Chapter 11

Eleven

HUNTER

It’s evening when we arrive at Cracker Barrel for dinner. Oliver plays the peg board game at the table half a dozen times at least and pouts each and every time he has more than two pegs left at the end, but doesn’t stop playing.

When we finish and make our way to the campground, it’s almost dusk. The campsite is beautiful, and spacious, and along with a lake and hiking trails like the last campsite, it also has a pool and its own ice cream shop.

After getting everything hooked up we go for a dip in the lake, then head inside to shower.

He’s sipping tea as he reads, standing near the stove, and I can’t help smiling when I see him. He looks content, and I wish it could always be this way between us, because even though I know better, I am falling hard for this beautiful man. I just wish he could see himself the way I see him. I can’t imagine growing up in a home that ingrained into you your entire life that who you are is wrong, the self loathing that would fester, the internal anguish and shame he must have been living with as a result. That’s the trouble with people who are against homosexuality, they see it as a choice, as if picking a partner were the same as picking a school or a car or a home. But it’s not a choice. No one would choose to be persecuted for being their authentic self. No one would choose to be the victim of hate crimes, to be shunned, excommunicated, or kicked out of their homes. No one would choose to have their basic human rights taken from them, because of who they love. And that Oliver has been hiding himself for so long makes me want to wring his parents' necks for ever making him believe he is anything less than worthy. The lengths he must have had to go to, both mentally and physically, to protect himself, make my chest ache. He deserves to be his true self, to chase his own happiness, without worrying about what anyone else thinks. I wish I could give him so much more than what I have on this trip.

I move up behind him and slip my arms around his waist, pressing my lips to his neck. He hums and leans against me, setting his kindle and his tea down on the counter. The thought of letting him go in a few more weeks breaks my heart. He’s made me feel things I’ve never felt before, for anyone. I have such a strong desire to protect him, care for him, and nurture him, to watch him grow into the best possible version of himself, because I’ve seen glimpses of it on this trip, and it’s beautiful.

“Hey,” I whisper, pressing kisses to the freckles on his ear and feeling him shiver against me. My cock is already hard and pressed up against his ass. “You up for trying something a little bit different tonight?”

He nods. “Always. What did you have in mind?”

“I’d like you to top me,” I tell him. His breath hitches and he turns to face me.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks with an air of astonishment.

I nod. “Yes, Oli, I want you to fuck me.” I kiss him, then reach between us and grip his semi hard cock, stroking it through his sweats. I’m hard as steel now, my cock pressed against his thigh. “I want this big beautiful cock inside me. I don’t want to go another second without knowing what being filled by you is like.”

He swallows and nods, a moan escaping him as I stroke him until he’s fully erect. “I’m gonna ride you, baby,” I tell him. “You okay with that?”

He nods again and I take his hand, leading him towards the bed. We strip and he lies on his back. I reach into my luggage and pull out a pair of leather handcuffs, showing them to him. I lick my lips when his cock twitches at the sight.

“Is this okay?” I ask, moving up his body and straddling him, his huge cock leaking onto his stomach already with how turned on he is.

“Yes,” he says, breathless.

I slip his wrists inside and fasten them. “Use your safe word if you need to, if you decide you don’t like them or if anything else makes you uncomfortable.”

He nods again.

“I want to ride you while you lie there and watch me. Hands stay above your head, okay? No touching yourself or me. Understand?”

Another nod and twitch of his cock. “Good boy,” I tell him, and his breath hitches, his hips arching upwards as precum oozes from his tip.

I grab the lube and reach back. I start to stretch myself as he gazes at me, his cock twitching again and again, his hips bucking and his breathing growing heavier. “Fuck, I…I want to see you,” he grunts out. “Please?”

I press a kiss to his lips, then rotate myself so my ass is facing him, before I slip two fingers inside now, and he groans. “Oh, fuck, that’s hot,” he says. “Christ, Hunter, you’re beautiful.”

I slide a third finger inside and moan at the feeling of fullness. I haven’t bottomed in a long time, but I want it with Oliver, more than anything.

“Shit, please,” he whimpers. “I need you.”

