopolitan," Brian says as if the guy hadn't apologized and picks up his menu again. There's no excuse for bad service in Brian's book.

"I've never seen it so busy," I say to soothe the sting of Brian's treatment and the waiter nods gratefully. "Chocolate martini. Thanks."

"I'll be right back with your drinks." The man scurries off and I shake my head. No matter how much he's changed, he'll always remain the same in some ways.

"Wonder what the specials are," he says without looking up.

"Find out soon enough."

"Better. Or his tip is gonna be smaller than his cock."

"How do you know how small it is?" I ask, readying myself for a patented Brian Kinney response.

"Please. I'm accurate to within one sixteenth of an inch. Sight unseen."

And that's how it's going to stay. "Too bad you won't ever know if you're right or not," I tease, not that he's even wanted to trick for years now. Or, correction, maybe he's wanted to but he hasn't. Neither of us has strayed since his incident with Kenneth. Which wasn't, technically, straying. But I don't want to think about that tonight.

He's been thinking about what I said and he finally replies, "I couldn't care less how big or small his cock is. I've got all I need," and he leaves me wondering if he's talking about his or mine.

The waiter returns with our drinks and recites the evening's specials. I decide to try the Rainbow trout as does Brian which shocks me. Usually he's a little more red-blooded in his dining choices, preferring meat to almost everything else. Guess he's keeping it light in light of the evening's activities still to come. So to speak.

Brian raises his glass as do I. "To us."

"To us." We sip our drinks. Perfect. I can tell by the way he closes his eyes and savors the alcohol. "Hard day at work?" I had a chance to change after putting in eight hours or so in my studio but he came to the restaurant straight from the office still wearing the pin-striped suit he'd put on this morning.

Shakes his head. "Just long." Takes another sip. "We could have gone to the inn," he says. After all, midnight marks our fourth anniversary.

I had wanted to stay home and he hadn't argued against it. "Did you want to go?" I ask, a little too late now and berate myself silently for never having asked him before.

Before Brian can answer, the waiter slips a basket of dinner rolls on the table and weaves in between the other tables, responding to a customer's glance.

Brian shrugs, picking up the thread of our conversation once more just as easily as he picks up one of the rolls. "Not really." Which means he'd thought about it.

"You should have said something." "

Our bed's just as good as theirs," he replies.

I lean forward so that no one else can hear and say, "Don't talk about our bed. You'll make me horny."

"You're always horny. I don't think even I was as horny as you are at twenty-four."

"You didn't have a sexy old man keeping your bed warm the way I do."

"Who's old?"

He's going to be thirty-six this April. "Not you."

We make small talk until our entrees arrive, making plans for our vacation this summer. We're going to Pranburi, Thailand and staying in this luxury hotel called the Aleenta. Brian booked us a private bungalow with an ocean view and our own plunge pool right off the bedroom. I've looked through the brochure and web site a thousand times since we decided to go with that particular resort. The bungalow we'll be staying in actually reminds me of the loft: clean lines, minimalist look. Sometimes I miss it, the loft.

Brian smiles and says, "I can't wait to go skinny dipping in our very own private pool."

"We can do that now," I point out.

"But the Pitts isn't Thailand."

"Not by a long fuckin' shot," I agree.

"Still, our pool is pretty amazing…"

"God, I wish it was warm enough to go swimming." We've had some pretty amazing evenings in the pool, some of which were witnessed by our neighbors. Aurally if not visually. I can't help it, he makes me crazy when we make love. He finds my spot and hits it and I start shouting. It's all his fault.

And I don't ever want him to stop.

"You're thinking about fucking," he teases.

"You were the one who brought up skinny dipping."

"Couldn't help it. I kept thinking about your ass."

"Brian!" I hiss. "Stop it." My cock is stirring and beginning to press against my trousers.

"All plump… and wet… and spread open waiting for me to—"

I kick him under the table and he yelps and rubs his shin.

"Just for that," he threatens, "no cock for you tonight."

"And who was dreaming about my perfect ass?"

"I didn't say it was perfect."

