Disclaimers: I am an adult. I wrote this story based solely on personal experience and have not infringed on anyone's copyright. This story involves homosexual sex between consenting males -- children will not appear in this or any future stories in this section. This story does not include blackmail, kidnapping, rape, minors, suicide, or homicide. Bareback sex is a risky sexual option, and this story does not encourage you to have unprotected sex. No links are provided to find this story elsewhere. If it is illegal in your jurisdiction to view, read, or have this material, or if you are a minor, you are asked to leave this story and this page.
Mark
I'm 60 years old and retired early. I didn't retire with a lot but a dependable pension and work part-time at a small non-chain gas station in the foothills of the Appalachian mountains owned by a few generations of an American family. The station serves a small community in the poorest county in rural western Pennsylvania. Since I have always worked nights, the place closes early, and we can get out before 10 pm; it was a decent fit for me for some spending cash. One of the first things I noticed here was the clientele was nearly 95% men. Most of them married, picking things up for the wives or kids who live in the little hamlet built in the 1980s on the mountainside, giving cover from the rest of the big evil world outside.
I have never been a flashy sort, and I'm not sure if people assume I might be straight because I don't talk much about my now ex-wife. The people I work with do know I have an adult daughter who lives in a different state, so the question about my sexuality doesn't come up in front of me, but maybe in the little circles of gossip that dominate small-town life with rednecks who don't know any other sort of life other than the place they were raised and stayed only traveling to the big city of Pittsburgh when something in their lives forced them to go there.
Over the first few months of working here, I noticed a lack of respect and appreciation for the customers who regularly came in, like clockwork, to get their gas, kerosene, and/or cigarettes. Many of them were playful and friendly and engaged with me and my regular co-worker because it was the end of their day, and they needed to be prepped to go home cheerful after a hard day's work. Since I had lived out of state most of my adult life and worked in the hospitality industry, it was natural to banter back and forth in a friendly, professional way. The customers seemed to like us performing the basics, like thanking them or wishing them a good night. Soon, we had a group of regulars tipping my co-worker and me for minimal service, like paying attention to them or not looking up from our phones with a "what-do-you-want" look. The tips weren't huge or even necessary; the gesture meant something to us.
I had worked on myself the previous summer, overcoming some of my past demons, depression, and a persistent weight problem. Finally, I found myself ready to reenter the gay dating world after a 15-year hiatus. Soon, I was beginning to look around at our guys, and even though a cold, wet winter had set in and jackets and hats were the norm, some men stuck out and would frequent my side of the cash stand. One man in particular kept coming to me almost every day. He'd come in around six o'clock and get a big cup of black coffee. I believe he was close to my age but had a slight build -- not small but shorter than me and a tighter, more compact body. He had shoulder-length, wiry grey and brown hair tucked under a well-fitted ball cap. His beard was longer than most but not in any way unpleasing. He was missing his left thumb. I found out later that it was from a work accident years and years ago. He never smiled, barely spoke, and often grunted when I thanked him for his business. He was never mean or rude, just frosty and aloof. Over time, he began softening, and his grunt became a thank you, and he had a bit of a lighter step as he walked around. Maybe it was something I hadn't noticed before, or he was loosening up.
One early spring day, my coffee buddy came to my line with his regular cup of black coffee and spoke to me for the first time without any coaching. He wanted a pack of cigarettes. That surprised me; in the six months of waiting on him, he had never gotten cigarettes. I was shocked to hear more than 'thanks' as he headed out the door. I'm usually confident around customers, and his request had me looking at him incredulously. I stammered and asked him to repeat what he had just said. "A pack of Winston lights, please." In all the time we interacted, never once did we make eye contact, and never once had I seen a smile. Since I may be nearly three inches taller than him, he looked up at me, smiled, and looked me dead straight in my eyes. I think I blushed, which is never an easy thing to do to me. He had beautiful green eyes. He smiled, and I think he enjoyed himself as he teased me, almost flirting. I damned near melted right on the spot.
I've been with men of all sizes, and while I've had fun with nearly all of them, this guy piqued my interest early on in my career. He was what I lusted for. If I had a type, he was it. He checked all the boxes and rang all the bells. Shorter than me, smaller than me, but not tiny, tight, compact, ruggedly good looking, and very straight looking and acting. I also liked his hair, beard, and even his tight ball cap. I loved his work-dirtied clothes and masculine hands -- even with a missing thumb. I liked his angular face and the gentle, shy way he carried himself. He was not one to put on a show and went about his business as though he was an ordinary guy. To some, he probably appeared to be just that -- ordinary. But to me, he was the perfect man. And I hadn't even seen him yet naked, let alone with just a t-shirt and work pants with no coat to cover up his backside.
