Disclaimer, etc., in chapter 1.

This chapter is rated M for sexual content. Please do not read it if you are underage or do not like sexual content. It's fairly explicit. I've read (and written) much more explicit content than this, and I suppose you have to know the rudiments of anal intercourse to follow along, but it's still fairly explicit. Please take this as fair warning about the chapter's content.

The next chapter will be rated T. You can skip this chapter. The obvious happens in it. If I should change the rating of this fic from T to M because of this one chapter, let me know.

The title of this chapter comes from the first line of a very erotic and lovely poem by e.e. cummings, which is reproduced below. (All spelling, punctuation, and word order errors in it belong to cummings.)


i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like,slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric fur,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

-e.e. cummings, "i like my body when it is with your", reproduced from AnOther E.E. Cummings

I Like My Body When It Is With Your

I watch the door open. Watch him emerge, young, pointing forward, walking toward me.

I slide the latex barrier on, its lube a little chilly mixing with my own. He climbs on the bed, sits on his knees, waits. I lube generously, pass it to him, let him add what he wants.

Then he hovers over me, straddles, his eyes watching for my reaction, and carefully works his way down.

He's always a tight fit. We don't do this often enough for it to be otherwise. I know I'm not as tight a fit any more. But that's not here. Here, he's placed a hand on my chest and one behind him on the left to steady himself.

I stay motionless, watching him gasp and shudder, his eyes closed, his hand curling on my chest, the exquisite pleasure he's giving himself that I know so well. He doesn't get it as often. He's more tender, feels it more fully. I feel him tighten and relax, tighten and relax, tighten, shudder, stop, his nails biting my chest, start again.

His head tilts back. He started slow to get used to it. He's reaching the end of the slow rhythm, digging deep, deep as he can like this, till there's nothing but his body touching mine.

He raises himself up, reaches for the lube. I adjust the condom. I know what he'll do next. We both know this is for him right now and as fast as he goes, I won't finish. He can't finish like this either, on bottom or on top. This is for him to control and enjoy, that other good part of sex.

I stay as motionless as possible, moving only as he moves to keep him in position. This is his fuck. Mine's next.

Playful wag, he wipes the extra on my chest. Astroglide's so slick, he makes three passes to dry his hand. He smiles mischievously.

I hold myself still while he lets himself down again. Then he bends forward as far as he can, both hands on the bed next to my chest, and starts fast and shallow.

More than once he has to stop and reposition. With an angle like this, we can't stay together long.

I watch his face tighten, enjoy his harsh breaths and moans. He only moans in this position. In the next one, he'll gasp and pant and grunt cries, but he only moans when he teases the tight ring of muscle till it spasms.

I do my best to stay hard for him, it's difficult when I'm not moving. Then I feel him going, beginning, and he pushes until it's in swing, then stops dead, head back, breath held, squeezing tight against me.

All the tight trembling shaking sweet electricity, all split through him. Usually it's him in this position, watching me trembling shaking with that other kind of orgasm. I enjoy the view: his head thrown back, strands of hair sticking in sweat, Adam's apple bobbing, chest heaving, still in the moment of feeling, then in motion, his arms, the little pudge of his stomach, his erect penis weeping, testicles half-crushed against my abdomen. I don't have to say he's beautiful. He knows it.

It's not as good as the real thing for me, what he's just done, but it feels good in a different way. All those nerve endings firing at once, the clenching of muscle, the sense of fullness and the overwhelming need to push against it, working himself up at that fast pace. I know how good it is.

He comes down, rocks gently to soothe the need for more sensation, and after he's cooled some, I move my hips for the first time. He gasps, he didn't expect it, and breathes into the good feeling.

He stops me, raises again for more lube. It's not possible to have enough lube.

Then he meets my eyes and I push to meet him, not too rough, the tissue is delicate, his more than mine. We find a rhythm. Gentle. Slow. Eyes together. I get hard again, breathe deeply in, pace myself. This isn't the finish.

He wants it a little faster, so we meet a little faster. My control begins to slip. I'm enjoying it, eyes closed, thrusting up as best I can with no leverage.

Then I can't stand it any longer. We have to switch positions. I have to fuck him and end it.

I put a hand on his chest to let him know. He's off quickly and I'm up and he takes my place in the center, on his knees, spread as wide as he can. I get to my knees, in position, and squeeze on more lube. I get to do this so rarely. I'm excited and ready and he's waiting.

I don't leave him waiting.

He's open now and I can shove in quickly. I grab his hips and begin. The liquor's blurred my leg, I have a little more time than I would without it. I start fast because I want to feel fast. I hear myself, him, panting, then his breathing stops and I feel his muscles tightening again. He wants another. He holds his breath and pants in like he does when he's working his way to a regular come.

