No fats. No fems

Terrace Pierce shielded his eyes as the sun stabbed its way into the cozy studio apartment. Slowly, he rolled from the lumpy futon, clutching the sheets to his naked form as he stammered towards the bathroom.

A low moaning noise made him halt just outside the door. There he stood, for about thirty seconds, struggling to gain the full function of all his senses. His head cocked to the side, he listened, intensely, to his lover’s cries, briefly offering his attention to the sound of his fingernails digging into his own skinny ass through the sheets.

Seven months, he had shared an apartment with Robert, and every morning, they had shared the bathroom. Usually, he would have let out the first piss and fart of the day, and moved in behind Robert, who would be brushing his teeth, to steal the first kiss of the day, morning breath and all.

By this time any other day, he would have been back in bed, having already given Robert the

" Keep it down, Dawg! Why I got to wake up just cause you got a job?" Speech.

When the tingle of his unreleased urine was too much for his penis to endure, he forced the door open carefully, almost tiptoeing. To his surprise, Robert continued to twist before the mirror, sucking his slightly pop belly in as he turned from side to side. His hands etched, circumspectly, down his expansive torso, stopping at the sides of his ass.

"Goddamn it!" He howled, as if pain had wrenched through his body.

Terrace jerked around in fear, sending the last three drops of piss unto the rug.

With wide eyes, he observed Robert, pinching sections of his ass’s plump flesh between his forefingers, and releasing them with deep sighs of disapproval. The sight almost caused Terrace’s penis to fill and become weighted again.

"Sup with you?" he asked, wrapping his arms around Robert’s podgy middle. Both of them began to breathe more shallow as his fingers walked from Robert’s hard pecks to the cushion of his stomach. He always found this transition of body tones to be most erotic.

"Not this morning!" Robert begged, twisting away from the feel of Terrace’s bushy pubic hairs, scratching up and down the length of his split.

Terrace grabbed him back, his short arms barely making the forty-two-inch circumference.

"What did I tell you about snatching away from me?" He laughed kissing the back of Robert’s smooth, bald head, "Why you in here, draining your eyes?"

"You wouldn’t understand, even if I felt like explaining."

Terrace inhaled, and struggled not to take the smugness of Robert’s last statement to heart.

"You better get dressed and go get me that money!" He joked, though it often ate at him that Robert’s measly teacher’s pay supported them both.

Robert never complained, knowing that Terrace’s lack of employment was due more to his previous drug and assault charges than lack of motivation. Everyday, Robert was sure to return to a clean house, a hot bath, and a wonderful meal, before being fucked and/or massaged to sleep.

"I’m not going to work!"

Terrace’s face contorted, remembering that he had to result to violence to put a stop to Robert’s working through the flu a few months earlier. Now, Robert was crying and taking a day off for nothing?

"Damn, I didn’t hurt you that bad, now!" he spat out, equating the past nights activities with Robert’s earlier ass examination, "I kept asking if you could take it all in that position!"

"The only thing wrong with my ass is the size!"

"What’s wrong with the size?" Terrace teased, running his hands down the sides of Robert’s cinnamon brown buns, "I like the size! A dick this big needs booty with some size to it!" His manhood stiffened again, as his hands walked across the thin layer of baby fat that covered the muscular bulge of Robert’s thighs.

Sure, Robert had gained fifteen pounds in the seven months they had been together, despite constant talk about getting back to his college weight, 168 pounds of pure muscle. He also talked about how fast he could run, and how many yards he was able to gain, per game, before the accident.

Terrace never paid it much attention, having met Robert at the height of his weight gain, 238 pounds, stretching, gracefully, across his five-foot-eight-inch frame. To Terrace, no body was sexier than Robert Chestnut's.

At first, he had been a little put off by Robert’s overdone 1970’s pimp walk, but after learning that it was due mostly to the wrenching pain that the accident had left shooting through the ankle and thigh of his right leg, the walk had become increasingly sexy. He had to admire anyone who could turn such a negative into a positive.

Even when Terrace dressed his best, Robert’s outfit was always sure to make him feel like a scrub in comparison. That’s what he loved mostly about Robert, the fact that Robert loved himself, and Terrace verbalized his love with every chance he was given. Still, Robert constantly gazed, desolately, at his yearbook. Occasionally he would call Terrace over, exclaiming, "See, I told you I wasn’t lying!" as he pointed out his picture beside Sexiest Male.

Whole-heartedly, Terrace would kiss him and ensure that he still was the sexiest man alive, but Robert’s expression always seemed to offer protests.

"When did I get this big?"

"When did I get this big?" Terrace joked, rubbing his curved erection up and down Robert’s crack.

"Goddamn it! Can’t you see I'm serious, Terrace? Look at me, for God’s sake!"

"I see with my hands!" Terrace laughed, his eyes, summoning Robert to the futon, "Why don’t you let me get a look at that big booty again?’

"I’m being serious!"

"And I am too!" Terrace pouted. The pulsing of his loins had him seconds away from a temper tantrum.

"Look at me yo! I can get anybody I want, Robert. I already told you that I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like what I saw...or felt!"

