The question: why not.
The answer:why not.
Strong hands,
working hands,
Hands that build.
Not soft stroking hands
But determined, pumping hands
Meant to have my seed out.
Excitement. Openness.
Yet, reluctance.
No man has seen this from me.
No man has taken this from me,
No man has given me this.
My stranger.
Does he feel my thrill?
Is he thrilled?
He looks at my cock
As if he could see
What his hand feels.
Swelling. Wanting. Waiting.
Wishing.
He jacks me
The way a man jacks a man —
Frenzied, insistent, driven.
The pleasure is a blur.
I pass my need over to him.
I make a sound that
Must mean ‘Now’.
Or ‘Close’.
Or ‘Please’.
He aims to finish me.
He comes down on me
And then he kisses me.
He kisses me
And I surrender.
The kiss is deep and lasting
The way lovers kiss.
His mouth is soft and yielding.
I kiss back. I kiss back
And in that instant,
As if he knew how to bring me off,
I begin to cum.
A moan.
Then another.
Mine.
Then his.
My orgasm is chaotic,
Pulsing, clenching,
Rising. Bearing down.
His hand pumps
Order into a hundred sensations.
He watches me
Tossed away in pleasure.
My sperm coats his hand.
Warm, wet, viscous, opaque.
White liquid release.
He smiles.
He lets my breathing slow.
He wipes his hand between our bellies.
He stays with me,
Holding me.
And I let him.