19. Ford
Ford
The first glow of dawn crept through the gap in the curtains, painting the room in soft, rosy gray.
I lay still, every muscle in my body humming with a deep, satisfying ache.
Beside me, Dylan was a warm, heavy weight, his breathing soft and even against my chest. I shifted slightly, just enough so I could see his face.
There was a faint smile there, and I assumed it must be a really good dream.
I took a deep breath and smiled. The smell of cum still permeated the air.
Maybe that’s what Dylan was dreaming about?
It could be coming from the crumpled up t-shirt on the floor that I had used to clean Dylan’s stomach, or it was just…
everywhere. Either way, I’d need to do a load of laundry today to purify the room after what we did last night.
God … last night.
The memory of it was like a current, still flowing through me. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust had been charged with the release of years of pent-up…something.
For me, I knew it was repression and frustration, but for Dylan, it seemed like pure passion.
Every time we had sex, he was uninhibited and raw, meeting me every step of the way and then some.
He brought out a dirty and dominant side I didn’t even know I had.
This was more than just sex, for both of us, and it was exhilarating.
I traced the line of his jaw with my thumb, then let my gaze wander down his body, the sheets a rumpled nest around us.
His chest rose and fell with each breath, the subtle definition of his muscles a testament to his youth.
He was incredibly handsome. Not just his face, but every curve, every dimple, every inch of him.
I felt a surge of possessiveness that settled deep in my chest. Dylan was mine, and I was his, and I wanted nothing more than to make him utterly happy, to build a life around this feeling.
My fingers went to my neck, expecting the chain, but it was gone. Likely on the nightstand or somewhere in our discarded clothes. It felt strange to not be wearing it; I had grown used to its weight.
I pulled Dylan closer, burying my face in his hair, inhaling the intoxicating scent of him, earning a groan for my efforts. The world outside the cabin could wait for a little bit longer. For now, there was just us.
My right hand slid down his torso until it found its target.
Dylan’s cock was absolutely beautiful.
I hadn’t actually seen much of it all those years ago, but I had imagined it enough this summer. And even though I was an ass man, the reality surpassed my expectations. It might have been my imagination, but it felt smoother than mine.
“Mmm, I love waking up to a generous groping.” Dylan squirmed closer, pressing his ass against my morning wood.
“Well, that’s great because I love giving generous gropings.”
“But only to me,” Dylan added.
“I guess I can call all the other guys and tell them I will no longer be providing regular gropings.”
My sarcasm earned me a little slap. “That’s not funny.”
“You know I’m only kidding.”
“I told you, your nuts are mine, your cock is mine, your ass is mine.” Dylan lurched up and climbed on top of me. “Every single one of your abs is mine, your pecs are mine, your mouth is mine.” As he leaned down to kiss me, I wondered if he felt the same about my heart.
When he stopped to take a breath, I asked, “Do I still own any parts of my body?”
“Nope, all mine.” Dylan collapsed on top of me, tightening his arms around my torso.
I wanted to make another joke but the moment was too good to waste. “I can live with that.”
"Hey, you know what I was thinking about?" I asked, nudging Dylan with my foot as we lounged on the porch, the afternoon sun warming our skin. "Camping. Like we used to, when you were a moody preteen."
"Seriously?” Dylan's eyes lit up. “I'd love that!” He poked my arm, and added, “And I was not a moody preteen.”
I wasn’t about to argue. “Sure.”
“I was not !” Another poke, harder this time.
“If you say so.”
“Hmmm.” Dylan was quiet for a few more seconds, then said, “I guess there were all those spankings. The ones you mentioned the other day.”
“Oh, here we go.” I covered my face with my hand.
“Maybe if I do something naughty on the trip, you’ll have to spank me.”
“Can we skip the something naughty and I just spank you right now?”
Dylan cocked his head. “Both?”
“How about we go see if we still have everything we need for camping instead?”
“Fine.”
We stood up and made for the door. With lightning speed, I yanked Dylan’s shorts down, enough to expose his ass, and gave his right cheek the strongest slap I could.
“Fuck!” Dylan yelled, jumping forward.
“How was that?”
He bent over and looked over his shoulder. “Harder, Daddy.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry I tried.”
“I’m not.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me close to him. “You’re definitely doing more of that later.”
