Gay Erotic Stories

As I walked to my car, I thought about the past seven years. I had come to my parents late in their lives. I was a surprise, a menopause accident. My mother was forty-eight and my father was fifty-five when I was born. They loved me in their own remote way. It was enough, though it may not seem so to the world. I was seventeen when my mother was diagnosed with cancer. Just a year later, my dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. My hopes of going to college were dashed. I got a job to help pay the bills. They had a retirement that paid for the house and medical bills above and beyond Medicare, but the rest fell to me. The least I could do, considering that abortion was legal just a few weeks before I was conceived and I so easily could have been flushed away.

Selfishly, I got a second job, more to save some money for the time when they were gone. I needed the peace that being away from home allowed me. I got over my resentment early, just after a few weeks. But I needed to be away, just to have someone else to talk to. While I worked, a nurse cared for them. But I took over when I came home. I had no social life. I couldn’t afford to pay for extra care so I could have a life. So at twenty-five, I was still a virgin and in the closet. Not so much because I was ashamed or afraid, but because I had no one to share my life with.

Over the next few weeks, while cleaning out my parents’ home, preparing it for sale, I tried to go out. I hung out at a gay bar. But I never learned how to talk to people. I didn’t know how to flirt. So I sat at the bar, had a drink or two and didn’t talk to anyone. I usually left after an hour, always alone.

I was going through my parents’ bedroom one night when the lights went out. Then in the corner, a flash of fire and light burst out. When all had calmed, the lights were back on and a man stood where the fireball had been. He was tall, but not as tall as my six-two. He looked vaguely Hispanic, but not overly so. For some reason, I wasn’t afraid. I asked who he was.

“My name is Mason.”

“What are you doing in my home?”

“I have a message for you. You are going to die.”

It was too ridiculous. I laughed. “We all die.”

“I was sent to help you prepare. You will die within three weeks.”

It was no longer funny. “Who are you, really?”

“I am a messenger.”

“What, of doom? This isn’t funny and I would like you to leave my home.”

“I can’t do that. I am sent to help you prepare. I was sent because your parents asked that you not face this alone.”

I knew it. He was a con artist. He found out I had lost my folks. Bastard. “Look, just because they died, doesn’t mean I have any money. I don’t want what you are selling. Get out!”

“Maybe this will help you believe.” With that he spread his arms. Behind him spread something shiny and silky. It looked like wings. They unfurled and rose high in the air. They were wings, because Mason moved them and he lifted off the floor until he hit his head on the ceiling. I had stood with his entrance. I couldn’t stand any longer. I plopped right down on the ground, my legs no longer supporting me. “Will you believe me now?”

“I don’t understand, but yes, I believe you.”

“I can explain, but I think it would be better in the morning. You should sleep.”

The truth was I was tired, had been while packing and sorting. But I doubted I would sleep and told Mason so. He assured me I would. I stood and started to walk out. Then I thought of something.

“Do you need to sleep? Do you need a place to sleep?”

“No, I require no sleep.”

“Do you need to eat?”

“No.”

“What will you do while I sleep?”

“Search to understand you so I can help you.”

Well that was enigmatic. I decided to hold off and went to my room. I stripped down and crawled under my blankets. I don’t even remember my head hitting the pillow. But I woke up with the sun, refreshed and ready for anything. I forgot about my visitor as if it had been a dream. I rose and threw on my boxers and trudged downstairs. I walked into the kitchen to start some coffee.

Mason was sitting on my kitchen counter, waiting for me. I jumped when I first saw him. Our bizarre conversation from last night ran through my head. I had a million questions.

“Okay, I’ve slept. Now I think you’d better explain.”

He nodded at me. I noticed that his eyes were deep brown, large and soulful. They were warm and compassionate. There was gentleness in his eyes that had me believing him and staring at him. His hair was dark and wavy with just a slight curl. He had full, almost pouty lips, the lower fuller than the top. He had no beard stubble on a very strong chin. But the most striking feature was his manner: he exuded an air of serenity. I have never seen anyone so at peace. It was hypnotic.

“I was sent to you, Jack. I am here to help you fulfill any last requests. Your parents asked that you be granted this because you cared so well for them before they died.”

“Are you an angel?”

“A type of angel. I am a messenger.”

“Why?”

“I can only tell you that you are going to give your life for someone else. You are going to sacrifice your life for someone who will do great things for the world. I am sorry, but I cannot tell you who, or when, or why.”

