“I don’t have a choice when you bring it up all the time.”
And I don’t. Lately, surgery seems to be on my mind constantly. Every time I ride a wakeboard, there is a chance of reinjury. But surgery … the dangers are so much more. I’m risking my fucking soul. After I say goodnight to Eddie, I drive home to my apartment. It’s not much: a tiny two bedroom whose main attraction was the whirlpool tub. Compared to Dave’s showpiece home, it’s a dark shoebox.
Television doesn’t do it for me. I’ve never really gotten into watching sports or shows or even movies, so the only TV in the apartment is a small one in the kitchen, which I sometimes turn on for the weather reports. Tonight, even television would be a welcome distraction, but I can’t find anything worth watching, let alone worth standing in my kitchen to see.
Boredom and I are not a good combination. A decade ago, boredom would have led to drinking and pills and picking up strangers. The first two are completely off the table. And even though Dave and I didn’t promise fidelity, I don’t want to go pick up someone else.
What I do pick up is my phone to play a game, and then I remember I have his number.
What would I say? Hi, Dave, I miss you.
God, what a fucking sap.
But it’s call him or be bored to tears. I stare at his picture on my phone, that freckled, blushing face standing in my shop the day we met.
I miss him. I call.
He picks up on the second ring.
“Hello?” His voice is cautious.
“Hi, it’s Ben.”
“Hey, this is a surprise.” His voice is warm, and he laughs quietly before he adds, “A nice surprise.”
“I’m really fucking glad you think so because I wanted to hear your voice.” The words come out in a tangled rush before I realize how desperate they make me sound. So much for dignity.
“I wanted to hear yours too, but I didn’t have your number. This is good.” I hear a rustling in the background. “I’m at the hotel and I’ve just gotten room service. Want to have dinner with me?”
Yeah.
“Hold on, let me stick something in the microwave.” I go to the kitchen and grab the first box I see out of the freezer. Mini corn dogs. That’ll work. “What did you order?”
“Chicken marbella. It’s a specialty of the restaurant in this hotel. It’s got prunes in it.” He sounds offended.
“Not into dried plums?”
“I’m into your plums.”
Now I’m blushing. “Yours aren’t bad either.”
“How about you, what are you eating for supper tonight?”
“Mini corn dogs.”
His laugh rolls across the phone line. “Sounds better than prunes.”
After a minute, the microwave dings and I grab my corn dogs and sit down on the couch.
Dinner passes with teasing banter and mundane observations. It feels nice to share a meal with him, even over the phone.
Too soon, the food is gone and I’m lying on the couch trying to hold on to the conversation. His voice sounds so good. I can just picture him sitting in a hotel room. I bet he stays at one of those fancy places with modern furniture and gleaming white linens.
I wish I was with him.
“I miss you,” I blurt out.
“I miss you too.” He sighs. “My meetings will all be over by tomorrow afternoon, but I planned to stay through the weekend and do some sightseeing. Right now the only sight I want to see is you.”
“We barely know each other; I don’t get it. You make me want things I’m not used to wanting.”
There’s a long silence while we both mull that over.
“Hey, Ben.”
“Yeah?”
“Speaking of wanting, are you in bed?”
Whoa. Is he really …?
“On the couch.”
“Take out your dick.” Oh, he’s definitely …
In my rush to comply, I fumble with the button on my shorts and it takes an extraordinarily long time to get my cock out. Of course, he gets the wrong idea and thinks I’m hesitating.
“Ben? Is this okay?”
“Oh, yeah.” I slide my hand up and down my shaft and it’s beyond okay.
“I’m lying alone on this big hotel bed, thinking of all the things I’d do if you were with me. Do you like getting rimmed?”
“Ohmygod.” I bite back a moan.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckles, and that sound ohmygodandholyfuck goes straight to my dick. “I’d spread you out on the bed and eat your ass like there’s no tomorrow. Then I’d lick your balls and rub your taint and make sure there was no part of you that didn’t feel worshipped. Put the phone on speaker and grab your balls with your other hand.”
