![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
chesamus.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfiction1649 words - and quite frankly it’s basicly smut. I was working out a story which has been sitting on my hard drive for a couple years. I really thought I had Springsteen on repeat when I got hijacked by the Divinyls and suddenly my Ray/Stella angst fest became a Ray spotlight dance. Ah well...
I Touch Myself
by chesamus
I wear my t-shirts tight because I like the way they rub against my pecs. I know I don’t have a six-pack, but I got the kind of looks and attitude that let me carry it off. I feed off that, but there’s something else I’d like to feed on.
He’s looking, just a bit harder than he should, and I wonder what he’d do if I took him up on what I think he’s offering. I know - I know - he wants me. What I don’t know is if he wants me more than once. And I want to be more than a trial run for a guy who isn’t convinced he’s ready to be a guy who wants a guy.
It makes me crazy. It makes me horny. And I got the weekend off to think about it, about him...
The air in my bedroom is kinda chilly. Feels good. When it’s hot, I rush through things just to get happy then hit the shower. But it’s nice outside, fall and a bit of a breeze. I run my hand along the neck of my shirt, slide a finger under it to my vampire spot. I’m warmer there, maybe because the pulse heats it up a little.
I close my eyes almost, and brush my palms along my neck and my jaw. They’re warm, too - not as warm as his. I keep one hand on my neck, the other one slides down slow and runs across my left nipple. It’s more sensitive than my right one. I never told no one, but I had a ring through it one summer. Lasted about three months, but even healed, that nipple is different, and I think it’s hardwired to my dick.
I pinch it and smile. I caught him staring at it today while I was adjusting my holster (yeah, I made a show if it, sue me). He did that tongue thing which also seems to be hardwired to my dick these days. His tongue would feel real good there. His teeth would feel better. I’d like him to bite it - hard. Really clamp down on it, gnaw on it, make it hurt so I’d know for days after that his mouth had been there. I should get it re-pierced. Then he could pull at the ring with his mouth.
My other hand squeezes tight on the right side. I don’t miss playing with women’s tits - I was afraid I was squeezing too hard or not enough. I like tormenting my own. I pull my shirt off over my head and go back to the fun. Doesn’t take long for the right one to catch up. I lift my left index finger up to my mouth and suck it in, get it wet, then drag it across the tops of my nips. The breeze chills them, makes me shiver. I take a couple deep breaths, just to move my chest in and out of the wind.
I want to feel that breeze on the rest of me. It only takes a matter of seconds to strip out of my jeans and shorts. I leave my socks on cuz my feet get cold, even while the rest of me warms up. I lay down on my bed, on top of sheets that have been washed into being as soft as my favorite jeans. I shimmy down into the cool cotton, spread out just a little so I can feel that cool drift between my legs.
My hands are back at my chest, but now they’re moving my fingers around while my nails scratch and pinch. I’m leaving faint marks behind. I bet his nails are too short to do that. He takes care of his hands, keeps ‘em clean and soft. He has calluses though. I feel them when he reaches for me, grips my arm, pulls me up, over, behind when we’re cornering somebody.
Come to think of it, he touches me a lot, maybe touches me more than he looks at me. What does he really want to touch? I don’t have much of an ass - Stella always said I had so much in front, there wouldn’t have been room for any in back. Of course, she was in love with me at the time. Still, I’ve been in a few locker rooms in my life, and I have to admit there’s more there than a lot of guys got. He’s noticed that, too. I think he could map my jeans and everything in them.
That thought makes things bounce a little. I stare at my cock - it’s not completely hard, although it’s definitely enjoying the trip. It likes knowing he’s looking, trying to measure it through the denim. And what would he be doing with it now? Would he brush it lightly with a finger or two? Would he grip it with those soft callused hands and rock it up and down? Would he taste it, lick it, suck it? Would I do the same? Would I get down on my knees for him?
I reach over and into my night stand, get the lube, pour a pool of it on my belly. I trail a finger through it and up the length of my dick. The cool air chills it and me, backs me up a little, which is good. I don’t want to rush this. I want to savor the build up, think about what I’m feeling, and why I’m feeling and who I’m feeling it about. I want my cock to be hard and red and leaking. I want to be gasping for air, hot, shaking, begging myself for relief. I want so much. I want him.
