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One Moment of Love, One Moment in Time.

James K

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I never wanted to be an author, it is way too difficult to do, but I have a friend who always wanted to write and I have read what he writes and commented. In brief, that famous line - "if you can do better," - came into play. I don't think I can do better, and the more I read about the art of writing, because it is an art, a talent, the more doubts I have. I don't think I was wrong to shy away from writing, and yet I support my friend one hundred percent.

We decided to work together. What kind of result that may have produced is for you, the reader, to decide. All I can say is that Luca is very sexy and that comes across in his writing. I, well, I am a little more constrained and toned that part down a bit and added some other descriptions, because whilst he is interested in how people react, I am interested in what drives their reaction.

This short story started as flash fiction, the first part - now subtitled, Mathew. I wasn't happy to simply show one limited point of view, and so we wrote Jeff's POV. It could all end here, or it could be chapter one, there are other parts to Matthew's story. We are also working together on another story, however, it is not a quick process.

This is less than 2000 words, so easy to read, and your comments, good and bad are all welcome. If there is something we did wrong, tripped up on, or you don't like, say. We will not be upset, honestly, I promise. We will learn how to do it better.



One Moment of Love, One Moment in Time.
A short story
by Luciano Esposito and James Keogh


I was impressed by his car and stunned by the apartment, although Jeff made a point of telling me he didn't own it and was house sitting for a friend. But wow, a penthouse in London Docklands with a view of the river, and decorated like something from a magazine. He must have some rich friends. I wondered if the car was also his friend's, but I didn't ask. You could say I was swept off my feet, sure I knew where we were going, I mean not just to his place, still it was like nothing I could have imagined. 

Nervousness crept through me with that butterflies feeling in the stomach, all churned up with emotions, expectations, and worry. I know, looking back it seems stupid, but that's what it felt like at the time. Perhaps it was the stress of looming exams, the hiding of the truth, the step into the unknown. Whatever the mix, it took all my effort to not shake, my hand trembled a little when Jeff handed me a drink, despite my willing it not to.

This should have been perfect. A great guy, a fantastic apart, and someone I felt safe with. The thing was, this was my first time. We had got to know each other through swimming and everything fell into place so easily. He was so easy to be with, so... reassuring. Yes, I knew what it might look like, Jeff was almost twice my age, but actually that was reassuring, if I wanted to joke about it I could say at least one of us knew what he was doing.

Jeff looked at me with those cool green eyes of his and a gentle smile. He moved next to me and wrapped an arm around me as we stood in the spacious lounge. 

"Relax, Mathew." Jeff whispered as he handed me a glass.

I took a large sip and felt the warm liquid in my throat. I breathed in deeply and exhaled. That was my best effort at relaxing. My thoughts were everywhere and I can hardly remember the conversation. We must has talked for a while, although all I recall is the kiss, the moment he leaned in and his lips touched mine.

I suppose memories are selective, because my recollection of that afternoon is composed of segments and gaps. We were on the low backed Scandinavian leather and chrome sofa and then we were in the bedroom. Of course, somewhere inbetween or perhaps in the bedroom I lost my clothes. No, it must have been before the bedroom, because I remember standing together looking out the window at the lights reflecting off the river. It must have been comfortably warm, I had only my coloured tight fitting boxer style underpants on. 

In the bedroom Jeff said he wanted to see me, look into my eyes, there was a twinkle in his own. My heart skipped a beat with his words. I lay on my back looking up at him standing at the foot of the huge king size bed. I rested on my elbows, taking in the view. He was fit, looked after himself, a lean, tanned body. I have to describe the main focus of my attention though, his cock. Jeff was as naked now as I was and he had a nice cock. It was not huge, not long, perhaps average, I couldn't really say, but it was quite chunky. I laugh now when I think about it, but then, at that moment my view was glued on him.