God, I want everything he’s describing. I can imagine every lick, suck, and rub. I feel like my whole body has caught fire. Shuddering, I put the phone on speaker and set it aside, reaching deep into my shorts to caress my balls.
“Are you stroking your dick for me?” he asks.
“Unh.” I half whimper, half groan into the phone.
“That’s right, give me your noises. After I’ve rimmed you senseless, I’m gonna ride your cock while you jerk me off. You’ve got such an amazing cock, Ben. It’s going to feel so good inside me. You’re going to stretch me so good.” He whimpers, a totally porny-sexy whimper, and I can almost feel him clenching around me. All of a sudden my orgasm is right within reach.
I slow my strokes, trying to hold it back. “I want to come.”
He chuckles again, but it turns into a groan, a long stuttering one. “Fuck, baby. I just did. Came all over myself. Just you saying that and …” He groans again, the sound guttural and hot. “C’mon Ben, stroke yourself off for me. You turn me on so much. I want to hear it.”
His dirty talk makes me speed up my hand on my cock, and the rush of the orgasm gathers in my balls and shoots up my spine. When he describes the noises I make when I come, I explode, cum splattering all over my chest as I shout something incoherent into my empty living room.
“That sounded so hot, Ben. God, I bet it was gorgeous. I bet you’re lying there with your hand still on your dick, looking all sexy and dirty, covered in your cum. If I were there, I’d lick every drop of it off your skin and kiss it into your mouth so you could taste it.”
“Cum kink?” I laugh weakly, but yeah, I’m just like he said, all dirty. I don’t even move to wipe it up because he likes me that way.
“Mmmm. Sometimes. With you? Definitely. You make me crazy.”
“I think you make me crazy too,” I confess around a yawn.
“Tuesday is a long way away, will you call me again tomorrow night?”
“Will we do this again?” Not that I’d called wanting phone sex, but hell that was fun.
“I’d like that. But mostly I just want to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
“You’re about to fall asleep, aren’t you?” He sounds amused.
“Yeah, I’m a cliché.”
“Goodnight, Ben.”
“Wait …” I have to ask him something, but I can’t remember what.
“What’s up?”
“Do you like pizza?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll have pizza tomorrow night. Okay?”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
“Goodnight, Dave.”
e’ve talked every night since then and most of those conversations involve phone sex. At this point, just the sound of his ringtone makes me sport wood, so when Monday rolls around, and I get a text from Dave inviting me over to his house, I don’t hesitate.
I’ll be there. Want you so bad.
A few minutes later, I receive his reply.
You too. Can’t wait to touch you. Fuck me tonight? xo
Ohmygod.
I’m torn between spending extra time getting ready to see him or just hurrying the hell over there. My hands are actually fucking shaking I want him so bad. I end up cutting the grooming routine short and
leaving the stubble on my face rather than risk cutting myself shaving.
I’m poised to ring the bell when he throws the door open and pulls me inside. His hands are everywhere, my face, my shoulders, my waist, and that’s a hell of a welcome, but his lips are my real hello.
They close over mine so soft and so much sweeter than I expect from the hunger in his hands.
Hello, I missed you; hold me, please.
I growl into his mouth and deepen the kiss, but it quickly turns back to a gentle reacquaintance.
I missed you. Don’t leave me again.
He tugs my shirt up and runs his hands under it, stroking my nipples to hard points, pinching them until I shake.
I need you so bad, but I can’t stop kissing you.
He drags his mouth away from mine and buries his face against that spot where my neck and shoulder meet. He sucks in several deep gasps and then starts kissing my jaw, my neck, that soft ticklish spot behind my ear. When he frots up against me and bites down on my shoulder, I swear to God, I actually squeal.
“I want to talk and hang out and all of that, but I really need to be naked with you,” he whispers.
