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Related article: Date: Mon, 9 Mar 2009 21:00:57 -0700
From: Oregon Bear
Subject: He Came Over For A Beer, Part 1This story contains graphic descriptions of gay adult male to male sex. If
you are offended by this topic, or it is illegal for you to read this,
please leave this site. He Came Over For a Beer, Part 1 It was a hot day, this last week of September, and I'd been
cleaning up the yard, getting ready for fall. Most of the garden was
harvested, and I'd picked the first of the corn that afternoon. I knew Tom
always loved my corn, and he'd been asking me for the last week when I was
going to starting picking the special sweet white corn that was the
favorite of the neighborhood.
I called him up after I got back in the house, telling him I had a
sack of corn on the counter and there was some cold beer in the fridge.
"Bring your guitar, too. I've got a few steaks and we've got the
whole evening out on the deck," I said, hearing him laugh over the phone.
Tom was a frequent visitor now, usually coming over to play a
little guitar with me in the late afternoon and have a few beers. He
retired last year, and his wife had left him a couple of years ago, leaving
him the house after she ran off with her old high school sweetheart. Tom
hadn't been too broken up about the divorce, as she had been cheating on
him most of their marriage.
In the last few months, Tom was over here a lot, and we'd ended up
talking about everything in our lives, while we were picking out a few
songs or killing off a beer. Last week, he'd finally mentioned he'd like
to fool around with me, and we'd ended up in bed for most of the evening.
I certainly wasn't his first man he'd ever fooled around with, and he'd
given me one of the best blow jobs I'd ever had.
He'd fumbled, as he groped my cock through the cotton denim of my
jeans. I'd put his hand on my fly, as we sat on the front porch steps that
late afternoon. He'd taken a deep breath, and sighed deeply, when I took
his hand and guided him to the outline of my hardening cock and my already
needy, full balls. My other hand took his other hand on a tour of my shirt
front, opening buttons and Little Lolitas finding the coarse black curls of my chest hair,
and my already hard nipples.
My lips had found his lips, and I soon was sucking and prodding his
tongue to taste me, to explore my own tongue, and to join his wetness with
mine, as we began to come together. I remembered his sweat, the horsey,
dusty sweat of a rancher mixing a bit with a taste of beer and lust, and
the drying sweat of a working man's hairy, muscled body on a hot late
summer's day.
Soon, I slipped off his tank top, feeling the thick hairy crevices
and curves of his muscled chest and belly, and the wet, dark nooks and
crannies of his furry pits, and the tender, soft nipples of his chest, and
the long trail of curls that led to his jeans, and the hardness of his
belly.
He slid my now unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders, taking my own
aching, hot Little Lolitas nipples into his mouth, across the stubble of his upper lip, as
he tasted me, suckled me, pulling and licking my nipples until I moaned and
pulled his head closer into me, not wanting the moment to end.
Then, I took his hand to my belt, and together, we slowly undid the
buckle, savoring each movement, unwrapping and stripping me, until, in a
few minutes, my manhood was hard and wet inside of his fist, until his
mouth touched the tip of my cockhead, until, at last, I was inside of him.
With aching slowness, he took me, tasting me, sucking me, and soon, rising
and falling on me, he pushed and sucked at me, until my cock could grow no
more, until my balls ached with the rising of my cum, until I could climb
the mountain no longer, until I filled his warm, wet mouth with my seed, in
bursts of my jism, as I gasped and moaned and cried his name into the warm
night air.
And, every day since that night, I dreamed of Tom and me, that
night on the porch, that night we both had pleasured each other, that night
we had finally found the joys that only two men can bring to each other.
I shook my head a bit, clearing my lust and my brain's images of
his strong, muscular butt cheeks and hairy balls and strong, thick cock,
thrusting up from his groin, naked and strong and wet, into my hungry lips
as I sucked and pumped him, feeling his seed rise in his full, hairy balls,
tasting his jism as he exploded in my wet, eager mouth, smelling his sweaty
chest and pits, and the musty smells of his balls and the thick hair around
the root of his manhood, as Tom moaned and cried out his climax.
My daydream faded, just a bit, and my eyes refocused on a new
image, of this man in my kitchen, holding a couple of beers, talking about
his horses and the first harvest of the corn.