I knew Jeff would fuck me and I had some idea of how it would work. Being excited and hard as a rock kind of goes without saying. Jump forward. He was kneeling on the bed, holding my legs, which he had pushed apart and back towards my shoulders. I had to strain to look at what he was doing, although it was obvious. My arse was bent up in the air and he lowered himself onto me.

Honestly, I don't think it hurt when he entered me. I remember him pushing into me and thinking, I'm no longer a virgin. Jeff went slowly and allowed things to build at a natural, gentle pace. When he had my legs back each side of my head and was pounding into me, I wanted it as much as he did. I came without ever touching myself, gripping his thighs, digging my fingers into his skin. And he flung his head back with a cry as he too reached his climax.

We spent the whole afternoon in bed together. We cuddled we kissed and we touched. We got hard again, but took some time before repeating the earlier performance. I asked him if he wanted to take me the other way around. We had lost all inhibitions, or I had lost mine. I could talk about sex with him like I could never have done before. He confided sweetly that he loved fucking me, but preferred looking at me. He said that moment when I climaxed, he saw ecstasy in my eyes.

It was perfect. I told him how much I loved him fucking me. I would have stopped time and never moved on, I could have stayed with him like that forever. I thought nothing could be better than this. I was right in many ways. Different things would happen in the years to come, but I would always remember that afternoon. Is it the same for everyone, I dont know, but it was like that for me, a mixture of everything, resulting in a moment of ecstasy, a moment of love!


I knew he would be impressed, by the car, the apartment, but that wasn't something contrived to capture him. We had grown together, fit easily with each other. When I first spotted him in the pool my inclination was to look away and ignore the desire I knew was in me. Despite my misgivings, I couldn't help a second glance and it was then he looked back, I smiled.

Everything went forward from that one moment, leading up to this. I never set out to seduce him, it just turned out that he was, I think, infatuated. Why? I have no idea. I know I was attracted by his youth, his slim, almost hairless body. I fantasized about him, imagining him completely naked, I wondered what his cock looked like. Was it small and petite like his adolescent body. My fantasy was my desire, although our mutual attraction was real.

Doubts invaded my mind. The age difference impinged upon my thoughts, but attraction and desire were stronger emotions than conforming to some kind of societal norm. Over a period of weeks we talked, got to know a little about each other. It was self-evident that he was a virgin, even if he never actually said so.

So there we were, in the spacious lounge of Jacob's Docklands apartment. I had it and the car for three months whilst Jacob was working an assignment in Australia. I was the fortunate house sitter. 

I gave Mathew a strong drink, not for any other reason than to relax him a bit. He seemed so nervous, trembling a little. I put my arm around him and hugged him. One thing for sure I had decided was not to push anything. Whatever happened would fall out naturally. As much as I wanted him, things had to be right for him, I would never force myself on the boy.

He did relax a little and I took the initiative. I am sure that is what he wanted me to do. Slowly I undressed him. His shirt, and I caressed his smooth hairless chest, touched his nipples. My fingers found the button on his jeans, I popped it open, slid down the zipper, pulled down his jeans, kneeling in front of him.

Mathew stepped out of his clothes, standing there, in the centre of the lounge in only his tight fitting underwear, which his hard cock was straining against. I was sorely tempted before standing up, to expose that stiff cock and lick it, suck it into my mouth. As if, in my fantasy, I could drink from the fountain of youth.

I don't think I have ever been so turned on, but I stood, ignoring the object of my desire for a moment. A pause. We looked out to the river and the lights beyond, which shone across the water making zig-zaging lines diffused and warped. Turning to face him, my hands touched his skin and glided over his torso. My fingertips slipped inside his underwear and finally released the straining cock. His last garment discarded, I admired his boyish beauty, like an Italian statue, exquisite by its nature. 

Touching his wonderful small rounded buttocks, I manoeuvred him towards the large bed and he lay down on his back looking at me. My hands traced their way along the inside of his thighs. The feelings passed through my body as they did through his. I had not touched his raging manhood and was determined to let it be. I hoped he would not touch himself, it seemed perfect that way. I too was naked now, and my excited state on full display for him to admire, which he appeared to enjoy. I moved in closer and knelt on the end of the bed, taking hold of his legs, pushing them up, apart, and back towards his head. I wanted to look into his eyes. This would be his first time, I wanted to see into his soul.

