"Feel his fast breath match mine."

It was a very long day and an even longer night. I went out early, at 23 years old and without a job I was officially my household’s errand boy. I remember the day being hot and tiring. I met friends in town, we went from coffee to lunch, and stayed out till late at night. Today, at 33, some of the details of that night are vague in my memory, as I am writing it down I am second guessing some of the elements I always thought of as facts but part of the reason for it is to keep a record of it somewhere the way I remember it now.

After downing a couple drinks at one of our usual places, long past midnight, we went the extra mile and set off to find a party nearby. We looked for 40 minutes but never actually found the place which led me to feel defeated and tired. Finally I decided to head home.

A good chunk of my life at that time was spent riding the night bus X14. Headphones on, leaning against the window and eyes mostly shut, I tried to keep the still-busy-environment out before eventually crashing hard in bed. I opened my eyes to check if my stop was approaching but my attention was immediately drawn to a mid-height guy casually standing in front of the doors in the middle of the bus. I could only see his back but his timid demeanor somehow fascinated me. I am very attracted to guys that are shorter than me, I get the urge to wrap my arms around them and hold them tight, pin them against a wall and press my body onto theirs, kiss the side of their neck and dominate them. Suddenly all these images rushed through my head and my breath got deeper. I felt frustrated because I was in a bus half-filled with people and no discernible prospect of doing something about it. The bus makes an abrupt stop and all the passengers are pushed out of place. Finding his footing, he turns around and faces me. If one thing remains clear from that night in my memory, it is the green glittery eyeshadow under his eyes.

I wish I possessed the skills of an experienced writer to successfully express my emotions at that moment. The correct blend of sexual exhilaration paired with a desperation to touch him, be close to him, wanting to know what he smells like as I lean my head on his neck, what he tastes like.  He seemed to be heading home from a party, his shirt was untucked and his hair out of place, maybe a little worn down from the night and confetti sprinkled on him. He looked like he had recently been a little drunk but quite lucid at the moment, tired. My focus was directed to his eyes. They seemed to sparkle with the dark green glittery eyeshadow, which contrasted beautifully to his blondish hair. All I could think of was how much he reminded me of Peter Pan. 

I never had an aware attraction to the fictional character. It was not even like the person in front of me really looked anything alike to the well known disney depiction of him. The eyeliner, especially at that time in Greece, made him look exciting and rebellious, gorgeous.

We shared a couple glances and I quickly decided to not take my eyes off him, he had to notice me. The bus came to a stop and he stepped out. I half-warily walked out after him, not really knowing what I was going to do or if it was even ok for me to follow him. It was clear that he was aware of me but didn't stop walking. What if he thought I was a creep? Was I even sure that he felt safe and not frightened? I kept a relatively long distance between us so that hopefully he didn't feel any sort of threat. Was that enough though? Were his infrequent glances towards me a sign of consent or fear? Any sort of sexual excitement I felt before had given place to an anguished moral dilemma that made me stop and put even longer distance between the two of us when finally, after glancing one last time at my direction, he calmly took out his keys and went inside a building.

I told myself there was no reason for me to keep on walking. He was obviously gone and probably totally freaked out by me, just like I was at myself for that matter. I was going so slowly that it seemed to be five minutes before I reached the front of the building. It was a glass façade and to my surprise, he was standing inside visible only by the light from the elevator which he was holding open looking outside. I was caught without a plan, aimlessly standing, looking in as he was standing there looking out. I awkwardly mastered a wave of my hand, which made him come out and greet me at the door.

I can't say exactly how we ended up in his apartment. I know we made some casual small-talk for which my side of the subtext was to make him see how unthreatening and considering I really was. We still seemed to unrestitably move in closer, I could almost smell his now fading cologne mixed with his natural scent, hot skin, blood racing as both of our hearts were thumping. Kissed him and tasted the fruity cocktail he must have had earlier in the night, pulled on the shirt to have him press against me and feel his fast breath match mine. He was squeezed between me and the wall and he was accepting my body onto his. I had to turn him around, lick the back of his ear and neck, feel his bottom press against my crotch as needed to push back and pin him into the wall. He exclaimed “Yes” and that gave me more and more confidence to take control over him. I lightly bit down on his shoulder and pulled away his shirt. He thrust his ass back at me and rubbed my dick with his hand over my jeans. He undid his trousers and let them fall to the ground, his ass was round and pink, it shivered from excitement as I slapped it hard while pushing my tongue down his throat.

His show of consent gave me a head rush and I went down to open his hole with my tongue. The more he quivered and moaned, the more I insatiably ate him out, trying to stretch him  using my tongue and hands. It was unbearable though, the need to be inside him. I wanted so much to spit on my hand, use it as lube and slide, with a light smooth motion, all the way inside. Feel him wrap and constrict around me. Breath audibly and fuck his hole fast and slow, trying to make it last as much as possible, holding him tight in my arms before blowing everything I had inside him. I am picturing sliding out of his wet and dripping hole. Understandably and sadly, he didn't let me fuck him since he wasn't prepared for that so I came deep down his throat while holding tight on his head. Even though I imagined the fucking, The release was still perfect.

We kissed and talked for a bit. I walked the rest of the way home and with great effort went to the bathroom. As I mundanely brushed my teeth and looked at my reflection in the mirror, something shiny caught my attention. A little bit of dark green glitter stuck on my sweaty skin. I smiled and thought of Peter Pan. He surprisingly creeps back in my memory, just like glitter persistently hangs around after a party that has long ended.

Ε. 33



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