Natural. Human. Good.



Natural. Human. Good.


We spoon, he and I, sleeping together naked as one. Some time in the middle of the night, he takes my hand and twines his fingers with mine, holding my hand against his heart. My chin rests on his shoulder, my other arm (the one you always wonder what to do with when you spoon) underneath his pillow, supporting our heads.

We sleep. We dream. We love. The night passes, and we are content, blissful, dreaming each our separate dreams.

Sometime, before dawn, I awaken, but only halfway. I catch myself doing something. My hips are thrusting, my groin is on fire, and I am slowly, slowly thrusting the very center of myself in, but not IN, that perfect cleft of flesh beneath the small of his back. His flesh grips me, and he, in his half-awake state, clenches himself slowly, creating a hot (oh, god, so hot) friction that stirs me, commands me, to do more, something else than the delicious act in which we are almost unconsciously participating.

But I resist. This, what we're doing, is too slow, too delicious to give in to the demand to be traditional. We could satisfy our morning lust in the ordinary way dictated by our culture. But, no. This is better, this slow rubbing, thrusting, sliding feeling. It's like a dream, and our half-sleepy half-awake moans of incipient pleasure only contribute to that feeling.

I kiss his neck, and he thrusts himself back up against me, slowly, urgently, needing more contact, more touch, more of my body than simply our sex organs. My mind tells me that this is juvenile dry humping, but my heart (among other things) belies my mind.

My lover wakes more fully, stretching, and I see his muscles lengthen, and contract. Lengthen, and contract. He is beautiful, my morning love, and smiling at me, eyes closed.

We could go on like this for hours, he and I, this pleasant, gentle, sexual, erotic stimulation keeping us on the very threshold of both consciousness and stupor. But my hands, more awake than my mind, grip him, play on his skin. I excite those nerve endings that only he and I know can be excited in him, until he can no longer take me doing this to him.

He turns over, and now we are face to face, and now the blue steel of our cocks, hot and turgid, touch each other and it's like electricity as we slide them up and down against one another, staring into each other's half-lidded eyes. I kiss him, gently, thrusting a bit more now, actually grinding myself against himself. At the same time, we look down and see ... my god, what we see. It's beautiful. A powerful sight, but one that makes us feel a little guilty. What we see, those two things rubbing against each other so pleasurably, is what we have been told is wrong, dirty, bad. That we are somehow not men for doing this together.

We know that's not true. We know that sight is in no way feminine or effeminate. It's raw. Powerful. Unquestionably male, overwhelmingly masculine. Looking down, our breath quickens and catches in our bodies, because now our minds, our imaginations, our secret, hidden desires and fantasies have entered into the fray. So long suppressed, these fantasies somehow are represented in this one vision, these two things that everyone says are never to touch each other. But they are touching, they are slowly sliding over each other, they are giving us a sweet, sweet sensation that is wholly and perfectly right. Natural. Human. Good.

It ends with a powerful rush, a sensation unlike any other release I've ever felt, our bodies alive, on fire, our mouths as locked together as the rest of us, and it goes on and on and on til finally I have to break the kiss and vocalize this heavenly sensation, something I rarely, if ever do.

What a way to start the day...

...but we just go back to sleep.

(this is something I contributed to the database at, and it's provoked extremely positive reactions in both men and women, and among the full fluid spectrum of sexuality. In my experience, frot is one of the most sought-after activities, one that provokes stimulation of the *mind* as well as the body. That's why I love it so.)


Re: Natural. Human. Good.


thats a beautifull post.

its full of strength, sensuality, pride, beauty, love and LIFE.


Bill Weintraub

Re: Natural. Human. Good.


sure is greg

Wolfdaddy, as he's said, has a lot of writing on the everything2 site, and the piece i like the best so far is titled

why i ran away from home

it's a great story, and it may have some twists and turns yet to be discovered



Also by WolfDaddy aka Eric Lupin:

Labels Are Meaningless


Warriors Speak is presented by The Man2Man Alliance, an organization of men into Frot

To learn more about Frot, ck out What's Hot About Frot

Or visit our FAQs page.

Warriors Speak Home

Cockrub Warriors Site Guide

The Man2Man Alliance

Heroic Homosex

Frot Men


Frot Club

Personal Stories

| What's Hot About Frot | Hyacinthine Love | THE FIGHT | Kevin! | Cockrub Warriors of Mars | The Avenger | Antagony | TUFF GUYZ | Musings of a BGM into Frot | Warriors Speak | Ask Sensei Patrick | Warrior Fiction | Frot: The Next Sexual Revolution |
| Heroes Site Guide | Toward a New Concept of M2M | What Sex Is |In Search of an Heroic Friend | Masculinity and Spirit |
| Jocks and Cocks | Gilgamesh | The Greeks | Hoplites! | The Warrior Bond | Nude Combat | Phallic, Masculine, Heroic | Reading |
| Heroic Homosex Home | Cockrub Warriors Home | Heroes Home | Story of Bill and Brett Home | Frot Club Home |
| Definitions | FAQs | Join Us | Contact Us | Tell Your Story |

© All material on this site Copyright 2001 - 2010 by Bill Weintraub. All rights reserved.