“I have no more than three weeks?”

“No. Are there any requests? Any wishes I can help you fulfill?”

I don’t want to die a virgin. But I never said it. “I need some time to think. Give me a couple of hours.”

He nodded and I went upstairs. My parents’ house was an old Victorian and I settled into the second floor of the turret in a study. I looked at a couple of photo albums. For some reason I simply accepted what was happening. Maybe I was in shock, but I didn’t think so. The next time I spoke to Mason I would have to ask if my acceptance was induced. I had always heard that you go through stages before you accept your death. So far, I just accepted.

I realized that looking at the albums, my life really didn’t add up to too much. I was alone. Now it seemed I would die never knowing quite a few things. Mason walked into my room. He sat by me in the window seat. He looked at me with that same calm expression, that same serene smile.

“Regrets?”

“Sure. But aren’t there always regrets?”

Mason nodded at me. Somehow I knew that I could trust him with all my darkest, deepest desires. All my pain and secrets were safe with him. It was comforting. In that moment I knew that I would never sleep with anyone. I wasn’t going to involve someone in my life only to have him suffer when I died. I could go out and just find a nice, simple screw. But casual, nameless sex had never appealed to me. I could easily had that the entire time I cared for my folks. I wanted more. So yes, there were regrets. But I was learning to live with them.

“Jack? Is there something you want to do? Something you need to do before the end?”

“I should probably go through some things, make sure my bills are paid up. I wish I could make sure all was taken care of. Perhaps I should write out a will.”

“You can, but if you prepare too much, there are going to be questions.”

That made sense. Why would I clean up all my affairs if I didn’t know I was going to die? “What should I do then, Mason?”

“Do you have any secret wish you always wanted to have fulfilled?”

It made me think. What I wanted to do, since I was so limited, was almost too simple; too crazy to consider doing. “Do I have at least eight days?”

“Yes.”

“I want to take a trip. I want to go somewhere.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“This is going to sound ridiculous. But I want to go to Disneyland.”

I laughed at the idea. But it made sense. My parents gave me material things. We were well-to-do. But we didn’t go anywhere. Some of my friends had gone when younger. I had wanted to go, but my folks just didn’t want or couldn’t take me. The idea of going really appealed to me. I had never been out of the state before. Then I sobered. I didn’t want to go alone. But like making love, I didn’t have a partner. Mason noticed something had changed in my attitude. “What is wrong, Jack?”

“I don’t want to go alone. Will you go with me?” That sounded so pathetic. I felt my cheeks heat up. But I was relieved when Mason nodded at me.

I had been saving up money for a while. Truthfully, I didn’t know what my parents would be able to give me once they had passed. So I saved money. Turns out I didn’t need to worry. I had plenty. But a new car seemed worthless. Instead, I booked a hotel and first class airfare to California. We stayed in my home for the next two days, until we were going to leave. During that time, I asked Mason why I was so calm and accepting. He told me that it was a gift. That first night while I slept, I was manipulated into accepting my fate. Not in just blindly walking into giving up my life, but avoiding the painful steps to acceptance. I still had regrets, but somehow I could accept it.

I found out that Mason needed some clothes. He balked at the necessity, but we went shopping anyway. While buying for him, I also bought new clothes for myself. We packed and headed to the airport. I have never flown before and was nervous. But Mason assured me that all would be fine. His calm serenity helped. While winging our way to California we talked more.

“Mason, can you eat?”

“Yes. I don’t need to, but I can.”

“Can you sleep?”

“Yes. But I don’t dream.”

Our flight arrived on time and we took a limo to our hotel. I had booked us a suite that overlooked a courtyard garden. We unpacked and decided to start enjoying our time. We entered the gates and were lost in magic. Somehow the urban sprawl of Orange County disappeared and we were transported to a different place. But Mason kept seeing beyond the magic. He saw the infrastructure and the mechanics of the rides.

After just a couple of hours I decided we should head back to our hotel. I ordered up some room service and got comfortable after a shower. I sat on the bed in knit boxers and nothing else. Mason noticed the hair on my chest. He put his hand to me and felt the texture. He followed a bead of water as it drifted to my belly. I was so turned on by that simple gesture. I was thickening in my shorts. Not a true hard-on, but a plumping that was pleasant as it rubbed in the soft cotton of my underwear. My breathing was fast and my heart was pounding. I crossed to the sliding glass door, opening it, searching for fresh air and a release from my musings. Music drifted from down below in the courtyard. It was a gentle, slow number from the 40s. I didn’t step out on the balcony because of my undressed state. Another regret flitted through my mind. It killed the gentle arousal and I returned to my flaccid state. I turned and saw Mason staring at me. He had that same compassionate smile, as if he knew what I was feeling.

