I want to send a huge thank you to all my loyal readers for their interest and generous ratings! Thank you! Our bodies danced in a symphony of fever, in a whirlwind where desire exploded, where pleasure wrapped itself around us like a burning vice. I wanted him everywhere, on me, against me, in me, yes especially in me and deep inside. I responded with a passion I didn't know I had. A passion fueled by a thousand intertwined sensations. I caressed his skin, and in my head, it lightened slightly, dotted with moles. I bit his shoulder, and for a moment, I imagined longer, more flamboyant hair. I found the taste of a man again, and somewhere in my thoughts, other lips, more tender and spicy, came to mind. I buried his deformed glans in my mouth, and another foreskin, paler, smaller, but just as fascinating, appeared to me: Peter! Always him. I fought against this image that imposed itself, against this body that intruded between us, even as Daoud possessed me with all the intensity of which he was capable. I threw myself into this carnal moment like a castaway clinging to the shore. I tried to drown myself in what I knew. In what had always been enough for me. His burning skin against mine gradually erased the last traces of the night. My avid mouth traced a feverish path over his torso, savoring every contour, every shiver he could not hold back. I felt him tremble under my caresses, and it electrified me. He was a rock, and yet, he vibrated under my hands, under my lips in a torrid cunnilingus. His breath became hoarse, his grip firmer, our movements more impatient. We were on the edge, ready to tip over, ready to explode both of us almost at the same time. We were so on fire that he couldn't stop my finger, which penetrated him suddenly, moving forward to poke around his prostate. He reared up as if to refuse, but I maintained my grip firmly, because he was obviously too caught up in the excitement of his swollen glans, red with his blood, so bright and so ardent. It was the first time I had penetrated him like this, and I nevertheless felt his sphincters relax, I don't know from pleasure or from trust. And then... The moment stands still. One last thrust, one last shudder, a muffled cry, a ragged breath that pounds wildly, and a shared pleasure, an explosion of incandescent pleasure, a flow of sperm in powerful spurts that seems never-ending. And everything shattered in a wave of heat and abandonment.Silence fell again, our bodies intertwined for a moment longer, dripping, vibrating with a final jolt of pleasure. He didn't ask me to remove my finger, even though it was inactive now. He wrapped his arms around me, as if he still possessed my body even after the storm. There, finally, now, the calm in a tender appeasement, voluptuously entwined, simply feeling and hearing each other breathe, for our breaths took long seconds to find their rhythm again. And I closed my eyes, letting my forehead rest against his sex. Finally, I didn't think about it anymore. Finally, Peter was fading away. At least until the next time. Time ticked by gently. We were still against each other, our skin still damp, our breaths now calmer, more regular. Usually, Daoud never lingered. Once our embrace was complete, once our bodies were sated, he would grant me one last tender kiss, a whisper in my ear, then slip out of the room to return to his fields, to his daily life. But this morning, something was different. He didn't move. His body was still lovingly pressed against mine, his hand rested on my sex, heavy, possessive. I wondered inwardly. It wasn't like him to linger like this, to slow down, to suspend time after the storm. I said nothing. I simply listened to his deep, peaceful, almost meditative breathing. He was there, with me, fully. This wasn't a simple whim of desire. It was something else. But what? I didn't have time to think about it further. Suddenly, I felt his breathing change, as if something inside him had been rekindled. A discreet shiver ran through his body, and before I even realized it, he straightened slightly above me. His gaze became more intense and darker. Without a word, without the slightest hesitation, he slid a firm hand onto my hip, as if he were about to take what was already his. "More... My love..." he murmured, almost in a hoarse breath. It was no longer the passion of the first impulse, nor the burning of irrepressible need. It was a more subtle, more spontaneous desire. A second impulse, unforeseen, born of this shared languor. Like a need for prolongation. Not to break the magic too quickly. I abandoned myself without resistance, on my back, my calves resting on his powerful shoulders, enjoying the dazzling spectacle of his still sweating torso, the play of his abs with their matte skin and the undulations of his pubis, while he pleasantly massaged my already sated prick.It became more furtive, more hurried, like a daring flight before the inevitable separation. But the intensity was no less delicious. The pleasure was still there, vibrant, anchored. And this time, it didn't linger. It came quickly, powerfully, liberating. I had the joy of seeing in his pleasure his gaze ignite, his features tense, his mouth twist with pleasure, his gasps becoming wilder and deeper. Then, finally, he sighed deeply, stretching like a sated feline, before caressing me one last time with his fingertips. One last lingering look, a smile that said it all, then he left the bed, quickly putting on his clothes. Always the same ritual. But this time, he had taken his time. And I, I remained there, alone again, floating in a trance. I had quickly washed, taking advantage of the cool water to clear my mind, to soothe the still-smoldering embers left by Daoud. But my body, despite the shower, despite the carnal satisfaction, still seemed to vibrate with a dull, impalpable tension. I decided to go see Peter in his room, jus ...

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