"Cally's Move"- Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Two years ago Cally followed me into the house, locked the door behind him, walked over and turned the set on. Then he came to me. In the meantime, I had turned away from him and was sorting through my mail. He walked up to me, and playfully grabbed my ass, careful to squeeze each bun for maximum reaction, and then he began to laugh, softly. It was a teasing, lustful laugh and I knew what that meant.

Unfortunately, I was in no mood for that at the moment. I had undergone a rough week and all the attention from this straight guy, who had only recently become enlightened by my talents-none of it changing my demeanor, was unwanted. I loved the attention, but the day had been long with sorrow and my loins were unmoved. Burying my friend had taken its toll on me.

Cally sensed my sorrow as he had not known my long time friend. The grief was still consuming me and as much as I wanted to bury my head in the warmth of his arms, I resisted. So with grace of an idiot, or more like a hurt puppy, I pulled back from him, preferring the loneliness of my moment. It was stupid and I knew that. Any guy would have given his right nut to be with a stud like Cally.

I didn’t feel like I had any balls after what I’d just endured the last week and so I appropriately chose to dwell with my grief in that small part of my mind that could contain it. I didn’t feel like opening up because it would expose me and that what certainly ruin what I was all about.

I needed to cry. I hadn't cried for the longest and I somehow felt that Cally could sense the need. Yet, he wouldn’t be deterred when I had halfheartedly, wanting his touch but confused in my sorrow, attempted to push him away. He held me, pulling me closer to him. I saw that gleam in his eyes, and I alas understood that he was about me at that moment, that he did indeed understand my feelings. His advance was meant as a comforting move, a way to take my mind off the unplesantries of the week.

For the longest moment he just held me, surrounding me with the rugged masculinity of his developed body. Cally was an experience and the first among many who had been so open with his feelings and wasn’t afraid to touch me. He did do often. When he did, I felt the world would cease for that specific moment, because everything else certainly did, I thought of nothing during those times except the perfect heaven in his embrace.

This was one of those times and I let myself go. He nudged me or more like motioned me over to the couch, where we planted ourselves as I momentarily lay with my head against his shoulders. He didn’t move and for the longest moment, we sat there motionless, my eyes finally tearing. He let me cry and I knew that that this guy could really feel the agony within my heart, and I cried so hard. A week of crying that had been pinned up inside me let go.

Even in my grief, I found a change come over me. Perhaps it was knowing that he understood and that could somehow make it better. I prefer to say that even grief can’t hold back horniness, because it didn’’t take long, safely ensconced there in his arms, for me to react. It was impossible to deny or allay the feelings that came between us when we were this close.

That didn’t happen often, save the times when we had sex. Although that was real and acted upon at every moment that we had free, that was sex and there was no way of having sex without being close unless you did it mechanically. There was nothing about our prowess in the sack that was mechanical and so this was very special and I didn’t want to let go of it.

That lasted about about as much time as my initial efforts to repel him. I couldn’t. Cally could heat any guy’s loins and I willingly let him take me to that place of dreams. Everything stopped and I mean everything when we were ready, although I’d never mentioned it, learning early on that you don’t do a lot of talking with straight guys about sex. They just don't’ seem to be into it. A lot of that has to do with the denial involved. A denial that can’t overrule their loins and their choices at the time.

I told you earlier about Cally so I’m not going into every specific about his fine, developed body or the way he seemed to exist in some wonder in my mind, an angel come to life to greet me, take me under his arm and show me his way.

Finally, I stirred a little, the tears subsiding for a moment. The bottom of his chin rested on the top of my head. He kept it there, waiting for my move. He had said nothing and it was time to move into the fullness of this man who had come of age in such splendid manner and who now held me like the big brother I never knew,

My own father had never hugged or held me like this. I can’t recall any time, dating back to my earliest years when I felt a similar affection coming from him. He hadn’t been that type of man and so, maybe from him, maybe just from the way i grew up.

I didn't do a lot of hugging or embracing or kissing or any of those things that show real affection. Looking back, and even now I know that possibly I had wanted to, but the magic wasn’t there.

The distance between us had left me void of that particular and lacking in my ability to show affection. I carried my affection on my sleeve and today, still do although I’m definitely more open and sincerely enjoy the touch from a stud guy. I’m really not sure how I feel about touching in general. I guess I deal with it, okay, but find myself sometimes alarmed if I’m not expecting it.

That’s all crazy, I know, but it's the real me. Cally has somehow found a way to make me let go of that distraction. I feel full when I'm with him, none like my past partners. Looking back, it probably wasn’t all them, although their machismo caused them to keep a distance between us when we weren’t sexing it up, but it worked. I had found enough vitality in those encounters that I could substitute them for real feelings. That had carried me through and kept the loneliness at bay.

Cally let his arm fall down around my neck, softly moving past my ears, where he let the tips of his fingers softly brush against them. It sent shivers through me. I could sense his need, his own type of loneliness in the gentle but commanding way that he led me, moved me to lust. I could feel that his moves were left over from a displaced or never actualized feeling in his life. His touch wasn’t just for me and I knew that, but for all those he had wanted to touch and it never happened.

It might be carrying it to far to say that was a type of love in those moments. but maybe so. Perhaps, I was actually his real time substitute for a life of misplaced and unsaid feelings, for a life governed under society’s directive for males.

For males, there always existed that unwritten moral code, a code of conduct that was institutionalized at birth. I don’t fool myself into believing that I’m his only one, but I’m satisfied to just be the recipient of his affection. Maybe that shows an insecurity on my part, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s none of that and it’s pure fact that I’ve come to like the touch of a male. That comfort has made me more comfortable with male or female. I do like that.

Cally didn’t stop at my ears. He let the slow slip of his fingers move to my shoulders and down onto my arms, where he kneeded my skin with this undulating motion of his lithe fingers, so strong yet so compelling as he moved them agilely up and down my arm.

I could feel the reaction rapidly building in my loins and I wanted it so, in place of my misery. I think he knew that, and so he began to let go, to take me to that wonderland of bliss,to reach me through his control and to move me in ways untold as he slowly took my comfort into his hands . I was hard.