Making New Memories
Thank you, Gentle Reader, for opening this story, a series about a man who confronts his past to find a new future. Dave, Jim, and the rest of the cast of characters are fictional, and do not represent any person living or dead. The story is fantasy and exists in that realm,
Elements in this story include sex between men, some racier elements might include some kinky sex, but for the most part just good old-fashioned cocksucking and fucking. If you enjoy this story, and others like it, please consider making a donation to keep the Nifty archive free and accessible! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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Chapter Seven
"Ooof! It's not that I don't like being close to you all night, but that twin bed sucks, Dave," Jim said, as he sat on the side of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck.
I was lying on my side, admiring the view. I caressed his back. "Yeah, even if we were two twinks, this bed would be small," I admitted.
I pulled him back into the bed, rolling him onto his belly, and straddled him. I warmed my hands, and started rubbing his neck and shoulders and back. I kneaded his strong body, feeling the muscle and the thickness ripple under my hands. I dug into his shoulder blades with my thumbs, pulverizing the little knots I found there as he moaned appreciatively. From his shoulders I worked down his sides and then his lower back. Making circles with my clenched fists, I tried to smooth out the kinks he had developed from sharing a small bed with me.
After about twenty minutes, I was beginning to tire and sweat a bit - it was an awkward angle to be hunched over him and have my knees spread apart across on either side of his meaty thighs, so I climbed off him and stood on the side of the bed, stretching and twisting my back and shoulders while he laid in bed.
"I'll sleep in a crib with you if I get a massage like that every morning," he looked at me, his gray eyes and bearded face smiling.
"A crib might be a little creepy," I replied, with an exaggerated creepy wink, "but yeah, this bed bites." I walked over to him, my belly against his beard, and held his head in my hands. Bending down, I kissed the crown of his head. "Good morning," I murmured into his unruly blond hair.
I entered the bathroom and brushed my teeth, and saw Jim walk by in the hallway toward the stairs. In a minute I smelled coffee, and knew he was brewing a pot. I stepped out into the hallway to yell down to the main floor that I was about to step into the shower, when I ran into him as he came back up the stairs. "Oof! Well, hi there, you move quick in the mornings," I said, a bit startled. "I was just about to tell you I was going to take a fast shower."
"And I was just coming up to join you," he said, with a wink.
If sharing a twin bed was tight, sharing the little shower stall was even worse. We made do because it was intimate and romantic, but kept laughing at our silliness as we bumped against the soap dish, the faucet handle, the washcloth ring, the cold sides of the stall. Eventually, Jim stepped out. "I'll take care of business and let you finish up, then jump back in," he said, giving up. We laughed.
As we sat at the table drinking coffee, Jim smoking a cigarette, we were quiet, until I broke the silence.
"So, I think you're right about the improvements to this place. It only has two bedrooms and two bathrooms, and if there were to be any additional guest or sleeping space, making a guesthouse would make sense. I am getting a fair price for my folks' place downstate, and so I have some money to invest, especially if it increases the valuation on this place. I'd love to see plans for the guesthouse, and plans for the updates we talked about. Let's do it," I said this last part as I nodded my head, convincing myself I was really committing about a half million dollars to this project.
Jim's eyes lit up, clearly excited about this project. "And we should winterize everything - make it a year `round place, in case the new owners want to come up for skiing or whatever," he enthused.
I nodded my head in agreement.
Jim reached his hand across the table, finding mine, and gave it a warm squeeze and continued holding it. "I'll make it into a beautiful home." His thumb caressed the pad of my hand so sweetly, it was sensual. In turn I placed my other hand over his, and we made eye contact.
"Thank you for taking great care of this project. I am excited about it. I trust you," I said with an honesty of feeling and emotion.
"Why don't we spend today looking at a few places that have made some good updates in recent years, and you can get a feel for what is comparable. There are a number of projects on this lake and others nearby that you might like to see. Most are summer places, but if you don't mind parking and walking in, we can look around most of them," Jim suggested.
"Sounds like a good plan to me!" I agreed, and we proceeded to finish getting ready and headed out.
