Coda 02 -A to Z

brushed my neck.
    “I mean it, Zach. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we had dinner.” His hands were sliding down my back and then squeezing my ass. “I know we hardly know each other. But I really feel like there’s something between us.” Something other than two very erect cocks? I certainly wasn’t going to argue the point. He kissed my neck some more and pushed his groin into mine. “I think we should get to know each other better. What do you think?”
    “I’d like that,” I said.
“How about dinner tonight?”
“That sounds great.”
    He squeezed my ass one last time, then pulled away. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
    He took me to the same restaurant. He ordered a bottle of wine again. He talked incessantly about stocks and portfolios and investment returns. It would have been terribly boring if his hand hadn’t been slowly moving up my thigh at the same time.
    After he paid the bill, his fingers brushed the growing bulge in my pants. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Can I come over?”
    “Of course,” I said, relieved he hadn’t left it up to me to invite him.
    As soon as we got in the door of my apartment, Geisha came out of the bedroom. She hissed at Tom, then streaked past us toward the cat flap in the window.
    “What’s wrong with your cat?” Tom asked.
“She hates people.”
    But I had no intention of wasting time talking about my exboyfriend’s pissed-off cat. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. His body was strong and hard against mine, and I couldn’t wait to see more of it. He backed me against the wall. His kisses were aggressive and insistent. His tongue brushed the roof of my mouth, and his hands were grabbing my ass again.
    I felt like I was on fire. I hadn’t been with another man for more than eight months, and even that had been nothing more than a drunken fuck, forgotten as soon as it was over. This felt completely different. I couldn’t get enough of him. I put my hands under his shirt, feeling his chest, which was covered with thick, coarse hair. I ran my thumbs over his nipples and heard him moan.
    I undid his pants, pushed them down enough to be out of the way, and grabbed him. He moaned into my mouth and pushed harder against me. His hands were still on my ass, his fingers rubbing in my crack. “That’s good, Zach. God, you turn me on.”
    I stroked him for a while, but his hands never left my ass. I let go of him long enough to undo my own pants and get them out of the way. My own erection bumped against him, and I pulled him tighter against me and kissed him more, grinding against him. I loved the feel of our cocks pressed tight between us. I could have gone all night like that, just rubbing against him and feeling his hands on me. I humped into him, holding his hips tight against my own. He groaned, took my hand, and led it back to his cock. Then his arms went back around me.
I wrapped my hand around both of us and started stroking.
    “That’s it, Zach. A little harder.” His fingers were rubbing up and down my crack, fingering my rim. “Harder, baby. Harder.”
    I gripped us tighter and sped up my strokes. He wasn’t kissing me anymore. His head was buried in my neck. He was breathing heavy and talking low. “That’s it, Zach. Oh God, that’s good. Keep going. Keep going.” I knew he was about to come when his hands clenched tight on my ass. His first shot of come made my hand slick, and that was all it took to send me over the edge too.
    He kissed me some more, and then eventually went into the bathroom to clean himself up while I changed into a clean pair of sweats. Then I walked him to the door. He pulled me close and kissed me. “See you soon.”
    T OM and I had another date three days later. He was supposed to pick me up at six, but instead, he came by the store at four to break it off.
    “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he said. “We have a meeting—it just came up—and I can’t miss it.”
    The skinny punk with the attitude was back, and I was wishing Tom would keep his voice down. The punk wasn’t looking at us, and I hoped that meant he wasn’t listening. “You have a meeting at six o’clock?” I asked quietly, not quite believing him.
    “I’ll be done by eight, Zach,” he said, and he really did sound apologetic. “I’d love to see you afterward, if you’ll let me.” That would certainly be better than nothing. “That sounds great,” I said, trying to sound casual and not pathetic, like I