“Another regret, Jack?”

I just smiled and asked him if he would dance with me. I knew I didn’t know how, not anything more than just holding and rocking to the music, but it would be enough. Mason stood and walked to me. I smiled at him and placed my arms around him, one on his hip and another around his shoulders. He mimicked my arm placement. I slowly rocked us back and forth, turning in a slow circle. I lowered my forehead to his and just enjoyed holding someone in my arms. One song flowed into another and I was lost in the wonderful warmth of holding someone else, of being connected just a little bit. A knock on the door from room service broke the moment. Over the next hour, I enjoyed watching Mason eat. Each food was different. He told me that he had always wondered what food tasted like.

“I am a messenger. I don’t record the events of life. I don’t avenge or sit by the right hand of God. I am not a conscience or a guardian. I am just a messenger. So I don’t know what it is like to eat.”

I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to show Mason all the wonders that I had found while being alive. True, there wasn’t much, but it would do. The next day, we went back to Disneyland. Before we got on any ride, I sat by Mason and told him that he needed to just enjoy.

“You watch television. I have seen you. It is a story. Not real. This is the same. It’s a story. Nothing more. Just enjoy. Believe in the magic.”

We sat in the train made to look like a mine car. The bar lowered over our laps and off we went. By the time we were back in the station, Mason was laughing. The rest of the day was spent having fun. None of the rides were overly scary or fast or daring, but we had fun. We laughed a lot and bought silly hats and pictures of our screaming faces while going down steep hills. Mason even jumped when a sneaky ghost jumped out at us in a haunted attic. I don’t think I had ever had so much fun before. I felt myself feeling good. I also felt different. But I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

That night we went out to dinner at a really nice restaurant. We had a secluded table with candles and wine. Of course alcohol didn’t affect an angel, but it complemented our meals. We were there for almost three hours. We talked and laughed and tasted different foods, each new item a discovery for my angel. My angel? Oh no! I was falling in love with Mason. Talk about a doomed relationship. But I couldn’t help asking.

“Mason, will we see each other after? On the other side?”

He looked sad for the first time. “No, you won’t see me. I can visit you, but you won’t remember me.”

“I don’t understand.”

With a wry smile, Mason gave me the only answer he could. “The secrets of heaven I cannot share with you, Jack. I’m sorry, I wish I could.”

We finished dinner and went back to our hotel. I wanted a shower and told Mason I was going to take one. At his wistful expression I asked if he wanted to take a shower too. He nodded. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. I pulled him into the bathroom and helped him remove his clothes and mine. Shirts were removed and jeans dropped. Underwear and socks joined the pile on the floor.

When we were both naked I looked my fill. Mason had no body hair. He didn’t have a navel, having never been born. His skin was pearly white, almost like milk or porcelain. The skin flowed over tight, but not overly developed muscles. I turned him around so I could see all of him. His back was strong. His spine divided the broad muscles of his back. There was what looked like long scars along his shoulder blades. I traced them with my fingers and he shuddered. I asked him what it was and he explained it was where his wings lodged.

I turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature. Then I pulled him in with me and shut the curtain. I took up the soap and a washcloth and filled it with lather. Then I started to rub the suds into his skin. First his back then chest before I moved onto his legs and feet. I then boldly rubbed the cloth over the cheeks of his ass and then between his legs, feeling that he lacked that simple scar that I had between ass and penis. I moved it over his genitals, hoping he would be as affected as I was. But I got no response; there was no erection, no indrawn breath, and no acknowledgment of my ministrations. I felt bereft. So I stood and pushed Mason under the spray, letting the natural flow of water rinse him. When Mason turned around he saw my erection. I blushed, knowing I was aroused but he was unaffected.

“How did you do that, Jack?”

“What?”

“You are hard.” With that he reached out and touched me. Ran his finger along the head and feeling the veins and thick ridge of the underside. I almost came. I grabbed his hand and stopped him.

“I am aroused. It is what happens when you are sexually stimulated.”

“Oh.” Well that sounded … wistful.

“Doesn’t it happen for you?”

