Summer Heat: Tales of Gay Erotica

parejahot70

Emelyn Hot

The summer sun bled gold through the dusty windowpane, casting long, languid shadows across the floorboards where they lay. His breath was a warm tide against my neck, each exhale a silent confession that made my skin hum. I traced the line of his shoulder, my fingers learning the map of him, a landscape of quiet strength and surprising softness. Our legs were entwined like the roots of an old tree, a silent anchor in the swelling heat of the afternoon. When his eyes met mine, the world outside the window simply melted into a forgotten blur of green and gold. He shifted, his hand coming to rest on my chest, palm flat, feeling the frantic, hopeful rhythm beating there. A slow, knowing smile touched his lips, a language more intimate than any whisper. The air itself felt heavy with the scent of his skin, a mix of sun-warmed cotton and something uniquely, essentially him. In that suspended moment, there was no past or future, only the profound truth of his body aligned with mine. It was a completeness that stole my breath, a silent promise written in the language of touch.