CHAPTER SIXTEEN Van
Saturday came and went. Half the morning was spent hunting for the perfect Christmas tree and hauling it back. Chip’s trick to preserve any tree we chose was to climb a tall one and cut only the top section off.
We spent the rest of the day decorating after unpacking his holiday items from the garage. I was a master at decorating for Christmas. However, I may have met my match with Chip. He was like me when it came to all things Christmas. Childlike and full of wonder.
After too many oohs and ahhs to count, we’d stood looking around the cabin, admiring our handiwork. “I love it, Van,” he’d stated. “You have an eye for this stuff.”
“You had enough stuff to stock a holiday store, mister.”
He gazed at me and smiled. “I like it when you refer to me as mister.”
“Really? Like, what about it do you like?”
“I’m not sure, but I feel it somewhere deep inside.”
“Like near your heart, or your cock?” I joked.
“Probably both,” he replied.
We’d made several sexual comments throughout the day, but the overall tone was warm. Chip was an unusually present, honest, and open man. He spoke about the type of relationship he wanted without ever bad-mouthing the one he’d been in.
I admired that about him and did the same. We didn’t really use the first names of our exes, but instead described them as our first loves. We shared nice memories and kind descriptions of our former partners.
The care with which we each relived that time in our lives was refreshing. No trash talking, no blaming, no horror stories about them. We shared mutually respectful information about our exes, while also disclosing how difficult being left had been for us.
He’d mentioned the name John once or twice, but most of the time he simply used the word ‘him’ as the descriptor. I stopped uttering the name Evan, choosing ‘ex-partner’ as my reference name instead.
I couldn’t remember a day when I’d had so much genuine fun, and that included days when I was coupled. I threw together a veggie soup that evening, and we shared two bottles of wine, choosing to shower together and share his bed.
We didn’t have sex. Instead, we kissed and held each other.
As difficult as it was to ignore our erections, it seemed we both desired the closeness of our bodies over sexual need.
The cuddling was sweet and tender as we shared more stories of growing up and our individual family histories.
Besides sharing Christmas Day as our birthdays, we were both only children.
We yakked for hours on end, placed kisses on each other’s noses, and shared continuous warm hugs.
I felt like I’d known him forever. Nothing seemed forced with Chip, as if we were long-lost friends who were also quite handsy.
Pooch was at the end of the bed, content with me as an additional person. I didn’t remember falling asleep.
* * *
The buzzing of Chip’s cell phone woke us up on Sunday morning. I’d been in his home for more than thirty-six hours, and this was the first time he’d touched his phone.
“Hello,” he answered groggily. A pause as he listened intently. “Mm-hmm. When did it go out, ma’am?”
I heard a voice on the other end of the phone. Definitely an elderly woman, from what I could hear. Chip was so respectful and patient as she droned on and on. He placed his arm under my neck and pulled me closer.
“I can and I will, Mrs. Hatfield. Just give me an hour or so.”
A bit more conversation and then Chip tapped the screen to end the call, rolling over to face me. I could tell the idea of getting out of a warm bed and into the chill of the cabin was a dreadful thought.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“You ever been on a snowmobile?”
“No,” I answered, not expecting his question. “You have a snowmobile?”
He jumped out of bed unexpectedly, his rock-hard ass on full display.
He had a dimple on each healthy ass cheek.
Thicker thighs than mine balanced a more muscular frame than I possessed.
Chip was a one-hundred percent outdoorsy, nature-built hunk of a man.
A total dude who looked like sex on a stick.
If we hadn’t kissed and played with each other’s dicks, I wouldn’t believe this man was gay.
“Yep. I do have a snowmobile. I’ll need to use it to get to Mrs. Hatfield’s in this snow, but you can stay here if you’d like. She needs my assistance right away.”
“She lives in Missile, I take it?”
“She does,” he confirmed. “An all-alone widow whose power went out, and now her generator won’t start. Probably out of gas, so I’ll stop by the mercantile on my way.”
“I wanna go with you,” I said. “We can grab my luggage out of the X5 while there.”
Chip turned to face me and gave me a thumbs-up. “Great idea.”
His cock hung thick, my eyes eating him alive from my position on the bed.
Oblique muscles, sharp enough to cut diamonds, pointed at his juicy tool.
I wanted to suck him dry. The animalistic need to please him assaulted my mind, pushing me out of my usual comfort level regarding sex.
