lasting Pt. 1[
In the cozy little village of Mountain Run, where the river divides the land and the fruit-laden trees that edge the waterways bestow their gifts on the banks for people and animals to relish, there resided two beings connected by an improbable connection. A slim, dauntless 25-year-old artist named Julian spent his days capturing the enchantment of Mountain Run's tremendous natural beauty on canvas and snapshots. Julian dwelled in an humble one-bedroom abode that ancient family history asserts was constructed by his great-grandfather with just his bare hands. Whether Julian experienced that legend as the truth or was simply grateful to have a relaxing shelter, he was thrilled to possess a comfortable dwelling. He even reconstructed the second bedroom as well as a significant portion of the living room into an art studio. This residence, Julian's haven, was a representation of the youthful guy who inhabited it; it was at times vibrant but discreet on its outward appearance.
Throughout the street, in a sizable abode brimming with nostalgia of long-gone decades and displaying the care and devotion a dedicated lifetime owner typically devotes to their home, lived Arthur, a twenty-five-year-old amiable communications teacher, whose knowledge was as vast as the library that cluttered his dwelling. Books piled up on every accessible wall surface, with some book heaps spilling out onto the wooden floor. Arthur spent the majority of his time venturing outside his carefully kept home, with his close friends affectionately referring to it as "the stacks" due to its colossal collection of books, as well as his reputation for taking his paramours back there and discarding them surreptitiously before sunrise. He was sociable and made the most of every opportunity.
Arthur and Julian's paths scarcely crossed. Arthur usually left his residence during the early hours of the morning, appreciating the company of the dew and the crisp aroma that prevailed before the sun's warmth caressed the planet. In contrast, Julian flourished in the darkness and worked assiduously all night, often being stimulated by the various shades of blue that the moon cast on his grand back yard. However, on that fateful Monday night, the lives of these two men were destined to cross and change the direction of their destinies irrevocably.
Their paths met at a neighborhood poetry reading in Mountain Run's celebrated downtown district. Julian, who arrived initially, attired in his least soiled blue jeans and an oversize white tee splayed across his slender frame, was often perplexed as to why the town insisted on branding this area its "historic" downtown neighborhood when most of the antique buildings - those with genuine history - were demolished and replaced with conundrum breweries and wildly inconsistent pubs that couldn't decide whether they were karaoke bars, comedy clubs, or filthy watering holes. Julian swung open the door, stepped in, and assumed a seat at the front, occasionally glancing over the audience attendees with equal interest.
During this idle people-watching, he noticed Arthur enter, attired in his after-work best: a pinstripe green jacket superimposed over a faded white shirt and grey pants. The more mature man caught Julian's eye promptly, and he noticed Julian observing him as he strolled towards the bar, conversed with everyone within earshot, and brought his beverage (Julian guessed it must be a pint of something foreign) and settled on the other side of the aisle, opposite Julian. Julian persisted in his futile attempts to glance at Arthur but concluded it would be less challenging to abandon his futile endeavor of staring at someone seated less than an arm's length from him.
Before long, the chairs were full and the lamps were dimmed. Allison, amid her canonical vivacious smile and messy hair, took to the podium.
"Okay, everyone! Thanks for coming to Mountain Run Ya Mouth, our monthly poetry reading event. This is our open mic-style venue for you verbose heirs to stand up here and expose your talents. And first up is my best friend and the greatest artist since Picasso painted Michaelangelo or whatever. Julian!"
Julian rose with a grin, taking the mic from his friend, and he commenced. His poem, an homage to the loss of a love so potent he rarely went a day without thinking about it, reverberated with the audience - especially Arthur, whose attention was so fixated on Julian and his vivid recitations that on several occasions his lips missed his glass and spilled beer onto his black slip-on shoes. But Arthur couldn't be concerned. He was captivated by this young man's words, the agony that oozed from every syllable, and the optimism that emerged from his heart. In a single word, Arthur was infatuated.
His polite applause bore the weight of authentic adulation and, as Julian concluded and strode towards the bar, Arthur hastened there as well.
"Hey, that was superb!" Arthur declared, placing a hand on Julian's brawny shoulder. "Have you been doing this for long?"
"Uh, thanks, yes, I was Allie's initial casualty when she began staging these poetry readings. It was beneficial to sort out things." Julian stopped cold and was astonished by Arthur's unabashed boldness to approach him.
Do you want to grab a drink? Should I pay for you? Arthur inquired.
Julian shook his head and Arthur went ahead to order a beverage for him. The two of them stood at the bar, exchanging ideas about rhymes and haikus. Soon enough, the conversation shifted and before they knew it, Allie's had closed. Now, Arthur and Julian were walking by the river in the chilly night air, with only the trees along the bank as their company.
"So, professor, how do you think I'm doing with my conversation skills?" asked Julian.
"Meh, there's room for improvement," Arthur replied. "You tend to linger on certain words, hinting at a need for outside approval."
"I didn't think you'd analyze it that deeply," Julian exclaimed, amazed. "What's your price for that assessment?"
"This should suffice," Arthur responded as he took Julian's hand and gazed into his eyes. "Kiss me, Julian," and before long, their lips were locked. Mildly at first, then becoming more intense. Their hours of bonding over shared interests and family history, combined with a burning desire to see each other undressed, made for a passionate kiss. Their tongues tangled as their hands caressed the other's clothed bodies. They held each other tight, warming up to the sensation of their bodies radiating heat. They separated their lips, then both laughed. With hands connected, they continued on their stroll home, contemplating the potential of their impending tryst.
Read also:
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- Stories From Celeste: The Seductress
- Airbnb Shines at Display
- Neighborhood Observation: Prologue
Source: www.nice-escort.de