It was a really pleasant day, driving around in Jim's truck. If there is a relationship between people and their vehicles, Jim's was a perfect match. It ran well, it was clean, but a little rough around the edges, the upholstery was worn, the radio dial stuck on a country station. We had the windows down to enjoy the warm day, but kept up a nice conversation all day. We talked about the area, the families who lived here, the changes that he'd seen. He shared a little bit about his work and his ideas. As the afternoon started to turn toward evening, we got back in the truck to head back towards the lake.
"Would you like to come over to my place for dinner?" Jim asked.
I quickly agreed and in a few minutes, we turned off the main road and onto a small dirt road.
"Oh, I've never been on Thayer Lake," I commented.
"No one who spends time on Torch Lake ever makes it over here, despite the fact that the two lakes are less than a mile a part from each other," Jim said, with a laugh in his voice.
Thayer Lake is a small body of water, and it's completely privately owned. It is a no-wake lake, just paddle craft allowed. It's smaller, shallower, and warmer than Torch, so it doesn't have the clear water, instead it's a stormy color, filled with fish jumping on the warm day, mostly small-mouth bass and bluegill.
Jim's place was like him, too - the house facing the driveway and the woods had a simple door and some windows, but clearly the house was oriented toward the lake, and the long back porch had a collection of rocking chairs, some in better shape than others. Wide picture windows filled the walls. Inside the home was comfortable but minimal. Not quite spartan, but it did not have much in the ways of extras. It smelled like Jim, too; the spicy scent of tobacco, a hint of coffee, the polish of wood wax or varnish. It was a masculine smell.
We'd stopped at the store and picked up a couple of groceries, and Jim dropped these off in the kitchen, and then joined me again. I had wandered back out to the porch and was looking at the dusky light reflecting off the smooth lake. There was only the faintest of ripples from a breeze, or a fish perhaps, and it was so quiet. No motors, no laughing waterskiers, no noise at all.
I heard Jim step up behind me, and the telltale snick of his lighter. "It's magic, so quiet, it's like a dream or a spell, and I don't want to spoil it," I said in a voice just above a whisper.
Jim exhaled and chuckled softly. "Yep, that's what I love about this place." He handed me an open beer and we aimed toward two rocking chairs near each other, facing the lake. The porch squeaked under our feet, but the silence remained, otherwise.
"Is this where you grew up?" I asked, realizing that in the few days we'd been hanging out, I knew almost nothing about Jim.
Our voices remained hushed, out of a respect for the quietness of the place. "Naw, we were mostly in Elk Rapids," he nodded toward the left, indicating the lake and town about 20 miles to the Southwest. My dad repaired boats at the marina and other motors, and my mom was a nurse in Traverse City. This was my uncle's place."
"It's really nice, Jim," I commented, "very homey."
Jim nodded.
"Is your uncle still alive? What about your folks, I guess we've spent a lot of time talking about my family, we haven't talked much about yours," I asked, with a little guilt.
"I told you my uncle was a sailor. After he retired from the Navy, he worked freighters on the Great Lakes. Between the Navy and the iron ore and other cargos he developed mesothelioma - the asbestos lung cancer - and it was awful. He was in pain, there was no possible therapy or recovery. Right here on this porch, looking at his piece of heaven on the lake, he shot himself rather than wait for cancer to kill him," Jim recounted the story with a reverent quietness.
I reached over and touched his hand. We didn't need to speak. We understood each other. Still, a shudder raced up my spine, knowing I was sitting in a place where a life had ended. I felt Jim's thumb stroke my hand in return. We were communicating in silence.
"Uncle Tim left me everything, and my dad was angry about that. This house, some land in the Upper Peninsula where he liked to go hunting, and little money. There had been some time in the past when my dad had lent him money, although no one could produce any evidence or documents, and I guess he felt that he was owed more," Jim spoke with a sadness.
"I gave my dad the land, and I kept this house and the few thousand in Tim's account to pay the taxes, but dad wanted more. Hired a lawyer to send a letter, but never went through with a lawsuit. We don't talk much now," Jim reached in his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes and lit one, pulling hard on it. "All over a little bit of money," he said, the smoke swirling on the gentle breeze, "what a waste."
