Valentine's Day, Yaoi Style

Valentine’s Day, Yaoi Style


It was pure contentment to simply sit back on the couch and enjoy my St. Valentine’s Day present.  I watched in unadulterated rapture as my lover entered the living room.  He was absolutely adorable to look at.  I loved his slight built, so slender that his hips actually flared out from his waist.  The arc of his back as he stretched to pull his sweatshirt up and over his head.  His t-shirt got caught up in the sweatshirt for a moment, lifting it partway up and giving me a view of four or five inches of flesh.  I also caught sight of the waistband of his boxers, still covering his hips.  His baggy jeans were worn low-slung, nearly three inches lower.  This was nothing but a tempting reminder of the pleasures waiting below.

After only a few seconds of this glimpse, his t-shirt dropped back down into place.  My eyes, robbed of their temporary pleasure, wandered in search of new delights.  They traveled upward to view his neckline, long and slender, being covered and uncovered in flashes as he turned slightly and flicked his hair out of his eyes.  My view then traveled his arched back as he bent down to remove his shoes. As he stood back up, he reached down and hooked his thumbs into the belt loops, pulling up and readjusting his pants.  This was an unconscious gesture of his, which I secretly found adorable.  It was, as always, a futile gesture, because they simply dropped back down into place, just past his hips.

He looked up at me, meeting my eyes for the first time.  Any questions I had were answered whenever he looked at me like that.  He just barely nodded, telling me with a look that I should enjoy myself.  He then grabbed hold of the bottom his t-shirt with both hands and slowly pulled straight up, over his head.  I felt a rush in my stomach as, in what felt like slow motion, the fabric wiped away any barriers between my eyes and his upper body.  Except for some light hair under his armpits, he was hairless.  His pink nipples were candy circles against his pale skin.  They looked entirely edible, and made me want to lick and nip at them. His ribs stood out stark and visible.  I wanted to run my fingers in the grooves they formed.  He cocked his hips to the left, then, and my heart melted.

He looked like a piece of art in that instant.  He stood half turned to the side, his weight mostly resting on his right leg, his left hip toward me.  Even through the baggy jeans, I could make out the soft swell of his ass, soft and cup-able.  His white socks were barely visible beneath the cuffs of his jeans.  In contrast, his hips stood out sharply, framed by the waistline of the dark blue jeans and still clothed in the robin egg blue waistband of his boxers.  Meeting the pale blue of the boxers, and adding yet another contrast, was the pale, pale flesh of his gorgeous stomach.  His t-shirt was bunched up over his face.  His arms were trapped inside, stretched high, the elastic neckband waiting to clear his chin.

His right hip swayed further out to the side, as he stretched his arms higher and held his pose.  He stood there, stretched taut, waiting to be licked and caressed, and knowing I loved every second of the view. What an amazing and seductive form. The flair of his hips, moving into the impossibly slender waist, before spreading wide again to meet the horizontal lines of his ribcage.  At long last, the t-shirt popped off, and he untangled his arms from the material.  Only then did he finally allow his arms to relax at his sides, dropping the t-shirt to the floor.

His face held almost a cocky attitude as he continued.  He knew quite well the effect he was having on me.  I watched the way his arms and hands moved as he reached to his waist and undid the clasp of his belt.  I noted how his stomach tightened involuntarily as he undid the button of his jeans.  My breath caught as he unzipped his fly, laying both sides open to show more of his cotton boxers.  As he began lowering his jeans, the side of his boxers caught on his thumb for a second, tugging them down enough to expose a few more scant inches of his creamy hip.  I marveled as, first his baggy boxers, then his silky legs, came fully into view.  His calves tightened imperceptibly as he stepped out of each pants leg.

After fully removing the jeans, he held them out to the side.  He looked up at me as he kept them at arms length, daring me to act.  At this point, I had no intention of doing any action except for adjusting my own pants, which had long ago become too tight in certain areas.  Only after he saw the effect he was having on me did he throw the pants to the floor, tossing them slightly in my direction.  Down now to only his socks and boxers, he began to slowly gyrate his hips, dancing seductively to some beat in his head.  His arms rose once more to the ceiling, swaying in time to that unknown rhythm.  Although by no means muscular, he also had no body fat, so that every sway, every gyration, showed the definition of his muscles as the flowed beneath his silky skin.  For several minutes, we both lost ourselves to that invisible music.

Eventually he slowed, turning slightly to the side, before reaching down to his ankles.  As he lifted each leg in turn to remove each sock, he gave me a profile shot so that I could easily see his body in action.  Each limb, each curve, reminded me why I never strayed far from home.  Even though he was smaller of build, he was well crafted, like a custom order lover.  Everything about him was perfect to me.  His flowing hair, just long enough so that he was always unconsciously brushing or flipping it away from his amazing eyes.  His long, slender neck, looking too thin to support his head, teased me into wanting to rub my cheek against it. The cut of his shoulder blades excited me, daring me to want to slide my tongue along their length.  The ridges of his spine enticed me, tempting me to rub my fingers along their ridges, like a touchstone.  Following with my eyes the narrowness of his waist down to the sharp lines of his pelvic bone, still shrouded by his boxers, did nothing but flat out arouse me.  

Before I realized it, both his socks had joined his other clothes on the floor.  He began dancing again, but this time, he started rubbing his body, using has fingers to accentuate areas that he knew would entice me.  My pants were already tenting uncomfortably, and I silently asked him if I could loosen them.  One teasing look told me that he didn’t want me to, so I simply readjusted yet again.  I cheated, however, and took the opportunity to rub myself through the fabric.

His hands strayed all over, first on his chest, then up to wrap around his shoulders, hugging himself as he turned slowly in a 180 to show off his back.  His hands worked down his sides, fingers sliding down his back, my eyes following.  Once he reached his boxers, he skipped over them, sliding down his hips to grasp his thighs.  After sliding his hands seductively down both thighs, he moved them both back up to the waistband of his boxers.  Still facing away from me, he hooked a thumb in his waistband and pulled down slowly.  As he revealed his cheek, however, he moved his other hand across to obscure the view, teasing me.  After a moment, he turned back around, facing me, and pulled down the front of the fabric.  Again, he covered himself, mostly, with his hand.  

He finally turned back around, giving me his backside again, and bent over at the waist.  He hooked both thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and pulled down quickly.  Instead of the succulent view of his rosy cheeks, however, I saw that he was wearing bikini briefs beneath.  I felt momentarily cheated, until I saw the navy blue silk stretched tight across that luscious ass.  He turned a 360 this time, running his fingers inside the material, lifting it and exposing different patches of skin in turn.  He swayed a few more times, working his hands back up his body, until they stretched toward the ceiling again.

As he danced he slowly bent his knees, sinking toward the floor without bending his waist.  When he had dropped about a foot, he bent forward and to the side slightly, so that I could no longer see any of the skimpy navy blue material.  He stood in such a way that, with his arm across his hip and his legs turned sideways, he appeared nude.  I was treated to an uninterrupted line of pale, milky flesh from his adorable face to his kissable feet.  As I watched, my view still blocked by the luscious contours of his pose, he slowly began lowering the silk.  He continued bending at the waist, working the briefs down his hairless thighs with his hands, while keeping his nether region out of sight with his crossed legs.  Only when he had completely stepped out of them, did he raise up.

With a satisfied look of pleasure, he stood up.  Only now, at the end, could I see him in all his full, and hard, glory.  As he took a step toward me, he reached out and handed me the silk briefs, the front of the material completely soaked through from where he had enjoyed giving me the show.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweety!” he said with a grin.