I didn’t want to believe it, and neither did he, but it was love at first sight when Étienne and I met at the little shop called Bodega Colonial in Santo Domingo where he worked. Even though neither one of us verbalized what was in our hearts, our meeting was ostensibly business. I was simply a professional photographer from the States asking a handsome young Dominican man to model for me. He was a young bodega counter worker gladly jumping at the chance to make one hundred American dollars just for posing and being photographed all around the city. But suddenly we couldn’t help ourselves, couldn’t keep our feelings to ourselves. In a matter of days, we both confessed our love for each other.
And yes, I almost lost Étie once he found out through a chance encounter with Sylvester Winfrey, one of my sexcursion vacation mates, and Sylvester’s personal bugarrone of choice, Edgar, that I was just another john at House of John, the notorious whorehouse gay Americanos frequented for the purpose of sexually exploiting Étie’s fellow countrymen.
His surprise when he saw Edgar with Sylvester, my surprise when I realized Edgar was Étie’s ex he’d left when Edgar became a sex-worker, a bugarrone, was the shocking and near fatal dénoucement that threatened to smother our infant love before it was able to fully breathe.
But love did indeed claim a conquest. When Étie realized I had abandoned my sexploitations even before meeting him and I fell in love with his country and had fallen in love with him, he forgave me.
I checked out of House of John and into the Santo Domingo Hilton, where we shared our first and final night of intimacy before I returned to the States.
I didn’t know if it was real or just some wonderful, magical dream.
Was I suddenly kissing him? Sweetly stunned by the taste of his warm, probing tongue exploring my wanton mouth, teasing my hunger to have any part of him inside of me and me in him? Was the running of my fingers through his raven hair, then touching his handsome face with the beautiful scar underneath his right eye, a desire fantasized or a distinct occurrence?
Was my twenty-four-year-old new Latin lover really naked in my thirty-eight-year-old arms? Was his thick stiff young dick really cradled against mine? Was the hot thrill of him against me too unreal to be real?
No. It was as real as our new and mighty love. Our lovemaking was proof positive.
When we gave each other oral pleasure to the point of near explosion, pulling away simultaneously, forcing our passionate gluttony to hold back some for what was to come, then we knew, that our love was so much more than a dream.
When he teased and then entered my hungry asshole ever so gently with his pulsing dick and built his rhythm inside me into a frenzy of unbearable pain and pleasure, I shuttered with the deliciousness. I slammed my begging hole into his hot lap of lust and luxury. My wicked grimaces, my heedless wailings as he fucked me with a masterful ravish, on my stomach, on my back, then doggy-style, were my begging’s for more and then more. He lathered my bucking back with his moist and warm kisses and his sweet musty sweat.
I desperately tried to bury and muffle my unbearable ecstasy in the pillow beneath my chin. But the thrill couldn’t be tamed. So I neighed, part into the pillow I now chewed on, and part into the bed sheets I clutched for dear life, until we both exploded, he inside the condom inside my grateful rectum, me in gushes wild and splattering without me ever touching myself.
And then we collapsed into each other’s arms again. We kissed each other, tasted each other like spouses desperate the night before one of us would be deployed to some distant unsure battlefield. In fact, I indeed would be deployed back to my Southern California home in less than ten hours. Our time together before my departure was short and precious. So before we knew it, we were at it again.
He was on his back. His legs were on my shoulders, Both our dicks bobbed and weaved and shuddered with the weight of their bone readiness.
“I love you so much, baby,” I whispered softly, bending down to him kissing the crown of his precious pecker, sparkling and beautifully mushroomed from the loose foreskin I’d pulled back down to his shaft with one cupped hand, while my other hand toyed furiously with my own naked-headed hard-rock cock, pre-cum erupting from its slit. And suddenly, I couldn’t keep myself from sucking that golden stick of joy of his, with a gluttony barely restrained, until I had spread his shouldered legs and found his other treasure.
The sight of his glistening hole made me tremble. The sweet, sweaty pucker of his slightly hairy ass was an aphrodisiac. My nose scouted with earnest his dizzying manroma. And then my tongue bum-rushed and feasted hungrily upon the entrance to nirvana.
“Oh yes, Papi, yes…” he moaned as my anxious tongue found its way inside him.
His hunger, as ravenous as mine, was desperate for a feeding.
“Yes, Papi, yes…it is all yours.”
He found the condom by touch, tore open the package with his teeth, and with one hand, slipped it on me and rolled it down my nervous shaft. I lubed him gently between his legs. One finger, then two, found their way inside his warm and pleading ass.
He writhed up and kissed me. His tongue dug deep into my mouth. He then arched himself and found my throbbing dick with his ass. He teased himself upon me; impaled himself with a stinging delight that caused him to gasp, to hold his breath, then let with a baby’s whimper.
The pleasure dizzied me. The warmth of his tight and moist insides consumed me.
He gently grabbed my cakes and guided me into a rhythm in step with his own. In little time, the grinding and the pumping was marvelously desperate.
Our kisses and holding each other became frenzied. Our passion threw us to the floor, against the wall, in positions impromptu and invented by lust and love.
“Fuck me, Papi,” he begged in desperation. On a mission, I obeyed.
His hard and chiseled body, all six feet of him, was splayed against the wall he fucked while I fucked him. He reached up and clawed that wall. He reached back and clawed my ass. He jammed me deeper into the ass I now knew completely belonged to me.
“Yes! Yes! Yes! Por favor! He begged and screamed and demanded as his nursing hole tightened and flexed and choked my pounding penis. I panted breathlessly and licked his neck whorishly. Desperately I rode him and kissed him. I twisted stiff nipples on hard-flexing pecs with abandon. We were lost into each other, in the righteous ether of the nasty, profane and profound, until at once we exploded—me inside of him, him splattering the wall and his six-pack torso with a double load of thick white man cream—with hosanna-like screams and matching cries of jubilation that shattered tranquility and threatened to summon the law.
That’s when I knew I had found my love mate. (Continues)
Excerpted from ACHING FOR IT By: Stanley Bennett Clay. Copyright © 2013 by Stanley Bennett Clay. Excerpted by permission of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.