3 comments/ 25599 views/ 7 favorites Four Days in May By: bjmichaels I am lying naked on red satin sheets waiting expectantly for my lover to emerge from the bathroom. Eight scented candles surrounding the bed illuminate the room. The luxurious softness of the sheets--the intoxicating aroma from the candles makes me feel special; I am wanted and needed. His name is Justin and we met only four days ago, and in that short time, he transformed me from an unhappy hetero to a deliriously happy homo. In four short days he has made me his willing and submissive bitch and I love him deeply for it. I am growing impatient; I want him beside me on the bed, or on top of me...whatever he desires. I feel the lust growing inside me; my penis begins to grow thinking about his strong hands, his kisses; the forcefulness in his voice when he directs my actions in bed. I unconsciously stroke my cock to full erection dreaming of his eyes, his handsome face and his hard, powerful body. I am in love—yes, I admit it---I love a man and I want the whole world to know. My sudden metamorphosis from straight-to-gay may be difficult for some to believe, but deep in my heart-of-hearts, and now that I'm able to look at my previous life with a new-born clarity, my life's journey has been traveling down this path all along. My mind flowered-open like a rose petal in springtime; I was finally able to see that life was not a trip on a one-way highway—there are many twists and turns, and I as the navigator, could choose any road I wished. Five days ago I was feeling pain and misery. When you think you've run out of options—you lose all hope. I had convinced Judy to finally come to my apartment. We had been seeing each other for two weeks, and it took all my powers of seduction to get her willing and wet. Well, it didn't work out as I had hoped...thank goodness. I am very good with my hands, and I'm a damned good kisser, too. We were on my couch kissing and caressing and I had her "Ooooing" and "Ahhhing" and began to undress her. It was at this point she usually stopped me, but not that night—she was more than agreeable to my advances. I dimmed the living room lights and removed her clothes; kissing and gently stroking her, she became heated and passionate. I was overjoyed. I quickly stripped off my clothes and lay beside her; my lips and tongue and hands working their magic. I needed desperately to feel her touch. I guided her soft hand to my hard cock and wrapped her slender fingers around my girth. She squeezed it and gave it a couple tentative strokes then burst out laughing. "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" she cried out. "ARE YOU DEFORMED OR SOMETHING?" "W-What do you mean?" I asked, knowing full well what she meant—I had heard that cruel laughter from a couple other girls. "Sweetie, I've got a small vibrator at home twice the size of what you have there..." Then she added: "Who the hell do you think you're going to satisfy with that tiny thing?" In hindsight, I should have said, "ME." She quickly dressed and I scrambled to pull up my briefs. I felt the need to cover myself. She had her hand on the doorknob when she turned to me and said: "What a damn shame—what a waste---you have wonderful hands and you're the best kisser I've ever known---you know, I'm not sure if you even like women—you never listen to me---you seem to have more fun when you're around men---I've seen the way you look at some guys--maybe you should try to find Mr. Right and let him make you his wife!" And she was out the door. What the hell did she mean by that? It was the lowest point of my life. I sat on the couch and buried my head in my hands. Tears welled in my eyes. My heart ached with the pain of rejection and abject humiliation. I was born this way, I thought. I have no control over the size of my cock. I'm not a freak, damn-it! And having a small cock doesn't make me gay—not that there's anything wrong with that. I have a few gay friends—they're some of the nicest, smartest and funniest people I know; I don't care what two people do together—it's none of my business, but she was wrong—I've never been sexually attracted to a guy. I turned off the light and sat in the dark. All the girls I'd dated flashed before my eyes. I concentrated on each one and thought about what I had liked, and not liked about them. I thought hard and long. Then I made a serious discovery: outside of wanting to have sex with them, I was forced to admit I never truly enjoyed talking with them or even being with them—any of them. Their interests and mine were miles apart. Their inane chatter bored the hell out of me and I found them frivolous, un-creative and not-very bright. When I wanted to talk serious subjects they'd roll their eyes and ask questions such as, "Do you like the new color of my nails?" They weren't fun to be with at all. To be fair, I there are many smart and funny women out there—unfortunately, I had never dated one. Right now though, the whole dating-thing seemed like way too much work and misery just to get a slim chance of seeing one of them naked. I always lived my life the way my parents and friends and the rest of society expected me to live. I conformed and obeyed; my life was about seeking approval and acceptance from other