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Jose (mm)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
"Jose"
by Steve Rider
This file may be posted on Electronic Bulletin Boards for
download, but may not be modified, printed for distribution,
or used for any commercial purpose without the author's written
permission.
Copyright © 1992 Stephen A. Rider, all rights reserved.
The owls do not usually sing their songs so early in the
morning. It was 7:15 and the sunshine was streaming into my
bedroom. A soothing summer breeze flowed in through the screen
window. The lovesongs of the owls woke me up, and there he was
beside me, in my bed, my new friend Jose. His jet black hair hung
in solid bunches down onto the pillowcase, his chest was moving in a
rhythm that was smooth and regular. There was just a hint of a
smile on his face as he lay sleeping. His smooth tan skin was so
very tempting, but I wanted to let him sleep.
I propped myself up on my left elbow, my hand curled back to
support my face, and I lay there watching him sleep, thinking of the
wonder of the night before. Jose was such a mix of parallel
contradictions. Very much macho and masculine, yet so enthusiastic
in my bed. I thought of the things he had said while we were making
love. I thought of him poised above me the night before, candlelight
flickering against the wall behind my bed, smell of incense that had
followed us from the livingroom, his chest was still moving so very
slowly. I smiled and savored a silent sigh. So lucky to have met
Jose, so glad he had decided to follow me home. He had this really
neat way of kissing me. His mouth all over mine, his lips
surrounding my own, passion that was completely unchecked.
He did not think it was important to be open about being gay
but he certainly knew what he wanted to do when he was alone with me
in my apartment. He had sat down next to me, just last night, and
within moments he was all over me. In my livingroom, on the
loveseat, he had pressed me down into the softness of the cushions
as he kissed me in his unique and passionate way. Just last night,
and here he was now, his chest rising and falling softly and slowly,
next to me, sleeping in my bed. He took me to the heights of
ecstasy last night, now I wanted only to let him sleep. Beautiful
Jose, lightest brown skin, smooth, masculine, gay. The things he
did to me, the way he made me feel.
As he lay sleeping next to me I thought of things to do with
him. Fun things, entertainment, ways to spend time together. Just
the night before I had felt so lonely, like I was left out in the
rain, although it had been such a warm and pleasant evening in San
Jose. We met at a bar on Stockton Ave. I knew I liked him as soon
as I saw him, that wonderful smile that Mexican guys have, I wanted
him right away. The sweetest look in his dark brown eyes, so
sincere, so full of longing and desire, I had to get to know him. I
have no idea what he saw in me. Jose was still sleeping, I reached
over to him and lightly touched his beautiful hair. My fingers
running through the smooth and oily feeling of it, thinking of the
way it had fallen down on my face last night when he kissed me,
thinking of him filling me up so much inside.
He stirred for a moment and I pulled my hand away. His
feet moved up and down for a moment, in the fashion of a kitten that
has been weaned too young, pulling the sheets and my comforter down,
exposing the golden brownness of his chest. The cute little circles
of his nipples came into my view, the manly cleft down the front of
his chest, just a hint of body hair in the morning sun. I wanted to
wake him up, but I decided to let him rest. Sweet Jose, lovely and
strong, powerful and gentle, so kind and yet so hard, I thought
about a pot of coffee, I did not want to move. The warm sun was
streaming into my bedroom now, broad beams of morning cheer,
promising another lovely California day. His nostrils flared very
lightly with every breath, I wanted to kiss him and wake him up.
Finally I could wait no longer, I wanted him to rest, but I
needed to be close to him. I slid my body closer very slowly,
careful not to make big waves in my waterbed, until my shins pressed
against the side of his left leg, warmth of his skin against me.
Still closer now until my thighs pressed lightly against him, heat
from his body warming me, adding to my energy, my desire for him
increased. I lifted my elbow from the pillow beneath me and slid it
very slowly over towards him, softly, quietly. As I rested my head
back down onto the pillow, my face now level with his, black hair
against my nostrils, my chest brushed up against the smoothness of
his skin. My right hand moved towards him under the weight of the
covers of my bed, my left hand fell against his left thigh. Still
he did not stir.
Nothing could stop me now, I had to put my face right above
his, leaning over him, feeling his breath against my face, my lips
hovered just above him. Lower now, his breath a roar against my
ear, tickling me in the most wonderful way, I kissed him full on the
lips. He opened his eyes and looked at me and I melted into the
darkness of his olive skin.
"Good Morning"
My phone rang and it woke me up. New Years Day and I was
home alone. Wow, what a wonderful dream.
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