Byzantine Beaux
Birthday Sex!
May 17th, 2009: my birthday. I’d known Aaron for ten months and had been dating him for nine. He said he had quite an evening planned for me, and that I should expect the unexpected. I knew exactly what I wanted, and it wasn’t sold in any store, that’s for sure! Because in The Big Easy, there’s one person who isn’t so easy! But tonight was the night, of that I was sure.
So my parents left for the movies, because they were such great parents that they forgot my birthday, again, and I sat waiting for Aaron to appear out of thin air, as usual. Well, like any human being, I expected him to use the front door. Instead, Aaron decided to be his quirky self and crawl through my window and in a fig leaf, no less. He sprawled out on my bed and said, “Happy birthday, Mr. President.” I couldn’t help myself, I laughed until I cried and he was perfectly happy with that. “Now, for the second part. Did your parents go shopping?” I nod and he races to the kitchen.
« Qu’est-ce que tu pense que tu fais dans ma cuisine ?! » “What do you think you’re doing in my kitchen?!”
“Cooking!” And dash it all if he doesn’t make the best meal I’ve ever had, made by a teenager of course. He also makes me a drink he called ‘Sunset Unlimited’, a concoction of pineapple juice, mangos, lemon and vodka, except he didn’t tell me that there was alcohol in it, which he made up himself. It was only slightly revolting. “And now, for the pièce de résistance!” He leads me, not to my room, but my parents! ‘Oh god, what does he think he’s doing!’ “You were made here, it’s only right that you become a man here.” His logic shocks me more than I was willing to admit, but I had to say, he painted a very pretty picture, rather reminiscent of the Lion King. And, like a king, he carries his queen to the bridal bed. He slowly, seductively, takes off one article of clothing off at a time. My shirt, my socks, my belt, each a testament to how memorable he wanted this event. He comes to my pants; He takes an age and some change to take them off, so I just rip them off for him. “Hey! I was getting there!”
“Not fast enough!” He giggles and looks down.
“Hey! I have these same undies at home!” I giggle at the absurdity of the moment. We’re mere seconds away from fulfilling my greatest fantasy and he’s prattling about under garments! “I knew there was a reason I loved you, we think the same. Boxer briefs are comfy and supportive, just like you.” He grins and he goes to kiss me but I say, “Wait!” Tell me you love me, in Greek.”
“Sé agapó.” I smile profusely; it’s the first time he’s told me that he loves me. But he adds something else: “Ksépete póte eínai pragmatikái.”
“And what does that mean?”
“You know when it’s real.” I can’t say anything back; he’s stolen the air right out of my body. He kisses me with his hands under my chin. He chucks me under the chin and says, “Shall we?” I giggle quietly, and nod. ‘Love is a spirit of all compact fire.’
So my parents left for the movies, because they were such great parents that they forgot my birthday, again, and I sat waiting for Aaron to appear out of thin air, as usual. Well, like any human being, I expected him to use the front door. Instead, Aaron decided to be his quirky self and crawl through my window and in a fig leaf, no less. He sprawled out on my bed and said, “Happy birthday, Mr. President.” I couldn’t help myself, I laughed until I cried and he was perfectly happy with that. “Now, for the second part. Did your parents go shopping?” I nod and he races to the kitchen.
« Qu’est-ce que tu pense que tu fais dans ma cuisine ?! » “What do you think you’re doing in my kitchen?!”
“Cooking!” And dash it all if he doesn’t make the best meal I’ve ever had, made by a teenager of course. He also makes me a drink he called ‘Sunset Unlimited’, a concoction of pineapple juice, mangos, lemon and vodka, except he didn’t tell me that there was alcohol in it, which he made up himself. It was only slightly revolting. “And now, for the pièce de résistance!” He leads me, not to my room, but my parents! ‘Oh god, what does he think he’s doing!’ “You were made here, it’s only right that you become a man here.” His logic shocks me more than I was willing to admit, but I had to say, he painted a very pretty picture, rather reminiscent of the Lion King. And, like a king, he carries his queen to the bridal bed. He slowly, seductively, takes off one article of clothing off at a time. My shirt, my socks, my belt, each a testament to how memorable he wanted this event. He comes to my pants; He takes an age and some change to take them off, so I just rip them off for him. “Hey! I was getting there!”
“Not fast enough!” He giggles and looks down.
“Hey! I have these same undies at home!” I giggle at the absurdity of the moment. We’re mere seconds away from fulfilling my greatest fantasy and he’s prattling about under garments! “I knew there was a reason I loved you, we think the same. Boxer briefs are comfy and supportive, just like you.” He grins and he goes to kiss me but I say, “Wait!” Tell me you love me, in Greek.”
“Sé agapó.” I smile profusely; it’s the first time he’s told me that he loves me. But he adds something else: “Ksépete póte eínai pragmatikái.”
“And what does that mean?”
“You know when it’s real.” I can’t say anything back; he’s stolen the air right out of my body. He kisses me with his hands under my chin. He chucks me under the chin and says, “Shall we?” I giggle quietly, and nod. ‘Love is a spirit of all compact fire.’