people; my own wants, needs, desires and thoughts be damned even if that meant dating attractive, but mind-numbingly dull women. So how's that working out for you, Johnny? I found my way in the dark to the bedroom and plopped down on the bed. My head was spinning a million miles a second. I couldn't sleep. I turned on the bedside lamp and opened the drawer and removed my one and only porn magazine. I flipped through the pages. I laid the magazine on the bed to give myself a free hand and reached inside my briefs and fondled my prick. The excitement I had felt earlier returned—I became fully erect. I pushed my briefs down my thighs and stroked my three-and-a-half inch prick. I don't care what she thinks, I said to myself, still hurting from her words. My penis is in proper proportion to my body size. When I reached my favorite page I laid back and stared at the photo. A well-developed, somewhat muscular man was standing while a girl knelt between his wide-spread legs. Her right hand held his balls while her left hand grasped the shaft of his impressive cock. Her lips were stretched wide over his cockhead; the entire glans was in her mouth. I stroked my cock faster. I fantasized what it would feel like if that were me standing there. My eyes fixated on his cock and her mouth. I admitted to myself it was a nice looking cock. Once again, I lost control of my own fantasy which happened with more frequency the past few months—it wasn't her on her knees—it was me. It was me sucking his cock--it was me rubbing his balls and stroking his shaft; this fantasy excited me the most--my orgasms were more powerful when I used this fantasy. This fantasy always made my cock throb and my balls ache. My hand rapidly moved up-and-down my hard prick. I imagined I was bobbing my head back-and-forth over his hard cock. I wondered how his hot flesh would feel in my mouth; I wondered what his cum would taste like. My balls suddenly erupted like a volcano; my cum shot straight in the air and landed on my belly and thighs. My head rolled from side-to-side; I cried out and milked the last remnants of liquid from my shaft. When it was over I was gasping for air. Before I turned out the light and went to sleep I said out loud: "Oh my God—that was a GOOD one!" The next day was the warmest day we'd had in a long time. I needed some fresh air. I looked out the window at the swimming pool and saw there were only a few unoccupied lounge chairs, and many of the buildings female residents were sunning themselves. I wore my loose-fitting swim trunks, flip-flops, and draped a towel over my shoulder. In the pool area the girls were engrossed in conversations and never gave me a glance as I passed-by. I found an empty chair and sat back and surveyed the scene. There were several females I would have liked to approach, but as usual, I sat there just looking and listening. Courage to speak to strange women had been a lifelong problem. Maybe that's why I ended up with the women I did—I never really initiated a relationship. At the other end of the pool the entrance gate clanged open and I shifted my gaze to see who was entering the area. It was just another guy. I had seen him around the complex, but we never spoke. I had to admit he had a great body, and the closer he came I saw he was handsome, as well. I am not ashamed to say that I can find beauty in most everything. I love good art, music and the whole panorama mother-nature provides for us. I also appreciate a well-formed and attractive human being whether they're female or male. I noticed how the girls stopped talking and stared at him as he passed them. I felt a little jealous inside; I wished I had that kind of body, and could provoke that kind of interest from the ladies. I looked at the impressive bulge in his short, tight swimming trunks. That was nothing new; I frequently compared myself with other guys. I shifted my gaze away as he came closer. "Is someone sitting here?" he asked me. I looked at him and was momentarily dumbfounded—I couldn't speak. He had the biggest, bluest eyes I'd ever seen. They were like two huge pools of crystal-clear water and they seemed to sparkle as he looked at me. His eyes were hypnotic. "Ah...no--no...it's all yours," I finally managed to say. "Thanks!" he replied with a smile that warmed my heart. I felt the need to say something; anything: "A lot of nice looking ladies here today..." He chuckled and said, "Yeah, it makes you feel like a piece of prime beef when they check you out, doesn't it?" I wouldn't know. "Heh-heh...yeah, sure does...." Then out of nowhere he asked: "Aren't you the computer-guy who lives on the third floor?" At first I was flattered that he knew who I was, but soon realized I'd worked on several computers in the building and word spreads fast around here. "Ah, yeah...." I replied. He held out his hand: "I'm Justin," he said. "I'm John," I blurted out as I shook his hand. He had a strong grip. Small talk came easy for him. I imagined most everything came easy for him. "You into sports at all?" he asked. I laughed and said, "Yeah..." then went on a minor tirade about the performance of our local baseball team. I got him to laugh—his smile and laughter made me relax and I found myself enjoying his company. After more