I slide my fingers out and turn to him, pressing another kiss to his full lips and stroking my fingers through his hair. His face is flushed, and I press kisses to the freckles on his nose, making him squirm. “Fuck yourself on me,” he begs, and it’s so earnest and sexy, his voice a low rumble, that my cock jerks and my hole spasms. I grab the condom and slide it on his shaft.

Then I’m lining myself up with his cock, and he gasps as his tip presses against my hole, then slowly pushes inside as I lower myself, feeling an intense burn as he slips past my ring, stretching me, filling me. I breathe out, then in, then out again before lowering myself a little bit more. “God, you’re huge,” I gasp, feeling like he’s splitting me in two. I’ve never been this full before. It’s incredible. I slide up again, and back down, letting him sink in a little further.

“Christ, that’s hot,” he murmurs, then groans, his head tilting back and his eyes closing as he bottoms out. “Shit, that’s good.”

“Oh, God,” I moan, my own head tilted back now, as I rest my hands on his stomach, the pain giving way to unspeakable pleasure. “Fuck, Oli, you feel amazing. So full. So damn full. Your cock is so fucking incredible.”

His cock jerks inside me and I moan. “So perfect, baby, “ I croon. “You’re gonna make me come so hard.”

He whimpers, and I lean over to kiss him, before pushing myself up and lowering back down on his shaft, my nerve endings lighting up as his cock spears me again and again. “Oh, God, Oli,” I whine, my fingers gripping his hair. “So good, so fucking good, baby.”

I adjust my angle ever so slightly and then rise up and back down and his cock hits my prostate perfectly each time, my body shaking with pleasure. “Yes,” I cry as I ride him, my eyes closed. “God, yes, Oli.”

He whimpers as I fuck myself on him, each press of his cock against my prostate bringing me ecstasy like I’ve never known. “I’m gonna come, beautiful,” I tell him as I rise and fall, my cock hard and aching, bouncing against my belly. “Fuck, Oli, I’m gonna come so hard. You feel so good. Love your big beautiful cock, baby.”

I throw my head back and howl as my orgasm crashes into me and I spurt my release all over Oliver’s stomach and chest. “Bloody hell,” he gasps, his body shaking.

“Come for me,” I rasp. “Fuck, Oli, let me feel you fill me up.” He thrusts his hips twice and then I feel his cock pulsing inside me, the warmth of his release filing the condom as he throws his head back, his neck muscles straining and his eyes closed, sweat beading his brow.

I reach up and remove the handcuffs from his wrists before collapsing on top of him. His fingers are running through my hair seconds later, before he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“Fuck, that was sexy as hell,” he murmurs, and I nod in agreement, relaxing completely as I rest on his warm body, breathing him in, the hairs on his chest and abdomen tinged with sweat, soft and warm against my bare skin.

It’s so comfortable I don’t want to get up, but I make myself after a few minutes and clean us both off, before climbing back into bed. Oliver takes me in his arms and we fall asleep naked and sated.

OLIVER

The following day we visit the National Aquarium, and the day after that we peruse the Baltimore Museum of Art. We take a tour of the Edgar Allan Poe House and Museum another day. After visiting the George Peabody Library, we have dinner at a local seafood restaurant, and then take a stroll along National Harbor, breathing in the salty sea air and listening to the birds squawk and the waves crashing on the shore. We catch an outdoor showing of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on the Potomac and take an evening ride on the Capital Wheel.

That evening after dinner, we lay on the blanket outside our trailer together and stare up at the stars. There’s so many of them, and I find them utterly enchanting. I haven’t star gazed, really since I was a child and Olivia and I would sneak out onto the roof outside of her bedroom window when our parents thought we were asleep, and sit there, just staring up at the endless night sky, and making wishes. Some out loud and others to ourselves.

“You ever wished upon a star?” I ask Hunter, and he turns to me.

“Have you?” he says, and I nod.

“What did you wish for?”

“Oh, many things. Things every child wishes for probably. A teddy bear, a dog, a new bike.”

“Did any come true?”

I give a soft smile. “The teddy bear, and the new bike did happen eventually.”

“No dog, though?”

