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“Not a single one.”
Evan’s hand roamed across my belly, dipping into my underwear and grazing the head of my dick. A breath of wind ghosted across my bare skin. Tilting my gaze up to the clear sky, I let him explore, arching my hips lazily into the play of his fingers. My limbs had taken on a loose, liquid quality; I was no longer sure where the woollen blanket ended, and my body began. In time, Evan fed me another strawberry, smearing it across my lips first, like red lipstick, then sucking off the juice. With a third strawberry, his aim was a little lower; he dragged it along the length of my shaft, catching a pearl of wetness forming at my tip, before dropping the moist fruit into his mouth.
Unexpected and sexy as fuck.
I reached down to the back pocket of my jeans to retrieve a sachet of lube, and Evan’s eyebrows rose with interest. I’d had my share of heterosexual sex over the years, enough to know it rarely involved lube. I detected a trace of wariness too; no doubt he wondered in which direction I was headed. Not very far in any, to be truthful. We’d get there in the end.
“An optimist, Rob?” Yes, definitely anxious. He had a lot to learn.
I laughed. I’d been a closeted gay bloke for years. When the opportunity arose, being ready always paid, and we could do a hell of a lot with lube before we got anywhere near the heavier stuff. “An excellent boy scout,” I answered him good-humouredly.
By now, my jeans and underwear pooled at my knees. Evan’s were at half-mast too, his dick hard as steel and pointing upwards along the outer border of my thigh. Spreading as wide as my clothing would allow, I ripped the top off the sachet and nudged him. “Bring that iron rod of yours over here.”
He didn’t need asking twice; he rolled on top of me, his hot shaft finding my sticky, strawberry-coated one rising up to greet it. Smearing lube into my palm, I took us both in hand. Shuddering against me, he brought his own hand down to cover mine. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” I whispered, squeezing us both together.
“Too good.”
To start with, we were jerky, our hips not in tune. Uncertain. Too impatient. Our movements were clumsy and hands bulky, impeding a rhythm. Evan was trying too hard, and I was unused to another man on top and calling the shots. With a groan of frustration, he batted my hand away and took over completely, crashing his lips onto mine. Lying back, I let him, because suddenly, we were there, thrusting into the tunnel of his fist like we’d been doing it that way forever.
As I brought a hand down with the intention of putting the rest of the lube to good use and fingering his hole, he grabbed my wrist, letting go of our dicks and firmly pulling it back up again. I wasn’t used to someone else arranging my limbs for me. “Bossy, huh?” I breathed.
He held both my arms above my head, pinning them in his hand, and rolled his hips above me, flattening his other palm on the blanket, supporting his weight. “Very. I think I’m going to like having you underneath me.”
Usually by now, I’d have flipped him over. I could have easily released my hands from his grip too, but so entranced by the fucking delight of Evan’s face as he got off, I let him play a while longer. When his hard dick slipped into the space between my balls and the top of my leg, I squeezed my thighs together, holding it there in a tight wet vice. He made a hungry noise, then fucked harder into the crease.
“Can I…do men…is it okay me doing this?” he gasped, his brow glistening. “I’m gonna…I’m…” He was close, his breathing choppy, lips glossy with spit and sweat. I curled my toes, tensing every muscle in my buttocks and thighs, helping him along.
“Do what you like,” I panted. It wasn’t how I normally got there, but, fuck me, it felt good. With every thrust of his dick, his hairy belly scratched a delicious slide up the underside of my own. I arched into him, chasing the friction. “I don’t make the rules, Ev.” My voice was hoarse, every push and pull brought my balls tighter and closer to their own release. I wrapped my hand around my cock, stroking hard. “You do whatever the fuck works for you. It’s working for me too.”
Afterwards, we fell into a higgledy soggy pile, winding down in each other’s arms. I may have even taken advantage of a mini snooze, woken by Evan’s very unmanly squeal and him wriggling around on top of me, hooting with laughter. “Either you are an even more talented lover than I’d appreciated,” he snorted into my neck, “or your fucking dog is licking my arse.”
My fucking dog was indeed licking his arse, his wet grey muzzle deep in Evan’s hairy crack, and none too happy when Evan gently shooed him off. While I’d fannied about indulging my new man in some gentle frotting, Zeus had gone straight for the rimjob. I was secretly impressed. “Just so you know, I taught him everything he knows.”
Our cue to dress anyhow. My lover arranged the picnic to his exacting specifications while I lay back on my elbows, sleepily watching and admiring, and privately amused by the sheer healthiness of the spread. As much as I wanted to dive in, then return to the peace of post-coital bliss, Evan clearly needed to get a few observations off his chest first.
“As you know, I’m…um…well…I feel I’ve got a lot of ground to make up on the sex front.”
I stayed quiet. Frankly, I thought he was doing absolutely fine.
“Some aspects of it,” he side-eyed me, a trace of pink on his cheeks, “are new to me. But I know what I want.”
That made two of us. Him, underneath me, in my bed, every fucking night and every fucking morning too. “We can take our time getting there,” I answered magnanimously. “I’ll follow your lead.”
“You will?” He sounded astonished, and I offered a careless shrug.
“Sure, whatever, whenever. I’m a patient man. You seemed pretty certain about what you wanted ten minutes ago, though.”
“Yeah,” Evan conceded. “Mostly. I’m quite…um…single-minded, and I like things done a certain way. In every aspect of my life. My wife accused me of being a control freak. She wasn’t too wide of the mark.”
“You mean that as long as everything is exactly the way you want, then you are totally flexible?” My eyes flicked over to the perfectly laid-out picnic, and he grinned.
“Yeah, something like that. My work can be quite consuming, and I need to warn you I have no intention of changing that. I think Paula thought I might, with time.” He flicked the ring pull on a can of beer and passed it to me before helping himself. “I’m probably not ideal couple material.”
“What, and I am?” I took a long cooling draught. Any bloke who handed me a beer after cracking sex was excellent couple material in my book. Sometimes, talking to Evan was like talking to myself. Wrapped up in work? Tick. Single-minded? Tick. Set in my ways? Tick. I clanked my can against his. “Cheers. As I said, whatever, whenever. I reckon we’re a match made in heaven.”
As we supped our beer, I reflected on a few things I was learning about myself. The obvious one: four hundred lush green acres of private land was quite an asset when seducing a bloke. Also, it was a good time of year to plant a few strawberry runners; a patch of dirt behind the cottage would benefit from brightening up, and the crop would be put to good use. A further revelation sent my blood pressure rocketing but was long overdue.
It was time I came out. No ifs, no buts, just a matter of timing.