His back was curled and his arse was raised up. My cock found it's target. I knew by the way he looked, the little signs his body made, his expression. He was scared and he was excited. He knew what was going to happen and yet he was uncertain how it would be. No matter, he wanted this to happen.

I was gentle. I pushed into him and he resisted. "Relax," I told him, for the second time that afternoon, but I don't think he heard me. He sighed, took a deep breath, and I was in him. Ever so gently I started to move and he began to respond. I saw it in his eyes and his cock, which glistened. 

This was perhaps both our fantasies, I don't know. A primeval instinct took me over and I could no longer restrain myself. Up to this point I had been in control, but no longer. I pumped into him, burying my cock as deep as I could, I speeded up, feeling the building force. The most amazing thing was that he climaxed without ever touching himself. I had his legs pinned back either side of his head, my cock buried in his arse, and he shot copious amounts into my stomach and over himself. I came a couple of seconds after, slinging my head back, arching my hips, gripped by his contractions, a cry escaped my lips. It was most probably the finest moment of my life.

The counterpart to such a triumph was knowing that there would never be a moment like this again. It was one moment in time.



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I like it fine.  Easy for me to quibble about small details.  One thing to look at is sentence structure.  You use a lot of commas to set of different clauses, and often you'd be better off using periods and starting the next clause independent of the first.

For a first effort, it's quite accomplished.  You might think about whether this is a done deal, or going to be expanded into a longer story.  If the latter, I might suggest you stay in one voice and make Jeff's thoughts and feelings come out in dialogue.

Good job!




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Pretty much what Cole said, with a couple of comments:

I found the voices too similar. In places your prose verges on purple and, for me, is overly complex.

No preparation, no lube, and no condoms? Yowch!

extascy is ecstasy. 😉

Also - and this is just a personal bugbear: why it that people always seem to find themselves in gorgeous apartments? Why are there no more seedy garret room romances - where the place smells mouldy, the milk is well off and sour, and the only alcohol is a drib at the bottom of a bottle?


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1 hour ago, Camy said:


Also - and this is just a personal bugbear: why it that people always seem to find themselves in gorgeous apartments? Why are there no more seedy garret room romances - where the place smells mouldy, the milk is well off and sour, and the only alcohol is a drib at the bottom of a bottle?


You obviously hang with the wrong crowd.



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Thank you so much for your comments. I agree with @Cole Parker and @Camy. I thought the two voices were similar, it is very difficult to write two separate people (unless you're schizophrenic 😂), so using the one voice as narrator is a better idea, but still difficult to get Jeff's POV across. I think we will try that approach.

The purple prose - I had to look it up. I found an interesting tool, The Hemingway App and ran the short story through the test.


Grade 5 when grade 1 is top, so, yes, there are purple prose, however, it seems here are two schools of thought, minimalism v purple ( although not too purple, may be light purple, which would be pink?). Some readers don't like the deviation from the story essence into descriptive phrases you could do without. I am responsible for that. 

I think it is a good point and something I need to look at. Descriptions when they add to the story atmosphere, but not for their own sake. Similarly, as @Cole Parker pointed out, some overly complex sentences that use too many commas - 16 hard to read, 4 very hard to read.

A lot to work on, but thanks again for pointing this out.


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8 hours ago, Camy said:

No preparation, no lube, and no condoms? Yowch!

A brief reply: preparation - there was a build up, kissing, touching... no lube - natural lube... no condoms - not everyone uses condoms. Specifically, 

21 hours ago, James K said:

Honestly, I don't think it hurt when he entered me.


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5 hours ago, James K said:

A brief reply: preparation - there was a build up, kissing, touching... no lube - natural lube... no condoms - not everyone uses condoms. Specifically,

Sure, not everyone uses condoms: if they're in a solid relationship and have been tested (HIV/Aids is still very much with us).