“No. My parents were never fond of animals. Said they were too much work, too dirty, too expensive.” I sigh, “which they are, I’m sure, but I was convinced the negatives were far fewer than the positives. I loved the idea of having someone be excited to see me when I came home from school. Someone to run and play with, other than my sister, someone to pet and cuddle when I was sick or sad. I think I just really wanted to feel loved and less alone.”

He reaches over and slides his fingers through mine, squeezing my hand. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. He’s listening to things I’ve never told anyone before. And it feels good, therapeutic even to talk to him, to share.

“What would you name a dog if you had one?” he asks.

“Clifford,” I say, and he laughs.

“Like the big red dog?”

“Of course, he’s fantastic, and I loved those books as a child. Our nanny would read them to us and they became favorites of mine.”

“They are fun,” he agrees.

“You never answered the question,” I point out.

He hums, pondering. “I don’t think I ever wished on a star. I was too practical for that.”

“You mean dull?” I quip, and he laughs.

“Do you like dogs, or animals in general?”

“Yeah, I do. We never had one either, though. Mom was always too busy.”

“Will you get one when you’re finished with school?”

“Maybe.”

We lie in comfortable silence again before he says, “You have a favorite color?”

I smile. “Green.”

“Like lime green, or forest green, or like bad diarrhea green?”

“Diarrhea green?” I say, picking my head up off the blanket. “Is that how people describe it?”

He laughs and shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe olive green is a better description.”

I laugh, too. “Maybe? God, I don’t think you’ve set the bar very high with diarrhea. You would be hard pressed to find something worse.” He laughs again and it’s so warm and vibrant that it makes my entire body tingle.

“I would say dark green and emerald green, probably. You?”

“Orange.”

“Like orange, orange, or pumpkin orange, or red orange?” He smirks at me and I chuckle.

“Like, sunrise orange,” he says, thoughtfully. “Like new beginnings and possibilities.”

I hum, stroking my thumb over his hand still clinging to mine. “Tell me more,” I say, and he looks at me again.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. All of it. What’s your favorite candy? Do you like mustard or ketchup on your hot dogs? Baked or mashed potatoes? Fruit salad or regular salad? What’s your favorite season? Do you prefer snow or rain? What makes you happy, what infuriates you, what thrills you and what drives you bonkers. I want to know it all.”

He stares at me, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far, but then he smiles and says, “Nerds.”

I blink. “Pardon?”

“My favorite candy. It’s nerds. I hate mustard on anything, love ketchup. But mixing mayo and ketchup together and dunking fries in them is the best. Mashed potatoes all the way, and I like both types of salad.”

I grin, for whatever reason utterly delighted at the knowledge that I get to know these simple things about him, things that perhaps are insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but to me are so utterly priceless, because it’s him. It’s what makes Hunter who he is, and who he is, is someone I am very much realizing that I never want to stop getting to know. I find myself terrified of that prospect but so incapable of drawing away, like I should be. The emotional attachment I feel to him is like nothing I’ve ever known, the desire to hold fast to him and not let go. I know I should stop this, right here right now, just stick to the sex and stop sharing these intimate moments, because the more we talk about life and dreams and favorites, the more I don’t want this trip to end. The more I want him. But I’ve not been able to do the things I should do since the moment I met him. So with every answer he gives me, I find myself cherishing it, soaking it up, savoring it, and waiting on bated breath for more, always more of him. “Favorite season?”

“Summer. Maybe just because I get a break from school, though,” he says with a chuckle. “And I know it’s hot, but I’ve never minded the heat, and I love swimming. I don’t know, everything just feels slower, somehow, and I like that. The peacefulness of it all. And I love rain, which there’s a lot of in the summer, so. You?”

“Oh, I much prefer snow to rain. Though I don’t enjoy driving in either. But snow is friendlier in my opinion.”

“Friendlier?” he says with a laugh.

“Well, it doesn’t drench you or pelt you in the face, does it?” I reply. “It’s much gentler, softer. You won’t get very wet when it snows unless you want to go playing in it. Rain is just ruthless. It’s all about consent.” He laughs at that and I grin. “As far as seasons go, I don’t know, I think I’ve honestly just been so focused on work I don’t notice the difference much, especially now, working from home. I do enjoy the flowers in spring, though.”

“And what makes you happy?” he asks, referencing my earlier question to him, then drawing my hand to his lips and pressing soft kisses to each finger, making my breath hitch.