That afternoon was a flurry of activity.
We rummaged through the shed, unearthing the familiar navy blue tent. Shockingly, it was still in great shape. Backpacks and sleeping pads were pulled from the bedroom closets, and the small kerosene stove was in its normal spot under the sink in the kitchen.
As we sorted through the gear, I held up a sleeping bag. “Think we’ll need two of these?” I asked, knowing the answer.
Dylan grinned, leaning over to kiss my bicep. “I think we can manage with one.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of preparations.
While I figured out our food and drink situation, prepping a few meals and bagging up some snacks, Dylan sharpened our camping knives with meticulous care.
Afterwards, while Dylan ran upstairs to pack our clothes, I checked the batteries in the headlamps, testing their beams in the darkness of the hall closet.
By the time we had dinner, everything was laid out and ready for the morning—backpacks loaded, boots by the door, the ice packs freezing—and we were both tired.
"Shower?" Dylan suggested, his eyes sparkling with an invitation. We were of the same mind lately and it was encouraging.
We headed upstairs, shedding our clothes in a trail leading to the bathroom without a second thought.
The hot water from the shower felt incredible, especially for my recovering muscles.
Dylan reached for the body wash, his hands gliding over my chest and arms, working up a rich, fragrant lather that smelled faintly of pine and citrus, almost like we were already camping.
After a few minutes, I reciprocated, my fingers tracing his spine, downwards, slipping between his cheeks, feeling the tension release under my touch as the air filled with steam. We stood under the spray for a long time in silence, just enjoying each other’s touch and the intimacy of being close.
Tonight’s shower felt like more than just bathing, it was a performance, a meaningful one.
The day had ended—we were washing away its traces—and replacing it with the promise of our shared bed and tomorrow’s adventure.
It was evident to me how much Dylan cared for me in this moment, and I hoped he felt my love for him in every touch.
Later, we talked softly, snuggling under the sheets. I went over our checklist for the morning, and we discussed the best trail to take the next day. It was heartwarming to see Dylan so excited about something and I thanked my past self for remembering to bring it up.
My arm held Dylan close, his back pressed against my chest, his ass nestled in its usual spot. Much like the shower, words weren’t necessary. Sleep came easily as I imagined all the things we’d get to do tomorrow.
“I don’t think I can carry that .” Dylan pointed to the cooler.
“Don’t worry”—I slapped him on the back—“that’s going on my pack. You’re carrying the smaller one.”
“Phew.”
I strapped the fabric cooler to the top of my pack, which already had our clothes, the tent, and the heavier food items, then hefted it onto my shoulders, letting the weight settle on my back.
It was pretty heavy, but it would be a good workout.
Dylan’s pack was lighter—he had the sleeping bag, the pads, the snack food, and other random shit.
Each of us also had a large water bottle. After locking the cabin, we headed out.
“You know where we’re going?” Dylan asked, following behind.
“Yeah.”
“How long before we get there?”
I chuckled. “We just started.”
“I’m just trying to manage my expectations.”
“Depends on how fast we hike, but if we make steady progress, we should be there by mid-afternoon.”
“As long as you carry me when I’m tired.”
I knew he was joking.
I think.
As we hiked deeper into the woods, the scent of pine needles and damp earth filled the air.
We’d have to go through some dense forest before we came back out near the water on the other side of the lake.
I’d been this way on my morning runs, but I didn’t think Dylan had seen this part of the area in years.
The trail, narrow and winding, led us past towering trees, fields of flowers, and over a babbling brook or two.
Dylan stopped every time we heard a new bird call and we spent a few minutes trying to pinpoint the source.
Every so often, Dylan would make a comment about my muscles or my ass, and in return, I would remind him not to roll his ankle.
During a quick pitstop for a lunch of trail mix, I said, “We’re almost there.”
“We’re ending up back near the lake, right?” Dylan sniffed his armpit. “I’m gonna need a bath.”
“Yeah, don’t worry. It should be perfect.”
A few minutes after being back on the trail, I heard voices ahead, moving closer.
It was two men, one older, one younger.
“Afternoon,” the older one said with a smile. He had salt and pepper hair, and a big frame.
“Nice day for a hike,” I replied.
“That it is. Always makes me feel young.”