Wesley
Chapter three
by Roy Reinikainen
Wesley didn't want to stop. Even in the darkness, he had seen Clifford step close, a dark shadow set in a darker background. He had run his hands along Clifford's arms, up to his shoulders, and then beneath the languidly restless shirt to the short hair of his chest. He had grinned to himself when Clifford reacted to the touch of his fingertips as they grazed his nipples, and had sighed in pleasure when Clifford's arms encircled him.
'It's wonderful to be held once more . . . and to hold someone again,' he thought, pleased with Clifford's strength and the warmth of his affection. Even though he was slender, Cliff didn't have one of the high maintenance bodies one so often sees on the Internet. Those bodies weren't quite real, and were sported by young men who have been pumped, primped, pampered, shaved, oiled, and fluffed until they are entirely too full of themselves. They were caricatures of reality, and sadly, the young men didn't seem to have a clue that the body they were in love with would fade after a brief time.
Clifford's slender frame was sure to show evidence of his age, just as his own did. 'That's reality,' Wesley mused. 'The naked young men in porn and on the Internet are anything but.' He smiled in anticipation of Clifford lying naked at his side. He ran his hand over Clifford's back, beneath his shirt. 'As far as I'm concerned, this man is perfect . . . precisely because is isn't . . . perfect.'
His hands circled Clifford's waist beneath his loose shirt, at the same time Cliff wrapped his arms around Wesley's neck and gently teased his lips with his tongue, urging them to part. He could feel Clifford's warm breath for just a moment and then a slight moan of pleasure as their tongues touched.
Wesley lost himself in the sensual experience. Clifford was gentle, yet insistent. One hand moved over Wesley's back, pulling him close, while the other cradled the back of his head as they kissed. He was perfect.
They stood in the foggy darkness lost in the pleasure they were giving one another as small waves continued to slosh around them. When they had begun their walk they were in ankle-deep water. Now, it was past their knees. Wes' shorts were soaked, and he was sure Clifford's crisply ironed slacks must now be sodden as well. He mused at how Clifford had abandoned trying to keep his clothing dry at the same moment a wave slightly larger than the rest hit them, soaking them to the waist.
Clifford broke their kiss with a yelp. "Holy crap!" He grabbed at Wesley as if he thought he might be carried away to be lost at sea.
Wesley laughed and grasped Clifford's hand, urging him to move along as they hurried toward the fog shrouded lights of the distant boardwalk. "I guess it's no longer worth trying to stay dry." Clifford didn't answer. The moment they had splashed back to ankle-deep water he drew Wesley to him and into another kiss which left them both breathless.
"I have a question." Clifford spoke into the moist darkness as they walked hand-in-hand back to the rock, and their waiting shoes. Wesley made a questioning noise, as he snuggled closer. "What just happened back there?"
"Are you talking about the wave or the kiss?" He chuckled when Clifford nudged him with his hip.
"The kiss, Mr. Smarty Pants. I've been kissed before . . . but this time it was something special. Was I the only one to hear fireworks?"
"Why thank you, Cliff. I've been told my tongue can make a guy shiver, but I was never quite sure whether I was overhearing a compliment . . . or a warning for other guys to stay away from me." Clifford nudged him again and chuckled . . . a warm rich sound that made Wes tingle with anticipation.
"I didn't hear any fireworks. I saw stars." Clifford stopped walking and turned Wes to face him.
"Ooooh," he teased. Cliff could sense Wes' smile before he gave him a brief peck on the nose. "Seeing stars is a good thing . . . right?" This time he could feel Wes chuckle against his neck. "I mean . . . you don't think we should get you to a doctor, do you? I could be something serious." Wesley pulled back and tried to study Cliff in the darkness. This didn't sound like the stolid man he'd met a few hours earlier.
"I'm sure it is something serious, Mr. Grayson; but no doctor could do anything about the stars I saw. They were the kind that meant something wonderful has happened." He kissed the side of Clifford's neck, pleased with the sigh that followed.