"Money can make people so ugly, and when it is used as a weapon or a punishment it is such a shame," I agreed, speaking from my own experience of having been cut off abruptly. "Before I came out here to Michigan to deal with my parents' property and money, I wondered if I should just let it all go, let the banks deal with it, leave it in probate. I don't need or want these things that my parents left me - I built my own life and plan without them. But a friend convinced me to sell the properties and to make something of my own out of the proceeds, something untouched by my parents," I explained.
`That's why you want to sell the Torch Lake house," Jim said. It could have been a statement, or a question. He was trying to understand me.
"Yeah," I said, quietly, leaving it at that.
Our conversation was interrupted by the trilling call of a loon coming from the direction of the lake.
"Wow!" I said in a hushed exclamation. "You have loons on this lake?" Torch Lake did not have any loons, probably because there were too many boats. This quiet little piece of heaven would be perfect for the waterfowl. There is something so beautiful about the sound of loons calling. If you have ever spent time in the rural north, you will recognize the sound, although it is rarer now than it used to be.
"Yep," he echoed my enthusiasm. "We have a nesting pair. Earlier this summer they had three chicks."
Jim leaned forward, in his chair, and I reached over to gently rub his back and shoulders. This was a really beautiful, golden moment.
Later, after dinner and dishes, we went back down to the end of Jim's dock. His property was on a small cove, and the lake dipped into a private spot. The moon was just coming up, and its light sent a silver band across the rippling lake. I sat at the end, my feet dangling, and Jim sat behind me, his muscular legs alongside mine. He rubbed my neck and chest and kissed my earlobes. He wrapped his strong arms around my chest and pulled me gently back against his chest. I sighed deeply, contentedly.
But eventually my desire to kiss Jim, taste him, built, and I stood up and then promptly sat back down between his legs, facing him, my legs wrapped around his back. I caressed his beard and looked into his grey eyes. Pulling his face toward mine, I kissed his cheeks, his closed eyelids, his nose, the corners of his mouth, then finally his lips. When his mouth parted and I felt and tasted the moistness of his mouth, I moaned. We made out, lazily, lovingly, enjoying the sensation of kissing and caressing.
Jim pulled my shirt off over my head, and dipped his head down to kiss my collarbone and tickle my throat with his beard. WIth one arm wrapped around me, he used his other hand to caress my chest, each time he passed my nipples, he would tweak them seductively, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. I pulled Jim's shirt off, exposing his furry chest and soft belly, and returned the favor, kissing and caressing him. He arched his head back "Fuck, I love the way you touch me!" he shouted to the sky.
I felt Jim's arms tighten around me, and he went to lift me up, signaling to me to stand by pulling gently under my armpits. We stood together, and I felt his hands unbutton my shorts, letting them fall. I stepped out of them and kicked them off to the side, while reaching for his button and doing the same. Jim reached down and spread one of our tshirts down on the dock before sitting back down. "Can't ruin the night with a splinter in my ass," he said, raising an eyebrow.
I knelt down, my knees on either side of his thighs, sitting on my haunches, holding him. "I'm going to get more than a splinter in my ass, I think," I said, seductively. Then, as soon as I said it, I realized how ridiculous it sounded and started giggling.'
"Don't ever go into writing romance, Dave," Jim said, with a twinkle in his grey eyes, "your lines are terrible."
I bent my head down and kissed him again, taking his mouth. Jim is hands-down the best kisser I have ever been with. His lips are strong - they claim my mouth rather than just kiss me. It feels like his whole body and emotion can be put into a kiss. Passionate is the word we would use to describe it, but it's more than passion - with Jim, kissing is also about purpose.
We were hard against each other. I felt my dick hard against his furry belly, and I was leaking precum. Jim, too, was hard against me, and as I raised myself up, I needed no lube as I came sinking back down on him, because his own precum made it easy for him to slide into me. In one long motion, I slide down his dick, `til he was buried completely in my ass. I stayed still for a moment, feeling Jim's cock head pulse inside me, before I raised myself slowly up again and sank back down.