“Angels can’t have sex. We are identical in most ways physically, but not physiologically.”

“How sad.”

“A long time ago, angels could lose their wings and fall to Earth. But no one has done it in a long time. When our wings are lost, we become human. But we are condemned to Hell for giving away the gift God has given us.”

That deflated my erection. It also answered so many questions. My reaction, just for a little bit, made me hope that maybe we could be together. But it was too much to give up, just for a couple of day’s worth of sex. I quickly washed myself then turned off the water and dried us both with a couple of towels. I pulled us out of the bathroom and crawled onto the large bed in our room. I pulled Mason down with me. I spooned naked behind him, holding his body close to mine. Contentment washed over me. I was still disappointed that we couldn’t be together, but I could take the joys that were available. I was going to store the memory of holding Mason through the night. Before long, I was drifting asleep.

When I woke the following morning, Mason was staring at me. It was okay. We spent the rest of our vacation having fun, learning to laugh, storing memories. On the flight home, Mason curled up in his seat and leaned against me. Once he got into sleeping, he really enjoyed it. I just held him, me leaning against the window with his head pillowed on my shoulder. I wasn’t just falling anymore: I was in love. I stared out the window, watching the American landscape drift below us. I felt my heart squeeze, knowing that I could feel love for him, but probably not have it returned. We weren’t even technically the same species. Oh well, no one is perfect.

Once home, we settled into a routine. I decided to provide Mason with as many human experiences as possible. We walked in the surf at the beach, letting the waves lap our toes. We ate ice cream and toasted marshmallows. We sang and danced. We flew a kite. We went to a hospital and looked at the newborns through the window. We went to the pound and petted puppies. We watched the sun set into the sea and got up early to watch the sun rise over the mountains. I was having such a good time. I was sharing all my favorites with someone I loved.

A little after two weeks after Mason came into my life, I got angry. I didn’t want to give this up. I was feeling selfish and I got very angry. I was washing dishes and I just picked up a glass and hurled it against the wall. I startled Mason when I did it again, then again.

“Jack, what is wrong?”

“It’s not fair! I don’t want to die.”

“Jack, it is your fate.”

“Bullshit. I don’t want to die.”

I started to cry as I slid down the floor against the wall. Mason crouched in front of me and pulled me into his arms. I immediately felt calm. He started to rock me back and forth as I cried out the pain, the injustice and the hurt. When I stopped crying, he looked at me, questioning if I was okay. I couldn’t help it. I kissed him. At first I just brushed my lips over his. It was feather light, gentle. Then I applied pressure, licking at his lips, begging him to open his mouth. He did. I slid my tongue inside and kissed him. My tongue stroked his. My lips rubbed over his. I love him so much. Eventually I pulled away. His eyes were open when I opened mine. He stared at me, as if in shock.

“Oh no! Mason, I didn’t just violate some law for you did I?”

It took him a moment to answer. “No.”

“Are you okay?”

“Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“But why me?”

“Because I love you.”

Mason closed his eyes and sank on the floor in front of me. He leaned his head back and spread his hands. Somehow I knew not to intrude. Something was going on, something beyond my understanding. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and looked at me. The compassion was always with him, but the serenity was gone. He looked sad and pensive. I told him I needed to go to the store for something. I had one last surprise for him. Mason got really panicky.

“No, don’t go! Stay with me.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Please don’t go.”

“It will be just a minute.”

“Stay. We can kiss some more.”

“Mason, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“But you said you love me.”

“I do. More than anything I love you. But it can’t go anywhere. All that kissing will make me want to do more. You can’t.”

He swallowed hard and stared right through me. “I’ll remove my wings. We’ll stay together and we can be together. Please don’t go.”

Now I understood. It was happening today. His willingness to stay with me, to sacrifice everything made me love him more. But like he said, it was fate. I stood up and grabbed my keys. I should have been terrified, but I wasn’t. Mason tried to take my car keys away, but I eluded him. He then told me he was coming with me. He kept trying to stop me, begging and pleading with me to go home. I pulled up in front of the little market down the road from my house. I got out and went inside, Mason following behind me.

I wanted to show Mason the wonders of chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven with a tall glass of ice cold milk. But I was out of milk. I went back to the cooler and grabbed a carton. There was only the guy behind the counter and a young girl, she couldn’t have been more than sixteen, holding a two-year old. Somehow I knew that the baby was the girl’s daughter and not her sister. How sad.

