gasped at the sensation, more sensitive than he would have expected. Cheryl pushed him down and climbed over him, straddling him. Tyler let her take the lead as she reached down and guided his cock against her warm, sopping cunt. She rubbed the head against her opening, and Tyler had trouble stopping himself from cumming. Not now. Not yet.
Cheryl panted harder and harder, rubbing her clitoris against the head of his cock until she let out a guttural cry, her body jerking with the orgasm that ripped through her. Tyler waited until she settled down, then pulled her forward. Cheryl slid onto his cock, and he could feel the contractions as her orgasm subsided.
Slowly, Cheryl started to move up and down, impaling herself more fully on him. Tyler squeezed her ass, gritted his teeth and tried to hold off, but the feeling was too strong, and he came in torrents, deep inside her. Both gasping for air, they clung together.
At last, Cheryl pushed away. “Oh, God, I’ve got to get ready,” she said, pulling her clothes back on. “How late is it? Zach is going to be frantic. I mean, somebody has to help the bride get ready.” She got her clothes on while Tyler watched her silently. “Did that help?” she said suddenly, and with a surprising note of tenderness.
“More than you’ll ever know, Kate,” Tyler said. “You are one of a kind”
“There you are,” Zach said with an irritated scowl. “What happened? Is Cheryl going through with it?”
“Absolutely,” Tyler said, grinning.
“What did you say? She makes such a big fucking deal out of every little thing. Do you think I’m making a mistake here? Do you think she’s right for me?” Zach asked, a genuine note of anxiety in his voice.
“I think she’s perfect for you,” Tyler said earnestly. “But I still want to know, why didn’t you go find her yourself?”
Zach looked away. “I was busy, you know, getting ready. It’s my wedding, for god sakes. There are a lot of things to do.”
Tyler looked him up and down. He straightened Zach’s collar and brushed lint off his shoulder. He looked at Zach and shook his head slightly, though Zach clearly didn’t notice. “As I said, you two are perfectly suited. But, Zach…”
Zach looked up expectantly, waiting for him to finish.
Tyler paused, then gestured at Zach’s pants. “A word to the wise, buddy. You might want to zip up before the ceremony.” With that, he turned and walked out the door.
Dream a Little Dream by Sessha Batto
Arthur considered suicide. He hummed tonelessly, turning the various options over in his mind as he sought the perfect one. Gas was too uncertain, a gun too messy. As he was mulling the pros and cons of a simple overdose, it came to him.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” His brother’s voice burst the bubble of Arthur’s near epiphany.
“Why are we doing this? Fishing has got to be the most boring activity on the planet. I doubt there’s even any fish in this lake.” After deftly parrying Martin’s question with one of his own he didn’t wait around for the answer, picking up his rod and meandering down the bank.
“Where are you going?” His brother’s anxious call prickled the hairs on the back of Arthur’s neck. The man had eyes, it should be obvious. Instead of replying he merely shrugged, tilting his head in the direction he was heading. “Well, don’t go far,” the relentless voice continued. “We need to leave soon.”
He breathed a sigh of relief when he made it far enough around the curve of the lake’s edge to be unseen and unheard. The constant, none-too-secret, surveillance his family and friends had him under left him struggling to breathe. He continued pushing his way through the tangled deadfall that lay just shy of the water until he was certain he hadn’t been followed.
Arthur stretched out on a flat rock, pulling out the sketchbook he’d stuffed in his pants and digging in the bottom of his tackle box for a stick of charcoal. For the thousandth time his hand began to trace lines more familiar than his own face.
“You have to stop this.” The tenuous whisper brushed his cheek, a wavering touch like a moth taking flight.
“You know I’ve tried.” Arthur also knew his words fell on jaded ears. “Just one last time.”
“You keep saying that.” The voice was stronger now, the smudges on the page dancing in sympathy. “You need to let me go.”
His fingers caressed the contours of a sharp cheekbone, translating the velvety nap of the well-worked paper into silky flesh. “How can I possibly do that? Without this, I have nothing.”
“I am nothing. You and I both know I’m not real.” The mournful tone was in sharp contrast to the hand rubbing a soothing circle between Arthur’s shoulder blades. “I know you’re planning something. Are you going to fill me in?”
“No, it isn’t important.” It wasn’t really a lie. The sensation of his desire made flesh was enough to override his urge for self-destruction. “I just want to enjoy our time together.”
“You need a living, breathing, lover, not some smeary lines on a torn piece of paper.” Shadowed hands slid over Arthur’s arms, goose flesh rising in their wake. “This is a fantasy.”
“Mmhmmm,” he hummed idly, turning to capture plump, velvety lips with his own. The kiss was warm and deep, sending electric sparks tumbling down his spine in his own personal fireworks display. The urge to deepen the connection was irresistible, and so their tongues slid against each other, neither willing to yield. Arthur had never before felt such an irresistible yearning- the taste was addictive, overwhelming, and marked him as clearly as the graphite streaks darkening his lips and winding their way across his torso.
His breath caught, time slowing to a crawl as a gossamer hand wrapped around his burgeoning erection. Two rough strokes, hot silk and electricity spiraling up his spine and tearing loose a rough groan. “Oh gods, yes.”
A needy moan escaped his throat when a hard cock pressed urgently against his, and that maddening hand returned to wrap around them both. A hot mouth latched onto his nipple as his lover began to stroke, hand squeezing slightly as they thrust together. Their mouths mated, swallowing twin gasps as a thumb swiped through pearly drops of precum. A slick finger pushed through his tight pucker and all coherent thought dissolved into a ragged prayer to a deity Arthur had been certain he didn’t believe in.
The slow slide of his lover’s cock seemed to go on forever, impossibly deep, and he wondered if, perhaps, the shadowy figure would disappear inside him completely. After what seemed an eternity it reversed, taunting him with an achingly slow rhythm. No matter how he squirmed and begged, the measured pace never faltered. Each brush to his prostate tightened the hot coil inside of him, and he felt his balls drawing up tighter and tighter, like a spring ready for flight.
A ghostly hand wrapped loosely around his erection, the light teasing strokes matching the pace of the tongue ruthlessly mapping his mouth. Even now, Arthur spared a moment for his obsession, deciding that forgetting to breathe due to pleasure might, indeed, be the best way to die.
A hard thrust to his prostate pushed him over the edge, molten lightning surging up from his balls as the world greyed out around him. When his eyes fluttered open they met with the heart-stopping sight of his lover daintily licking the seed from his chest.
“Arthur, it’s time to go.” His brother’s strident call broke through the spell he was under.
“Five more minutes. I’ll meet you at the car.” Another whirlwind of kisses and then he was stumbling back through the brush, marks of his transgression starkly dappling pale flesh.
He watched the judgment settle on Martin’s normally placid features, yet shrugged it off. The meddling concerns of his so-called loved ones were of no regard in this. “What?”
The tense silence blanketing the car lifted only slightly. “You could at least pretend.” The accusation was unexpected and Arthur considered it carefully before answering.
“I could. Would that make it better?”
“Better is relative. At least no one could accuse me of complicity.” His brother was making the face again, cheeks puffed out, brows drawn low, and forehead furrowed. It was his serious face, the one that always telegraphed bad news. “Mom wants to have you committed.”
