P-230 Too Beautiful
Too Beautiful
Parisian Press
P-230
Lambert Wilhelm
$2.25
Introduction
The bodies were glossy with the sweat of their mating. Like a finely wrought sculpture of exquisite bronze, the two seemed momentarily transfixed, enlocked, embraced for time and eternity. The only sound of their living was the wedded hissing of their breaths: all that remained of the passion which had drained their bodies of semen—splattered pearly sperm up anal passageway, drenched black sheet against pressing belly.
The reality began to make itself known again. Christopher felt himself slipping down from the heights to which he had just been thrust. But the resulting reality of spent love was not the reality of ordinary lovers. For though the ecstasy of passion was faded, the whole aura of dreaming was not yet passed. Shadows still hung like webs within the room. Indeed, it seemed as if the two had fucked within an endless void of blackness. There were no walls, roofs, no floors to be seen. Like two bodies suspended in a sea of darkness, the two had danced out their pleasure. Their cries of enjoyment had been absorbed by the total ebony like water into a sponge.
They parted, two pieces of exquisite proportion: the sword belonging the man, the sheathe belonging the boy. The penis pulled from its hole. It was long, not yet completely flaccid. It still shone with the juices of its discharges: a powerful tool befitting a powerful body.
“Can a god love?” the man asked, standing. “Can a god be loved in return?”
“Love?” the boy asked, rolling to his back, feeling the man’s sex juices still leaking from his ass. “A god may be worshipped. It’s all relative, isn’t it? Define worship as love, and I shall say, yes, a god may be loved.”
“Do you think Jehova was loved?” the man asked. He was blond because Christopher liked blonds. He was muscular because Christopher liked a well-sculptured body. He had green eyes because Christopher liked green eyes. He was what Christopher wished, desired as a mate. Was it not logical that Christopher should love him?
“You play games,” Christopher frowned.
The man laughed, eyed the youth thoughtfully. “Who else but you, my pet, would dare tell me that I play games? I ask you who. Now, shall I tell you? No one else would have dared.”
“Even you are surrounded by people who would tell you anything for a smile or a scrap of power,” Christopher replied.
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