Tom was a handsome man, and warm days always found him out in the
yard or riding his horses with his strong, bare shoulders and beefy chest
bursting out of a tank top, and his nice tight butt squeezed into a pair of
boot cut jeans. I'd always enjoyed watching him, the thick fur of his
chiseled chest pouring out of the top of his tank top, and the thick
stubble along his jaws and cheeks dark, almost purple, growing darker as
the day went along.
After that evening when he took my cock deep down his throat that
first time, he'd run his fingers through my beard and handlebar moustache,
wondering how I liked wearing a beard, and saying how I looked so good to
him with my beard. I'd taken his fingers and had him run his fingers
through my beard, letting him feel what his face would be like if he'd put
away the razor for a while.
And, after that night, he'd let his whiskers grow, and now, the
stubble had grown out a bit, and he was looking pretty rugged, even more
handsome with his thick beard and 'stache, which was just starting to curl
a bit. There was a bit of gray along his chin, and that just made him look
a bit wiser, a bit more loveable.
We hadn't screwed since that night, and I'd wondered if his taste
of my cock and my attentions to his balls weren't quite up to his
standards, but he'd been as friendly as ever when he was out riding his
horses or when we passed each other on the lane, on the way into or back
from town. I'd been wondering if we'd ever get together again, but when
I'd called him about the corn, he sounded eager to come over for the
evening. Maybe it was the offer of fresh corn, cold beer, and grilled
steaks, but I'd hoped it was also for a night of cuddling bare assed
together, sucking out cum from our hard thick cocks.
I took a few bottles out of the back fridge and filled up a kettle,
ready to boil about a half dozen of the dead ripe ears of the first corn of
the season. I set out the butter on the counter, and got the steaks out,
all ready for dinner. There was a rap Little Lolitas on the screen door by the front
porch, and a big "halloo".
"Door's open," I yelled back. I heard his big feet on the floor
boards, and the clunk of his guitar case against Little Lolitas the screen door, before it
whacked back against the jamb.
I turned off the tap, now that the corn kettle was filled up, and
turned around to see Tom padding into the kitchen, one big paw gripped
around the handle of his guitar case, and his other big bare paw and arm
wrapped around a paper sack and what Little Lolitas looked like a cold six pack of brews.
"I picked up some special ale from the brew pub in town today.
Thought they'd Little Lolitas go good with that corn," he said.
"Beer from that brew pub is always welcome here," I said. "Best
thing that's happened to this town in a long time."
He set the beer down on the counter, and I took a moment to admire
his bare, muscular arms and the thick cords of muscles along his shoulders
and back, his tank top stretching to keep his strong, tanned body under
some sort of covering. My nostrils took in his manly scent, a bit of fresh
sweat, and a hint of hay and horse, Little Lolitas
mixed with a bit of the dust from his
garden.
His new beard was coming on nicely, and I moved over close to him,
running my fingers along his now furry jaw and chin, feeling the still
scratchy coarseness of new whiskers along my fingers, noticing how the hair
was filling in nice and even across his cheeks and jaws, thicker over his
chin. There was just a bit of skin still open under his lower lip, on
either side of the thick patch of fur under the middle of his lip, and the
tan of his face gave a nice contrast to the black, almost curl of his new
beard.
"Lookin' pretty handsome there, with that beard," I said. "You're
lookin' good."
"Yeah, I'm liking it a lot," Tom replied. "Rita never let me grow
this out, and, well, I got set in my ways and just kept on shaving. But, I
like this. It feels good on me, and I think I'm goin' to keep it."
We opened the first two bottles of the ales and went out on to the
porch. We each took a rocking chair and sat down to watch the late
September sunset, the sky turning into a thick, peaches and cream panorama,
deepened by the smoke Little Lolitas of a forest fire that was burning about a dozen miles
down the valley.
The beer felt good and Little Lolitas cold against my throat, and we caught up on
the gossip of the neighborhood for the last week, and what we'd each been
doing with our gardens and with Tom's horses, and my painting. Tom was
excited about my new show in the big city in a couple of months, and even
offered to help me crate up my paintings and take them to the gallery.
He'd been a serious critic of my paintings, and didn't hesitate to make
suggestions on what I should do with a painting, when I felt I was stuck
and wasn't quite sure on what it needed. He had a good sense of art and
I'd done well listening to his suggestions.
Tom went back in to the kitchen to get each of us a fresh bottle,
and plopped down in his rocking chair, a look of deep thought crossing his
face. The silence was a bit startling, and I wondered what was up with
him.
