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I remember him the first time I saw him
his tall frame crouched over a cup of coffee
his long black hair hanging down in his face
his black leather over blue denim open, showing white t-shirt
beneath
my breath caught
it was January
I remember him when I met him
he came on bold then turned shy
he knew what he wanted, but feared the words to ask
he asked me what I wanted, I used the words--fist, ass
he feigned shock and roared away on his bike
it was May
I remember him the first time I took him
relaxed, he lay back, hungry for the touch
I gentled my slick fingers into him, patiently making my entry
amazed, he arced his body up, driving my hand deeper
I looked up the length of his bas-relief body to his face, lit
with wonder and joy
it was June
I remember him the last time I took him
a hot night, his hair sweat-plastered to the hard plates of his
chest
his face, his body--tight, telegraphed need
I opened him and he thrust back, encompassing my arm
sweat streamed down his face, his mouth hung open in a silent
howl
"make it hurt," he commanded--I obeyed
it was August
I remember him the last time I saw him
his wild eyes tried to trap me
over the edge, I thought
"never again," I told him,
"your want is too extreme"
it was December
Flashes of his hunger still haunt me,
one year past.
April, June, August, 1992
Copyright 1992 (c) by RedRight@Winternet.com
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