"But it is."

His lids drop lazily over his eyes. He can't help but admit that it's so. "So it's perfect. You want an award?"

"Yeah. Your cock." And I lick my lips the way I always do after I've finished milking him to lap up any stray drops.

"Stop it," he whispers and I know his dick is pressing against his trousers too. "You're supposed to be a respectable, married man."

"I am. And I'm thinking about sucking off my very hung and very respectable husband."

He disputes my claim. Prefers instead, "Disreputable."


"Notorious." Reaches for his napkin in his lap to cover touching his erection. "I’m hard as fucking stone," he reports.

I can feel him beneath me the way I've felt him a thousand times before, rooting around for my hole, finding it, and pushing his way in. I fidget in my seat. Whisper, "We've got to get out of here."

He attracts the waiter's attention. "Check."

Brian pays for dinner, leaves a sizeable tip at my insistence, then we race to our individual cars and take off like we're leaving the starting line at the Indy 500. We make it to the house in record time. I slam the door of the Cherokee and impatiently hit the lock on my keychain. I have the door by the kitchen open by the time he grabs me by the waist and rubs up against me. I can feel his cock and it's hungry. So am I.

Once inside the house, I push him back against the steps and he sits down hard, pulling me down with him. And we kiss, his tongue meeting mine inside his mouth, inside mine. He chews on my lips and I on his until they're swollen and slightly tender. But we don't stop kissing.

I unbutton and unzip his trousers, then break our kiss to pull his slacks down over his hips. I reach for his briefs and down they go as well. I manage to get one slender leg free and it's enough. Kneeling on the step below him, I bend my head and lick the head of his cock. Hear him sigh. I lick around the rim and up and down the slit until he starts to drip. I love the taste of his precum. But I want all of his cock now. Taking him by the balls, I go down on him, letting his thickening shaft slide over my tongue as I suck him. He continues to harden as I blow him and I know that even though he can keep himself from coming if he chooses to, he won't. He'll let go and come in my mouth cause he knows it's what I want.

Like a newborn, I suckle at his cock and I feel his balls throb in my palm. I knead them, stroke them from back to front and he moans and thrusts upwards. Cum strikes the back of my throat and I raise up a little, just enough to let his cock head rest on my tongue so that I can taste him. I suck his dick as he comes and when he's through, I lick the head and shaft clean, and then I lick my lips clean, and then I rise up and kiss him hard, still holding on to his balls.

Once he recovers from his orgasm, he stands and finishes undressing, leaving his suit to lie on the steps until later. His blatant disregard of his designer menswear is a huge turn-on. Watching his small, tight buttocks rise and fall as he walks in front of me, I reach out and cup a cheek. He looks over his shoulder and smiles and stops and leans against the wall. Needing no other invitation, I drop my trousers and release my erection which I rub up and down the valley between his buttocks.

My cock slips on the sweat covering his skin and slides down between his legs, beneath his balls. Bringing his legs closer together, he traps me there like Br'er Rabbit in the briar patch and I thrust between his thighs until I feel my balls spasm and my slit opens and I come, splattering his balls and cock and belly and even the wall in front of him. I pull free of his thighs, the tip of my dick still dribbling and he turns and takes me in hand, rubbing his fingers over the head of my cock until they are wet too. Then he sticks them in his mouth and tastes my cum.

He finishes undressing me and leaves my clothes in the hallway. Follows me to our suite. I know his eyes are on my ass. I can feel him staring at me: it feels like a finger sliding between my cheeks and into my hole. My cock twitches and I quicken my pace.

Once in our room, he grabs me and pushes me face-forward onto the bed. My legs hang over the edge. I'm just where he wants me. He goes onto his knees between my feet and parts my cheeks. I feel his breath on my skin, can hear him breathing. It's making me crazy, this near-silent worship. I know he's looking at my hole, tongue peeking from between his lips. I know he's aching for me, wanting to thrust his tongue up my ass, wanting to shove his cock up my ass. In the midst of my thoughts, he strikes. His tongue washes over my hole and I feel the edges constrict, then relax. God, I love it when he rims me. He'll have me screaming in no time if he keeps this up. And he will. He loves my ass, loves eating out my ass, and he won't stop until he's had his fill. If that's possible. I don’t think it is. Sometimes I think he fucks me just to get his tongue up my hole. Except that he loves the way my ass feels around his cock.