conversation he excused himself and dived into the pool. I watched his powerful shoulders as he effortlessly swam across the water. It was obvious he was a natural athlete; he seemed to glide over the surface of the water with long, even strokes. When he came out of the pool and dried himself off, I found myself staring at his sculpted chest; well-developed, and without a trace of hair. After a couple hours of non-stop conversation, a sudden chill overcame us when the sun began to hide behind the tall oak trees. It was time to leave. We gathered our things and walked out of the pool area together. "Ah, I don't mean to sound like this—you're probably tired of people asking you, but would it be possible for you to look at my computer? There's something wrong and I don't have a clue what it is...." My immediate reaction was one of disappointment. Was this the reason he befriended me? To have his computer fixed? "Ah, yeah...sure...." I responded. "You know," he said, "I've got a couple steaks that need to be cooked—how about I make you dinner for your help?" "You don't have to do that...." I said. He stopped in his tracks and looked me in my eyes and said: "No, I, ah, want to—besides, I need to cook them before they go bad..." His beautiful eyes melted any resistance I may have felt. I perked-up: "Yeah, okay...that would be great...I'll take a shower and be right over, okay?" "Great—apartment 2-D...." and we parted ways. In the shower, all I could think of was his big, beautiful eyes and his wide smile. I ran a soapy hand up-and-down my prick and it instantly became hard. What the hell are you doing, John? I asked myself, as I shook the image of him out of my mind and finished showering. On the way to his apartment I told myself to calm down; he's a guy—not a girl, but I thought it might be fun getting to know him. He was interesting and it was fun at the pool; definitely an all-American, alpha-type male, who probably has had thirty-times more girlfriends than me. I enjoyed our smart and witty conversation. I found myself hoping he would share some stories about his love life. Sometimes I lived vicariously through the exploits of other men. I was nervous when I knocked on his door. I stood waiting at his door for quite awhile then I knocked again. When he finally opened the door I saw him wearing only gym shorts and no shirt; he was drying his hair with a towel. He had obviously just taken a shower, too. "John...I'm really sorry...it took me longer than I thought to get ready...." he explained. "C'mon in...." Damn, his chest was absolutely perfect! I thought as I entered his apartment. I felt my blood pressure rise. What the hell is wrong with you, John? I asked myself. I turned away from him to hide my red face. I was becoming seriously perplexed by my feelings. He's a GUY, damn-it—control yourself.... My eyes took in his apartment; tastefully decorated with quite a few paintings and photographs, and a large aquarium against the back wall. He had a large brown leather sofa with a matching recliner. I saw his laptop on a table by a window and walked to it. He had the same view of the swimming pool as I, only he was one-floor lower. Duh, I said to myself, he's in 2-D and you're in 3-D. He quickly came over to me and coughed, then said, "You know...I was fooling with it earlier and I think I might have accidentally fixed whatever the problem was...." "Oh—good...." I said. "I just put the baked potatoes in the oven," he said. "It'll be about an hour before we eat...want a glass of wine?" "Sure, " I said. I noticed he'd pulled on a crisp, white tee shirt. He directed me to sit on the sofa; he sat near me; I didn't think anything about it. Our conversation took off from where we'd left it. It was like we were old friends. After our second glass of wine he excused himself; it was almost time to eat. While he was in the kitchen I walked around the room taking a closer look at his artwork. He'd told me they were his—he enjoyed painting and photography and I could see he was talented. I was staring at one of his paintings when suddenly he was beside me and he put an arm around my shoulder. I was startled at first, but it wasn't unpleasant. "What do you think?" he asked me. "Do you like them? You can be brutally honest with me if you don't think they're any good." On the contrary, I thought they were extremely good. "I'm, ah...I'm very impressed...you're very good...but I was wondering...." my voice trailed-off. "Wondering what?" he asked. "They all seem to have a common theme...they're all beautiful, and you use different methods of conveying your message, but they give me the feelings of emptiness—loneliness...." His hand squeezed my shoulder before he spoke. "Wow," he said in a soft voice, "you're very perceptive...not many people see that..." The meal was excellent. He enjoyed cooking and it showed. I rinsed the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher then we were back on the couch with another glass of wine. I was curious about his personal life but didn't want to pry. In a round-about way I got him to open up. "No, I'm not seeing anyone now...it's difficult meeting the right kind of people...I dunno—maybe I'm too selective—I'd hate to settle on someone I'm not 100% crazy about...." "No," I