Tuesday, July 06, 2004

11. Dick

It's been so long since I've been on an actual date that I almost forgot how to do it. Peter arrived at my place at 7 and we went to a burrito joint around the corner. He's still as attractive as ever; if anything, the ensuing years have made him even cuter. Beautiful brown eyes, close-cropped hair, a nice build. Over dinner, I realized that when the conversation strayed away from our common interest in politics, we didn't have much to talk about, but maybe we were just getting to know each other.

We'd agreed over the phone earlier in the day to see "Fahrenheit 911." Not the typical make-out movie, I guess, but throughout the film we both kept escalating the physical contact between us--legs pressed against each other, arms pressed together, until at one point he had his left hand planted directly in my lap. I stiffened up immediately, and we had to sit in our seats until long after the credits had ended before I could stand up without embarrassment. I could see he thought that was hilarious.

We made it back to my apartment in a hurry, and headed to the couch. He was a great kisser, and when he took his shirt off, I liked what I saw. A lot. I took his nipples in my hands and rubbed both of them between my thumbs and index fingers, which got him moaning. He ran his tongue over my earlobes, grabbed my cock in his hand, ran one of his fingers down the crack in my ass--every gesture serving to excite me more.

Great foreplay. As ACT-UPpers,even lapsed ones, there was no way we were gonna fuck without condoms, but I sensed that neither of us really wanted to fuck at all. We started to jerk each other off instead. He came in no time.

Not so easy for me. I let my imagination drift, and pretty soon I found myself fantasizing I was in bed with someone else. Three guesses who. First I imagined it was Peter's head beneath Batman's mask, his cape tossed casually on the floor, the top half of his costume pulled up and the bottom half down around his ankles, leaving only the belt around his waist.

In my mind's eye it was Batman himself, the real one, whose gloved hand wrapped around my shaft, sliding up and down along the stiff flesh there. I pictured him curled up beside me until I shoved him over onto his stomach and planted my dick straight between his legs, thrusting in and out with increasing force.

That thought brought me back to the scene at the bank, the Joker's leering face egging us both on once more. I had Batman pinned beneath me, and I pumped into him with all my might...

... and shot a load so powerful it made me shudder, up into the air and landing on my belly with a splash.

"Wow," said Peter, snapping me back to the real world. I smiled stupidly at him, and we kissed once again. We lay side by side for a few minutes, and then he got up, cleaned himself up, and put on his clothes.

"See you around," he said.

"Don't you want to stay the night?" I asked. Deep down, I wanted his answer to be "no," and it was. A polite no, accompanied by a weak promise to call soon, but a no all the same. I saw him to the door and then went back to bed, hoping to pick up the rest of the story in my dreams.