Right now he's fucking me with his tongue. In and out it moves until I'm clutching the comforter in my fists and fighting against the urge to scream. But I know it's a losing battle. He curls the tip of his tongue inside my ass and I shout. He plays in the folds, making my head spin and I grip the floor with my toes. If he isn't careful, I'm going to come again. My dick is being rubbed raw but I don't care.

He flips me over and pushes my legs up, devours my ass, my balls, my cock. My leg muscles tense as he runs his tongue from my hole to my balls and up to the tip of my cock which I press conveniently down towards his head. The tip of his tongue enters my cock hole and fucks it as well and I jerk, so close now…

Brian releases me, lets my feet touch the floor again. He stands, cock straining for his belly. He pushes down on it and lets it spring free. Again. Precum flings across my thighs and stomach. He's wasting it. I slide to the floor and wrap my lips around his dick and suck him as if I hadn't just sucked him off minutes ago. But he wants more than this and soon eases me away from his meat. "Lie down on your belly," he orders and I obey. His voice makes my stomach flutter. He joins me on the bed and reaches for the lube that he keeps on his nightstand, thoughtful, considerate Boy Scout that he is. I look around and see him slather it on his cock. I watch his slit gape open and drool. Mmmm, it's gonna feel so good going in…

"Oh," I gasp as the head nuzzles my hole. The lube is a little cool but it'll warm up in no time. A few strokes is all it takes to go from nippy to nuclear. He doesn't bother fingering my ass to open me up, his cock will do that just fine. And it does. When he pushes in me, I hold my breath, letting it go only as he comes to rest against my prostate. I steal a breath before he bumps into it sending fireworks off inside my head. This is as close to heaven as we ever get. I'm convinced of it.

At first he's gentle. He likes to start out slow and build up speed, power, tension. By the time he's done I'll be screaming his name, biting the pillow, humping the bed. Or he'll turn me over and fuck me face to face, pulling on my cock until I explode, tightening around his dick, bringing him off with me. Or he'll lie on his back and I'll climb on top and ride him until I'm bobbing senselessly on his dick. Once he was fucking me and I started sliding off the bed. I ended up halfway on the floor, supporting myself with my hands while he still hammered me. We've fucked in chairs, fucked on stairs, fucked in the shower, the hallway, the closet, the pool, his Jeep, the back of the Cherokee, out back of Deb's house. He's used dildos on me, plugs, anal beads, and even the handle of a whip but nothing ever feels as good as his cock, buried deep inside of me, his pubes brushing against my ass.

He slides out of me and uses his cock to slap my buttocks, leaving wet traces on my skin. I beg him to put it back in me. "Fuck me," I say. "Fuck me." I feel his fingers push inside me. He fucks me with two for a while, then removes them. Thrusts his cock back inside and increases the pace. I reach back and slap his ass, urging him on although I want it to last forever. After a few minutes, he withdraws again and sits back against the headboard. I look over and his dick is an angry shade of red, rearing its head proudly.

I crawl over to him and straddle him, facing away from him. I fumble behind me and grab his cock, position my ass over it, and press down. He splits me open and I take him, I take him all the way and tighten my hole around the base of his cock. He runs his hands over my shoulders, my back, clasps my waist between his hands and holds on as I rise and fall upon his dick like waves upon an ocean. "Ohhh," I moan and I work my ass on his cock, squeezing as I come to the end of a motion. My eyes cross and I keep riding him, unseeing, feeling nothing but his cock up my ass and his hands on my waist. His hands slide around to the front of me and cup my balls, encircle my cock. I grind my hips downwards and keep him in me as I rotate my ass.

"Justin!" The word erupts from his lips and I know I've got him. I've got him right where I want him.