said, "...you should never just 'settle'...it seems like I've done that my whole life and I've got nothing to show for it...." "Yeah, I know what you mean..." he said. "Sometimes I get so bored and lonely I'll go out and have a fling with the first person who smiles at me and says something clever." I had a hard time understanding how this smart, talented and funny man could possibly have a difficult time meeting women. Hell, I saw the stares he received from the girls at the pool today. I guessed maybe he was too picky. In addition to all his other attributes, he struck me as very caring and sensitive. Despite his manly exterior, maybe he was just as insecure as the rest of us? We talked for a long time. Whenever there was silence between us, it was never awkward. I had never felt so comfortable with another human being in my life. It was late and we were saying our good-byes. He said he had two tickets to the ballgame the next afternoon and asked if I wanted to go. "I'd love to," I said. I hoped I hadn't sounded too eager. "Great," he smiled. "How about you stop by here at 11:30 and I'll drive us to the game?" "I'll be here," I said. Before I left I stared into his beautiful, glistening eyes and said, "Justin, thanks for dinner—and the conversation—I had more fun tonight than—well, I don't remember when...." I will always remember the way his face lit up when I said those words. When I got home I wasted no time in stripping for bed and retrieving the magazine from the nightstand. I went straight to my favorite page and stared at the man's cock. My prick had been twitching and jumping in my pants all night; my balls were aching—demanding relief. I didn't understand my emotions, but I didn't care either. I made no pretenses tonight: the cock in the picture belonged to Justin and I was kneeling between his legs giving him pleasure. I could almost taste his sweet pre-cum as my tongue lapped over his silky-smooth cock-flesh. My orgasm rocked my world. A gushing flood of cum--amounts of which I'd never experienced before--covered my belly and thighs and hand. I was breathing hard for five-full minutes before I drifted-off into a blissfully-peaceful sleep. The following morning it bothered me that I had masturbated to the image of my new friend. I was feeling somewhat embarrassed when I knocked on his door at 11:25. He greeted me again with his fabulous smile. I wondered what was wrong with me--how could a man have this overpowering effect on me? The negativity quickly disappeared—I felt like a new man when I was with him so to hell with my old inhibitions. The ballgame wasn't very good; our team fell way behind early and never made much of an effort to catch up. Neither of us cared, we exchanged baseball stories, and enjoyed the ballpark cuisine. He surprised me after the game by taking me to the Art Institute. An artist he admired had an exhibition opening and we toured the gallery for three-hours. I listened to his knowledge of art history with rapt attention. It seemed the longer I knew Justin the more I was impressed by him. I clearly saw his fascination and love for art, and his excitement was contagious. At times, when he was explaining a work to me, I became lost in his eyes while the melodic sound of his voice tugged at my heartstrings. Seemingly out of nowhere, a woman's voice cried out: "Justin, darling—how nice to see you!" The woman approached us: she was tall, blonde and very beautiful. I was impressed by her grace and poise. I wondered who she was. The blood drained from Justin's face; his demeanor suddenly changed from lively and amiable to a sullenness I'd never seen. "Hello, Jennifer...." he said in a not-very welcoming tone. "How have you been?" "Just fabulous, darling...Todd and I returned from Bermuda this afternoon...we had to make it back for Freddy's opening tonight...isn't his work marvelous?" Four Days in May Then she looked down at me, into my eyes, and a sly smirk spread across her face. "Darling, aren't you going to introduce me to your young, little friend?" she asked in a voice dripping with contempt. She held out her hand and said: "Hi, I'm Jennifer—Justin's wife—" "EX-wife!" he corrected her. Unfazed, she continued: "...and who might you be?" I didn't like her tone at all. I softly took her hand and said, "I might be John...." "How droll...." she said through the sneer on her lips. "Well, darling—nice chatting with you—Todd and I must be going—the Van Slykes are having a dinner party and you know how tedious they get when you're late—bye-bye." His wife? I was stunned—HIS WIFE?? It was dark when we left. We sat in silence a long while as he drove us home. A wave of sweet despair washed over me. He was married—wow! What a fool I am, I thought. There had been moments at the ballpark and the art gallery when I really believed he was interested in me as more than a friend. I thought I'd even felt a spark between us. I had been kidding myself all along. Justin was all-man and surly considered me just a guy he could have fun and talk with. I felt embarrassed and stupid. I'm in love with him, I thought to myself. YES—I admit it! And I'll never be able to tell him. The only person I have ever loved—the only person in the world I have ever truly cared about---is a