For the first time ever, Robert was able to look at his lover’s magnificent body and feel something other than lust. He ached to trace the ripples of Terrace’s six-pack with the sharp Razor he’d put away minutes earlier. He longed to bite the protruding navel, once referred to as, "the cutest in the world", from his flat stomach, and watch blood trickle unto his always hard ten inches and track star thighs.

"So, I'm supposed to feel good cause God’s gift to the faggit said I'm cute?" he barked with sarcasm.

"You’re supposed to feel good, because of what you know about you! What I think about you shouldn’t matter. Like I said though, if I thought I could do better, I would be out!"

"Then why are you here, Terrace?" Robert asked with suspicion, "More than once, I’ve had the pleasure of being with you when you bumped into an old girl or boyfriend! I’m such a far cry from any of them."

"And that’s exactly why I want to be here!"

"I’m talking about the physical aspect, Terrace! You’re telling me that you don’t think about that tall Indian from the gym?"

"Hell no!" Terrace responded, as if Robert had just asked the stupidest question known to man, "You got Cory beat, hands down! He’s not that cute when you get to know him; I knew him, too damn well, for over a year".

Robert hopped unto the sink. A semi-erect seven inches bounced between his fleshy thighs, following the swinging motion of his short, muscular legs. Suddenly, the thought occurred to him, that until now, he had never questioned Terrace’s past relationships. He had been content assuming that they had all grown tired of him paying his way with good looks and hot sex, and handed him down from one to the next.

Now, was his turn to pick up their slack. Unlike the others, he couldn’t risk not fulfilling Terrace’s every whim. He no longer had good looks of his own to fall back on. Another lover wasn’t definite for him, so he rarely complained about Terrace’s lying around and being cute all day. Besides, his mother always said that speaking the name of your lover’s ex, in his company, was talking them a path back to his heart.

"So, what did old what’s-his-body call it quits for anyway?"

"I called it off!" Terrace corrected, "I wasn't ready to give him what he needed".

"Commitment issues, huh? Doesn’t surprise me!"

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Terrace harked, "and commitment had nothing to do with it! He was fucking three girls from his job, and I was seeing a waiter across town!"

"If it wasn’t fear of commitment, what would make you leave someone like that? He just seemed so much better for you".

"He wanted to fuck me in the ass"; Terrace revealed, sheepishly, "I just didn't love him enough to let him do it".

Robert’s heart quaked as he thought of the many times he had been allowed the pleasure of mounting Terrace’s modest cheeks. How dare Terrace even stand before him and pretend that it was possible to care so much more for him than someone as flawless as the Indian?

Having never revealed anything so personal before, Terrace couldn't help but feel vulnerable. As he walked towards Robert, a petite foot was cast into his abdomen hard enough to stifle his breath for a second, and provide distance between them.

"I don’t want you to touch me, Terrace! I don't want you or anybody else lying to me anymore, or pretending to want me."

Terrace’s eyes darted from side to side as he struggled to make sense of Robert’s words. He searched Robert’s face for some explanation, then shrugged it off. The barrier of the leg was pushed to the side, and Robert’s warm center welcomed him, enticing their loins to dance against each other‘s. His hand slid up Robert’s bulging stomach and unto a hard pec, making Robert gasp as his thumb skipped back and forth across his hard, quarter-sized nipple.

"Wait!" Robert pleaded, struggling not to yield to the sensation of Terrace’s magic fingers, "Before you do this, answer me one question: do you think I'm too big?’’

"I think you’re just right!" Terrace sighed, still determined to get a piece of the ass that had occupied his mind all morning, since his glimpse of it spread open. He began to kiss across Robert’s chest as he talked, "where would your pretty ass get an idea like that?’’

"Your top drawer!" Robert burst out, pointing to the neon green flyer to an underground, gay sex party, titled "Free Love". He couldn’t help but almost smile at the irony of the bold "20 dollars at the door" disclaimer.

"The booty-slam of the year!" He read aloud, "Leave your clothes and inhibitions at the door. Must be 18 or older, and in good physical condition." To further push his point, he squinted his eyes, as if the next bold face line were less legible than the others, "Could you read that line for me, Terrace, what does that line say?"

"It says, ‘Please, No fats and no fems!' So?"

"So, you just told me that you didn't think I was fat!

"I didn't go!" Terrace breathed, completely sidestepping Robert’s last observation, "check the date. It was Last Saturday. I was here with you Saturday,remember?"

"I never accused you of going! My question is why didn't you go? Why didn't we go as a couple? Why didn't you show me the goddamn flyer, Terrace? You saved it; you must have put some thought into going!"

"Look, this kid I met at a party last year recognized me in the mall and gave me the Goddamn flyer! And the party last year was not a fuck party, because I see the wheels turning in your head! I never even gave the shit a second thought".

"I’m sure you didn’t! Seeing as how you brought the damn thing all the way home, walked past six different trashcans, and hid it in the one place you didn't count on me looking, under your pussy magazines!"

