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Underlining Meaning Two

Reply to Alien Writer

Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list December 4, 2003

Underlining Meaning Two - by Alien Writer
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing...



      I won't believe you if you say no, however I will still ask, can someone love their best friend and gain sexual pleasure from the experience without being physically attracted to that friend, especially when they are the same sex as you? I don't know the answer but I know I love him and he loves me and that we share an unmeasurable bond mentally, emotionally and physically.

      You already know the story of how it began so let me tell you the story of how it began to progress.

      To be good at anything one needs to practice and so to become more attune with and hopefully increase I practiced with my powers. Now this was a boring thing to do by myself, but with another person, or alien/human hybrid, you can compete, even show off.

      I saw Max at school, on the one day I decided to go to school that week, and asked him if he would come to the desert with me Friday afternoon to help me gain control over my powers. Max knew how I felt about my powers, how I was afraid of what I could do, to someone, someone I even care about, even him.

      So it was on that afternoon that we drove far out into the desert to cave which jutted out of a rock formation. We hopped out of the car and he began to look and sound serious. "We did you want to come here with me, you could of done this alone".

      That's when I broke down and told him. I told him how I was afraid of my powers, I told him how around him I felt more in control because we were connected and with him connected to me I felt safe because he could stop what ever I may do, around him my powers only caused pleasure.

      But he just looked more solemn, more broody and spoke with an eerie distant voice, "around you I don't feel in control though. Around you I feel things that I can't control. My body does things... I do things beyond my train of thought."

      I felt betrayed like he thought it was my fault, but without him I don't know what to do, I can't help the way I feel around him. "What are you blaming me? If you don't want to be here just go."

      "No," he replied. "That's the thing I understand the least, but I know that it's not a bad thing, and I know that I like it."

      I pointed my hand at a rock the size of a basketball and it blew up into a million pieces.

      "You know Michael there's no point in destroying a rock if it's the rock that keeps you from falling."

      "But it could be the rock my foot catches and makes me fall," I replied.

      "Then feel the rock, extend your powers outwards and feel that which is in your way and that which holds you in place."

      I was somewhat confused so I asked, "How do I do that?"

      He walked over to where I was sitting on the cave floor. He reached out and put his hands over my eyes and gently slid my eyelids closed. It felt like a moist heat, something strange for the desert.

      Slowly that moist heat feeling became a liquid feeling and the liquid was the cave pouring into me through him. I could feel, see, taste, smell and hear all that was around me through this six sense that was coming from him.

      I could sense the pieces of rock that I had shattered on the cavern floor, I could sense the fungus that grew on the cavern side near the caves entry where it was moist and dimly lit. But the thing that I could sense most was him, everything I sensed was tainted with him.

      He was the heat that stoped the liquid from being an unpleasant sterile coldness, he made it all so beautiful.

      He released me from this sense and I was sad somewhat but then he asked "But what can you show me?"

      "What is left to show you if you can sense everything but me."

      So I reached out with my powers, with the control I felt over them with him right there beside me, and I lowered him to the ground. I put my hand on his chest and extended myself into him.

      He saw my pain, my childhood after I had lost him in the desert, how I had ached for him and my sister. How I loved them. How I cried for them. How I cried when I found them.

      He felt me, my memories, my body. He felt my hands, my arms, my feet, my manhood. I owed him something so I let him feel my pleasure as I grasped that which he could feel with my free hand and began to stroke it.

      I watched his manhood grow as with the pleasure he felt. The pleasure one can give themself is earthed within their body but pleasure derived from another is joined with nothing and everything around.

      And that was the thought we shared as our seeds burst from within to stain our jeans.

      We didn't talk at all on the way home. We thought instead.

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