“Being here, with you,” I tell him. “I’ve never been happier.”

We spend the next couple of days enjoying the fresh air and sunshine around our campground; swimming, hiking, kayaking, and just relaxing. We have sex every evening, and while I have decided I prefer bottoming, I don’t mind letting Hunter ride me either. He’s a vision to behold when he’s bouncing on my cock, chasing his pleasure, that toned, slender body on display.

On our last night in Baltimore, I sink to my knees in front of Hunter as he sits on the sofa, reading, and slide his Kindle out of his hands like he’s done to me several times on this trip.

When he looks up, his eyes widen slightly at the sight of me. “Hello,” he says, and I flush.

“I uh…I was hoping you might let me blow you.”

He grins and leans forward, gripping my chin and pressing a kiss to my lips. “You may,” he says.

“Just to clarify, I’ve never actually given anyone a blow job before, so this will probably be terrible. I feel like you should be privy to that knowledge before we begin.”

His eyes twinkle with amusement and he lifts his hips, shucking off his sweats and leaving only his bikini briefs, showcasing his half hard cock. My mouth waters and my own cock thickens in my shorts as I stare at him.

“I’m ready when you are,” he says. “Don’t worry about it being perfect, Oli. Just avoid using your teeth and try to relax.”

I nod as I scoot forward between his splayed thighs and reach up to grip the waistband of his briefs. I pull them down just enough to let his cock and balls free, licking my lips at the sight of his hard cock leaking precum. I tuck the briefs under his balls and he moans, his cock jerking as he slides his fingers into my hair, gripping tightly before I’ve even gotten my mouth around him. My eyes dart up to meet his. “Relax,” he tells me again. “Even if it’s terrible I will enjoy it because it was you.”

I nod, feeling my tension ease, then I grip his hip with one hand and begin to fondle his balls with the other as I lean forward and lick the salty precum from his tip, moaning around the taste as it explodes on my tongue. He hisses and jerks slightly, his dick twitching. “Christ, Oli, you look so good on your knees for me,” he purrs.

I hum and lick his tip again, before pressing kisses to his head and watching as more precum leaks out and slides down his shaft, his stomach rising and falling, his cock hardening with each press of my lips to his heated skin, until he’s gripping my hair so hard it makes me squeak. He doesn’t say anything. I think he wants me to go at my own pace, even if it’s driving him crazy. He wants me to explore, discover, and enjoy the experience, not be rushed.

My hands play with his balls still, rolling them and then tugging as I slide my mouth over just the tip of his erection and suck gently before swirling my tongue over his slit. Then I’m taking him deeper, but I don’t make it more than halfway down his length before I feel my gag reflex kicking in, so I stay there, moving up and down on his cock, never taking him all the way in, my head bobbing as I shift my hand from his balls to his dick to stroke the base. I moan when his cock jerks inside me.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his hips thrusting slightly, making his cock slide a bit deeper. My eyes start to water but I don’t stop. I can’t. I want this. I need it. I need him, his taste filling me, the weight of him on my tongue, in my hand. His release sliding down my throat when he reaches the peak of his pleasure, his cock spasming inside me. The thought makes me moan around him and his cock jerks again.

His voice is raspy when he says, “Fuck, Oli. Love your mouth, baby. You feel amazing around my cock.”

His praise has me soaring and sliding my mouth even further down his shaft, my other hand returning to his balls, tugging and rolling them as before. I look up at him as he stares down at me, his beautiful face blurred by my tears. He starts to thrust into my mouth gently and I hum around him, making him grip my hair in both hands as his head falls back. His thrusts pick up speed and I have tears streaming down my cheeks, nostrils flaring and nose running as he fucks my face.

“Gonna come,” he cries. “God, Oli, yes, so good, baby. Gonna fill that pretty mouth.” He thrusts three more times before his cock pulses and he’s spilling his release down my throat. I gag a little but swallow as much as I can, savoring the taste of him and the knowledge that I got him off with my mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes when he slides out of me. “You took me so well, baby.” He grabs a tissue and wipes the snot and tears from my face before pressing a kiss to my lips.

“Did I do okay?” I ask.

“So good,” he praises, and I believe him.