I reach between my legs for my balls. My pubes aren’t wiry like some people’s, but the hair on my balls is softer still. There’s not a lot of it, but enough to hang onto. I pull at it, use it to slide the skin around. I always laugh a little when I imagine what that really looks like. I mean I’ve seen cocks in action - porn and me go way back - but balls are rarely in the money shot you know? There’s so much skin there to play with, and all of it is kind of squishy.
Sometimes, when I’m just laying in bed, I pull the skin between my fingers, stretch it out to see how far it goes. It isn’t a place that gets me all tingly, wired, crazy, but it makes me happy. Does he play with his? Would he like to play with mine?
My cock is really getting into it now. It’s leaking a little, getting shiny on the tip. I rub that creamy stuff all around the the head, then lick my fingers. To be honest, it doesn’t taste like much, but it feels good on my tongue. I know he’d swallow. He’d drink me down, and then I’d kiss him and taste myself on that tongue of his.
Oh, damn, yeah! That’s what I want - I want to him to taste like me. I want to see him run his tongue across his lips to get the last bit of me, and then I want to lick him clean and find the last traces in his mouth.
I’m really pulling hard at my dick. The lube is mixing with my juice and I can hear it sliding through my right hand. My left is back at my chest, squeezing the hell out of that nipple. I’m moaning, might be “Oh, God,” might be his name, might be the same thing. Everything is working tonight - I’ve never felt him so strongly. I can see him sucking me, pinching me, loving me.
My back lifts, my hips thrust, my thighs flex and release, flex and release, flex, flex... I shudder, out of control, out of breath. I’m sobbing his name as I explode all over my hand, my stomach, my sheets.
I try to catch my breath - my mouth is dry, my throat is sore, my body is shaking like jello. And then the phone rings.
“Fraser, I was just thinking about you...”
********
The only link I found that had the lyrics right...
http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/I-TOUCH-MYSELF-lyrics-Divinyls/435BFCAE5E740265482569690022EA56
I Touch Myself
by chesamus
I wear my t-shirts tight because I like the way they rub against my pecs. I know I don’t have a six-pack, but I got the kind of looks and attitude that let me carry it off. I feed off that, but there’s something else I’d like to feed on.
He’s looking, just a bit harder than he should, and I wonder what he’d do if I took him up on what I think he’s offering. I know - I know - he wants me. What I don’t know is if he wants me more than once. And I want to be more than a trial run for a guy who isn’t convinced he’s ready to be a guy who wants a guy.
It makes me crazy. It makes me horny. And I got the weekend off to think about it, about him...
The air in my bedroom is kinda chilly. Feels good. When it’s hot, I rush through things just to get happy then hit the shower. But it’s nice outside, fall and a bit of a breeze. I run my hand along the neck of my shirt, slide a finger under it to my vampire spot. I’m warmer there, maybe because the pulse heats it up a little.
I close my eyes almost, and brush my palms along my neck and my jaw. They’re warm, too - not as warm as his. I keep one hand on my neck, the other one slides down slow and runs across my left nipple. It’s more sensitive than my right one. I never told no one, but I had a ring through it one summer. Lasted about three months, but even healed, that nipple is different, and I think it’s hardwired to my dick.
I pinch it and smile. I caught him staring at it today while I was adjusting my holster (yeah, I made a show if it, sue me). He did that tongue thing which also seems to be hardwired to my dick these days. His tongue would feel real good there. His teeth would feel better. I’d like him to bite it - hard. Really clamp down on it, gnaw on it, make it hurt so I’d know for days after that his mouth had been there. I should get it re-pierced. Then he could pull at the ring with his mouth.
My other hand squeezes tight on the right side. I don’t miss playing with women’s tits - I was afraid I was squeezing too hard or not enough. I like tormenting my own. I pull my shirt off over my head and go back to the fun. Doesn’t take long for the right one to catch up. I lift my left index finger up to my mouth and suck it in, get it wet, then drag it across the tops of my nips. The breeze chills them, makes me shiver. I take a couple deep breaths, just to move my chest in and out of the wind.