man—a man who would be appalled if he knew what I was feeling. When we arrived at our building he invited me to his apartment for a glass of wine. I mumbled some sort of feeble excuse and went to my place. I walked to the kitchen without turning on a lamp. Dim moonlight shone through a window and it was all I needed to find my way. I retrieved a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass and sat on the couch. I fell into a familiar routine: drink a glass of bourbon then pour another one. It was my modus operandi following cruel or bitter disappointments in my life and I've had more than I care to recount. I was ashamed of my weakness—my need to drown my soul in order to feel better about myself, but the urge was always overwhelming and I could never resist. How in the world could I feel this way? What in hell was going on in my brain that told me it was okay to fall in love with a guy? How could I have let down my guard and allow this to happen? Sometime in the night I passed out on the couch. The following day I was awakened by a ray of sunshine on my face. My head was pounding and I briefly wondered where I was. I tossed down some aspirin and took a shower. I felt somewhat better but not much. Glancing out the window at the pool area, I noticed it was another beautiful day with many lovelies sunning themselves. I put on my swim trunks and unsteadily walked to the pool. There was an open lounge chair between two pretty girls and I lay back and closed my eyes. My head was spinning. I deserve to feel this way, I said to myself. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep I heard the clanging of the metal gate. Instinctively, I looked to see who the new arrival was. It was Justin. I closed my eyes feeling dread and shame. I heard a lounge chair settle on the concrete close to me. Justin had brought over a chair and squeezed it into a tight spot next to mine. "Are you alright, John?" he asked me. My heart was so heavy I didn't know what to say. I had to say something—he didn't do anything to me; it was my fault I felt this way about him. I managed a weak smile and said, "Hi...not feeling too well today...met up with my old pal Jack Daniels last night...." He nodded his head knowingly and didn't say another word. The sun felt warm—I began to sweat the liquor out through my pores. About an hour later he leaned over to me and softly said: "You know the other day when I mentioned there was something wrong with my computer and there wasn't---well, I just wanted to meet you and I didn't know how else to do it...." Huh? He wanted to meet ME? I wondered. He coughed, and made nervous laughter: "But, wouldn't you know—now there really is something wrong with it...would you please take a look at it for me?" This was all very strange. What was he trying to tell me? My headache was finally gone and I was feeling stronger. "Sure...." I said. When I heard him move his chair to leave, I climbed off mine as well. I followed him into the building to his apartment. I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline when he opened the door and he smiled at me. God how I loved that smile. "I had a great time yesterday..." he said, "I hope I didn't say anything to offend you...when we got home you disappeared in an awful hurry...was it something I did? Was it something Jennifer said? She's a real bitch...." My heart melted when I saw the look of caring and concern in his eyes. I was totally bewildered—I didn't want to misread his intentions again. My emotions were overwhelmed—this was getting far more intense than I could handle. It crossed my mind to leave—get out of there fast and never look back, but I found myself following him into his apartment. I suddenly realized the power he had over me—I would follow him anywhere just to be near him. I went straight to his computer table and sat down. I needed to focus on something—to think about something other than him. Whenever I troubleshoot a computer I always check the connections first. You'd be surprised how many people thought they had a serious problem when in fact it was just a loose wire or it was unplugged. Sure enough, it had become disconnected and all I did was plug it back into the outlet. Justin laughed and said: "I'm such an idiot—sorry about wasting your time." He was smarter than that—he would have checked the connections himself. He did that on purpose. I sat there not knowing what to do or say. This was our first awkward silence. I shifted uneasily in the chair then gazed out the window next to the computer. He had a great view of the pool. Then suddenly I felt his hands on my shoulders. The touch of his hands made my whole body tingle. "A couple weeks ago I was sitting where you are..." he said softly. "...I looked out the window and...well, I looked out the window and saw someone I knew I had to meet...someone who I was instantly attracted to...I think it was love at first sight...it was you, Johnny." I froze in place; unable to move or respond. He continued; he spoke as if he were in a trance: "Every day I was here waiting for you—hoping you'd go to the pool...when you weren't there I was heartbroken and felt so lonely I wanted to cry...when you were there it felt so wonderful I wanted to sing—I stared at your