I bounce on him a few times, then let him slip from me. I lie down on my stomach, between his legs, with my ass in the air. I know what he sees. My hole is stretched open, the edges swollen. They attempt to draw together but still an opening remains. I hear him growl and then the bed moves and he's in me again, fucking my ass with abandon. My dick bounces against my belly as he rides me hard. Precum drips from the tip and I'm afraid to touch myself, afraid I'll come before I want to. I want more, more of his dick, more of this in and out. I'll be sore in the morning but right now I don’t care. I want him to fuck me raw, to bust me wide open so that I'll know a man's been inside me, that he owns my ass.

He leans over me and grabs hold of the foot board and reams my hole. He's jabbing me so hard, my ass seems to sigh in relief each time he withdraws even a little. But I want more and so does my hole no matter how much it smarts.

"Yes! Yes!" I cry. "Do it! Fuck me! Fuck my ass. Fuck my ass!" I scream and he does. Sweaty, slick with precum and lube, his dick nevertheless fills me and I feel every inch of him lengthwise and widthwise. I can only moan, "My ass. My ass." Words dissolve into incoherent sounds. I'm jerking my hips backwards to meet his thrusts, trying to force my ass to swallow up his entire cock. One time he wrapped his balls up in this modified cock ring and fucked me with his cock and balls. I wish I'd thought of it this time because I want all of him in me. I want him to stretch my hole and then fill it to overflowing. I want to be marked with his cum. I want it to drip out of my ass and streak my thighs. I want to lie on the bed, spent, and feel his jizz drying on my skin. I want my hole to spasm even after he's pulled out.

He shifts and I feel his hot breath on my shoulder. His tongue slithers out and licks my neck even as his cock licks the inner recesses of my hole. I throw my head back and whimper because he's fucking me so hard now, so hard. So… I feel his teeth nip my shoulder and then he closes his mouth about the spot and sucks hard as he ravishes me. His cock swells impossibly and my prostate sings. My balls spasm and I come on the bed, spunk surging from the tip of my dick to stain the comforter. As I do, my hole constricts and he gasps and drops his load. He continues to thrust against me as he comes, two, three times hard, then less so, and finally he stills. His cock stays inside me while he waits for his breathing to return to normal. I can feel him breathing against my back, stomach still hard from the force of his orgasm. After a moment, he withdraws and rolls over onto his back, cock moist and red and lazing between his thighs. I join him, curling against his side.

I feel his cum trickling from my ass.

He moves, takes something from the nightstand and hands it to me. It's one of those candies with messages on it. "Be my valentine?" he asks as does the candy.

I kiss his chest, just a tiny peck above his heart. "Always." I smile against his skin and turn the candy in my fingers. I would have thought he'd get some of those raunchy ones that say "Fuck Me," or something like that but he hasn't. He's opted for an old fashioned approach. One year I bought a chocolate fountain pen and wrote all over his body before licking the chocolate ink off. I remember when he wouldn't even acknowledge that a holiday such as Valentine's Day existed. Or if he did, it was only to say that it was a completely manufactured holiday created by the greeting card, floral, and confectionery industry to perk up a slow sales month. Now he takes me out for romantic dinners and we come home and make love and I just know that there's a bubble bath in our future with a bottle of chilled champagne and a window sill full of votives. It's late but not that late and, besides, we've taken the next few days off to celebrate our anniversary. Which officially begins in a couple of hours.

Four years.

He stirs and begins stroking my shoulders and back. "What are you thinking about?"

"We've been married four years."

"Mmm. Doesn't feel that long."

"Just wait until our twenty-fifth anniversary."

"Shit!" He laughs. "I'll be fuckin'—I don't want to think about it."

"You'll be the hottest fi—"

Brian covers my mouth. "Don't say it."

I raise up and look him in the eyes so that he knows I'm serious. "I'll never stop wanting you."

He smiles. "You mean it?"

I kiss him and whisper against his lips, "Forever and ever."