Jim shuddered, the pleasure coursing through his body as an electric connection. I knew I could increase his pleasure, so I raised myself up again, this time I just kept the tip of his cock in my ass, and made small movements, teasing the sensitive head. I did this for a while, as I connected with his gaze and watched him bite his lip. I knew this was driving him wild. He slipped his thick hand between our bodies and his calloused thumb and forefinger found the tip of my own leaking cock and he began gently swirling the pad of his thumb over my dick. Fuck, this man knew how to make me crazy.
I found his lips again and kissed him hard, our tongues increasing the intensity of our passion. "So fucking good," I moaned into his mouth as he captured my lips with his.
He put a meaty hand on my shoulder and pushed me down, sliding his fist around my dick as my ass slid down his hard cock, `til we each reached the other's balls - he with his fist, me with my ass. Then he started fucking me, taking control. His thrusts were strong, lifting me off his thighs and letting me slam back down on him. Each time he pounded against my prostate, driving my orgasm closer and closer to the surface. Each time he grunted and moaned. I felt him kissing my throat, then nuzzling my neck and collar and finally my shoulder. His beard rubbed against my inflamed skin.
We were both tumbling into orgasm. I felt his breath become ragged and his muscles begin to contract as my dick started pulsing in his fist and my ass clenched around his thick cock. As I started to spray his furry chest and belly with ropes of steaming hot cum, he unloaded into me. Finally, we put our foreheads together, holding each other, our breathing slowing.
My cramping thighs finally told me it was time to move, but we were slow to do it, content in each other's company, Jim's softening dick in my ass, right where it felt like it belonged. I raised up and felt Jim fall out of me. I clenched my ass quickly, being a polite bottom, and kept his seed inside. I twisted off of him and sat next to him, the cooling breeze from the lake washing over my face and chest. Jim found my hand and held it. Across the lake, the trilling sound of a loon was followed shortly by the plaintive, haunting rise and fall call of its mate.
"It's how they find each other," Jim quietly.
I nuzzled into him, suddenly feeling very close to Jim. "To find, you have to be looking, and to be found you have to want to be found," I looked out at the lake, illuminated by the silvery moon.
Jim squeezed my hand. "Deep thoughts, Dave."
I chuckled. "I didn't know I was wanting to be found, but I think you found me anyway." As I said the words, I thought maybe I was crossing a line, saying more than I should, after all, we had only a few days of each other's company, but in the moment, it felt right and good.
"I wasn't looking," Jim replied, "but I couldn't help noticing you. I'm glad you're here, now."
I appreciated the way he took what might have been an awkward, future conversation, and brought it back clearly to the present moment. We could attach strong feelings to this moment, and my fear that I had suddenly opened some inappropriate door to the future immediately dissipated. Jim was great like that - intuitive, gentle, polite.
Silently, we sat, enjoying the moment. Jim smoked a cigarette and I listened to the call of loons.
Finally the cool of the evening drove us to get our clothes together and head back to the cabin. It didn't take us long to fall into Jim's bed, and, for the first time, we had enough room to spread out at night. Even so, we spooned, and I fell asleep to the sound of Jim's breathing, smelling the sun, wind, and sweat in his hair. It was a deep and wonderful sleep.
As the week went on, we spent more time going over plans. Jim took me around to different stores and studios to look at finishes. The idea was to get a sense of what I liked so that he could move forward as the project did, without checking in on every single detail. The more decisions we could make now, the easier it would be when I was back in San Francisco.
We did go to a big box retailer, and I signed up for a credit card, putting Jim's name on the account so that he could buy appliances and other essentials, but for the most part, we went to smaller studios to look at stone, wood flooring, cabinetry, and hardware - the personal touches that would make the place home. I was impressed by the quality of things that could be found in these small towns in rural Northern Michigan, yet I should not have been surprised. These northern lakes attracted some wealthy vacationers and property owners who wanted the luxuries to which they were accustomed in the big cities.
