“Don’t stop with your fingers, Sam,” came again the husky plea. “Come nearer, but don’t stop…”
Sam felt Frodo’s hand on his aching hardness, encircling him at the base and pulling him towards his face.
Sam held his breath in anticipation as he saw Frodo’s swollen lips parting and his pink tongue darting out of its lair to lick his member’s head, to dance teasingly around it. Frodo’s eyes never left Sam’s, staring at him mischievously, while he was hungrily lapping the rosy tip of Sam’s full erection.
Sam thought he could lose his mind in that precise moment. He could not say if it was just his own imagination, fuelled by an overwhelming pleasure, or some sort of blissful delirium, but it seemed to him that Frodo was different, like he was not Frodo anymore. Sam saw a burning light in those eyes that he had never seen before. His lover was now claiming him, engulfing him, beautiful and wild as a divinity, and somewhat frightening… And arousing … so arousing …
Sam felt his breath leaving him as he saw his own member totally disappear inside the glorious mouth that was hungrily sucking at him, threatening to empty him of all his own essence. Then, just when Sam was near the brink, Frodo released him. And, in Sam’s eyes, he was Frodo again, a sweet, charming hobbit expressing his love for him with all his being.
“Now, Sam, please, take me. I’m ready.”
Trembling with desire and with a firm thrust, Sam was halfway within his master’s body. Frodo let out a sharp cry of pain.
“Wait, Sam, please, wait just a moment, it hurts!” He breathed heavily, trying to relax his muscles.
Sam looked at him in concern. “I’m sorry, Frodo, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Frodo smiled, “It’s quite normal Sam, the first time. Please, don’t worry. I want it, I want it more than anything, just give me the time to adjust myself …”
“Yes, me dear, all the time you need.” Then he bent to kiss Frodo’s mouth, to reassure him with sweet caresses, before taking Frodo’s member in his hand, stroking him, until he relaxed and was ready to accept Sam, who entered him with one single fluid thrust.
They stared at each other in silence, their eyes filled with tears of love and emotion.
“Can you believe it, Sam? Now we are one, we really are as one body. I feel complete, for the first time in my life. Oh, dear Sam, I love you so …”
“Yes, me dear. We are one. Now I’m here, with you. I’ve never been so happy, Frodo, love.”
There was nothing else that night except for Frodo and Sam.
They were totally lost in their newly discovered world of love and passion, warmth and pleasure. Everything seemed to fade around them, and they became one with the vast heavens above them, a part of that magical night itself.
Their love making was like a sensual arousing dance, a mutual exchange of taking and giving, slow and sweet at first, then in an accelerated rhythm, a swirling vortex of desire, moans and panting breath, until they reached their peak and climaxed, wave after wave of warm shivers, their seed the seal of their love.
They cried out each other’s names when they came, Frodo first, spilling his hot fluid into Sam’s fingers, and then Sam, unable to hold a moment more at the sight of his lover’s pleasure.
They collapsed into each other’s arms, whispering sweet words, until their breathing calmed down and their bodies relaxed. They kissed hungrily, again and again, not wanting to stop. They could not stop, they had to keep tomorrow at bay, to make that night last forever. At last they were forced to untangle themselves from the embrace, because they had started shivering.
“Better put our clothes on again, Mr. … ehm, Frodo.”
“Do you want to go home Sam?”
