Saturday, January 21, 2006

Perhaps Not

He sat on the bench in the Safari Room, quiet, redrawn and oblivious to the busy Saturday traffic, which was just now reaching another peak as they made their way to the foam shower. The floor, a sea of carelessly placed pebbles, seemed to swim in and out of focus under the subtle hum of candle lights. For a very long time, his head continued to hang low, hands interlocked in a tight embrace with each other, as if in the deepest of thoughts.

Perhaps our session just now was too intense he needed time to quietly savour every moment and track every piece of action and emotion that had transpired, right from the anxious shiver of our first contact to the pleasant shudder of the climax at the end. Perhaps not.

Perhaps he knew I was watching him from the bench on the other side of this tiny room that stood between the hangout area and the action area of Kakiku, and was busy contemplating if it would break the standard arrangement if he were to maintain contact after the session was over. He could be fighting an internal war, one between pride and pleasure, and was rendered helplessly motionless as it ran its entire course. Perhaps not.

Perhaps then, the lingering smell of our cum on the towel wrapped around his body was too disarming. Intertwined in a giant mess of cotton fibers were the sinful, potent deposits evident of breathtaking moments on the bed in the common dark room moments ago. And he could not overcome the pity of having all these washed off his body just yet, for he was the one who had so diligently collected them, every last drop of it, with his towel. Perhaps not.

Perhaps he was afraid that the mere raising of an eyebrow, or the slight curl of his lips, or the most subtle twitch of his finger tips would send enough courage and motivation on me to immediately rush over to him and be once again, drown in a sea of lustful desires afforded by a very accomplished physique. And so, he killed all actions and shut off all reactions, to everyone in general, and to the one single guy he had given his undivided attention for, in particular, so that he would not have to face the fear of defeat. Perhaps not.

Skirting the edges between yes’s and no’s, could’s and could not’s, maybe yes’s and maybe not’s are perhaps what made life so worth living. I could never have the answers, but I would be perpetually happy knowing that it could be a YES.

Perhaps love? Perhaps not.


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