He pushed my lip piercing around with the tip of his tongue, biting my bottom lips at times. I pushed myself up off the bed and into him. Forcing him ...o move his concentration to his cock, now pushing into my stomach, I could feel the pre cum trailing out of it’s head and into gliding down onto the bed sheets. He stretched towards his bedside table and returned his hand to my face with a condom in it. He grinned at me, kissed me deeply and helped me sit up, the soft moonlight falling onto his. I tried repressing these feelings as best I could, marshalling all of the Stoic resolve and spiritual strength that I could muster. But, in the end, it amounted to little more than token resistance. I could never share this struggle with anyone, or so I thought. It was during this period I was befriended by a fellow from church named Ken, whom I discovered was also a widower. He was a soft-spoken guy, about twenty years my senior, with a few extra pounds and a gray goatee. I learned that he had. More

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