I moved up to the counter when someone else walked in. The mother had let the girl down. Mason was back behind an aisle, waiting. The newcomer walked right up to the guy behind the counter and pulled a gun. I stepped back, instinctively trying to protect myself. He twisted the gun on me and told me not to move. I froze to the spot. The little toddler sensed the tension and started to cry. The guy with the gun got a little jumpy at her cry. He turned to the mother and told her to keep her brat quiet. The girl squirmed out of her mother’s arms and started to run. I knew then that the guy was going to shoot her. I lunged, grabbing the little girl and pushing her and her mother out of the way. That was when I heard the explosion and felt fire enter my chest. I fell hard to the ground, pain radiating out of my chest. I rolled onto my back, wanting to face my executioner. But the storeowner pulled a gun of his own and shot the would-be-robber in the shoulder, forcing him to drop the gun. The mother ran to a pay phone and called 911.

I felt light headed. Pain was rushing through me. I felt like I couldn’t breath. Each time I did, I heard something bubbly sounding coming from my chest. I looked down and out of the bullet hole came frothy bubbles. He had hit my lung and probably my heart. So this is death.

Mason came up to me and cuddled my head in his lap and put pressure on my wound. That hurt so much. But I didn’t care about the pain anymore. Fate had its martyr. I looked up into Mason’s eyes and knew I loved him and always would. There were tears in his eyes. I didn’t think it possible.

“Don’t cry. Fate said it would happen and it did.”

“Don’t go Jack! Stay with me.”

“You know I had no choice.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, Jack!”

He lowered to me and kissed me. I felt his lips on mine. He tasted so good. But I could tell I was fading. I felt each of my heartbeats. I then felt the last one. I no longer felt Mason’s lips on mine. I was floating. Then I was standing outside of my body, looking down at Mason holding me. That bullet hit me bad: I had a gaping hole in my chest and blood was pooled all around my body.

I watched Mason continue to kiss me. Then I saw him realize I was gone. It was agonizing to see him stiffen then hold me tighter. He kept shaking my lifeless body. Begging me to come back. Then he tilted his head up and spread his hands like he had in my kitchen. I felt like crying, but somehow was beyond that. Then I heard a whisper. Telling me to turn around. I did. Standing in the corner by the milk cooler was a man. He unfurled his wings and I knew he was another angel. I walked over to him. He introduced himself as Mason’s immediate supervisor. I had to laugh at the modern lingo for the hierarchy in the angel cadre.

“Mason is using up his life force to keep your body alive, Jack.”

“Why?”

“He thinks he can save you.”

“Can I speak to him, perhaps I can help him to let go.”

“He has blocked everything out. No one can reach him.”

“What will happen when his life force is drained?”

“He will cease to be.”

Guilt overwhelmed me. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with him. I certainly didn’t mean for him to fall in love with me.”

“He knows that you will go forward and never recognize him again. He is trying to stop your death. And if he cannot succeed in saving you, join you in death. You won’t remember and he will no longer be.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“He has blocked the guardian from coming and leading you forward. You are stuck here in limbo until he is gone.”

“Do something!”

With that the angel leaned back his head and spread his arms wide. A glow surrounded him. It got brighter and brighter then ceased to be. The angel looked down at me.

“You can go back if you wish. You will endure much pain while your body heals, but once it does, you will live a happy life. Mason can join you.”

“But if he removes his wings, he will be consigned to Hell.”

“Normally, yes. But these are special circumstances. He is being granted a reprieve. Call it a well earned leave of absence.”

“And we can be together? No consequences?”

“None from God. Remember: God is love. Love is what you have, therefore, you have God.”

“Will I remember this?”

“Yes.”

“What happens now?”

“We wait another few minutes while Mason’s life force drains enough away so he will become human on his own. It will match your life force exactly. When you both die, it will be within hours of each other.”

“Do we have a time limit on it?”

He smiled and actually chuckled. “More than a day but less than an eternity.” He then kissed my forehead and I felt a pain so sharp I cried out. Deeply I breathed in and opened my eyes to see Mason looking down at them. Now started a string of events that I only remember from slight moments of painful lucidity. I know I was operated on. I know I was in a hospital, but other details were a blur.

A few days later I awoke. This time I wasn’t cloudy from pain and drugs. I was still achy, but it was manageable. I noticed my surroundings. No longer was I in the sterile, alien world of an ICU, but a standard hospital room. There were flowers on the table by my bed. I looked around, hoping to find Mason. But he wasn’t there.

