11. Denny

11

DENNY

I 'd wanted this for weeks. No…for years. Many years.

This was day one of my big gay summer, and I couldn't wait to get the party started.

I drove through town, wincing as I passed under the Welcome Home sign. It was so fucking big. I didn't mind having my number painted on store windows. Less in-your-face, you know? That was me, though…subjectively contrary.

I cut down Myrtle and took the hillside road, following Carlton Creek to a dirt lane leading to the old Hamilton house. I'd never been inside, but I was familiar with it. Vinnie and Nolan hosted a lot of hockey-themed celebrations at their house next door. You couldn't help noticing the red barn from the other side of the creek.

I pulled into the driveway and took the porch steps two at a time. I raised my hand to knock just as the door swung open and a boxer-brief-wearing, messy haired man pulled me over the threshold.

Hank didn't bother with a greeting. He wrestled my T-shirt over my head as he kicked the door shut and slammed his mouth over mine.

God, it had been way too long. I really fucking missed this. Missed him.

"Take these off," he mumbled, tugging at my belt. "Now."

I obeyed, hands trembling as I chased his mouth, exposing my neck when he licked my throat and bit my shoulder. He helped undo my buckle and zipper while I kicked off my shoes in between soul-stealing, passionate kisses. I didn't know what it was about us, but we had a habit of going from zero to a hundred in seconds flat. I was strung out and needy and damn, I was so hard it hurt. I'd never wanted anyone the way I wanted Hank.

"Mine. Give it to me," I growled, fisting his hard-on through his boxer briefs.

Hank grunted, switching our positions against his foyer wall with embarrassing ease. I was still getting used to being with someone who matched me in size and strength. But I didn't hate it. In fact, I was in the mood to be manhandled right now.

"You want my dick? You want me to stretch your sweet hole and fuck you?"

The deep timbre of his voice moved through me, holding me in place, demanding my attention. "I—yeah."

"Yeah…what? Say it. Let me hear it," Hank rasped, capturing my wrists and pinning them above my head as he alternately bit and kissed a path along my neck while pumping his hips suggestively.

The cocktease shit was killing me. No doubt I was sporting a nice wet spot on my boxer briefs. My prick was a steel rod begging for mercy. I needed friction, and I needed it now.

"Yes, do it. Fuck me. I want your cock."

He licked my ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth. "Upstairs."

I barely registered my surroundings. I think the room was gray and white, but don't quote me. All that mattered was getting to the bed. We kicked the duvet aside and rolled all over the mattress, consumed with reacquainting ourselves with the feel of being naked and entwined. It felt too good to stop. I could have done this all day. But when Hank ghosted a finger along my crack, I rolled on top of him, caging his body and straddling his torso.

I stroked my cock with my right hand and his with my left, dragging my thumb over our slits where precum gathered and rubbing it along our shafts.

"What do I do now? How do I get this inside me?" I whispered.

"Oh, fuck, Den." Hank let out a ragged breath and damn, that made feel kind of powerful. I loved knowing he was as strung out as I was. That he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

"Should I suck you first?" I squeezed his cock and slid between his thighs, my lips hovering at his tip.

I didn't wait for a response. I just opened up wide and took as much of him as I could handle, gripping his base in a tight fist. My blowjob game was improving. A few weeks ago, I'd gagged and choked in my efforts to impress him. Now, I took my time. Let me just say, patience really did pay off.

Hank flattened his feet on the mattress, grabbing my hair and thrusting into my mouth. I relaxed my throat and let him take what he wanted. Five or six strokes in, he pushed me off his dick, his eyes hazy with desire as he scrambled for the lube on the nightstand.

"C'mere. Lie down. Show me your pretty hole, sweetheart."

Christ, I was blushing. I had to be. I wasn't supposed to like being called sweetheart. It was corny. And no one had ever told me I had a pretty hole. That was…weird, wasn't it? It didn't matter what I thought—my cock was on board. I obeyed, spreading my legs wide while Hank slipped a lubed digit inside me.

We'd done this often. I fucking loved having a finger or two inside me. Ass play was hot. It didn't have to lead to anal, but I wanted it. I was so ready, it wasn't even funny. I'd read countless how-to-please-your-lover-and-yourself articles online and I'd watched a little gay porn over the past couple of months. Hell, I'd even played with a newly purchased dildo. We'd both been tested, so there'd be no condom barrier. Just us.

This was a well-planned foray into uncharted territory and not gonna lie, I was nervous.

Hank removed his third finger, added more lube, and guided his cock to my entrance. "Look at me, Den."

My eyes fluttered open. I hadn't realized I'd closed them or that I'd chewed my lower lip raw. "Yeah?"

"We'll go slow. If you need anything, just say the word."

"I need you to fuck me," I replied, raising my hips meaningfully.

He gave me a sweet, lopsided smile and brushed my hair from my forehead as he slowly eased his way inside. Slow, slow, slow. His cock was bigger than three fingers, but I was stupidly surprised by the burn. My lungs felt too tight, and my heart was pretty much lodged in my throat.

