1. 2
We came together at the foot of the front steps. When I’d have headed up them, he stopped me with a hand on my arm, then set his other hand behind my head. That inch of difference in our heights was matched by my boot heels, and our mouths came together perfect, with no one having to bend.
I didn’t get kissed much. Mostly at Max’s, the back room’s in demand and one or the other of you has spunk on their tongue before too long. Or once in a while, I’d bend over for someone, but that’s not a kissing position neither. So it’d been a rare thing.
And I’d never been kissed like that. Never slow and easy, warm and confident. He held me steady and kissed me like he wanted to, like he’d be good with just kissing for hours. He nipped at my lower lip, slid his cheek against mine and bit my ear, came back and made me open and take his tongue. I tried to keep up, but my breath got short and by the time he was done, I was clinging to him with both hands. Embarrassing as hell.
I let go and wiped my chin with the back of my hand, pretending I couldn’t see it shaking. “What do you call that?”
“Kissing, Joe. See when I put my mouth on your mouth—”
I shoved him, harder than I meant to. “You don’t need to kiss me to get me to suck you off.” Not sure why I was mad, but maybe because it made me want things. Made this seem like more than it was.
He caught my jaw with one hand. “Tell me you didn’t like it.”
I wanted to, but I didn’t make a habit of lying when I didn’t have to, so I pulled loose and turned toward the house. And stopped for a moment, eyes probably wide as saucers. “Damn, that’s big.”
“My great-grandfather had nine kids. I’m rattling around in it.”
“No doubt.” The lower story was fieldstone which is real rare in these parts, and the upper was stucco and timber, like something out of a postcard from Switzerland. It reminded me again of the gap between him and me, and I was wondering if this was a good idea after all when he grabbed my arm.
“Come on. The size of the house is irrelevant. The size of the bed is what counts.”
I let him guide me in the front door and waited while he locked up solid behind us. He didn’t turn on a light, so I just got a feeling of open space before he towed me up the polished wooden staircase. There was just enough moon coming in a window above the door to keep me from tripping flat on my face.
Sylvester led me past the first door at the top of the stairs, and in at the second, pausing there to flip a switch. A bedside light came on, revealing a bed that wasn’t too shabby for size neither. A king for sure. Maybe extra-long. And for a guy who’s six-three and been sleeping in a twin bed all my life, that was almost as appealing as the man at my side.
Only almost, because Sylvester set a hand behind my head and kissed me again, more of that intense mouth-on-mouth action that made my knees weak. I figured, might as well give in to the inevitable. I let that shake slide me down to kneel on the floor, looking up at him. He didn’t stop me, but when I reached for his belt buckle, he put his hand on mine. “What’s your hurry?”
“Isn’t this what you brought me here for?”
“Yes, eventually.”
“Having a hard time getting it up, Gramps?” I needled him, even though I could see a nice package straining his slacks behind that zip he wasn’t letting me at.
“Not even slightly.” He set a hand under my armpit and pulled me to my feet. “But if all I wanted was a fast blow job with both of us dressed, I could’ve taken you into the back room at Max’s.”
“If I’d’ve gone back with you. Kinda big assumption.” Like I hadn’t done it a hundred times with guys no match for him.
He tugged the zipper of my jacket down, inch by inch, then tweaked my nipple through my shirt. “Are you claiming you’d have said no?”
“Not claiming anything. Just sayin’.” I couldn’t help twitching when he played with my other nipple under the flannel.
“We have a clean room, a big bed, privacy, and lots of time. I want to see you naked.” He undid the top button of my shirt and then the next one.
I had to say, “I ain’t all that.” Because he was looking at me with this light in his eyes like a kid on Christmas morning.
“You’re fine, Joe. You’re excellent.” He tugged the shirttails out of my jeans to finish unbuttoning, then slid the shirt and coat off my shoulders together.
“I’m not muscled up like the guys in porn.”
He ran a hand over my shoulder and down one arm, rubbing his thumb along the raised vein on my forearm. “You have real muscles, working muscles. This is strength here.” He touched my biceps. “And here.” He trailed fingers across my chest.
I shivered at his touch. “Got a farmer’s tan.” The lines of brown faded up my arms, from fall T-shirt length back to summer sleeveless, to where I’d work without a shirt when it got real hot. When we stripped down past jeans and underwear, I’d probably blind him with my white ass and legs. Ranching ain’t no place for wearing booty shorts and lying out to catch a tan.
“It’s funny,” he said in a slow, honey-rich tone, as he touched my neck and chest and arms. “My grandfather would be rolling in his grave to know that his ranch helped set my preferences when I was still young. He’d take me out with him, on a horse or in the truck, to where the men were working. All those lean, wiry cowboys, naked to the waist on hot days, with stringy muscles and hair on their chests and the smell of sweat and leather. I was only nine or ten, when he told me ‘That’s what a real man’s like,’ but by God, I imprinted on it.”
“Like a gay duckling?” I dared to reach over in my turn and begin unbuttoning his leather jacket.
“But without the waterfowl.” He shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it to a chair, and pulled his silky sweater over his head. Under it, his chest was smooth and hairless, sculpted and hard. He didn’t have a six-pack, but his stomach was flat, and above the waistband of his slacks, he had those grooves gym-fit men get, hip heading to groin on each side. My eyes wanted to follow the arrowhead down where a hint of treasure trail peeked above his fine leather belt.
I ran my fingertips down his chest, watching his soft, brown nipples crinkle and tighten at my touch. “If you like chest hair and all, how come you’re shaved?”
“Waxed, I’ll have you know.” He sighed. “Long story, ex-boyfriend, and anyhow, I didn’t want to be those cowboys, I wanted to sleep with them.”