The distant foghorn droned its call as the two men once again turned and began walking along the water's edge. "Have you had many sex partners, Wes?" Clifford moved his hand from resting across Wesley's shoulders and began running his fingers through the hair on the back of his head.
Wes smiled. Without knowing it, Clifford was doing something he loved. "I've had a few. I don't think I told you that I was married for a few years. We were both right out of college, and were totally clueless about our own needs." Clifford could feel Wes chuckle. "We had one of those tempestuous relationships . . . something like Shakespeare's, 'Taming of the Shrew.'" Once again there was a slight chuckle, followed by a sigh. "Neither of us would have admitted to being the shrew." They walked on for a few moments in silence.
"It didn't take long for us both to realize we should never have gotten married. We parted pleasantly enough." Once again, Wes lapsed into silence. "She could have made things rough for me, but chose not to. I've been indebted to her for behaving as she did." He snuggled closer to Cliff. "We're still friends . . . not close friends, but friends."
He sighed and then continued. "After that, I fooled around with men quite a bit, but it was rough for me because I'm really very shy." His voice took on an amused tone. "I may not be acting like it, but remember . . . it's dark. I can't really see you. Somehow . . . that makes me able to talk to you more easily." Clifford could tell Wes had turned toward him.
"That's the real reason I wanted to take a walk tonight. I knew it was soon going to be dark. Of course, I wanted to show you the beach, but I wanted to do it in the dark." He chuckled. "Sort of stupid, huh?"
"Sounds perfectly logical to me. You got to show me the beach. You practically got me out of my clothes. You even messed up my hair." He said the last with mock anger. "And, you and I have had a chance to talk, not to mention the few kisses we've exchanged." Clifford turned and continued talking with a smile in his voice. "I'd say your strategy for the both of us to know one another has worked extremely well."
Clifford slightly tightened his embrace, pleased when Wes did the same. "You were telling me about yourself." He could feel Wes take a deep breath, slowly releasing it.
"There's really not much more to tell. I was in a relationship for sixteen years with a nice guy who suddenly decided he needed his freedom . . . so he left." Once again, there was a long silence.
"So, Cliff, there you have it, my life story. You're running your fingers through the hair of a fifty-seven year old, extremely shy man, who can only be candid when it's dark." The tone of his voice changed to one of amusement.
"Of course, it goes without saying that I'm incredibly good looking, in possession of all my teeth, my hair, and a good bit of my sanity. I also have a romantic streak that sometimes threatens to engulf me. It's rough to live with my shyness, but almost as rough to live with my emotions." He ran the open palm of his hand over Clifford's back and then over the seat of his soaking wet slacks. "Those emotions run just below the surface." Wes' voice lowered to that of introspection, but he continued to slowly move his hand over Cliff's back. "I feel as if I'm always on the knife's edge between laughing and crying." Clifford stopped and drew Wesley into another kiss.
When he pulled away Wesley inhaled a shuddering breath and chuckled. "Oh man . . . that is soooo nice." He leaned his head on Clifford's shoulder as they walked on in silence.
"You know," Clifford's voice came out of the darkness. "When you were listing your assets you forgot to mention your tongue." He leaned his head against Wes', feeling the breeze ruffle Wesley's hair against his cheek. "You really shouldn't forget that." Wesley chuckled deep in his throat.
"Your tongue is wonderful too, you know?" Clifford quietly snorted at the compliment.
"Yeah, well . . ."
"What?"
"Well, I haven't had all that much experience using it, none with women, and not a whole hell of a lot with men. You see, I tend to frighten people away. I'm not very encouraging, and what few men I have been involved with eventually give up and go away. So, I've spent my life with a cat. Beulah is the latest in a string of wonderful feline friends with whom I've shared my life. I've told myself I'm happy . . . but lately, I've begun to realize I've been deceiving myself. Then . . . I met you online, and now in person." Clifford sighed, pulling Wesley closer. "These few hours . . . here . . . with you, rank as a high point in what otherwise is a pretty miserable existence."