Our days were filled with good conversation, flirty banter, and stories. We were really getting to know each other, becoming vulnerable. Our evenings were spent mostly at Jim's place, enjoying the quiet of his lake, and great sex in his bed. The chemistry was intense, and we fit together well.
On Thursday evening, over dinner, the conversation turned a bit more serious.
"What time are you going to leave on Sunday?" Jim asked, knowing I had to drive all the way back down to Detroit to catch my flight on Monday morning.
"I reckon in the early afternoon, so that I have time to get to the airport Westin, and settle in. My flight leaves at 9:30 in the morning," I was looking forward to getting back to San Francisco, but feeling a bit sad at leaving Jim after having spent two weeks with him.
Jim nodded. "I have to be in TC tomorrow to finish up one project before I can fully start on yours - the doors I have been waiting for finally came in, and it's the last part of a renovation, finally!" He indicated Traverse City with a nod of his head toward the south. "I am playing with the band at Sleders on Saturday night. Would you like to come over and see us, and then we can come back here and spend the night before you head back?" Jim asked, with hope in his voice.
"Sure thing! I'd love to hear you play again!" I was enthusiastic.
We were drinking beers on Jim's porch, the sun starting to cast long shadows as it set. Jim lit a cigarette, and then grabbed my hand, and turned toward me. In a quiet, steady voice, he began. "There's something I've been thinking about, and before you leave, I'd like to say, and I'd also like to hear your thoughts."
That was a helluva way to begin, I thought. "Well, that's one way to get my attention," I chuckled, hoping the lightness would let him know it was ok to proceed. I squeezed his hand.
He took a deep drag on his Marlboro, the paper crinkled, then slowly exhaled. "Well, here goes. I'd like this closeness," he drew a circle between us with his free hand, "the way we are close, to continue when you leave. I don't exactly know what that will look like, or be like, but I want to find out." Jim let it all come out quickly, as if he had been thinking about it for a while.
I held his hand, and listened. I could tell he wasn't finished yet, and I wanted to give him time to speak, even though my mind was racing and my heart was beating quickly.
"I have real feelings for you - I have developed them this week - and I'd like to keep learning more about them and follow them where they lead us. I would like to be your boyfriend." He took a final drag on his Marlboro and put it in the ashtray, and took my hands in both of his. "I'd really like to be yours," he said this making direct eye contact, and not wavering a bit.
I leaned forward and met his lips with mine. "I am honored and excited to be your boyfriend," I answered, without any hesitation.
Jim smiled broadly. "Whew, I really wasn't sure what you would say," he admitted.
"Really? It wasn't obvious that I am into you?" I countered.
"Well, yeah, I mean, we're having a great time, and there's connection, but making a commitment is definitely leveling up," he reasoned.
I scooted closer to him so that I could put my arms around him more easily. "Making a commitment to you, to us, is not a difficult choice, Jim." I held up my beer and motioned toward his. "Cheers to us." We drank, the beer seemed a perfect way for us to make our decision official.
"Ok, well, so, here's the hard part, then," Jim began. "I have no idea how to have a boyfriend, what this means, exactly, or, well, how to do it across three time zones."
I giggled. "I am going to go hit the head and get us more beer, and we can sort that one out in a minute," I stood and walked into the cabin. Both of my needs: piss and more beer were honest, but I also needed to just take a moment to process what was happening. I was happy, a bit afraid, excited, skeptical, all at the same time. I reasoned with myself that the conflicted feelings were evidence that I was taking it really seriously. I splashed a little water on my face in the washroom and then went to the fridge to get two more beers.
When I arrived back outside, Jim was smoking a cigarette and looking out at the lake. I handed him a beer. We each took a long pull.
"So," I started, "So, what does `boyfriend' mean to you, Jim?"
He took a long inhale and let the smoke slowly sift through his nostrils and beard, then began, "Well, we're the same two guys who were sitting here just before we became boyfriends, so in a way nothing changes, I suppose. But to me, a boyfriend is a step deeper. It's an acknowledgement that our lives are more closely linked, and that some of the decisions we might make impact both of us, and so I'll have you in my mind as I have questions not just about us, but about plans I might want to make, or decisions that I have to enact. We're a we.
