I slid my hand softly over his chest noting his own skins coolness. The early summer nights still turned cold sometimes. I began slowly extricating myself from his arms. It was almost painfully slow as several areas of our skin were all but glued together with dried bodily fluids. I wondered at how his arm hadn’t fallen off from lack of blood flow when I registered I’d been sleeping on top of one of the arms he’d kept wrapped around me in sleep. I began searching for my clothing and found my jeans and a tee which I thought was his but I was completely unable to find my underwear. I slipped into both affirming the shirt as his, not mine. I groped my way to a chest I kept against one wall and pulled out a crocheted throw. I crossed the room and covered Brian carefully so as not to wake him. I debated waking and getting him to move into the bedroom but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Mainly for the selfish reason of knowing I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep myself and wanting a. So, I laid down on my back up against the headboard with pillows behind my neck, then had him climb up and straddle my head on his knees and hold the headboard while I sucked him from below. This got him hard again, especially when I played with his balls and teased his puckered orifice, and it was not long before he groaned and emptied his pent-up hot load into my mouth, which I lustfully consumed. [Some guys like to lie in bed and cuddle (or kiss) following sex. He was not one of them, and rather quickly got up to go to the bathroom. He was obviously in somewhat of a hurry to get away (as I have found that married guys are after orgasm and subsequent loss of libido), so he dressed and left. I was still aroused, so I went over to the bed, lay on my back, lifted my legs and hips over my head, hooked my feet over the headboard, inserted a couple of fingers into my still unsatisfied ass, and milked my own cumload directly into my waiting mouth below. The third and last time we met was.
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