“Yes. Naked.” I rock my hips into his, and he picks up my rhythm, rolling against me. My lips find his, and it’s hello all over again.
Need you, need you, need you, need you.
I kick off my shoes, and he pushes me toward the bearskin rug. Our mouths separate long enough for shirts to be pulled over our heads, and then we’re kissing again and belts are unbuckling and shorts are falling to the floor. It’s just his skin and mine pressed together.
Perfect. We’re perfect like this.
I break the seemingly endless kiss and grip the side of his face with one hand, resting my forehead on his. For a long moment, we just hold each other and breathe the same air, chests heaving, cocks brushing, hearts pounding.
And then he smiles at me. “Hello.”
“Hey.” I lean in to taste his smile and give a nip at his lower lip.
Now that we’re naked, the urgency subsides a little. I run my hands down his back to cup his ass and knead it in both hands.
“Mmmm. That feels nice.”
“I want to make you feel good,” I murmur against his lips.
“You do.” His hands are on my nipples again, rubbing and sending all kinds of sparks down into my dick.
“Should we go to bed?”
“Mmmm.” He nods, but instead of leading me to the stairs, he frames my face with his hands and kisses me, slow and sweet. My chest aches with want.
He wraps an arm around my waist and we start moving toward the stairs. We pause at the bottom of the staircase to frot together against the wall. It’s a slow, languorous grind, reigniting that softness in my gut I only seem to feel when I’m with him.
He takes my hand, and we make it just a few steps before I need to touch his body again. God only knows how long it takes us to climb stairs, pausing as we do every few steps to kiss and touch and ohmygodfeel each other.
I’ve never felt sex the way I do with him. He unlocked such strong emotions in me that night on the bearskin rug when he told me to stop trying to get off and let him make love to me .
I don’t want that tonight. I don’t want to be made love to. I want to be making love to him, showing him what he’s made of me. I want to make love with him, to be a part of something bigger than just two bodies rubbing on each other.
I pull away from him.
“Lie down on the bed.” I give him a gentle push in that direction. “On your back.”
He does, crooking a finger and beckoning me down with him. It seems where he leads, I will follow, even when I’m trying so damned hard to be in charge. I lie beside him and kiss along his body. I love the freckles everywhere on his skin, and I trace from one to the other with little plucking kisses, wishing I could taste them all.
“I could spend my whole life cataloguing these with my tongue and never get bored.”
“Mmmm.” He rolls his hips up as I lick inside his navel. I take the hint, pumping his cock with a few hard strokes, then I push his knees up to seek the treasure below.
I’ve never admired another man’s balls the way I admire his. I mean, I check ’em out, sure, and I’m all about making them feel good, but it’s not like I really ever made love to a man’s balls. His are gorgeous, perfect and heavy in my palm. I lift them into my mouth and suck first one, then the other, rewarded by a throaty, choked sound.
“I fantasized about sucking on these while you jerk off,” I pause my testicular-suckfest to tell him before going right back to work. I glance up his body to see him arched back, eyes closed, fist in his mouth.
Being the architect of his abandon fills me with pride, and I want to explore his reactions, but I really fucking want to hear him too.
I reach up and pull his fist away. He groans low and loud so I rub against his taint with my thumb and try to suck both balls at once. I hum around them so he can feel my voice and he gives me a growly sex-noise. I hear a drawer open and then he’s pressing a bottle of lube and a condom into my shoulder. He’s desperate about it, like I’m doing something really mind-blowing down on those balls.
Okay, then. I’m perfectly happy to follow this road to its inevitable conclusion. I pour lube into my hand and slide a slick finger along his cleft, circling his hole before teasing inside.
“Oh, hell yeah,” he mutters, pushing like he’s trying to take the digit as deep as he can. I watch it slide inside him, mesmerized by the sight of him taking me. And he’s taking me. He’s not receiving; he’s claiming his pleasure right from my hands, and I’m giving him something more than a finger in his ass. I’m giving him my fucking self, and he’s taking me.