"And," he continued, "I think it means that there's a deeper level of trust. We've already told each other a lot of things, but there's more to both of us, so I guess this is to say that there are no secrets, nothing is off limits either to ask or to say, so long as it's respectful and loving." Jim paused to take a deep drag - this was something I was learning about him that was a way for him to take a little space and time to process his thoughts before he spoke again. He wasn't ending his thought, he was just pausing it, so even though I wanted to break in and start agreeing and adding my thoughts, I waited for him to continue.
"Mostly, it's a way to let you, the world, and my own stubborn self know, that my heart is taken and that I am in love with you," he finished his thought.
I felt my heartbeat quicken. I had not heard, or said the L-word in a long time. I locked gaze with Jim, and paused to form my thoughts. The longer I stayed silent, the more I saw hints of panic creep into Jim's beautiful grey eyes. Doubt. I needed to say something.
I began, "I was not sure what I was feeling going into this conversation, hell, over the past few days. Feelings have been growing, but it has been a long time since I have felt them, let them show through, that I wasn't certain how to describe them." I saw Jim's face cloud over, he was retreating. I was not making a good start.
"But I know," I took a deep breath, which surprised me with how it shuddered into my lungs, "I know that what I am feeling is love, too. I am in love with you, also, Jim."
I saw his face relax, his shoulders, which he had tensed, released. His hands reached out and found mine, and we stood together. "Well, what the fuck do we do now?" I asked, still stunned at the moment.
Jim chuckled. "I have a lot of ideas, but how about we keep on talking for a bit, first?" We drained our beers, and he dipped inside to get a six-pack. "Let's go down to the dock. Everything is better looking at a lake," he spoke in truth.
"I dunno, the last time we were down on the dock, it wasn't talking that we did," I blushed.
Jim grabbed my hand and led me. This time we sat facing each other. One leg dangling, the other bent, side straddling the end of the dock. Jim opened us each a beer.
This time, I felt like I should start. "So, boyfriend, I have never done something long distance before. And if I have anything that worries me about being with you it is how to be together but apart," I began. "It's not communicating that I worry about - I know we can pick up the phone or whatever, it's the not being together. Having a bad day and not being able to feel your touch. Waking up and not being able to feel your touch. Not feeling your touch is going to be a big thing," I chuckled, while still maintaining the seriousness of that statement.
"I feel like I've just gotten used to you," I continued, "and now I have to give that up." The more I said, the more despair I was beginning to feel.
Jim sensed my discomfort, and ran his calloused thumb from my earlobe to my chin, turning my head toward his. He gave me a quick kiss, a smile, and let me continue. Strengthened by his affection, I went on. "I mean, we don't have a plan to live near each other, and we're not talking about moving in together, so does this mean we're aiming for heartache before we even begin?" I knew I was overthinking things, but could not shut my brain off.
Jim held me first in his gaze and then pulled me in for a hug. "Do we need to decide all of those things now, Dave?" he stroked my back. "No couple knows where their relationship is going to go when they begin it. In that way, how are we any different?"
I was grateful for his rational thinking. "Of course, you're right. See? I am already neurotic," I laughed at myself.
"Nah," Jim said, lighting a cigarette, "you're just cautious and thinking out loud. I should think out loud more," he reflected, "I tend to do all my thinking in silence, then report out," he gave a raspy laugh. His smoke caught on the breeze and dissipated into the evening air.
"You get all calm and philosophical when you smoke," I laughed. "I should pick it up," I added, casually.
Jim offered me his cigarette.
"Why do I feel like this is an afterschool special, and you're tempting me with tobacco?" I took the cigarette from his thick fingers and brought it to my lips. "Hmm," I observed, "smoother than the cigars we smoked the other day, but not as nice tasting."
"Wait, that was your first cigarette?"
"I told you, After School Special," I laughed, handing him his cigarette back.
"Nah, I am sure those were funded by big tobacco. It was the 70s." We both laughed.