"I think there's hope for you yet, Mr. Grayson." Wesley's teasing use of Clifford's last name was an attempt at being light hearted, but ended up sounding more serious than he would have liked. "I think that maybe there is hope for both of us." The fog had thickened, and in the distance, through the trees and shrubbery, lights were casting yellow cones of light onto the boardwalk.
"I would dearly like to think so, Wesley." Clifford inhaled deeply. "You know. I'm really enjoying the beach. I even like the fog . . . and the darkness, since they've allowed us to be candid with one another. Of course, I like the man I'm with, too." He chuckled. "I don't kiss just anyone."
He playfully kicked at the water, and chuckled. "No one I know would believe that I'm outside with my shirt unbuttoned exposing my chest to the world, and that my pants are soaked." He shivered slightly. "I am getting a little chilly though. Do you think we might head back to your apartment so I can get out of these clothes." He leaned close to Wesley and lowered his voice. "Perhaps, you could get out of yours as well and we could keep each other warm." He nuzzled Wesley's neck. "Hmm?"
"I thought you didn't have very much experience, Cliff. You certainly are doing your best to get me out of my clothes."
Clifford laughed, a rich masculine laugh. "I guess it must be the company I'm keeping that makes we want to be naked." Wesley made a sound indicating he was doubtful. Once again, Clifford laughed.
"I'm a horny old man, okay? You are so damn sexy Wes, I can't help myself. I've been half hard since I met you." Wesley laughed, pleased with Clifford's words. After a few moments, Clifford continued.
"I think it must be the sea air. I don't even sound like myself."
They approached the big rock and Wesley backed Clifford up against the rock, kissing him deeply and thoroughly. He ran a hand over Clifford's chest, feeling the short wiry hair, then down over his stomach and finally over the mound of his erection. Clifford pushed against Wesley's hand and aggressively thrust his tongue deep into Wes' mouth. When he realized Wesley had managed to unfasten his belt and was lowering the zipper to his slacks, he became concerned. "Wes?"
"Shhh, it's okay." Wesley unbuttoned the waist and then worked Clifford's wet pants past his buttocks and erection, and then down his legs. Clifford leaned against the rock and pushing his crotch forward and throwing his head back while he took deep breaths through his open mouth. Wesley kneaded his buttocks and then cupped the pouch of his underwear, massaging his scrotum at the same time he nuzzled at Cliff's erection through his tight underwear.
Wesley hummed in appreciation as he lightly ran his fingers over the length of Clifford's erection, pausing at the tip where he imagined Cliff's cock to be leaking pre cum, adding to the moisture in the already wet underwear. He sucked on the fabric covering the end of Cliff's cock, telling himself he could taste Cliff. He hooked his thumbs on the waistband and worked the underwear down, letting Clifford's erection spring free.
"Ohhh, Cliff," he sighed, only loud enough to be heard. "You are absolutely wonderful." He leaned forward and sucked the testicles into his mouth, one at a time; rolling them over his tongue at the same time he reached up and tweaked Clifford's nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
Clifford's low groaning increased when Wesley began sucking on his cock, running his tongue over the sensitive underside. The flow of Clifford's precum had increased, leaving behind a salty, slightly nutty flavor in his mouth.
Clifford stepped out of his underwear and spread his legs wider, wondering at his sudden daring. Only a few hours ago he had been reluctant to take his shoes off. Now, he was practically naked, and was being sucked off. 'At least it's dark,' he thought, savoring the feeling of Wesley's mouth surrounding his erection.
"Damn, Wes, this is wonderful." His voice was husky with emotion. "You're so good at that. And that tongue of yours . . ." He shuddered as Wesley stopped fondling his scrotum and ran a finger over his anus. "It's all . . . wonderful," he said with a shuddering breath.