Suddenly shy, he closes his eyes for a moment then opens them and I'm struck again by how beautiful they are, how beautiful he is. Even though you'd think I'd be used to it, it catches me by surprise sometimes. He'll be taking something out of the oven and his hair will fall just right in his face and I'll just stare at him until he turns and smiles or we both laugh cause he knows I've been caught again. I have a couple hundred sketches of him around the house. I plan on doing thousands more.

Having rested for a while we go about filling the tub and getting the champagne and lighting the candles. It's become an anniversary ritual in remembrance of our first night as a married couple. I'll never forget making love in the tub after having made love in bed. Brian held me in his arms, the warm water caressing my skin, and stroked me until I came.

"Mmm…" I say, thinking about it and he comes up behind me and cups my cheek. His long fingers curve around my flesh and I imagine them sliding between my buttocks and teasing my hole.

As if he knows what I'm thinking, he slaps my ass and says, "Later." He pours the champagne and sets the glasses in the window sill, then gets in the tub and holds out his hand. I take it and settle down in front of him, leaning back against his chest, his legs on either side of me, sheltering me. I always feel safe when I'm with him. Maybe because he saved my life, I don't know. Or maybe just because he's the strongest person I know. Not that he never feels fear because I've seen him afraid. It's because, no matter what, he manages to find the strength to go on. He says I give him that strength. If so, I hope I never fail him.

In between sips of champagne, he uses the sponge to wash me, twisting it dry over my head, water cascading over me. Then he squeezes a generous amount of shampoo in his hands and works it into my hair. I love it when he washes my hair. It makes me feel like a child again and, at the same time, it's incredibly erotic. Of course, he generally moves from my hair to my chest, to my groin, rubbing his hands in circles over my nipples, my belly. He shampoos the hair at my crotch, running his fingers through it until I'm almost crazy. By then my cock's usually poking up past the surface of the water.

Then he'll catch one leg in the crook of his arm and open me up so that he can soap my balls, my ass. Once, he sat a mirror up at the foot of the tub so that we could watch ourselves. We both got turned on by the way my ass looked, framed by the water and bubbles. Drawing me up onto his chest, he slid a hand between us and his finger felt around for my hole, hidden amongst the suds. Finding it, he slipped it inside me and then trapped my cock with his free hand. Fist sliding up and down my shaft, he ordered me to watch and I did, muscles tensing as he jacked me off. He kept saying, "Come on, little boy. Come on, come for Daddy, come for Daddy," and I moaned, half out of my mind. I could feel his fingers pushing deeper inside me; see my cock getting harder, the slit spreading, the opening widening, and then I came, jizz splattering the water, water splattering the floor as I thrashed about. Afterwards, he gently cleaned my cock and kissed my neck. "That's my little boy."

I felt his cock beneath me and whispered, "Fuck me, Daddy." He entered me, thrusting up into my ass as we held on to the edge of the tub. Whatever water had remained in the tub now sloshed over the side. I gripped the tub and shifted positions so that I was half-crouched over his dick, fucking myself on it. The sight of myself riding his erection, my own cock rising again, was better than any drug, any aphrodisiac. We shifted again and I got on my knees and leaned over the foot of the tub while he fucked me from behind. My dick kept rubbing up against the smooth porcelain and I knew I would come soon. He kept moving until he hit the spot he was aiming for and I screamed. "Oh, Daddy. Oh, Daddy," I mumbled. "Yes. Yes. Yes." I could hardly breathe.

Tonight, after he washes my hair, he wraps his hand around my dick and strokes it until I'm thrashing around, crying out his name, and coming. That's my old man. He knows how to take care of his little boy.

Later between the sheets, once we've fucked in the tub and, for good measure, on the rug by the bed since we couldn't make it to the bed in time, I lie in his arms, head pillowed on his chest, and almost purr. I feel so good. He makes me feel this way. He kisses the top of my head and draws the covers over us and we lie like that as sleep creeps up on us. I hear him whisper, "Happy Anniversary, Baby," and I kiss his neck.

"Happy Anniversary." Four down, only a lifetime more to go.

The Aleenta

Heels Over Head | Stories