Like he had slowly brushed his hand starting from the skin of my feet and stopped right under my ear. I could not help becoming aware of the fact that...he was realising every bit of what I was feeling and it made me uneasy. It was as if he was conscious of a deep-set connection that he knew would resurface eventually and felt an ethereal sense of familiarity and knowing. ‘Are you going to stay?’ he asked, the sound of his voice echoing in the silence of the room. To me it sounded more like a. In the machine shop where Jed worked, he was responsible for polishing of the metal parts they produced. Jed’s hands were therefore, stained from the buffing wheels and the rouge that was used to perform this task. Jed hated using gloves, because he felt that it inhibited the efficacy of doing his job properly. Resultantly, Jed’s hands looked like old leather, seasoned by years of wear and tear.The clothing Jed wore was extremely well-used. His trainers and jeans were dirty, and his. You lay back on your bed, spent and exhausted and can barely move. You just lay there and watch as he lifts up off your limp spent dick and licks the cum off of his lips and smiles. He slowly comes to your face and leans over and kisses you as a lover would. He opens his mouth and slowly releases your own cum into your mouth and shares his treat with you. You are so surprised but before you can move away, it slides down your throat. You can't move anyway, it felt so fucking good...it took all. I would be caught in these reveries of the previous night's bacchanal, trying to churn out copy in the city section or help polish some business claptrap.But now here we were again. At the Chateau Bleu on Lavaca, your boyfriend writing code at some geek ridden 'campus'. You took off your shirt, neatly folding it in half and putting it on the little desk by the door. I could scarcely keep from coming over there and gleefully ripping your clothes off. You turned around, staring coolly at me, a.