"Breathe, Denny. Breathe." Hank kissed me, sweeping his tongue over the seam of my mouth as he pulled almost all the way out, his cockhead buried in my ass, before plunging inside again.

"It's not—I don't—oh, fuck, oh, fuck. That's good."

I let out a whoosh of air, pleasure chasing pain away in an instant. Like magic. I was shaking. It was too much and not enough at the same time. I needed more.

Hank knew exactly what to do. He covered me, resting his forehead on mine…and began to move.

It was incredible, mind-blowing, life-altering. Yeah, cheesy, I know, but I'd been transported to another realm, so give me a break. I hooked my legs around his ass, drawing him closer still, chanting, "Yes, more, fuck me."

Hank delivered. He upped the tempo, rocking his hips to a rhythm I instinctively knew how to follow. I met his thrusts, digging my heels into the meaty flesh of his ass cheeks, gliding my tongue with his as Hank nailed my prostate over and over. I was overwhelmed, happily drugged on the weight and feel of him. But I couldn't fight off the tingle at the base of my spine. No chance.

I slid my hand between us and stroked my cock as he moved faster, harder, deeper.

"Come for me, Den. Come, sweetheart. I got you."

"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck!" I roared, pleasure bolting through my veins. I came so hard, cum shot over my belly and chest as I rode out wave after wave of bliss.

Hank didn't stop. He pistoned his hips till he lost the tempo and fell apart. I could feel him come inside me, and that was definitely a new one.

I blinked up at him and draped my arms over his neck. "Wow."

He dipped his chin to kiss me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, but I don't think I can move. You'll have to stay here…just like this. And then I want to do it again."

"No problem."

"And I want to fuck you too, so…I hope you didn't plan on getting any sleep tonight."

"Sleep is overrated," he conceded.

"That's the spirit. Oh, hey…and next time, wear your cowboy hat."

Hank barked a laugh and blew a raspberry on my neck. "You got it."

We didn't sleep much that night or the next. I was already a BJ and hand job sexaholic, but I'd officially entered a new phase of sexual discovery, and this was better than I'd imagined. There were so many positions, so many ways to touch and make each other feel good. I had a lot to learn, and only a real slacker took a break from their studies. And I was no slacker.

I couldn't get enough of Hank. I was obsessed with his dick. I wanted to ride him, bend over for him, let him fuck me against a wall, a tree, or the side of his truck. And yes, I wanted to return the favor.

Hank had zero hang-ups about sex. He didn't subscribe to heteronormative notions of masculinity. Being "on top" was just a position and a preference that might change depending on your partner or the moment. He was versatile and willing to try almost anything.

The first time I fucked him, he was on his knees with his cowboy hat on, white-knuckling the headboard. I'd taken a moment to drink in the sight of this muscular hunk offering himself like a gift. My hand had been shaking as I'd guided my cock to his puckered entrance.

"I don't want to hurt you," I'd rasped.

"Denny, stop thinking and start fucking. You're killing me, sweetheart."

I'd chuckled at his playful, put-upon tone. He didn't give me a chance to overthink…anything. He was so open and honest and real.

And as I'd eased my thick cock inside his tight channel, a whole new constellation of stars had flooded my vision. It had felt like a religious experience. New and sacred. Every push and pull had sent pleasure coursing through my veins. My hands on his hips, my mouth on his shoulder. I'd fucked my cowboy like a champ, thrusting deeper and deeper, chasing his release and mine. The sweat, cum, and sheer adrenaline was unlike anything I'd ever felt.

I was hooked. I wanted to do this every day, multiple times a day, please.

I fucked him on a kitchen barstool, his ass perched on the edge, knees pulled to his chest while I drilled his hole. I fucked him in the shower and on the rug in front of the fireplace. It wasn't a matter of taking turns. We just did what felt right. And we talked about it.

Okay, that was me, asking a million questions.

"Do you have a favorite position? Do you like it fast or slow? Do you like dirty talk…if so, how dirty? Do you have fantasies? What about kinks?"

Hank had answered them all in stride. "If I'm in the driver's seat, I like missionary. If I'm on the receiving end, I prefer being on my knees. Fast or slow…yes to both. Talk dirty to me, baby, and yes, I have lots of fantasies. Especially about hockey players."

"And kinks?" I'd pressed.

"Well…"

"Don't be shy, now."

He'd hesitated a beat and shrugged. "Being blindfolded can be a turn-on."

"Ooh. Okay, we'll do that next time."

"What about you?"

"Everything you do turns me on," I'd gushed. "Every position, everything you say. You're my cowboy fantasy. And I don't know if this is a kink or not, but…I love the feel of your cum dripping from my hole, and I love seeing mine drip from yours and?—"

He'd shut me up with a passionate kiss, pushing my boxer briefs off and licking his way down my body. I surrendered control, utterly and completely. It probably should have freaked me out, but there was no way to lose here.