Kissing Destiny Chapter 1 The Way He Kissed Me
I once heard, that certain Taoists beliefs centered on the idea that the more sex one had, the longer they'd live. It was something about, how sex harnessed chi, or the life breath as I'm pretty sure it translates to. Anyway, I don't know if it is true, but if so...I've got immortality on the way.
You look for a way to start a story, some people start with a quote, something someone else said that seems to summarize the whole tale. I'm not particularly fond of that method, I don't see what the point of telling a story is if you sum it up at the beginning.
Anyway, I've always been nervous about telling stories, I never saw myself as a good storyteller. I was the kid who sat away from the campfire and shivered at each scary tale, I didn't participate in the telling of them.
But there isn't anything to fear in this story, unless you fear the Fates themselves. It's funny to me, Jonathan used to always talk about the Fates. I thought he was just too much into D&D and online fantasy games. It wasn't until recently that I actually came about and took a little faith in the things that control our destiny. I wonder now, if the Fates are a part of Destiny himself, or just 'hired hands'. Whatever it is, Jonathan thought he had it figured out. He'd talk about it in bed, right when I was going down on him, he'd just start talking about Destiny. He was an avid fan of Neil Gaiman, read all the Sandman books and was obsessed with the concept of the Endless. Especially the dreaded Destiny, from whom there was never escape. Jonathan was fascinated with Destiny the way I was fascinated with Madonna in the '80's.
But I loved him...God how I loved him. No one could make me laugh like Jonathan could, no one could catch the little genuine quirks of amusement that would suddenly flare onto my lips when he'd tickle my sides, just above my hips. We'd lie naked in bed, and before I knew it, he'd be on top of me, tickling me and forcing me to laugh and writhe wildly to get him off. And he, always being the Butch of the relationship, always managed to pin me down. He be chuckling still, a large grin on his lips as he stared down in my eyes. I'd be breathing heavily from my efforts, my almost sickly bony chest heaving from my efforts, exhausted to no avail. Then, he'd always managed to surprise me when he kissed me. It always caught me off guard, and I always found my eyebrows quirking up just slightly as he did so. Jonathan was a strong guy, but when he kissed me, I forgot that he was ever the rugby star that he was. His kisses were soft, tender, almost methodical. First his lower lip pressing against mine, flicking against my upper lip, then dipping down to part my lips as his tongue dashed out to lick my teeth and retreat before I could respond. He liked the control, liked to tease me. I remember, I remember this one night, his mouth tasted like mangos and it made me hungry. My kiss was aggressive when I returned it, my tongue rushing his mouth to consume as much of the sweet exotic tastes as possible. He had caught my tongue, and I was forced to surrender to his soft sucking on my euphoric taste buds. My eyes fell closed dreamily and envisioned the fireworks exploding all around us. Jonathan had that way about him, that way of making ever kiss better than the last.
He'd get me beat red by the time he was done, but he was never done. The kiss was just the beginning, just foreplay in the grander scale of our intimacy. He'd kiss my chin and smile, then his rough lips would traverse over my Adam's Apple, and trace my clavicle, then he'd kiss between my sadly underdeveloped pecks. He'd kiss along my anorexic stomach, down further with a sick sort of patience to it. He was deliberately, excruciatingly slow, making me groan and plea. It was such a game to him. He'd get down to my cock, a hard rock of desire begging for him to stop teasing it. But, as I said before, Jonathan was methodical. He'd start by licking up from my balls, all the way to the tip, very slowly and only the very tip of his tongue ever touching. Then his hand would begin to stroke upwards slowly, then downwards as his tongue swirled around its head, admiring my wanton tastes. He'd hear me sigh and grin, stroking up along my shaft again, then down and he'd slip the head into his mouth, licking it and sucking lightly. He always made me thought he was diving in, ready to just devour me and all my pleasures. But his mouth would release the tip of my shaft always so suddenly, and his hand would stroke back upwards, then down and he'd engulf me a little deeper into his mouth. He'd let the hot moist atmosphere of his mouth roll over my cock like a warm mist passing just after September rains. Damn him for his perfection, for the way he gave head, for being so wonderful. Because it only got more exciting, when his mouth would began to work in rhythm up and down my long thin shaft. He'd rock ever so slightly with each moment, and I don't know what it was about that, but it sent shock waves through me. I'd tremble under his sensual musings, and always I'd get short of breath. And whether or not it was exceptionally "queenie" I always muttered his name between gasps, always something like, "Oh God...Jonathan..."
I was Cher in the partnership. And he loved my vulnerable femininity, as much as I loved his manliness. He was James Bond with a surfer's tan and pale blue eyes to make the heaven's cry. His jet stream black hair always carefully placed in neat messy spikes. He had a football player's body, not too beefy, but with well rounded assortment of muscle. He was my Greek god, and I cherished him.
Funny thing about Destiny, it's convenient when stars are crossing, but no one wants to call it Destiny when you see its Dark Side...But I still haven't forgotten the way Jonathan kissed...
To Be Continued...