Boy's Weekend

Glen, barely awake, tightened his grip around his chest, and locked his mouth onto Mark's shoulder. Slowly, sensuously, they fucked, swinging gently in the hammock. Mark felt entirely at peace, his earlier apprehension about his attractions were gone. He knew with a certainty this was what he wanted, that this felt more right than anything he'd ever experienced. Glen's hands explored his whole body, never stopping. A brief pinch of his nipple, a slide across his abdomen, a gentle squeeze of his sack. His fingers arrived between Mark's legs, and he played gently around his hole, as his cock probed the depths of him. Mark felt his orgasm approaching slowly, building deep within him. Glen, feeling the tension build, gripped him tighter, his breath hot against Mark's back. Their bodies seemed fused. It was hard to know where one ended and the next began. Simultaneously their orgasms erupted. Mark felt himself filled even as he emptied. The waves or pleasure built up and receded slowly, like a tide against a beach. There was no splitting of consciousness; the drink had already done its job and worn off. Rather, there was a heightened sense of his own pleasure, and that of Glen behind him. As the orgasms faded, their breathing slowed again, and became slower and more rhythmic. With Glen still inside him, Mark felt sleep begin to overtake him again. He felt no desire to fight it off. He knew what was in front of him now, and was content to let it happen as it was meant to.