I grabbed his cigarettes, rang him up, and as I stood speechless, he winked at me and thanked me. I watched him walk out to his truck and then noticed that he had left me $2 on the counter. I picked them up and put them into my wallet. I smiled and felt warm and fuzzy inside. I was walking on clouds for the rest of the night. When I got home that evening, I went into my wallet for some receipts I needed to check on. The two singles were right behind what I was looking for, and I pulled them out, smiling again and thinking about my unnamed buddy. I looked at them like I had never seen a $1 bill before and noticed in tiny writing on the bottom back of one of the bills -- Mark 724-225-6333. I felt like I had seen a ghost. Shaking, I looked at the second bill -- but nothing extra was on that one. The area code and first three numbers were used in the area, and I thought maybe it was just a message for me. It was 11 pm by the time I found the marked bill, and out of common courtesy, I decided to wait to call the number tomorrow.
The following day, around 10 am, I decided to call Mark. I always like a good mystery and following leads, and I wanted to see where this call might take me. A gruff voice said "Hello" on the third ring.
"Hey Mark, it's Steve."
"Steve who? Who is this?"
"Yeah, I work at the gas station."
Mark's voice lightened up, and he replied, "Oh, Hi Steve. I'm glad you called. Um, yeah, I wondered if you might like to have a beer together sometime. You know, they opened that restaurant over there by the turnpike and figured if you weren't busy sometime this weekend, maybe I could buy you a beer or two."
"Wow, Mark, that would be awfully nice. Sure, I'm off Friday night. Would that be a good night for you?"
"Yeah, that would be perfect. Maybe around seven at the bar?"
"Sure, I'm looking forward to it. If I don't see you at the gas station before then, I'll see you Friday."
"I'll see you then, buddy!"
I was shaking when I hung up. This shy guy actually gave me his number, invited me out for a drink, called me "Buddy," and sounded enthusiastic about seeing me in a few days. I was stoked and could hardly think about anything else except what to talk about on Friday. I also needed to pick something nice to wear, but nothing too fancy or out of place.
On Friday, I went to the barber, got a beard trim, and got my hair cut. I ironed a nice plain shirt and made sure my Levi's weren't wrinkled. I waited until four to go to the gym so I could get ready there and then go to the bar on the mountain. By six, I had left for the bar. I knew I would be early, but I was way too excited to care about that.
At seven on the nose, Mark sat down next to me at the bar with little fanfare. I looked over at him as he got the bartender's attention, smiling that he was legitimate and was here. I had already ordered my first beer a few minutes before he had arrived. Mark turned to me and smiled.
"Glad you could make it," he grinned.
"Thanks for the invite," I smiled back at him.
"Look, I didn't think about it until now. Maybe you're hungry. I know I'm starving. I didn't have lunch today, and I hear they cook a mean steak. You want to grab some dinner, too?"
"Sure, that sounds great!" I was beaming.
"It's starting to get loud in here. Maybe we could get a table," Mark suggested.
"Yeah, I'd like that," I was all smiles.
Before dinner, we talked a little about politics and the weather. When our steaks arrived, the conversation predictably drifted to work. It was easy to talk about past careers and current jobs. It didn't have any weird overtones, and it was comfortable.
"I have a well drilling business. We've been busy all winter. I'm looking forward to a little free time here until early June. I have some stuff I could do to the house, but I haven't been too motivated since the divorce."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Yeah, divorce can take a lot from you. Mine was nearly twenty years ago. If I'm being honest, it takes some time to get over it. I have one daughter who is going to be 28 this spring. Did you have any kids?"
"We had two boys, who are grown up now--22 and 24. They both moved out of state to get decent jobs. I miss seeing them, but they're doing well, and I'm happy they found good work."
And back and forth we went, sharing details, getting to know each other better, and learning more about one another. I actually shook off my crush on him as we talked, not because I didn't feel anything for him, but because he was a pretty good communicator and, like me, had a lot of varied life experiences that were interesting to listen to and share back with him. I started seeing the possibility of a good friendship developing if nothing else happened. He never gave away anything sexual about himself, and for never talking to me more than 'thanks' before, he had a lot to say.