A nurse came and checked on me. Then a doctor came in and changed my bandages. I learned that I had three broken ribs and my left lung was patched up. But my prognosis was excellent and I should be getting out of the hospital soon. Just then the door opened and in walked Mason. He looked awful. For once, his hair was mussed and he really needed a shave. But he was so relieved to see I was awake and I was so glad to see him. The doctor left us alone and Mason walked over to sit by my side. He took my hand in his and kissed it. He had tears in his eyes. We just sat and stared at each other for at least an hour. I broke the silence first.

“You need to shave.”

“I don’t know how. I’ve never needed to before.”

I laughed and promised him I would help him. I asked how he had gotten here. He told me that he had a driver’s license and birth certificate and social security card all found in a wallet while the police questioned him after the shooting. Apparently, Mason was driving my car. I had given him a few basic driving lessons on the beach, but he was here and that was all that mattered. We talked about so much that afternoon until I became too tired to stay awake any longer. I drifted off to sleep, but not before Mason stood and told me that he was having a problem. I asked what it was and he pointed at a rather healthy bulge in his jeans. He said it was happening a lot. I told him that as soon as I got out of the hospital, we would take care of that too.

About a week later, I got out of the hospital and Mason drove me home. I was never so glad to see it. When I walked in the back door by the kitchen, he had swept up the glass that I never got around to. Waiting on the counter were chocolate chip cookies. Mason had been baking while I was recuperating. I was incredibly touched. I turned to him and placed my palm against his now quite full beard.

I decided that that would be step one. I took his hand and led him to my bathroom. I took out a pair of scissors and my razor as well as some shaving cream. I told him he only needed scissors when it was as long as his was. Then I trimmed and snipped until it could then be shaved. Then I lathered his face with cream and ran the razor over his cheek, clearing the skin of whiskers and foam. I kept the motions up until his entire face was clear of the beard and smooth again. I took a wet towel and wiped the last of the cream from his face. It wasn’t a sexual moment, but Mason looked at me with a pained expression. He then took my hand and placed it against his crotch. He was rigid. Okay, so until two weeks ago he had been an angel. I would probably be that horny too. He also probably didn’t understand self-fulfillment.

So I took his hand and went into the bedroom. He had changed the bed and put flowers in a vase on the dresser. I led him to the bed and removed his t-shirt. Mason’s chest had been smooth; he wasn’t anymore. His muscles were covered with whirls of dark hair. The hair fanned out nicely from the center of his belly out in lesser degrees, tapering off to nothing just before he curved towards his back. He also now had a belly button. I fanned my fingers through the soft hair, feeling its thickness and texture. He reached out and unbuttoned my shirt, mindful of the pink scar on my back and chest. He moved slowly, but still touched my chest, also feeling the hair there, all except for the patch they shaved to operate. Then went his jeans and socks so he stood before me in simple, tight, white briefs. He was tented so much and he looked so uncomfortable that I removed them to so he was completely naked before me. He moaned with relief when the cool air caressed his engorged shaft. I had had the knowledge and experience of bringing myself off. He didn’t. My clothes soon joined Mason’s on the floor and I sat back on the bed and then lay back. Mason joined me. His staff flopped with his motions, bobbing and swaying as he joined me on the bed.

He lay by my side, facing towards me. I reached out and cupped his testicles, feeling them roll between my fingers. Mason bit his lip. Then I touched his uncut shaft, pulling the skin back, amazingly breaking his seal. There was a moment of pain and he cried out, but I kept up my motions on him. I pulled the skin of his foreskin, stretched so tightly over the head, back and forth. He leaked profusely over my hand. I kept moving him, stroking him, feeling the veins and pulse of his heart with each motion. Then I felt his cock stiffen, his legs spread wide and his stomach convulsed, going completely concave before he cried out, bellowing his pleasure as copious amounts of semen left his shaft, squelching into the hair on his belly, gathering in milky puddles in his abdominal ridges. Mason looked at me with such incredible wonder. His warm brown eyes turned slumberous and he had a silly grin on his face.