The mood was lighter, and Jim was right, we didn't need to make any big decisions tonight. We talked more about relationships in general, our experiences, ideas, the ways we had been raised. We drank more beer, shared another cigarette, the evening was getting chilly as the sun was now officially down.
We stood together, stretching our legs and backs from having been in that position for a while, and it felt right to hold each other and kiss. Sweetly at first, then it quickly heated as we ground our bodies against each other. "I do know one thing, though," Jim broke the kiss and pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. "I can't imagine being intimate with anyone else but you," and he came back in to finish our kiss.
I held him closer, those words were really beautiful ones to hear. It was my turn to break off, "I think the same thing. I don't think I could find a man who turns me on more than you, and I don't need to look around to verify that," I leaned back in to suck his bottom lip.
Holding hands, we walked back to the cabin. Our rumbling bellies reminded us that we had only consumed beer and no real food, so Jim quickly made up some sandwiches. We sat in his kitchen, lights low, feeling the breeze blow through as it ruffled the curtains.
"Was Uncle Tim gay, too?" I asked, tracing my finger along Jim's arm. I felt him tense a bit, and he took a deep breath.
"Probably," he answered, with sadness in his voice.
"But no one ever really knew?" I confirmed, and Jim shook his head indicating that I was right.
Jim sensed the next question. "No, no one really knows about me, either. Not my folks, for sure. I guess some people might suspect it - you get to a certain age and you're not married, and folks assume. But I've never told my parents or relatives or even some of my oldest childhood friends."
I was silent for a moment. That was a lonely way to live, "It doesn't sound like your folks would be very supportive, anyway, so I can understand not telling them," I squeezed his hand and nuzzled him with my beard.
"I regret that I didn't do it like you did - even though the moment and the pain of your rejection were really hard, you made it, and you could always look back and know you were honest," Jim's voice almost trembled.
"Well, two things. First, I didn't tell my folks. They caught me being fucked, which is way different than sitting them down and having a courageous conversation with them. I guess if I had any guts in that moment, it was that I didn't back down or tell them I would change or anything," I began. "But it wasn't an heroic moment, or anything.
"And secondly, I carried that pain around all these years. Yes, I've lived openly, and had relationships, and everyone knows who needs to know, but, well, look at the last couple of weeks - I have been simmering, resentful, even spiteful for so long. I am not sure that is much better than what you've been doing. I don't think you should judge yourself so harshly." I kissed his cheek and brought his hand up to my chest to hold it close.
"I find it really interesting, uncanny even, that even though we've had very different lives and upbringings, there are some key points we share in common," Jim observed.
"I think it's why we've so easily trusted each other - we understand each other's story," I agreed.
We cleared off the table, rinsing the plates of their crumbs. Jim shut off the lights while I went to the bedroom. When he came in, he stood in front of me and kissed me. Jim pulled my shirt off, and dropped it on the floor, and I reciprocated immediately, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Jim's lips dipped down my collar and to my chest and my nipples, and I threw my head back in ecstasy. This man's lips and tongue sizzled on my skin, making me feel tingly and wanted.
Jim sank to his knees, and unbuttoned my jeans. Sliding them down my thighs and calves, he used his thumbs to trace down my skin, sending a trail of heat and electric tingle through my nervous system. I stepped out of my jeans, and felt Jim's hands travel back up my legs to repeat the same action with my underwear, pulling them down my body. His lips and beard followed his fingers, as he kissed and nibbled and licked my thighs. Finally, brought his lips to the head of my cock, already glistening with a bead of precum. For a moment the head of my dick sat at his lips, the heat and moisture of his breath caressing them in a languid dance. Then I felt it, the wetness of his mouth, surrounding first the head and then the shaft of my cock.
Jim slid his mouth all the way down my dick, his throat opening to receive it, only to pull back, suctioning hard as he slid back, and then again. Jim's cocksucking was the best, and his lips, his strong thick hands massaging my thighs and nuts, his vigorous suction making my hard cock even harder. He teased me, making short strokes at my glans, lapping up my precum with his wide tongue, rubbing his beard along my sensitive shaft and sending a shock through my body.