I try to hold out for him. I'm tiring. I don't get to do this often enough to be in shape for it. A stitch builds in my side and I'm getting too close to coming myself. I stop, I have to, and breathe and shove in deep, out slowly, in deep, while I catch my breath. I feel him waiting. I want to give him another. I'm in control again and I withdraw to add more lube, then I'm ready.

I give it to him fast, hard as I can, and feel him trying. I'm paced this time, not as frantic. I keep myself in deep enough that I'm not passing the head through that tight ring. It'd be too much for me. At this angle, I'm not in danger. I just have to be athletic enough to get him there.

I feel him trying, trying, his body tight beneath mine, his fists full of sheet, then he's there, panting, muscles clenched around me. I slow, feel him feeling it. I know it's good. I look forward to my turn later tonight or in the morning.

He lets out the shuddering breath that lets me know he's done. I reposition while he gets his breath back, nudge him forward. He understands. I'm going to make him come now and come myself.

We slide forward till he's pressed against the headboard. We've stained and stickied one spot about six inches in diameter so thoroughly it might never be clean again.

I pour on lube, rub my hand across his back, who's laughing now?, and wrap an arm around his chest. I'm in. I go shallow at this angle, too hard a hit on his prostate and it hurts, I know, and start slowly. I'm building both of us up.

He writhes. This is the only time he writhes. I'm serious. I press my chest against his back and wrap my other hand around his hips. He's already wet the spot. I get my hand damp with him and slide it down till I'm holding him through the ring of my index finger and thumb with my other fingers cradling his delicate scrotum.

If I were dexterous enough to control the fuck, keep my balance, and jerk him off, I would, but it's enough to stay balanced and controlled. He can jerk me, took him a month to match his hips to his hand, but he can do it, and he does sometimes. Best I can do is hold on to him. When it's me doing him, he knows he has to be the one to hold us steady, and he does, hands gripping the top of the headboard.

I keep him going slowly by keeping myself so shallow I don't touch him often. Too much and it hurts. Too little, like this, and his body begins to beg for it. I hear myself panting into his shoulder. I kiss him, lick the salt on his flesh. He's nearing a whimper. I smile and begin to go deeper, just a little deeper, to rub him gently. He gasps at every hit.

He's too close. I back off, more shallow, so I can catch up. I fuck fast, my head in the tight canal of his muscle, and I'm starting to shake, I feel it coming on.

Now we're even again and I slow and push deeper, then develop the rhythm that works best for both of us: shallow, fast thrusts for me followed by a few slow, deeper thrusts for him. Together we build until we're both shaking. Suddenly his right hand shoots down to stroke his head fast and I feel his body come, the pulse of him shooting against my left index finger ringed around him, his balls contract and shoot, contract and shoot, him breathing in time. I've stopped inside him to feel him finish.

When he's done, I smear clear white from the back of my hand across the headboard as I grip him around the stomach and begin my final rut. I don't need long, even against his relaxed muscles. Shallow and fast, holding him against me, my hands slip to his hips and I'm losing control. I'm close, I'm leaning back from him, my toes curled, shaking, teeth gritted, almost there, so close, and then I have it and I fuck him free once twice and I'm there, I push in deep, all the way, shudder, gone.

I love him with my body, the best way I know how.

When I'm done, I grasp the condom and pull myself out, kissing his sweaty back, thankful and grateful.

I collapse, unfold my knees, I'm panting slowly, pull the condom off, and he collapses beside me. We're breathing, trembling heaps, smiling at each other between intervals of blank-faced muscle relaxation.

When I can, I kiss him to thank him for this. He knows what I mean.

Since he came first and it wasn't him doing the work at the end, he recovers more quickly than I do. Gets up to fetch a dirty towel to wipe us and the headboard off. I offer him the condom so I won't leave it on the bed and let it make a wet spot. Though both sets of our legs have made sweaty wet spots.

He returns, wiping himself, lets me wipe up, then wipes his jizz off the headboard. It's gotten too dark in the room to see the many streaks we've left rolling from the spot, but I know they're there. I smile contentedly at them.

He tosses the towel away and lies down facing me. I put a hand on his arm, he puts his hand on mine. We don't have to say anything.

We're still. Time is unimportant.

Once I can breathe again, I sit up.

"Shower?" I suggest.

He agrees, gets to his feet. I'm too unsteady by myself. I need ten minutes on my back before I can move vertically without worrying about falling. Even with the cane. It's the only time I let him support me. We don't speak of it.

Together we get to the bathroom. I sit on the ottoman while he turns the tap on. The cool tiles against my back make me shiver. I close my eyes. I've never felt better in my life.

By the time he's got the temperature right, I'm steady on my own. He lets me go first. I just want a rinse to get rid of the sweat and lube and semen. I'm steady enough but still shaky, so I rinse quickly and step out. I thank him for the towel he offers me, dry my butt first so I can sit, and towel off while I watch him through the semi-transparent curtain.

I could do this for the rest of my life.