He knew he wouldn't last long with Wesley's expert treatment, so with a great sigh, he leaned down and took Wesley by the shoulders and urged him to stand. "Kiss me, handsome."
Wesley groaned as his and Clifford's tongues fought one another. This was the type of lovemaking Wesley had always wanted, but never had. Gone was the man who he had met in the airport only hours earlier. The man wearing the starched clothes, and equally stiff personality had been replaced by the man who was holding him tightly. Clifford was behaving with an intensity that left him breathless and wanting more.
"Strip." Wes stepped back, peeling off his shorts and underwear at Clifford's command, tossing his clothing onto the top of the rock. Clifford followed his lead, tossing his pants an underwear onto the rock as well, and then once again took Wesley in his arms.
Clifford was excited, not only by the feeling of their erections pressed between their bodies, but by the feeling of the breeze ruffling his shirt tails against his bare butt. The gentle touch of the fabric against his skin heightened the eroticism of his near-nakedness. It was as if each hair on the cheeks of his butt was sending a sensual message to his brain. He thought it couldn't get any better, just before Wesley's warm hands began to caress his cheeks. Each new experience, each new sensation, was driving him to heights of excitement he had never thought possible.
After a few minutes, Clifford squatted in front of Wesley with his back to the warmth of the smooth rock. He sucked each of Wesley's large testicles into his warm mouth, savoring the feel of each before running his tongue up the underside of Wes' penis and pausing at the tip to explore the large piss slit with the tip of his tongue. There was a lot of pre cum, making the widely flared head and prominent ridge, slick. He groaned as he tasted Wes for the first time. He had tasted other men . . . but none were like . . . this.
Clifford explored between Wesley's spread legs, running a finger firmly over his perineum and finally teasing his anus, feeling it tense and relax beneath his finger.
"Do you like to fuck, Cliff," Wes asked, becoming breathless with the combined stimulation to his cock and hole. Clifford nodded and made an affirmative sound but didn't remove his mouth from Wes' cock.
"When . . . when we get back . . . to the apartment, would you fuck me?" Clifford groaned and intensified his sucking. "The first time," Wesley continued, "I want you to be strong. I want to feel you inside me even after we've finished." He gasped for breath as Clifford pushed a finger into his hole.
"Oh yeah, Cliff. That's it, man. Fuck me with your finger." Wesley tried to force himself down onto the finger, groaning with pleasure.
"After the first time, you can do it slowly and gently, or forcefully . . . whatever's good for you. The first time though, I want you to fuck me hard. Can you do that for me?" Clifford nodded, probing deeper with his finger, feeling Wesley's firm prostate with each thrust of his finger.
Clifford knew it wouldn't be long before Wesley's orgasm. The prostate was now swollen and his sphincter clutched at Cliff's finger in the same rhythm as each thrust.
"Are you ready to taste me, Cliff? Are you ready . . . to swallow my sperm?" Cliff made a groaning sound when Wesley placed his hands on either side of Clifford's head and held it still as he began to fuck his mouth. "I'm about there," he warned. Clifford's mouth was gripping his cock like a hot asshole. "Oh yeah," he sighed, slowing his thrusts.
"I'm 'bout there, Cliff." His voice was husky and breathless as he slowed his thrusts even further. He was barely moving over Clifford's tongue, trying to extend the exquisite pleasure he was feeling.
Clifford knew the moment had arrived when Wesley's cock swelled even further and he stopped moving entirely. He jerked once and began to flood Clifford's mouth with his thick cum as he held Clifford's head motionless, standing before him with his legs spread wide and his knees slightly bent.
He heard Clifford gulp once. Another shot, and Clifford gulped again, slowly withdrawing his finger as he continued to milk Wesley's erection and fondle his testicles as if he might be able to stimulate an extra drop or two of sperm.
"Holy, fuckin' shit," he murmured, just loud enough for Wesley to hear. "I have never experienced anything like that in my entire life." He stood and pulled Wesley close. "I mean, ever." When they kissed, Wesley could taste his own sperm.