"But I didn't go!" Terrace screamed, becoming annoyed with the circular pattern of their conversation, "You would never have gone to some goddamn rush and cocaine induced fuck party anyway, and you know you wouldn't!"

"And I couldn't have if I wanted to, huh Terrace? No fats, no fems. Is that why you hid the flyer? Well, I'm definitely not a fem, so you must have lied to me about thinking that I'm too fat! Why?’’

"I didn’t make the Goddamn flyer, Rob! God; won’t you grow the fuck up?!"

"How can you say you love me when you don't even like to look at me?" Robert quavered.

"Who says I don’t like the way you look? I love every inch of your sexy ass! Just because some niggas, who I never met before in my life, might not think you beautiful, that don't change the way I feel. If it did, I wouldn’t have stayed here with you Saturday, right?’’

"Fuck you and Saturday night!" Robert screamed, pushing Terrace’s kiss away, "You were here with me Saturday, but your mind was there, somewhere behind the tight buns of some little muscle thug or something!"

"I happen to like my thugs with just a little cushion", Terrace assured, pressing Robert’s back against the mirror as his tongue forced into his mouth. His hand twisted in the most odd position as he still struggled to caress Robert’s square pec.

He could feel tears drip down his neck and ricochet down the ripples of his chest as his lover’s mouth walked lower and lower down his statuesque torso. He grimaced as Robert’s sharp teeth seized his hard nipple, sending a shock of pleasure up and down his spine. His hands gently wrapped across the back of Robert’s neck, pushing his head farther down the trail of hair and muscle. Robert got the hint, hopping down from the sink, and giving Terrace’s sweet lips one more kiss.

"I’m sorry", he whispered, kissing down Terrace’s neck. His tongue bounced from ripple to ripple of Terrace’s abdomen, until the maze of muscle ended at an engorged ten inches, throbbing and silently begging for human contact as it pulsed.

"Oh! SSSst!" Terrace hissed at the feel of Robert’s warm mouth, closing in around his tip.

Without the slightest hint of any choking, Robert swallowed over half of Terrace’s organ. He allowed Terrace to hammer at the back of his throat for a few minutes, with his huge head. He then shimmied his way back up, pulling his mouth away to lick clear droplets from the tiny slit. He loved the fact that they were monogamous and could play freely.

"Oh shit!" Terrace moaned, pulling away before Robert’s tongue could make their fun end fast. He slid down next to him, hoisting a hefty thigh across his shoulders; he rubbed his wet penis, wildly, against Robert’s as they kissed. All the while, his hand walked up and down Robert’s furry slit, searching for entrance. When it was located, he contemplated inserting a dry finger, but remembered the pain that the prior night must have caused.

"Easy, boy!" Robert huffed reaching around his raised thigh, to smear the target with Vaseline.

Terrace’s enormous head came borrowing in before Robert had sufficient time to remove his finger completely. The sensation made them both choke back screams.

"Oh God, you got some good ass pussy!" Terrace breathed, pounding his way in and out of Robert’s tight channel.

"Hard!" Robert begged, mopping sweat from Terrace’s back and ass, "Fuck me like we making a porno!"

"You better take it too!" Terrace warned, letting the weight of Robert’s thigh drop to the side. The pain of his hard stab, made Robert thrust them as close together as they could get around his tiny waist.

"Oh fuck!" Robert howled, gently biting into Terrace’s shoulder blades, "Not that deep!"

With a sincere apology, Terrace helped Robert lay flat against the floor. This time, both legs were thrust into stirrup position. The balls of his feet were placed, strategically, against Terrace’s pecs, causing them to arch and massage his sensitive nipples with each thrust.

Passion had Robert’s voice elevate to screams as he jerked his eight and a half to an explosive climax. The sensation made him close his eyes, gnashing his head from side to side, and missing the sight of his sperm’s perfect landing, on his lover’s pecs, by a blink of the eye.

"Fuck me!" He panted, when the ability to talk returned to him. Terrace’s fast stabs caused his guts to rattle as his ass contracted and expanded over and over.

The sight of Robert’s creamy white semen, sliding up and down his beer belly, made Terrace’s own orgasm burst forward.

"Here it comes!" He howled, easing free.

Robert sat up to watch every second of the ordeal. Terrace’s eyes rolled shut, sandwiching the last vision of Robert’s pouting hole behind his lids as his liquid burst forth unto his lover’s stomach and broad pecs. When the flood ended, their lips and limbs twisted tightly together, sandwiching their liquids between a sweet embrace.

"Why don't you go start on breakfast?" Robert asked, after a series of kisses was exchanged, ""I’ll be out after I freshen up."

"So you not going to work after all, huh?" Terrace sighed with defeat.

"No. Not today. I just want to go back to bed, curl up in your arms, and sleep forever!"

"Sounds like heaven to me" Terrace agreed, kissing his lover’s sweaty head.

When Robert was left alone, giving him the time he needed to devour the bottle of extra strength prescription pain reliever, he wondered back on Terrace’s last words. He wondered if he and Terrace would meet up in the afterlife. With his luck, heaven would probably have a sign on the gates, reading "Please, No fats, No Fems!"