I’d ignored my desires all night but was finding the craving almost too much at the moment.
“I’d like to suck your cock,” I announced.
I was certain he’d say we didn’t have time, or he’d insist on reciprocating, also taking more time, but I was wrong.
“You want me back on the bed, or should I stand near the edge?” he asked, his cock responding.
I watched as the thickness doubled, the mushroom head swelling fast. “Just get over here,” I ordered. “I want that fat cock in my mouth.”
The language coming out of my mouth surprised me. I was usually passive in these situations, depending on my partner to tell me when to suck him off. But I felt comfortable with Chip and verbalized what I wanted.
“Yes, sir,” Chip growled, moving toward the bed.
I sat on the edge and waited for him. He gripped the sides of my head and guided my mouth to his cock. I spent several moments swirling my tongue over the tip, slobbering and teasing the angry head.
Holding his balls in one hand, I slowly took him inch by inch until he was knocking on the back of my mouth. He pushed the back of my head until he was buried down my throat, holding me there, testing my nonexistent gag reflex.
“Fuuuccckkkk,” he moaned. “So fuckin’ good, baby.”
His masculine growl had me delirious with passion.
I wanted him to know I knew my way around a dick and could suck a watermelon through a straw.
Every dirty fantasy I used to keep to myself during sex was now on exhibit.
I may never see this man again after Christmas, so I intended to act like I’d always envisioned I would if ever given the chance with a stud like him.
Evan and I had vanilla sex. He was on top—exclusively—and never wanted input on the activity. Perhaps I’d felt lucky to be having sex with him, so I never made any attempts to change a thing about it. Oral wasn’t a priority for him, and he never seemed interested in whether it was for me.
I held Chip’s hips and moaned, encouraging him to face-fuck me.
I loved being manhandled, but I also wanted to be an active participant.
His cock was rock solid as he fed me, caressing my face with one hand while the other remained firmly on the back of my head, pressing and maneuvering me to his liking.
“You know how to suck dick, boy,” he growled, spreading sexual lighter fluid on the fire within me.
Encouragement fueled me during sex. Knowing my partner was engaged got me hot and pushed me to excel, hoping I could help him achieve satisfaction.
Chip was such a hunk that I was lost in my thoughts, and every sexual button I owned was being pushed by the thrill of being with such a hetero-seeming guy.
I pulled back and looked up at him. “Your cock is so huge,” I said, swiping at my drooling mouth. “I love sucking you off.”
“Then get back at it, boy,” he directed. “Your sweet mouth is amazing. All I can fuckin’ think about is blowing my load.”
The tone of Chip’s voice was gruff. The way he took charge while complimenting my talents turned me on beyond measure. I couldn’t please him enough in my mind, but I was sure going to give it my best try.
I moved my hand from cupping his balls, using my fingers to explore past them and toward his asshole. His knees buckled for a second before his legs stiffened, but he kept his hand on the back of my head, insisting I keep sucking his dick.
“Jesus!” he cried. “So good. So fuckin’ good.”
I positioned my slobbered-on finger near his pucker and swirled around the tightness. I’d know in a second just how willing he was to explore his limits, or was he too manly for ass play?
The suction I had on Chip’s cock was airtight. His hips pumped into my mouth as I pressed my finger against his entrance. He was as tight as I expected, but I was determined to help him achieve an orgasm he wouldn’t soon forget.
I’d learned this trick from an earlier sexual partner. That older, more experienced man had shown me several tricks I hadn’t used since. Evan never allowed me to touch his hole, and I knew why. He didn’t think he could be considered a man if his ass got played with.
My finger broke through, and Chip let out a sharp breath, his pucker slamming shut around the invader.
I kept the pressure but resisted pushing further, waiting for him to relax and give me unspoken permission.
I noted his cock was just as hard, if not harder, than a second before.
And he hadn’t jumped back or warned me to stop.
I took his lack of opposition as a green light.
Running my free hand to his abdominals, I rubbed his insanely tight stomach before gripping his cock.
I swirled my hand over his wet dick, back and forth, up and down, working toward getting my reward.
The finger I had in his ass pushed deeper until I felt his magic button and began to massage across his prostate.
His entire body quivered and shook like a wet dog shaking off water. “Holy shit… oh my… shhiiittttt!”
