Pearl Onion on a Banana

Story

I was still feeling the pleasant effect of the whiskey when I invited Henry to my apartment.

Henry whistled as he looked around. "You really got plenty doughs."

It was much better to see Henry in a room with enough space that he could stretch his arms. As a worldly man, I wasn't averse to appreciate the manly form.

I put a friendly hand on his shoulder and said, "We should celebrate our friendship with more whiskey."

"Never one to turn whiskey down," Henry said with amusement in his green eyes. "Unless you're drunk enough to puke on me."

"I never got drunk," I said while taking a bottle out and pouring it for us.

Henry engulfed the wine in one sip, his Adam's apple moving up and down while swallowing.

I poured another glass for us. The room seemed to heat up while we were drinking, so I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it loose.

"You're in good shape." Henry looked at me with interest.

The wine loosened my tongue and control. "Not as good as you."

Somehow we tangled with each other with our wine forgotten. I told myself that there was nothing untoward to put off his shirt and explore Henry’s muscular chest, just as well for him to return the favour. Didn’t the Greek know this as pure love?

The wine put us in a cheerful mood. Henry’s rough hand held our erection together through our trousers and moved along the shapes. He was really good at it and pushed us to the climax.

We didn’t talk about this as we continued our quest to retrieve the pearls. Our time together was cut short due to the circumstances in which the truth was revealed. However, when Henry sent me the postcard from Honolulu, I was planning a trip there. Hawaii was lovely in this season, and I looked forward to meeting him and rekindling our connection.