The question: why not.

The answer:why not.

Strong hands,

working hands,

Hands that build.

Not soft stroking hands

But determined, pumping hands

Meant to have my seed out.

Excitement.  Openness.

Yet, reluctance.

No man has seen this from me.

No man has taken this from me,

No man has given me this.

My stranger.

Does he feel my thrill?

Is he thrilled?

He looks at my cock

As if he could see

What his hand feels.

Swelling.  Wanting. Waiting.

Wishing.

He jacks me

The way a man jacks a man —

Frenzied, insistent, driven.

The pleasure is a blur.

I pass my need over to him.

I make a sound that

Must mean ‘Now’.

Or ‘Close’.

Or ‘Please’.

He aims to finish me.

He comes down on me

And then he kisses me.

He kisses me

And I surrender.

The kiss is deep and lasting

The way lovers kiss.

His mouth is soft and yielding.

I kiss back.  I kiss back

And in that instant,

As if he knew how to bring me off,

I begin to cum.

A moan.

Then another.

Mine.

Then his.

My orgasm is chaotic,

Pulsing, clenching,

Rising. Bearing down.

His hand pumps

Order into a hundred sensations.

He watches me

Tossed away in pleasure.

My sperm coats his hand.

Warm, wet, viscous, opaque.

White liquid release.

He smiles.

He lets my breathing slow.

He wipes his hand between our bellies.

He stays with me,

Holding me.

And I let him.