I move up over his body with my mouth, kissing along his chest until I reach a light brown nipple. I suck it between my lips, flick my tongue across it, and when he arches higher, I press the tip of a second finger against his opening. He moans, rocking against me in invitation. I trace a constellation of freckles across to the other nipple, and I suck and flick and nudge and nip until he arches again, and this time, I push the second finger inside.
He growls low in his throat as he tightens around me, and then relaxes. “Ben …”
My name on his lips is the sweetest sound. It’s sweet like candy, gets me jacked up like an energy drink, makes me fly like I only ever did behind a boat. I slide my fingers through smooth heat, looking for—yeah, that.
When I press against his prostate, he shouts and grinds down. He rides my hand, and I gotta watch close here—yeah, there. I figure out which direction he likes best and I give it to him. I give and give, so he can go right on taking me, fingers and self and everything.
“Fuck, Ben, enough playing around down there, fuck me now, please, fuck …”
And, oh, what it does to me to hear him beg like that. I’m a caveman, reduced to my most primitive, alpha-male, chest-beating self because I brought this gorgeous, toppy, adorable man to beg. And I love it.
I roll the condom onto my dick before adding more lube around his hole. I line myself up, and press inside him.
“Oh … oh fuck.” He winces and groans as I breach him, so I drop to my elbows and kiss him until he starts to relax, each muscle group in his body softening until finally he unclenches and welcomes me inside.
He’s hot and tight, and ohmygawd he feels like heaven. I gasp and arch back, sucking air into my lungs in great heaving breaths. When my balls slap against his ass, his eyes open, his hand comes up to my neck, and he pulls me down into another kiss.
Parts of my body are screaming to go, push, drive, rut, fuck … but his lips are so soft, and his hands are magic, and he just feels so damn good. His legs wrap around my waist and then he’s digging his heels in like he’s the one doing the riding. He sets our rhythm, slow and deep.
I can’t say how long we move together, kissing and teasing, but soon he’s urging me faster and reaching for his cock. I seize his hips with bot
h hands and begin to fuck him with quick, shallow strokes until his eyes roll back and he lets out the softest little moan. A hand slaps up against my chest, and I meet his gaze.
“Just like that,” he pants, “but harder.”
That’s all I need to hear. I drive into him again and again while he starts to fall to pieces around me. The sounds he makes become harsher, wilder. His breath is coming in ragged gasps and his freckled chest is covered with a gorgeous flush reaching halfway to his navel. When he digs his heels into me and shouts, his cum splashing between us, I lose it, chasing my own orgasm until it barrels into me, crashing my senses.
I swear I’m about to black out, but Dave is there, holding me, kissing me, his ass gripping me tight. I lean down to meet his kiss, sweat dripping off my forehead as we slide against each other. Our kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated around huge smiles.
“That was awesome,” he says when we break the kiss.
I nod my agreement, pull out of him, and slip into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. I grab a towel to clean us up. When I lie back next to him, he rubs my abdomen with one hand, slinging the other around my shoulders.
“That feels nice,” I murmur.
“Mmm, I’ll keep doing it then.”
We cuddle on his bed, just holding each other. It feels like a luxury after several days apart.
“Do you want to go swimming?” he asks eventually, running a hand through my hair.
“Right now?” I look at his alarm clock. “It’s almost eight. It’ll get dark soon.”
“The pool is lit.”
“I’ll have to borrow your suit again,” I hedge.
“No you won’t.” He grins. “What’s the point of having your own pool if you don’t go skinny-dipping?”
“Honestly, I’ve never seen the point of having a swimming pool when you’re living on the lake anyway.”
“So I can go skinny-dipping with my lover without risking a citation for public nudity.” He stands up and smiles wickedly. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Last one in the pool has to cook breakfast tomorrow.”
And with that, he throws a pillow in my face before running for the stairs.
Bastard. Hope he likes McDonald’s.
Double Up Page 6