I was achy, but at least this hadn’t been my first orgasm, I had plenty of that experience. But his was the first penis other than my own that I had touched. I loved it. I moved over him and started kissing him. Mason met me as an equal and we kissed for a really long time. Then he noticed my shaft was angry and so aroused that it hurt. But he pushed me gently back on the mattress and took me in his mouth. Neither of us knew what we were doing, but each motion was heaven. He swirled his tongue around me and bobbed on my cock head. He kept brushing the thick ridge, the center of my pleasure, over and over on his soft lips. I felt his tongue digging into my slit. I was writhing in pleasurable agony. Even when Mason pulled off to catch his breath, huffing air around my shaft caused me to moan. It wasn’t long before I found my own explosive release, spurting over and over into my angel’s mouth. Each spasm was drawn from the depths of my soul and flowed through my penis in great waves of ecstasy. I had never cum more or had a better orgasm before.

But I grew sleepy; I wasn’t a hundred percent recovered yet. Mason just held me as I drifted off. We stayed in bed most of the next few days. He would get up to get us food or we would stray to the showers. We ate chocolate chip cookies and watched movies, learning to love each other physically. Each new step was an adventure. There was nothing either of us did in bed that the other didn’t like. A few weeks after I got home, we still had one hurdle left we hadn’t crossed. We had made love with our hands and mouths. We had lain on each other and let the friction of our undulating hips and hairy, sweaty bellies bring us to orgasm. We had even used our feet. One time I teased him with a feather until he was so wound up the moment I put my lips around him, he exploded. But we had yet to do any sort of penetration. I was waiting for my strength to return. But after a check-up in which I was deemed as healthy as ever, we decided to try.

That weekend, we drove to a little bed and breakfast up the coast. We reserved the honeymoon cottage that was separate from the rest of the complex. It was on a bluff, overlooking the rolling hills and dunes of the seacoast. It was perfect. It was romantic. I was scared as hell.

Everything we had tried had been fun and joyous, but I had heard that there could be pain involved. Also, neither of us had ever tried it before. We succeeded splendidly. I won’t go into details, just because there was some rather awkward moments that first night. But the second night was perfect. We had just come back from a walk on the beach, watching the sun set into the waves. We sat in the hot tub on the back porch. I looked over to Mason, seeing if he was as relaxed as I. Instead of relaxed and content, he looked hungry and aroused. I stood so rigidly at attention I’m surprised there weren’t tidal waves from it.

We got out of the water and dried off quickly. Then went into our bedroom. We crawled onto the bed and started kissing. We rolled back and forth over the bed as our tongues mated. We were both so hard. Then I slipped down between his legs while rolling over him. I won that toss. So I kissed him harder while I pushed forward. He parted for me and moaned at my penetration. I had to fight the urge to cum instantly. That moment of being seated inside him, while he quivers and shifts to accommodate me, almost always brings me off. I gritted my teeth and tried to work out the theory of relativity, trying to find out how much energy it would take to propel me the speed of light; anything to slow the end from happening. Then Mason was done adjusting to me and I stayed in place, savoring the warmth and perfection I found by being imbedded in my mate. I was a part of him and he a part of me. I wasn’t so much inside him as I was home. Then I started to move. The sensations were so sharp, so focused. I was close to cumming, could have from the second I was inside him. Each motion was a build up, a step before orgasm. Usually you let yourself trip when you reach that spot. But I let it build higher and higher. Unfortunately, control is on my wish list, but I hadn’t attained it yet. I found myself clenching and stiffening before spurting deeply inside my lover. He kept grasping me, stroking my back, leading me, bringing me down and guiding me back from the edge. Oh how I loved him. I couldn’t move, I was too sated and too exhausted. Mason just let me stay. I know he was throbbing and achy. I felt him against my belly.

I gathered the last of my strength and pulled out of him and plopped on my stomach. I spread my legs wide and begged him to join with me. He was only too happy to oblige. Mason was leaking and I was so sweaty, he slid right into me. I just felt the last lingering twinges of my lost virginity. Hell, I had only lost it the night before; I was still a little sore, but not enough to deny my angel his release, his pleasure. He moved so gently within me. I know he wanted to rush and find his pleasure, but he always tried, except for that first day in bed, to give me as much or more than he took. As he started to speed up, I felt him brush something inside me and arousal stirred my cock. With each thrust I felt myself building again. In no time I was spurting in the sheets. I felt Mason heave himself one last time, arching against me as he called out my name with each wave of his release. When our breathing calmed, he joined me under the covers and we slept.

Over the next few weeks, we taught each other many things. I taught him how to be human. He taught me to enjoy each moment. The supervisor angel was right: we were granted more than a day. However, each day to us was as good and precious as an eternity.