“At age nine?” I tried to raise one eyebrow, though it’s an art I didn’t have down pat like he did.
“Latently. Without realizing it. Ten years later, right front and center.”
I felt a mite jealous of that ex-boyfriend and even all those long-gone cowboys, which was about the silliest thing I’d ever thought of. I stepped away from him and undid my belt.
Sylvester tilted his head, watching me. “I like hard-bodied men and I like leather. You’d look good in leather. Ever try any?”
“Nope.” At least not the bondage harness or cuffs or whatever he was thinking of.
“That’s a pity. I’d like to see you in it.”
“I could leave my boots on.”
He chuckled. “Get naked, Joe McNeil. Show me what you’ve got for me.”
I was a bit off my game in front of his smooth perfection. So I kept my eyes down on the polished wood floor while I kicked out of those boots and stripped off jeans, socks, and undershorts. I dropped my clothes to one side, aware of the rustling as he pulled down his wool slacks and, okay, I took one look at his sculpted ass in tight briefs that barely covered his big package, before dropping my gaze again. My dick didn’t care about whether I measured up to what he was looking for, though. I’d been hard ever since I got into the damned Mustang, and by now I could’ve driven nails with my cock.
“Perfect,” he said, like he meant it.
“Can I kneel now?” I asked, snarky-like, to hide how much I wanted it.
He ran a hand over my head, tugging a little on my hair, then pushed me lower. “Suck me, Joe.”
I dropped to my knees, harder than I meant to but I didn’t care. Running my hands up his thighs to his hips, I held on good and leaned forward. His big, cut cock bobbed in front of my face and I opened up and took him in. This I was good at. This I could do, a skill honed by years of practice. I sucked hard, hollowing my cheeks, then licked and teased, lapping at the precum welling at his tip, then opened my throat and dove down to the neatly-trimmed curls at his base.
“Jesus!” He gasped and his fingers tightened in my hair. “You don’t fool around.”
I pulled off with a pop. “I know what I like.”
He freed a hand to stroke my cheek as I sucked him again. “You ever like getting fucked?”
I froze, letting the weight of him lie along my tongue. He hadn’t seen my backside yet, but the words made my ass clench something fierce. I let him glide out of my mouth. “Been known to happen a time or two.”
“What if I told you to get on the bed?”
“I’d say if you don’t have condoms and lube, there’s some in the pocket of my jacket.”
He pulled me to my feet and kissed me, the sweet salt of his precum on our tongues. “Lie down, then.”
He turned away to rummage in my discarded pockets, and I took advantage to stretch out on the bed, ass up.
“Found them—” His voice cut off short. “Joe.”
I figured he was staring at my ass, and the nice fat plug sticking out of it. I’d had hopes, although I almost didn’t wear it tonight, dumb as I felt the other three times, taking it out in the bunkhouse john by myself. “Yes, Sylvester?”
“That’s the most erotic thing I’ve seen in years.”
“Does that mean you want to fuck me?”
“Indubitably.”
“Plastic bag for the plug in the same pocket.” I reached behind myself, but he smacked my hand away.
“Mine. Hands off.”
“Pretty sure that’s my ass,” I said.
“Pretty sure you’re wrong.” He slid his fingers down my crack, from the hollow of my spine to the fat base of the plug, and tapped on the silicone. When I shivered, he laughed and did it again. Then he began alternating pulling and twisting the plug with rubbing over my taint and down to where my balls hung tight and aching. The sensations zinged me, inside and out, and I lost words, nearly lost breath.
He played with the toy for a while, sounding pleased whenever he got a gasp or moan or shudder out of me. After a few minutes, I said, “The next step is pulling that plug out and pushing your dick in.”
“I know how to do this.”
“Yeah? I wasn’t sure. You gonna tease me all night?”
I expected more joking but he said, “No,” and eased the plug out, setting it aside. As I fidgeted, feeling cool and empty, I heard the condom wrapper tear, and what I hoped was a pillow pack. I bought ’em online, along with the condoms, because my days of being young and stupid enough to take it dry were long gone. A cowboy who can’t sit his horse next day without getting tears in his eyes is in a mess of stupid.
Then Sylvester said, “Roll over.”
“On my back?”
“And legs in the air.”
I’d never done it that way but I’d seen porn. I rolled over and grabbed my knees, hauling my legs up and out. My ass was on full display, probably loose and open from the plug. I don’t know why that felt raunchier than bending over, but it did.
Sylvester was a sight looming over me, all smooth skin and big cock sheathed up, good and shiny with lube. I pulled my knees wider and he knelt between them, aiming for my ass. I breathed through that first breach as he pushed slowly and unstoppably into me. His eyes were intense. His gaze met mine in a way no one’s ever had. His pupils were wide, the ice-blue just a ring around deep black.
I sucked air through my nose, trying not to show how my ass was on fire because it’d been a while since I’d used more than my mouth on a man. But he saw something, because he slowed halfway in, moving in small circles with his hips, a fraction at a time.
“I can take it,” I said, though my teeth were clenched.
“I can see that.” He reached between us and stroked my dick, which’d softened. The touch made me gasp and went a ways to helping my ass reconcile with his big rod. He rubbed me again, firm but not hard, his fingers still slick with the lube and Joe Junior got back into the program right quick. “You’ll take exactly what I give you.” He picked up the pace in my ass a little but it was still all slow motions, push and pull, drag and give.
I didn’t have breath to complain, or the brain cells to put words together. I’d never been fucked like this. Don’t know if it was the position, or the slow and easy pace, or just him, the sight and smell and sounds of him, but my whole body was lit up like I’d grabbed the electric fence. Except I didn’t want to let go.