I removed his cock from my mouth. “Relax, stud,” I said. “Let me drain these balls.”
“You keep finger fuckin’ me and I’m gonna blast in two seconds.”
“Take whatever time you need,” I said, jacking his cock and watching his contorted face accept the pleasure running through his body. “You like that?”
“Fuck yeah, I do,” he barked, gripping his cock and trying to get me to open my mouth for it. “Keep sucking me, please,” he moaned. “Suck me so good.”
I opened wide, and he sank his meat toward the back of my throat.
My finger was at maximum depth in his hole; his bean was swollen and receptive to the pressure I exerted on it.
Chip began rocking back and forth, his breath elevated as he gripped the sides of my head. I knew he was very close to exploding.
My mouth closed tighter around his cock, sealing pressure and working his length. I moved my finger steadily across his prostate, applying compression as I moved over it. His legs stiffened ever so slowly as his hips began bucking. Bingo!
“Fuuucckkkk,” he roared loudly, growling in a low tone the moment he experienced lift off and released his orgasm.
“Don’t stop, baby. Don’t you dare fuckin’ stop!
” He held me against his pubes as he unloaded deep into my throat, pumping as his asshole clamped down on my finger, while I milked him dry.
I kept sucking until he couldn’t bear it and pushed my head away. “Holy Christ,” he gasped, falling face forward on the bed next to me. “Oh my fuckin’ god,” his muffled voice huffed, inhaling and exhaling rapidly.
I lay back, and alongside him, resting a hand on his chiseled ass. He was face down, coming off his sexual high, while I grinned and massaged a muscular butt cheek, enjoying the afterglow of servicing him. I believed he liked the experience.
“Okay,” I began. “So, about that snowmobile.”
“What the…?” he laughed. “It’s my turn, boy.”
“What’s with calling me boy?”
“Just a hunch,” he said, turning toward me, his face flushed from hot sex. “Am I off base?”
I grinned mischievously. “Uh, not exactly,” I whispered.
“Hmmm,” he hummed. “I thought so. Especially with the ass on you.”
“I have other tricks up my sleeve,” I pointed out, here again speaking like someone I didn’t recognize.
I just knew I wanted to experience this man on different terms. I wanted my needs to be met and to try a new approach to satisfaction. Because if I only had his company for two weeks, I intended to use the time to experiment with a new me.
“You like your ass fucked?” he asked point-blank. “I apologize for being so blunt, but I get the impression you like the direct approach.”
“I’m not normally so direct, but you bring out something different in me. Maybe I’m behaving differently because I have no expectations.”
Chip placed his hand on my bare chest. “Are you saying you don’t think this is something… well, you know… good?” He paused, studying me closely. “Or are we simply playing around with one another for a couple of weeks?”
I held the hand he’d rested on my chest. “I’m not saying anything other than I’m attracted to you big time,” I stated. “And we have this unique chance to have hot sex with zero pressure. Don’t you think?”
“I can do that,” he agreed. “Are we drawing any lines in the sand? Do we limit our expectations? What rules do you have?”
“I’ve got no rules,” I said. “In fact, I hope to feel free to say what I feel, and do what we both find mutually enjoyable. And by mutual, I mean I’d like to have a lot of sex with you. How about that two-week plan?”
He stared into my eyes. I’d shot my shot and now I lay there waiting to see how he perceived the agenda. I wasn’t a hundred percent sold on my idea, but I was afraid not to take advantage of such a rare situation.
I knew the type of person I was. I fell in love too easily. I needed a loving feeling to truly find sexual satisfaction, but we were strangers. Could I truly just enter into a sexual arrangement, or did I have to involve my heart like usual?
“So let me get this right in my mind,” he began, stroking my chest. “More of this. No actual plans per se, but we explore and enjoy each other’s company with few limits. Does that sound about right?”
“If you agree, it does to me.”
He got up from the bed and stood over me, smiling, holding his hand out to me. I allowed him to pull me from the bed and into his arms. His hands made their way inside my boxers, and he gripped my ass cheeks aggressively.
“Okay then. I agree. So let’s help Mrs. Hatfield first, and then when we get back, I’m gonna fuck your ass long and hard.”
“Merry Christmas to me,” I replied.
He held me closer and whispered in my ear. “I’m still gonna like you, though.”
“I was hoping you would, mister.”