the more things change...

watching him sleep across the room i can't help remember why i felt the need to take care of him. he looks so angelic. so innocent. so beautiful.

i can remember waking up on the couch an hour ago with the wonderfully familiar feeling of his naked body pressed against mine. i fit my head perfectly into the contours of his neck and shoulder and take in his smells. clean and distinctly him the faintest hint of his sweat from earlier in the room. i feel complete, like a half who has returned to it's whole. pale skin is cool to the touch against my own but somehow manages to warm me as i begin to feel my body reacting to his chemistry.

is this okay? wasn't this the main problem with our fucked up friendship? i don't care. it feels right.

his thin arms grab hold of my own pulling them tighter around him. one across the fresh sprouting of chest hair i always try to convince him to keep in order to take away from his boyish physique. the other finding a home over the fleshy nub thickening to the touch. my own dick hardens in between our slowly rocking bodies and on auto pilot like a heat seeking missile it finds the warmth inside him. it only takes a moment before he protests and rolls over with a small moan, his thick tool high and proud in the air waiting for my service. i know i said i wouldn't do this again but it's too inviting. too familiar. too fun.

the broken bed in the other room can attest to that. guess i got a little carried away playing cowgirl.