We were having a good discussion when the waiter came by and asked if we needed anything else. Mark looked up at our server and asked for the check. Once he began going for his wallet, I did, too.
"No, buddy. I asked you to dinner. I can pick it up!" Mark smiled at me.
"Well, thanks. Do you have to work tomorrow?" I asked as he rifled for some cash.
"Actually, no, I don't. I do a lot during the winter, but I have a free day to do some things around the house, including laundry and all the stuff I've let go during the week. Are you working tomorrow?"
"I'm scheduled at four tomorrow afternoon. Easy shift, out by ten," I smiled.
Mark leaned back in his chair, grabbed the last of his beer, and took a final swig. He then put the bottle down on the table and leaned forward.
"You know, I haven't completely unwound from the week, and I have a hot tub waiting for me tonight. I don't suppose you'd want to come by and see where I live and take a dip yourself, would you?" His eyes were twinkling.
"I'd love to; I don't have a swimsuit, though, or even shorts. Maybe, if you don't mind, I'll dip in my underwear," I smiled.
"You don't have to do that; I haven't worn swim trunks in ages. You don't mind, I don't mind," again, Mark's eyes and lips were smiling at me.
"Sure, I'm good with that!"
I followed Mark's truck from the restaurant through a windy road and onto a long gravel driveway in a dense little wooded area. The driveway was neat, clean, and very well maintained, considering it was still winter. Despite the snow we had gotten, his driveway was immaculate. We got to the top of the driveway, and there was a dark brown large wood cabin before us. I say cabin because, in the dark, it was difficult to see the whole structure. Once the automatic lights came on from the garage, I could see more of the house, and it was a well-built home with lots of character. The stairs were lit with low lights on each riser, and it made a slight turn from the driveway to the front door. Mark unlocked the front door and motioned for me to come in before him. He followed behind me, shut the door, and turned on the lights.
The entryway was large and sparsely decorated but well decorated in a masculine way. This led to an open living space, where the living room and kitchen were just as well-fitted. There was nothing too much, not a bunch of flowers or knickknacks, just a few well-framed pictures of two younger versions of Mark sitting on the end tables. A few well-maintained potted plants were near the front window.
Mark crouched down near the fireplace and lit a match in the already prepared hearth. The match quickly lit up and started burning the kindling placed there earlier. He stood up, smiled at me, and told me to have a seat on the couch.
"I'll get us another beer unless you want something else," his eyes were beautifully fixed on me, and I nodded.
"I'm good with another beer," I answered, smiling right back at him.
When he returned, he sat right next to me on the couch, cracking the lid before handing it to me. He looked at the fire intently for a few minutes, then turned to me. I think he didn't want to, but he was grinning.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
"Very, but getting drunk," I answered.
"Maybe you shouldn't drive," Mark said, leaning towards me and grabbing the beer from me. " And anyhow, I don't want you drunk. I've got an extra room, or the couch, or. . ."
My uninhibited side had set in, and I asked, smirking, "Or what?"
"Look, you're in no shape to drive, and well. I don't know. Maybe you and I could sleep together."
The alcohol was wiped from my head immediately, at least long enough to know exactly what he meant. I leaned back on the couch, closed my eyes, and put my hands up to my face. I wasn't exasperated, I wasn't shy, I was relieved that I had been right about Mark for so many months. I was glad he asked me into his bed. I had been stirring in my groin every time I saw him lately, and I was given the chance on a silver platter.
"Whoa, man. I'm sorry. Forget I said that." Mark sounded worried when he saw my mini reaction. I let my hands drop from my face and looked over at him with a discerning look. He wasn't afraid, but he was concerned he had said too much. I stood up dramatically, and he did, too.
"You didn't say anything wrong" I leaned in and kissed him on the lips passionately and grabbed him lightly around his tight waist, resting my hands on the upper parts of his nicely shaped butt.
"You said what I've wanted to hear for a few months now," I continued as I broke our kiss.
For his part, Mark was eagerly kissing me back with as much passion as I had given. His head was tilted upwards, and his hands were on the sides of my ribcage. I brought my hands down from where I had them, holding his face to his hands, dropped to the couch, and brought him down with me. I kissed him again and again all over his face. Despite drinking for a few hours, he tasted and smelled fine. In fact, he was delicious. He grabbed my hand, and we clasped our fingers together. I took a second break, grabbed my beer, and took a big swig.
