Page 63 - Some Dance to Remember
P. 63
Some Dance to Remember 33
were smiles of a summer night, rising together up to that moment
before climax, falling back, savoring the pleasure, rising up again,
until our final mutual salute to triumphant masculinity.
Honest manliness is never half-revealed. When it’s there, it’s
total. Roman emperors could have tortured me to Death, and
with my eyes upon him, and his gladiatorial smile upon me, I
could have been, even at his hands, the most joyous of martyrs.
I knelt in front of him, between him and the mirror, sizing
up the perspective of his muscle in the posing light. I had never
before been ambidextrous; but I found my right hand reserved
for myself. My left, as if for all my life I had been saving a virgin
hand for stroking his hard-pumped muscle, palmed the contours
of his body. I ran my left hand up his magnificent calves and
thighs, not daring to touch his long hard rod for fear the muscle-
worship would revert to purely genital sex. His dick was veined as
thick and heavy as his arms. I ran my hand up his washboard abs
and stopped, flat-palmed, where his belly met his hard rounded
pecs. We both dripped sweat. He looked down upon me, and for
the first time our eyes locked into an affirmative understanding.
He raised his magnificent arms wide, never taking his eyes from
mine, and rolled his broad shoulders. My hand on his upper belly
felt his pecs harden and his abs tighten. He took a deep breath,
and with all his might, flushing red, muscles pumped and veins
roped around them, he intensified his look deep into my eyes,
and pumped down tight and hard into the Most Muscular pose.
His body quivered. Veins corded his massive neck. His jaw line
set hard. Heavy streams of sweat poured from his blond hair,
down his forehead, around his eyes, along his lantern jawline,
and dripped, I want to say like sanctifying grace, down on me.
I looked deep into his resolute face. We hung in perfect balance:
the adoring worshiping the adored. I knelt in high fealty to his
presentation of ideal manhood.
Our eyes locked tighter in an unspoken Energy of under-
standing. Hours before, we had left Dan behind, watching in
amazement from the corner. Then we rose from the room, the
mirror, the light, the clock. We moved to another dimension. We
rose in that frozen moment to where the only clock was the one
heart ticking between us. He held his body in the full locked-
down power of his muscle armor. He was as graced with spiritual
energy as he was with physical muscle. We were beyond words.
©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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