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December 1st, 2009

The Little Arrangement

I had planned on spending the morning making love with Holmes, but as this happened to be the instance in which I finally took him, I lasted all of fifteen seconds and then nearly fainted from the impact.

When I awoke that morning, Holmes was perched beside me on the bed smoking a cigarette, already a fair way through his oral review of the previous night’s recital at St. James’ Hall. Whether he presumed I had been awake this whole time or simply did not care at what point I would eventually join his narrative was never clear to me, for when I rolled towards him I was immediately greeted by the sight of his softened pink cock nestling on his right thigh. It was as if he had thrown on his dressing gown simply to outline his most magnificent bodily features, and the subjects of attack and bowing upon which he expounded floated past my ears and evaporated with the smoke from his cigarette.

I touched him casually at first, simply to see if his cock was as soft as it appeared. It was. It felt like cool velvet to my sensitive fingers and I did not stop touching it until a grunt finally escaped him and he grew quiet. It was then that I thought the morning’s activities quite decided, and with my own cockstand reflecting a store of fresh energy, I fastened my mouth on him and began sucking away in earnest.
When I nibbled at his tip he groaned and slouched further down the headboard until he was propped on a pillow just slightly above my own. This was the first chance I’d had to bring him from a completely flaccid state to one of acute arousal, and it was a fascinating exercise indeed. In fact, I was so ensconced in my activity that I do not know how my fingers wound up in his mouth; I simply became slowly aware of the fact that the pattern of my tongue was being matched someplace else by his. I correctly deduced that this meant he wanted me to penetrate him, and my hardness grew another inch in anticipation.

I felt nothing but his heat when my finger went inside him, a heat so intense my entire arm grew warm by proxy. He was so thoroughly tensed at first that I started to withdraw for fear of causing him discomfort, but his iron will and sharp focus of mind thankfully carry into the bedroom. He uttered a disapproving cry and firmly guided me back to his entrance and in a short time was relaxing around my digits and twisting about in a show of erotic discovery.

I was as fully aroused as I’d ever been when he rolled to his stomach and offered himself to me. I had every intention of approaching the process slowly, but when I slid into that incredible fire I was suddenly and utterly consumed by it. Taken alone, his startled cry, his broad, muscular shoulders flexing to support himself, or the slight trembling of his firm body underneath mine would surely have expedited my release. Taken together, they were my instant undoing. He swallowed me up inside him and despite my self-admonition to remain in control, I was unable to stop my hips from thrusting further and faster than I might have even at the peak of my efforts.

“Holmes,” I moaned, “I’m going to come. I cannot—“

And the ensuing cry that was ripped from my belly matched the explosion of my climax. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and the room narrowed to a vortex of white noise as I clung to him for dear life, calling out senseless phrases of wonderment. Everything I had poured into him as powerfully and naturally as the tide follows the moon.

When I started to come back to myself, I felt him tugging diligently at his cock. I quickly reached down to take over and was pleased to find a thick wet sheath already covering his tip. He replaced his hand on the mattress and pressed back into me, rocking and groaning until with a choked cry he spent himself in lusty surges. I was still pounding into him when he constricted around me so tightly I could no longer move.

We remained thus suspended for quite some time before crashing together on the bed.

“Watson, as sexual creatures go, you really are most formidable,” he said after he rolled onto his back.

I could only shake my head over the irony of such a statement because I was too busy attempting to regain my senses to answer him.

“I had thought we might spend the morning in here, but as you have expelled yourself with stunning efficiency, I think I shall draw a bath,” he said, pushing himself from the bed and retrieving his dressing gown. “I presume you wish me to spare you some hot water?”

“Shh, I think it may still be happening,” I whispered from my limp supine position as delicious currents of aftershocks continued to rattle my spine.

“Hum,” he chuckled. He swept out the bedroom door muttering to himself, “An interesting arrangement indeed…”