In your story that isn't the case. You have Jeff, an older man (presumably in a relationship with Jacob) taking the virginity of Mathew, a younger man, while Jacob is away.

It's a somewhat dubious set of circumstances. I could accept Mathew being very naive, but in this day and age (social media, etc) not knowing about STD transmission and prophylactics is a stretch. Jeff has no excuse.

6 hours ago, James K said:

Honestly, I don't think it hurt when he entered me.

Oh, really? 🤔


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@Camy "In your story that isn't the case. You have Jeff, an older man (presumably in a relationship with Jacob)"

It is interesting what can be read into a story, perfectly understandable, but no, Jeff and Jacob had no relationship other than being friends, Jacob is heterosexual!

About using condoms: Condom use is declining among men who have sex with men. Not everyone uses condoms, it is a choice,. I don't think stories are there to champion anyone's point of view, but describe a reality? Now we are talking sex and there are lots of different scenarios, but why would you presume it hurts if you don't use lube in a tube, it doesn't, that point is made in the story. And if it does hurt, “Sometimes a little pain leads to great pleasure.”  There are hundreds of articles, advice, and recounted experiences all over the net, those are two I happened across at the top of the search list. The point is, be open, don't assume a single point of view, authors are not there to champion the cause of infection protection, more to show diversity, different experiences, and expand our views.


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Hiya JK,

it’s an interesting piece of prose, much like a stream of consciousness. I enjoyed Matthews POV better, Jeff’s seemed redundant as we already got the sentiment earlier on in the piece. 

The safe sex thing doesn’t bother me either because it’s your choice as the author to tell a story anyway you wish. 

and though I would never disagree with the emu publicly, let’s say I’ve been in matthew’s shoes and didn’t need lube to enjoy myself.

as for difficulty in relaying Jeff’s feeling/emotions/thoughts, dialogue between the two could fix that rather easily. With a few edits in tone and structure, you could really bring in more emotion, having the characters emote through conversation can be helpful to convey  feelings without the flowery imagery. But it’s all about what the desired affect you were intending. 

As it is now, documenting a moment in time so to speak, I think it works as a stand alone piece. I don’t see a need to continue the narrative nor a desire to continue reading unless it shifted in structure and style. 

im interested in seeing more of your work, as the two of you have a voice and the understanding of imagery.  

my thoughts, before I got distracted by fuzzy bunny slippers, 


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I think Camy makes a valid point.  Yeah, we're writing what we want to write, but young people do read these stories, and where's the harm in advocating safety?  It's not only for the protagonists, but all the people they meet.  Would it detract from the story? 

Maybe I feel differently about this because my writing is principally intended for youth, and to help them.  That's important to me.  If we make it feel like it's mainstream to be vaccinated, and to wear condoms when having sex with people other than monogamously, that does set a tone that may save lives.


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It is a choice, maybe not a good one. When you are young you are going to live forever! Death is an abstract concept. 

It's Saturday night, nearly 3AM, you've had a great time out with friends, there was such a good atmosphere. You had more than enough to drink and smoked a few joints, but now it's time to go home. You get on your motorbike, it's freezing, this is winter. It's dead quiet. Cold air hits you in the face. Head down, you are thinking of home. A warm bed. The lights changed. You grill a red stop. You don't care, don't even think much about it.

So I don't put that in a story because you don't want to give young people bad ideas or wrong examples?

I was thirteen. Whose idea was it? I don't remember. My parents always warned me about stuff like this. I didn't want to, but there was no way out. I ran across the railway tracks, following the rest of them. I wasn't going to be, couldn't be, left behind, out of the gang.

I shouldn't write that in a story?

No, really, a story is a story, it is not something else, not a message about safe sex, protecting the world from Covid, or giving sane advice. You might want to do that, but... yes, it's a choice. You might prefer to tell it like it is... when you are young you will live forever!


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