Mark laughed as he leaned in and began kissing me on the lips, his insistent tongue invading between my teeth and making audible grunts and groans. The guy was on fire, and I reached down to feel between his legs to find an impressive hard-on under his jeans. He took it as his cue to do the same and almost imperceptibly gasped as he felt my raging cock. I think I saw him blush.
This time, he broke our kiss, stood up, grabbed my hand, and pulled me from the couch.
"Let's go upstairs," he said, smiling.
I followed him up a short flight of stairs and into his bedroom. The nightstand light was dimly lit. The bed was made and looked comfortable. The blinds were open, yet even with the nightlight, you could see the stars outdoors. It was a cold night--not bitter, but uncomfortably past chilly, and I was glad to be in a warm house that was remote and private--no neighbors for miles.
I slipped my hands into the back of Mark's jeans and rubbed his waist. This guy was firm, and despite being a few years younger than me, he stayed in remarkable shape. I pulled my hands away and began unbuttoning my shirt. Mark looked up at me, and then my chest, which became more visible with each button open, and a big smile came across his face. He unfastened his jeans and began to pull his t-shirt upwards over his head. I was the next one smiling. The guy was ripped, with a hairy muscular chest that looked superb at the top of a six-pack. His arms were nicely filled out, and he had nice striations in his shoulder muscles. I resisted the urge to reach over and feel him. He stood on one foot and pulled his jeans off one leg and then the other. He was wearing a nice pair of briefs that had a small wet spot and showed off a beautiful set of balls and a nice cock.
I reached over and put my hand on Mark's waist and then slowly worked on pulling his briefs down. He looked up at me, smiling. He put his hand on mine and began helping me remove them. He reached over to mine and began pulling mine down. He grinned at me while he did it, and I put my hands on his shoulders. He got them to my knees and let them fall to the floor. I bent down and kissed him hard, sticking my tongue into his mouth and taking his face in my hands. He responded by grabbing my waist and pulling me closer to him. Our hard cocks were smacking against each other. He was firm, and I was raging. He let go for a minute from me. For the first time tonight, I noticed he was nervous. I could see his hand trembling as he pulled back the covers, making room for both of us on the bed. He turned around, looked at me, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. His eyes were fixated on my cock, and he had a look of concern on his face. After a moment, he laid down on his back and asked me to lay on top of him. His legs were up, and he pulled them back. He seemed ashamed. I crawled into the bed with him and got between his legs, put my hands down next to his armpits, and laid down on his torso with my face over his.
"It's OK," I smiled at him, "I'm not going to hurt you."
"No, Buddy, I know you're not," he started, "It's been a long time since I've done this, and dammit, I'm sorry, I guess I'm shy."
I kissed him quickly on the chin, "It's been a while for me too. And being in bed with you has been a fantasy of mine since I first began checking you out."
Mark started laughing.
"You've been checking me out? How long have you been doing that?"
"I started in September, and once I got the hang of things, I guess late October," I grinned.
"October?" Mark chuckled. "Buddy, I noticed you the first day you worked. That night, I thought what you just said was my fantasy to get into bed with you."
Now, it was my turn to start laughing. I got from between his legs and rolled over on my back to the pillow next to his. I put my hand down to my stomach.
"I guess we never talked about any of this at dinner, did we?" Mark said, chuckling some more.
"No, it didn't come up, but we're here and I'd really like to plow you most of tonight."
He pulled his legs back again and cheerfully growled, "Get up here and take it, stud!"
I know, without sounding conceited, that I look decent for my age, and in the past six months at the gym, I have taken off a lot of weight and developed some muscle. Still, after moving out from my wife's house, I never pictured myself as a stud, even when I was sleeping with a different guy every night for a year. It felt uplifting to be called that after having been in a relationship that made me check out from the gay lifestyle for nearly 15 years. If anything, I had to be confident and take what he willingly offered. Mark had me on the edge of confidence and exhilaration.
I got between his legs and lubed up my cock, and poured a little on my forefinger. I gently pushed my finger into him, and he closed his eyes and opened his mouth but said nothing. I rubbed around inside him with a light touch, and he began breathing heavier. I decided it was time for two fingers, and when I pushed the second one in, his eyes flew open. He grinned at me, took a deep breath, and closed them again.