beautiful face the whole time trying to screw up enough courage to go down there and meet you...believe me, I've never felt this awkward and tongue-tied in my life..." Tears welled in my eyes—I couldn't believe he was saying this to me. I continued staring out the window but I didn't see anything; I only heard his soft voice and wonderful words. He said:"The other day I finally told myself it was 'now or never'—if I didn't at least meet you I would regret it the rest of my life--I hurried downstairs before you had a chance to leave...did you notice how nervous I was when we shook hands?" I slowly shook my head 'no'—I was speechless—unable to form words. He continued: "When we talked—when I got to know you...I felt like a new person—you're the sharpest person I've ever met—I adore your sense of humor...you bring out the best in me. I feel so alive when we're together...you might not want to hear this—you will probably punch me and storm out of here, but I have to say it: I'm absolutely head-over-heels in love with you, Johnny...I'm sorry if this offends you—I know you're not gay--I saw you with that pretty girl--but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't tell you how I feel..." Even though this was the happiest moment of my life I had to ask him: "What about your ex-wife? If you're gay, why did you marry her?" He gave a long sigh then said: "I lived a lie for a very long time...I had to...growing up I was a damn good athlete and all the girls wanted me...I couldn't tell them I wasn't interested...I certainly couldn't say to my folks and friends that I would rather be in a locker room shower with naked guys than in the backseat of a car with a willing girl...everyone assumed I was the All-American boy...everyone had great expectations of me—I was afraid of letting everyone down--I had to live that lie for the sake of the people who cared about me...." His words struck me hard; I knew what he was talking about; I knew exactly what he went through in order to please other people and not himself. I stood up and stared into his gorgeous blue eyes. He looked at me, unsure of my reaction. I moved closer to him until we were touching. He opened his arms and I pressed myself against his hard chest. When he put his arms around me and held me tight, well...my life finally had meaning. I confessed my feelings for him: "I love you, Justin...I've never met anyone like you—please let me be with you...I want to make you happy...." We kissed. Our lips pressed tightly together. I pulled his body closer to mine—I felt his excitement against my belly. I boldly reached down and stroked it through his trunks. My head was swimming in lust and desire. I suddenly felt a deep craving; a hunger I'd never known before that had to be satisfied once and for all. I dropped to my knees and slowly peeled down his swim trunks. When his hard cock sprang into view it truly was love at first sight. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I kissed the head of his cock and looked up at him. His eyes were wide with wonderment and joy. "I don't know what to do," I said softly. "Please...please show me what you want...." I followed his gentle coaxing and instructions and proceeded to taste a man's cock for the first time in my life. Nothing had ever felt more natural. I loved it--It was as though I was born to be on my knees pleasuring a man. His manly aroma overpowered me. His silky flesh quivered beneath my tongue. My own cock throbbed as I bobbed my head back-and-forth sucking more-and-more of his cockhead and shaft into my mouth. I was lost in the sucking. When his hips pushed his cock further inside my mouth I instinctively stroked and sucked his wonderful prick faster. When he grunted and groaned and discharged into my mouth I greedily swallowed every drop. My lips and tongue were coated with his thick cream. It was delicious. For the first time in my life, reality was far, far better than any of my fantasies. So here I am lying naked on red satin sheets waiting expectantly for my lover to emerge from the bathroom. A shiver runs up-and-down my spine as I imagine what he'll have me do for him next. Since yesterday afternoon we've acted like newlyweds: kissing, petting, fondling and caressing. He's taught me how to satisfy his every carnal desire with my hands, my mouth and my 'tight pussy', as he likes to call it. He's a generous and considerate lover. When he had me bend over and took my virginity, he grasped my hard cock in his strong hand and gave me the most thrilling orgasm of my life. We are both amazed at how powerful and intense our orgasms have become, and we know for certain it is due to our love and respect for one another. When we are not making love we're talking and discussing our future together. I will wait until the end of the month to move into his apartment, even though I will spend every night in his bed until then. Suddenly, the bathroom door flies open and Justin stands in the doorway naked, posing for me. I burst out in laughter. He has attached a big red bow to his seven-inch hard-on. "Who in this room wants to open my package?" he asks loudly. I squeal with delight: "ME-ME-ME-ME-ME-PICK MEEEEEEEEE...." Judy had been keenly prescient: I will make a good wife for a wonderful man.