Clifford abruptly moved back and murmured in a voice rough with passion. "I'm not going to wait until we're back at your apartment to fuck you." He stripped off his shirt and spread it on the sand.
"Down," he ordered. "On your back." He urged Wesley down with a firm pressure on his shoulders. "Don't get your asshole sandy."
"Yes sir," Wes murmured as he sat on Cliff's shirt and then lay back, continuing to be excited by the change in Cliff. He watched as Cliff's dark shape knelt between his bent knees. He grabbed both of Wesley's legs and pushed them back against his chest, tenderly massaging Wes' hairy hole. "Are you serious about wanting me to show some force?" Wesley answered with a breathless moan.
"Do it," he managed to croak as Cliff leaned forward and began to lap at his hole. "I need you inside me." He took a couple gasping breaths, overcome with the sensations Cliff's tongue was causing. "Fuck me . . . hard. I want to feel you on top of me . . . in me . . . shooting in me." When Clifford continued rimming him he whimpered. "Now Cliff . . . please."
Clifford sat back on his heels and dropped a glob of spit onto his hand and spread it slightly over the end of his penis and then aimed the head, by feel alone, at Wes' opening. He could feel Wesley's anus relax and then tighten as if it too was anxious to feel Cliff inside.
Wesley was whimpering in anticipation. Clifford took a deep breath and pushed into Wesley in one smooth move, ignoring his partner's hiss of indrawn breath.
"Damn, Wes," Clifford moaned, after giving him a thorough kiss. "You are so damn tight." He slid out, and then remembering Wesley's wishes, began to shove himself into Wesley's hole, grunting with the force of each thrust. Wesley urged him on, begging him to do it harder.
It didn't take long and Clifford could feel his orgasm approaching as the tingling sensation near his own anus spread upward until he thought his erection would burst from the stimulation and heat of Wesley's hole.
He rocked back so he was sitting on his heels and held Wesley's legs wide. He could hear the slap of their skin against each other with each thrust. Then he paused and jerked . . . feeling his erection expand as it pumped its first jet of sperm deep into Wesley's body.
Clifford looked down, disappointed he couldn't see his cock stretching Wesley's hole, or the expression on his partner's face.
"You are one hot fuck, Wes," Clifford managed to say after catching his breath, and lowering himself on top of Wes. "You milked me dry." Wesley chuckled and they briefly kissed before Clifford continued. "I don't think I'll be able to shoot another load all weekend."
"I'll be sorely disappointed, Mr. Grayson. By the time this weekend is over, I intend for you to have to limp onto your airplane because you will have fucked me so often. I'll be waving goodbye, sad to see you go but with a very happy smile on my face, and the remnants of your most recent fuck running down my leg."
Clifford laughed, kissing Wes once again and then felt his softening cock slide out of Wesley's hole.
"You know the only bad thing about being fucked?" Clifford hummed a response.
"Is not being able to taste your sperm. You've tasted mine, but I haven't tasted yours yet." Wesley sounded genuinely disappointed.
"Easily rectified, my man." Clifford once again got on his knees and wiped his fingertips over and into Wesley's swollen anus, gathering up as much sperm as he could. He could sense Wesley propping himself up on his elbows, and then with an intake of breath he realized what Clifford intended.
"Lick it off," Clifford ordered, placing his fingers in front of Wesley's mouth. Wes groaned and began sucking on the slick fingers, cleaning each one in turn before returning to Clifford's forefinger and sucking on it for a few more minutes.
"Wesley," Clifford asked. "I'd like to go back to your place now and take a shower, okay?" Wes chuckled and they both stood. Clifford picked up his shirt, shaking it out a couple times before slipping it on. Wesley sorted out their clothes, handing Clifford his underwear.
"Just the pants," Clifford said. "I'll carry the underwear." He struggled to get back into the wet pants, but eventually managed to fasten the button and zip. He stuffed his underwear in his back pocket and took back his shoes and they both headed back to Wesley's apartment, holding hands and walking shoulder to shoulder, in companionable silence.