"Ungh! That feels so fucking good!" I moaned, "I love the way you swallow my dick, big man!"
Jim responded with a cheek-hollowing upward stroke on my cock combined with a gentle twisting of my balls. The fucker was pushing me toward climax. He must have felt the switch in my body, my shaft thickening, because all of a sudden he pulled off me, his lips making a smack as they came together just at the tip of my swollen, desperate dick.
"Fuck!" I cussed at him. I was so close, why was he stopping? "You almost had me!"
Standing slowly, he locked gaze at me, mischief in his eyes, a smirk on his lips. He pushed me back onto the bed, and I fell on my back.
"Scootch up," he said, gently, but there was no doubt this was an order.
I moved up so that I was fully on the bed. My cock was still throbbing. I ran a hand over my chest, tweaking my nipples, keeping myself on edge. Jim shucked off his jeans and underwear, his thick dick, hardened and leaking, slapped up against his furry belly. I figured for sure I was about to get fucked hard, but instead he straddled my hips, and swatted my hands away from my chest.
"Not so fast, Champ," he husked.
Jim raised himself up, grabbed behind him for my dick, holding it upright, and tugging on it a few times. He brought that hand back to his mouth, and spit in it, then returned it, stroking the head of my cock. He sank onto me, his ass opening.
I saw the pain flash across his face briefly, knowing that Jim isn't used to getting fucked. "You can do it, Jim, that's right, take your time. You're in control." I felt Jim slide around my cock another half inch.
I reached up and caressed his beard, played with his nipples as he slid down my shaft a little at a time. "Fuck yeah, love watching you take my cock," I encouraged.
"Shit! I didn't think it would feel this big," he exclaimed. I knew he was just processing out loud, but still, that sounded a bit like an insult, so I raised my pelvis and thrusted just a bit. "Ooof!" he grunted.
"I'm plenty big for your ass, big man," I said, with a smile and a reassuring caress to his cheek and beard. He leaned into my caress, letting me know I was making him feel better, nuzzling my hand with his beard. He continued his descent until finally I felt his ass hit my thighs.
Jim took a few seconds to pause, and I let him, my cock throbbing inside his tight, warm, wet ass. I wanted to move in the worst way, but I waited a beat or two for Jim to relax. I watched as his face loosened and his muscles began relaxing. And then I gave a little thrust.
Jim grunted in appreciation, so I continued, this time thrusting up and curving forward, aiming the head of my dick for his prostate. I knew if I could hit his button he'd release everything, and sure enough, I saw his eyes widen, and he shuddered. Bingo. I did it again, this time, grazing his right nipple with my left hand and he moaned in pleasure, his cock giving a pulse.
Surely, Jim started rising up as I withdrew, and we'd meet my thrust with his drive, each time angling my dick to find his most sensitive spot. His dick was drooling constantly now, leaving a puddle of his prefuck on my furry belly. Sweat was beading on his brow as our motions intensified.
"I can't believe how good you feel in me," Jim huffed out between thrusts.
"Your body is made for mine, Jim, I fucking love you," I swore back at him.
"Ugh, Fuck! I am coming" Jim shouted as his cock erupted, spraying jets of his white hot cum on my chest. His ass contracted around my cock and as I thrust into him I felt my own orgasm crashing around us, and I began filling him.
"You made me cum, too! Damn! You are so good," I responded. It took some moments for our bodies, locked in their dance of pleasure to wind down, settling into each other at rest. Jim leaned forward to find my lips with his, and I slipped out of his ass as he moved forward. The cool air on my dick reminded me how warm and perfect it had felt to be inside him.
We kissed. Eventually rolling onto our sides and holding each other, belly to belly, our legs wrapped around each other, our hands caressing each other's face and beard and neck and back, we kissed. We punctuated our kisses with words of love, murmurs of affection, quite affirmations of how good it felt to be together. We were in such bliss that night that we did not even shower, we just fell asleep in each other's arms.
End Chapter Seven
That was a big moment for our guys! Boyfriends. The L-word. Sometimes things are easier said than done. Let's see how they figure out their next steps in Chapter Eight, coming soon.