In our candlelit room, I stood behind him and took the reins made of his shoulders and waist, whichever I wanted to cling onto for the long ride. As I pushed myself deep inside, barely slick, his soft cries and whimpers steadied and strengthened into rhythmic moans of manliness following my repetitive movements. So warm the cave was, no longer uncharted from my having explored and claimed it continually, elusive to all but me. I didn't need it to feel tight inside, because the looser it felt, the more I was reminded of my frequent entry. Knowing I was here each and every time as the lone explorer filled me with pride. Pounding my way a bit farther to mine for pleasure, my own breaths increased in a sweat-inducing pace. As my eyes rolled beyond my control as if sweetly possessed, I reached the peak where I plopped the nth flagpole of this moment's exploration. I cried in joy, and so did he. Once it flooded inside from the rain of love, I collapsed onto my claim, still behind him in a sticky hold until I'd say otherwise. But this very man was more than a claim.
He was my life through sickness and in health.
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Tamely Told
Short StoryA homoerotic romance anthology of tastefully written flash fiction stories.