'The Big Rock' (continued)
Howard grinned, as he stared toward the darkened bedroom ceiling. He had met the most wonderful man earlier in the day.
Charles had no idea how wonderful he was. Howard grinned when he recalled his first sight of Charles. He was standing across the crowded airport terminal, his expression matching the starched appearance of his clothes. It was easy to see he was nervous. He kept changing the strap of his carry on bag from one hand to the other while a dark leather bag whose sides stood straight, as stiff as their owner, rested at his feet.
Charles was a slender man with greying shortly clipped hair. His crisply creased white long sleeved shirt was primly tucked into his navy blue slacks which would have been casual if they hadn't been so perfectly creased. Charles' dark eyes appeared to search the terminal waiting room, scanning from one face to another until his eyes met Howard's.
Howard was pleased the solemn expression was broken for a moment as Charles' eyebrows twitched upward along with the corners of his lips. Still, he seemed rooted to the spot, his knuckles white from clutching the strap of his carry on bag so tightly.
Howard absorbed all of this in only a flash. Charles had told him he tended to be serious, but Howard wondered what sort of person was hidden behind the somber faade. The flicker of a smile and widening of the eyes told him that Charles, for all his claims at being a serious person, at least wanted to be someone more carefree.
He had been correct. Charles now lay at his side, the full length of his body against his own, his arm draped across Howard's chest. He could feel each slow breath Charles took, followed by the gentle touch of his breath against his cheek each time he exhaled.
Howard grinned. After their walk on the beach, they had showered and had continued their exploration of one another's bodies which had begun on the beach, earlier in the evening.
Charles had asked if they could place a lighted candle on the bathroom vanity, and shower by its dimly flickering light. He said he thought it would be romantic, but Howard thought it was because Charles hoped the dim light would extend their period of intimacy, making it easier for both of them to deal with one another and their own feelings as they slowly became accustomed to each other's presence.
He sighed, feeling the weight of Charles' arm across his chest. 'He was wonderful, not pushing me, never judging me because I would stumble on a sentence when I saw him watching me with those wonderful dark eyes.' He smiled, recalling the feel of Charles' tongue gently brushing across his lips before seeking entry into his mouth while the water from the warm shower coursed over their bodies.
Charles' lovemaking, on the beach, in the shower, and later in bed, had been as wonderful. He had been forceful when Howard asked, or when he was overcome with passion. At other times he was gentle, slowly kissing Howard or teasing his cock with his tongue, bringing him to the brink of an orgasm only to back away for a few moments before he stimulated him once again. Eventually, Charles would hum his appreciation as Howard's cock pulsed in his mouth.
Their kisses . . . afterward . . . were a sensuous sharing of the sperm from one or the other's most recent orgasm. Only minutes later those kisses would move from a deep exploration of one another's mouth, to an exploration of each other's cheeks, ears, necks, nipples, and eventually each other's penis and testicles. It was as if they couldn't seem to get enough of one another.
They had laughed, or spent long moments in silence, enjoying the feel of the other's naked body.
Charles shifted at his side, seemingly trying to snuggle closer.
'This is the way my relationship with Wil began,' he thought, realizing he still was not over the pain of their separation. 'I wonder what Charles thinks. I wonder if I mean more to him than a good time had on a weekend holiday. One moment he's laughing and teasing, the next he has retreated behind the wall of seriousness.' Howard shifted slightly. 'I wonder what he thinks,' he repeated, feeling sleep waiting nearby to claim him. 'I wonder.'
~ to be continued ~
Thank you for reading my story. If you would like to read more of my work, the stories may be found in Nifty's Gay College section, and are entitled, 'Phalen,' 'Leith,' and 'Chris.'
I invite comments or observations. Your email is welcomed, and will always be answered. I may be reached at:
roynm@mac.com or suomalainen_abq@mac.com