"About the other night," he started. "I've needed some time to
think about all that, and, well, I've been putting some distance between us
this week."
"So I've noticed. I was hoping I hadn't chased you away, after
having a real good sample of your tasty cock and your studly body. I was
sure satisfied that night, and I thought you were, too. I just hoped you'd
be back for seconds sooner than later."
"Well, I sure wanted to. You're Little Lolitas the best man I've ever slept
with," he said. "I just thought, well, I just thought that I wasn't good
enough for you, that I wasn't up to your standards. I mean, well, I'm
pretty new to all of this, and I'm no kid anymore. I've got a few gray
hairs and I'm not in great shape.
"Hey, I was sure not complaining the other night, especially after
I came the second time down your throat," I replied. "And, I've always had
the hots for you, even since I moved here. You're a real good looking guy,
Tom. In fact, I'm getting hard just sitting here looking at you. And, my
cock doesn't lie."
"My cock was pretty happy that night, too," Tom chuckled. "I've
been having the most amazing dreams about you this week. I've had to take
a few cold showers, knowing that you were out there in your garden with
your shirt off, every afternoon. I even got out my binoculars, to watch
you out in the dirt, working up a sweat, watching you weed and hoe,
watching your furry chest get soaked in sweat. I could almost taste you.
God, I wanted you so bad."
"Every night this week, I've caught myself headed out the door to
come over here. But, I've chickened out, every night. I just haven't
thought I measured up to what you want, ..what you deserve ... in a man."
"And, what do you deserve, Tom?" I asked. "You have your needs,
your desires. You deserve some happiness, too. You're a lonely man, Tom.
But, you're a beautiful man, and it's OK if you get some happiness, too.
It's OK if you get laid, you know."
"Oh, you're right. At least, my heart says you're right. But,
there's part of me, and maybe it's what I still hear Rita telling me, in my
head, that it's not what I deserve," he replied, looking down, his face a
bit sad.
"Rita's gone, Tom. She was gone long before she left. You weren't
happy with her and she wasn't happy with you. You didn't have a sex life
with her for years, and you're pretty sad about that," I said. "Now, it's
time, Tom. It's your time. Do what you want. Be the man. And, that's
OK."
The quiet of the evening filled the porch, even the rockers falling
silent as our words sank in. Tom looked deep in thought, and a tear fell
from his eye, slowly wandering down his tanned cheek, before getting lost
in the thickness of the whiskers. He sniffled, and shook his head, then
nodded, engrossed in his own conversation, mulling over what we had each
said.
Finally, he stood up, setting the now empty second beer on the
porch rail. He turned to me, and took a few steps, until he held me in his
hard, tanned arms, his Little Lolitas thick, calloused hands pulling me close to him,
until his new moustache tickled my neck, as he held me tight.
"You're right, Mike. "You're so right. It is time I did what I
want to do. And, I want you to be my lover. You're everything I could
hope for. I'm just amazed you want me. I've never felt so ... wanted
before.
His beefy chest shook, a sob bursting out of his gut and up his
throat, gathering strength as it spilled out of his mouth, filling the
evening air with a moan and a noise of loneliness and anger and sorrow that
resonated out of his chest, and out his lips, filling my ears and my heart
with his sadness and his innermost emotion. Out of years of his darkness,
of buried feelings, came his expression of his humanity, his manliness, as
tears ran from his eyes and his breath came in ragged jerks and gasps.
He held me tight against him, until he was, at last, drained of all
that he had held inside of him all these years, until the bitterness and
fear and loneliness had been released. As he gripped me, and as I hugged
him back, I could feel, at last, that he was released and he was free now,
able to breathe on his own, that a great weight had lifted from his
shoulders, that a gnawing emptiness inside of him had been flushed away,
until he felt light and easy, against my chest.
I hugged him close, feeling his new lightness, feeling a new sense
of joy, of peacefulness, Little Lolitas
flow across his chest, free of the nightmares and
the prisons of the past. I looked into his eyes, seeing a new sparkle, a
new light, sensing his newfound spirit of happiness and fullness, newly
discovered.
We held each other in silence, time losing any meaning, Little Lolitas until, at
last, he cleared his throat.
"I'm ready, now, Mike. I'm ready to make love to you. And, I'm
ready for you to love me, and for me to love me, for the first time."Copyright 2009. Oregon Bear.
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