I want to feel that breeze on the rest of me. It only takes a matter of seconds to strip out of my jeans and shorts. I leave my socks on cuz my feet get cold, even while the rest of me warms up. I lay down on my bed, on top of sheets that have been washed into being as soft as my favorite jeans. I shimmy down into the cool cotton, spread out just a little so I can feel that cool drift between my legs.
My hands are back at my chest, but now they’re moving my fingers around while my nails scratch and pinch. I’m leaving faint marks behind. I bet his nails are too short to do that. He takes care of his hands, keeps ‘em clean and soft. He has calluses though. I feel them when he reaches for me, grips my arm, pulls me up, over, behind when we’re cornering somebody.
Come to think of it, he touches me a lot, maybe touches me more than he looks at me. What does he really want to touch? I don’t have much of an ass - Stella always said I had so much in front, there wouldn’t have been room for any in back. Of course, she was in love with me at the time. Still, I’ve been in a few locker rooms in my life, and I have to admit there’s more there than a lot of guys got. He’s noticed that, too. I think he could map my jeans and everything in them.
That thought makes things bounce a little. I stare at my cock - it’s not completely hard, although it’s definitely enjoying the trip. It likes knowing he’s looking, trying to measure it through the denim. And what would he be doing with it now? Would he brush it lightly with a finger or two? Would he grip it with those soft callused hands and rock it up and down? Would he taste it, lick it, suck it? Would I do the same? Would I get down on my knees for him?
I reach over and into my night stand, get the lube, pour a pool of it on my belly. I trail a finger through it and up the length of my dick. The cool air chills it and me, backs me up a little, which is good. I don’t want to rush this. I want to savor the build up, think about what I’m feeling, and why I’m feeling and who I’m feeling it about. I want my cock to be hard and red and leaking. I want to be gasping for air, hot, shaking, begging myself for relief. I want so much. I want him.
I reach between my legs for my balls. My pubes aren’t wiry like some people’s, but the hair on my balls is softer still. There’s not a lot of it, but enough to hang onto. I pull at it, use it to slide the skin around. I always laugh a little when I imagine what that really looks like. I mean I’ve seen cocks in action - porn and me go way back - but balls are rarely in the money shot you know? There’s so much skin there to play with, and all of it is kind of squishy.
Sometimes, when I’m just laying in bed, I pull the skin between my fingers, stretch it out to see how far it goes. It isn’t a place that gets me all tingly, wired, crazy, but it makes me happy. Does he play with his? Would he like to play with mine?
My cock is really getting into it now. It’s leaking a little, getting shiny on the tip. I rub that creamy stuff all around the the head, then lick my fingers. To be honest, it doesn’t taste like much, but it feels good on my tongue. I know he’d swallow. He’d drink me down, and then I’d kiss him and taste myself on that tongue of his.
Oh, damn, yeah! That’s what I want - I want to him to taste like me. I want to see him run his tongue across his lips to get the last bit of me, and then I want to lick him clean and find the last traces in his mouth.
I’m really pulling hard at my dick. The lube is mixing with my juice and I can hear it sliding through my right hand. My left is back at my chest, squeezing the hell out of that nipple. I’m moaning, might be “Oh, God,” might be his name, might be the same thing. Everything is working tonight - I’ve never felt him so strongly. I can see him sucking me, pinching me, loving me.
My back lifts, my hips thrust, my thighs flex and release, flex and release, flex, flex... I shudder, out of control, out of breath. I’m sobbing his name as I explode all over my hand, my stomach, my sheets.
I try to catch my breath - my mouth is dry, my throat is sore, my body is shaking like jello. And then the phone rings.
“Fraser, I was just thinking about you...”
********
The only link I found that had the lyrics right...
http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/I-TOUCH-MYSELF-lyrics-Divinyls/435BFCAE5E740265482569690022EA56
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-08-27 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-27 01:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-27 03:03 pm (UTC)And they always say that man can't think during sex.
Wonderful, hoot, not pornographic but graphic. And... YES, very delightful to read.
Thanks. :-)
no subject
Date: 2005-08-27 06:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-27 04:44 pm (UTC)“Fraser, I was just thinking about you...”
Hehe, great last line.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-27 06:13 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-27 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-27 10:00 pm (UTC)