Bait

I am a vain man. I mark my body irrevocably with beautiful art to enhance my tight, well-trained flesh.

I am a suggestible man. I yield, caving into his appeal to my vanity, promising photos of my latest ink.

I am a tempted man. I take the bait when he asks to kiss me, running his lips and tongue along my skin, licking the furring that trails below my waistband.

I am a hungry man. I throw myself at him as if starved, nipping along the warm flesh of his ribs, biting at the salt-sweet skin of neck.

I am an eager man. I can’t remove our jeans fast enough, tearing at his zipper and my fly as he continues to photograph my eagerness.

I am a throbbing man. I grasp his cock and mine in between us, feeling the pulsing of our blood as I stroke us in unison.

I am a desperate man. I bite at the foil on the condom, slop wildly with lubricant as I kiss along his raspy jawline, stretching and stroking him beneath me.

I am a buried man. I am home, balls deep in him as we match each other’s frenzied pleasure.
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Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 199
Originally submitted to Sinful Sunday—Week 39 via Rebecca Grace Allen
Photo prompt: origin unknown | Word prompt: bait