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“This is my parents’ house, Matt. They’re elderly heterosexual pensioners!”
Fuck. So near and yet so far. I heard myself clutching at straws as my voice took on a whole new pitch. “My dad has probably got some WD40 in the shed. Will that do?”
Matt let out a bark of laughter. Jesus. What planet was I on? Where had staid, sensible Dr Valentine buggered off to? He needed to come back and tell the numpty currently occupying his oversized body to sod off and regain some damned control. A pair of wiry strong arms slid around my waist, Matt tilted his face up to mine, nuzzling into my neck. “Alex. Calm down. Breathe. We’ve got all night. WD40 has thousands of uses, but I’m not convinced personal lubricant is listed as one of them. And we can pass on the condoms if you’re happy. My last test was negative.”
I nodded idiotically. I’d never discussed negative tests with anyone in my life, I’d never taken one either. “I’ve only ever slept with one woman ever,” I babbled. “And with no one at all for the last two years. No one after my divorce. So, I’m, like, totally sterile. Bloody hell, no, not sterile, that’s not what I’m trying to say. I’ve fathered a child, of course I’m not sterile. In fact, I know for certain, my sperm count is far above average. Not that it matters to you whether I’m firing blanks or not.” Christ, I’d lost the ability to speak sense. “What I mean is I’m…”
“Babe, I know what you mean. What about the kitchen cupboards?”
“What about them? Oh. Good thinking. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
Cupping the back of my neck, he reached up for a kiss. Not like my mad, crazed kisses, but tender and sweet, his tongue running tantalisingly along my upper lip before mingling leisurely with mine. Grounding me, kissing me as if we kissed like this every day of our lives. I let out a low, needy sound.
“I’ve done it plenty of times, Alex. But never like this. Not with you.” He pulled back, releasing me. “Believe me, it’s never been special like it’s going to be with you. Those quick hand jobs on the top floor of the multistorey carpark are some of my most erotic memories.”
Mine too. He circled my wrist and gave it a tug. “Come on, Dr Valentine, lead me to thepantry.”
My anxious verbal diarrhoea accompanied us into the kitchen. My mum had one of those pull-out larder things, and as I opened the door and trawled through the steel racks, I started reciting the contents in a failed effort to appear relaxed and normal.
“Ketchup.” I shook my head. “No. I’ll look like I’m murdering you. And it’s probably quite sticky. Unless it’s the no added sugar version, I suppose. My dad doesn’t like that one. Dijon mustard. No. Soy sauce, Worcester sauce, fish sauce—my mum makes a nice Thai coconut curry with that. But no. Sesame oil, garlic oil, chili oil…”
“Definitely not that one,” Matt murmured at my shoulder. He must have been wondering what the hell he’d let himself in for. “Stand back, let me have a look.”
Reaching around me and into the cupboard, he lifted out the huge bottle of organic extra-virgin olive oil literally staring me in the face. If it had been a dog, it would have bit me, as my dad used to say.
“Perfect. Now get that big, gorgeous body of yours upstairs.”
Discussing my parents’ range of condiments proved an excellent distraction from premature copulation on the cream hall carpet, and indeed, premature ejaculation into my M&S boxers. By the time we reached my old childhood bedroom, my sanity had returned. As had an awareness of my utter naivety.
“I’m clueless, Matt, you know that don’t you?”
“When you looked like you were seriously considering rubbing chili oil over your knob, the penny kind of dropped, yes.” He winked at me. “It’s very cute.”
Making love in my childhood bed should have felt weird, and maybe it was weird, just a little. It felt right for me and Matt though; after all, we’d fallen in love the first time around in this room. Now, as then, Matt had all the experience, and me the lucky hanger-on. I wriggled out of my trousers and underwear with about as much finesse as a toddler, while Matt did the same with a hell of a lot more style. Then, with his palm flat on my chest, he walked me towards the bed, and I reclined back onto the pillows. A flash of mischief filled his eyes as he crawled up between my legs, and he licked a wet path from the base of my dick to the tip, swirling his tongue around the slit.
“You’re straining at the leash.” He dived down again to swipe off the pre-come that had reaccumulated at the end.
“I’ve waited a hell of a long time for this,” I gasped, arching my hips off the bed. Matt’s cool fingertips trailed up my inner thigh before he settled a hand around my shaft. With his other hand he gave himself a squeeze. So bloody sexy.
“I’m fairly impatient myself. I’d be lying if I said having you buried inside me hasn’t occupied my thoughts for the last couple of decades or more.”
A quick wolfish grin and then, without warning, my dick disappeared down his throat.Buried inside him; oh god. My balls tightened as he voiced my biggest fantasies. Added to the insane velvet warmth coating my knob, and yes, those unmanly whimpering noises were all mine.Buried inside him. Christ, if this was how dirty talk worked, I needed to hear more. Tricky though, with my dick in his mouth. Not the worst dilemma to find myself in, obviously.
My hips thrust on their own, my eyes glued to Matt’s lips stretched tight around my glistening shaft. Whenever Samantha and I had shagged, it had been a muted mechanical release. Not this; not dick-sucking, not dirty talk, not this worshipping of my balls, or biting my nipples, or licking my…
“Fuck, Alex, you’re hot when you let go.”
“I’m not sure I ever have before. Oh God.”
“You taste so good. I can’t get enough of you.”
Matt sat up, and just in the nick of time if he wanted me to make it beyond the next few seconds. He straddled me, his beautiful pale dick with its fat, swollen head bobbing between us, and reached for the olive oil. Watching his face as he prepped himself and then prepped me, was the sexiest thing I’d ever witnessed.
“I’m doing that next time,” I growled, back in caveman mode.
“I’ll look forward to it. We’re going to have hundreds of next times, my love.”
And if just one of those reached anywhere near the exquisite pleasure-pain heights of my dick being choked in a slick, satin vice, as Matt eased himself down on to me, then I’d die a very happy man. A juddering moan escaped his parted lips. His eyelids fluttered closed, his beautiful face, the face of a fallen angel, heated with a dark flush as he accommodated me, then stilled, full to the brim. Full of me. Full of our love. Our intertwined fingers moved from his thighs to either side of my head as his lips found mine. Finally,finally, we had connected in the most intimate, most private of ways.
