Reminiscence

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus, from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged," he says, as Romeo, in a sultry tone.

His pillowy lips pucker as he inches closer. I don't move. He angles his head ever-so-slightly. I feel his lips gently press into mine. I reach up, placing my hand on the back of his head. His hair feels soft as it threads between my fingers.

I pull us closer together. I start to move my lips sensuously. I let myself give in to the moment. My lips start to feel wetter as our mouths find a rhythm with one another. I softly stick out my tongue into his mouth rubbing it against his. He stops all movement for a moment, leaving his mouth agape. I stop, my tongue still pressed against his tongue. He chuckles in a way that conveys a sense of content amusement.

He pulls me closer with his hand, pushing his tongue into my mouth. He starts rubbing my nape with his fingers. I feel electricity shoot through my body. I have hungered for this for so long; I can't believe this is happening.

I keep my one hand tangled in Jackson's hair; I glide my other hand down his back. I can feel his warm, rippling muscles as we continue to explore one another's mouths. I rest my hand on the small of his back. His chest is heaving into mine as we breathe in unison.

I position my hand over his tan trousers. I grab at his left ass cheek; it feels firm, just like I had always imagined it would. He mildly startles, and he tenses his ass in response to my touch. I continue to massage his muscular cheek while pushing his lower half closer to me. His crotch presses into my hip; he is starting to get hard. His cock wants to rise, but it's trapped against my body. I can feel myself getting aroused as well.

I remove my hand from the back of his head. I run it down the side of his torso, moving it to his hip. I pause for a moment but then I feel his tongue lunge deeper into my wet mouth. I wedge my hand between our bodies, pressing my palm against his firm, meaty cock. I run it up and down the length of his shaft, feeling the soft fabric of his pants separating our skin. Jackson lets out a subdued moan.

I pull my hips back from his body; his dick juts out more without the resistance of my thigh holding it in place. I undo Jackson's zipper, hearing the click of each tooth as it opens. I slip my hand through the opening, rubbing his boxers between my fingertips. I find the smooth plastic button securing the fly of his boxers. His cock wants -- needs - to burst out. It's rigidly pressing against the side of his fly.

I pop the button. I reach in and cradle his rock-hard cock. I pull it out through the opening in his boxers and his trousers. I wrap my hand firmly around its eight inches; Jackson lets out something between a gasp and a moan as I fully envelop his throbbing dick with my warm hand. Then he freezes. He stops kissing me, and he ceases caressing my neck. I stop in response to him halting; I remove my hand from his ass. I keep his dick in my hand but I loosen my grip.

We both look each other in the eyes. He is smiling, but something has changed in his expression. I can see a tentativeness in his face. I think I might sense some sadness as well, but he does not seem upset. He looks down at his cock in my hand.

"I can't," he whispers.

I don't know what to say or do. I don't move. He reaches up to stroke my cheek; he kisses my forehead. He slides his hand between his cock and my palm, allowing him to take control. He maneuvers it back into his underwear and zips his trousers. We stare at one another; I try to memorize the way the moonlight is reflecting on his features.

I don't know what to say. I'm not sure if I need to apologize. Or should I thank him? My mind is flooded with thoughts and I'm afraid that I will ruin everything that has happened so far this evening.

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took," I hear myself say, as Juliet.

He smiles and pulls me in for a hug. I don't want to let him go. I try to not count the seconds but I do anyway. He pulls away. I see that the same piece of hair has fallen onto his forehead again; I reach up and push it back into place.

"I'm glad you have a few less regrets after tonight, Ben," he says. "You never asked me about mine."

"Asked you about your what?"

"My regrets."

"What do you regret, Jackson?"

He leans forward, while looking into my eyes with an expression of fondness. I can see his warm breath mixing with mine in the cold air. He gently places his hand on my shoulder.

"I regret nothing," he whispers.