"Steve, man, I'm ready for you, I'm so fucking ready for you, please," he whispered hoarsely.
I moved into position and placed my thick dripping cock head at his hole, and pressed into him. He clenched his teeth and took in a deep breath. He formed what looked like the letter "F" as I sunk my head into his tight outer ring and opened then closed his eyes again.
"Look at me," I said.
He opened his eyes and, reached up and grabbed my wrists. His eyes were full of lust, and he cried out a little as I kept sinking in him at a deliberately slow but determined pace. I had almost gotten balls deep when he let out a gasp.
"You're too big. Hold on a minute," he grunted.
A few bottoms have described me as above average and very pleasurable. Still, I'd never been called too big before, and Mark stroked my ego with this kind of talk. Involuntarily, I felt my cock swell. My timing wasn't probably the best, but he had made me hornier and valued at the same time. He panted a few times and nodded at me. I finished entering him by putting the last two inches in him. He cried out; I'm not sure whether in pain or ecstasy, reached up to my shoulders and pulled me on top of him entirely, and wrapped his strong, tough hands around my shoulder and back. He was nearly hyperventilating, and I could tell he tried his best to accommodate and calm down. He let out a small final puff of air and kissed my chin at my beard line.
"Damn, you're tight, Mark," I panted.
"You're big, Steve. Fuck me senseless," he smirked back at me.
I was more than happy to comply. I pulled back slightly and reentered him with more force and speed. He smiled up at me, and then, as he closed his eyes, I saw them rolling in ecstasy. He began running his hands from my wrists up my forearms to my elbows where his legs rested, and then back, humming happily as he did so. I groaned and picked up my pace, delivering a good pounding with as much care as I could to him, so we both enjoyed it. He did, apparently. His face turned a few shades of red when I bottomed out into him hard, and his mouth went slack a few times as I long dicked him. I could see his eyes racing under his eyelids, but he somehow managed to focus on mine when he opened them briefly.
"Look at me! You have nice eyes; I want to see them," I said.
He opened his eyes and looked up at me. There was agonized lust burning in them as he looked up, and I could tell that he wasn't going to last much longer. I took his ankles in my hands and began to pump in and out of him hard. My cock was engorged to a size that I rarely get to. Mark was turning me on, and I'm pretty sure I was doing the same for him. He began contorting his face, and his body started twitching. I looked down at my raw cock going into his hole and the hairs of his ass clinging to my sticky prick. It was too much. My hips flared out, and I began the last hard thrusts of our hook-up. My balls were churning, and I could feel the slow, agonized crawl of my semen working its way through my pipes. This was going to be a wedding night orgasm. I didn't need to announce anything; Mark looked up at me vulnerably, and before I knew it, my first shot of come was filling his insides as he began unloading all over his tight torso; only after his first shot hit the headboard sounded like it was splitting the wood.
"Damn," he panted out forcefully, "You know how to fuck!" He was still holding me, not letting me come up from laying on him. We were both sweaty and still breathing heavily. I scooped him into my arms and lay there while we both caught our breath. My cock began softening, and I shortly slipped out from him, and a little bit of my load followed. I disengaged from him and rolled over next to him. I put my arm under his neck and brought his head to my chest. He lay there as I rubbed his arm. I had almost returned to normal but felt him trembling again.
"Are you cold?" I asked him.
"That had to be the best sex I've ever had in my life," Mark blurted out.
"It was pretty hot. You're excellent; I loved it," I admitted.
"You wouldn't want to spend the night, would you?" Mark asked hesitantly.
I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, "Are you looking for a second round?"
"Maybe. But right now, right here, feels exactly right to me," he responded.
"Well, you already know I don't have to work in the morning like you do. Hell yeah, I'll stay with you. I could use a little shut-eye, and I wouldn't mind hitting that again when you're ready."
He turned to me and kissed me. He put his free hand on my arm, grasped it with an open hand, and began going up and down slowly, feeling every bit of my skin and muscle he could. He looked at my chest, sniffed it, and then buried his nose in my chest. I reached over and pulled him close to me. I grabbed the covers and pulled them up to cover us to our armpits, and we settled down together like that for a sleep. We didn't say anything; we didn't kiss or make out; he just lay next to me, resting comfortably, and I was happy to hold a man again after so many years.