by Lily Velden
I craned my head forward, blinking and squinting to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing.
Stonehenge.
“Is that? Nah, it couldn’t be. It wouldn’t just be beside the road.” I glanced at Robert, who was grinning, which prompted me to turn back to peer some more at the fast-approaching collection of huge rocks.
Surely it couldn’t be Stonehenge? Something as monumental… as ancient… as famous as Stonehenge wouldn’t just be in a field next to a highway… would it?
But it was.
My jaw dropped to my lap, and I vaguely heard Robert’s chuckle at my response. My awed silence continued while Robert parked the car then led me by the hand to the ticket office, where we paid our entry fees and were allocated our headsets.
For the next hour and a half I hardly said a word as I followed the prompts and moved slowly around the circumference of the stones, enthralled as I listened to the voice impart what was known of their history and the many theories that abounded as to their purpose. In a way, I was glad the day was overcast—somehow the semidarkness accentuated their eerie mystical quality. The starkness of them silhouetted on the bare Salisbury Plain was so atmospheric, I really could imagine all manner of pagan rituals being carried out within their sentinel-like circle.
“Oh my God. That was fantastic,” I enthused once we were done and heading back to the jalopy.
“Fancy seeing some more ancient stones?” Robert asked. “Avebury is only about twenty miles up the road, and you’re allowed to actually walk right up to and touch the stones of their henge. We could check out Avebury Manor too, and grab a bite to eat in their tea rooms.”
“Sounds great.” I grinned at Robert eagerly, feeling like a kid on an excursion.
Before leaving Stonehenge, Robert bought a small handbook about Avebury Henge, and as we made our way up the freeway, I read it aloud. Being with Robert had taught me that visits to most historic sites were enhanced by knowledge; they then became more than stone, more than bricks and mortar. They became real. Knowledge of their pasts infused them with life.
We took our time exploring the stones, of which there were many more than at Stonehenge, and spread over a greater area. Their aura was different and yet the same. Their shape was more natural, and yet they too had a mystique, a timelessness to them.
Over tea and cake in the beautiful wood-paneled tea room at Avebury Manor, Robert and I discussed the various theories we’d heard and read about the henges, and I was sorry when it came time to pay the bill and get back on the road and to reality.
STANDING AT the sink rinsing our dinner plates, I was aware of the increasing hardness of Robert’s cock behind me, pressing against my buttocks, not with any urgency, but as if to make the simple declaration, “I am here.”
“I don’t think my mashed potato was as creamy as River Cottage’s,” I murmured, picking up our conversation where we’d left it at the dinner table.
“Perhaps not, babe, but given the choice between getting to stare at your handsome face while I eat your mash, which was still great, by the way, or eating Hugh’s creamier one and looking at him, I’ll take yours any day of the week,” replied Robert softly while nuzzling my hair out of the way so he could press his lips to the sensitive skin behind my ear.
I closed my eyes and sighed, letting my head fall back onto Robert’s shoulder. I was feeling melancholy. My departure was now looming so large on the horizon it was impossible to ignore. Only one more day. Two nights. That was all that remained before I flew out. A hint of desperation plucked at the edges of my mind.
Robert turned me, keeping me pinned against the sink as he leaned in to suck my bottom lip into his mouth. Our moans mingled. Kissing his way down my throat to that special spot where my neck met my shoulder, he pressed himself more firmly into me, helping me keep myself upright.
“Come to bed, babe. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for dessert.”
“Hmm,” I agreed, allowing myself to be led up the stairs.
We took our time shedding each other of our clothes, planting moist kisses on every inch of newly exposed flesh. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of Robert’s lips on me, on the crushed-velvet feel of his tongue laving my skin, storing the memory away for future reference.
When he pulled away, I opened my eyes in confusion.
“What?”
The easy canter of my pulse escalated to a frantic gallop when I realized what Robert was doing.
He was loading one of his movies into the DVD player.
I swallowed nervously. I wasn’t sure how I felt about watching him with another man now that we’d been together. Now that I was in love with him. Despite my reservations, a rush of blood flooded my groin, and my cock pulsed.
While I stood indecisively in almost the exact position I’d been in that first night when I’d stumbled upon his home movies, Robert covered the small distance separating us with a lazy smile on his face. Leaning down, he kissed me gently, almost chastely.
“Tell me what’s happening on the screen, baby,” he commanded softly.
Looking over his shoulder, I gulped in a lungful of air, trying unsuccessfully to slow my pounding heart. My stomach was in knots. He’d chosen the first movie… the movie that had changed my life.
“The guy… the guy is kneeling in front of you, sucking your cock,” I croaked.
Robert put his hands on my shoulders, gently pressing downward, leaving me in no doubt what he wanted me to do… us to do.
He wanted to recreate the movie.
I dropped to my knees and took Robert’s straining erection into my mouth. I closed my eyes—I didn’t need to try and peek around his hip to know what was happening on the TV screen behind him. Every one of his movies was etched forever in my mind.
The wet sounds of my worshipping Robert’s dick mingled with that of the blond youth’s. Real Robert’s moans and murmured praise were louder and more frequent than Video Robert’s, but both made my cock ache for attention.
“Noah, fuck, Noah, I love your mouth. It’s so damned soft.”
His obvious pleasure spurred me on, and for the first time I managed to take him the whole way down my throat without gagging. I swallowed, then hummed, then swallowed again, repeating the actions while gripping Robert’s buttcheeks, holding him firmly to me.
“Noah! Fuck, babe, I’m gonna come!” Robert screeched, clutching at my head as if needing the contact to steady himself.
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than his cock swelled and jerked within the confined space of my throat, sending the first of several spurts of his cream down my gullet. I experienced a tiny pang of regret—his seed had bypassed my taste buds, and I missed getting a taste of its tart tanginess before it filled my belly. It was a taste I’d come to love. My regret was soon forgotten, though, as a thrill of triumph washed through me—I’d made Robert come quicker than Blondie had.
Robert clutched at my shoulders, dragging me to my feet. He moved his hands to cup my face, his eyes ablaze as he leaned in to take possession of my mouth. He fucked me with his tongue, and I reciprocated eagerly, sucking it with the same fervor I had his cock.
Hearing Video Robert come, I wrenched myself free of his lips and panted, “Your turn.”
“God, yes,” Robert gasped. “I want to suck your pretty cock so bad it hurts.”
He fell to his knees and looked up at me with hungry eyes. Holding my gaze, he grasped my dick and angled it toward his parted lips. I panted as I watched him dart his tongue out to explore the frenulum before diving into the slit. He licked and laved and teased until I was beside myself with need.
“Suck me,” I begged. “For fuck’s sake, suck me!”
Robert’s answer was to swallow my entire length. I threw my head back and groaned loudly. When, moments later, he released me from the hot vacuum of his mouth, I growled in frustration.
“Fuck me, Noah. I want you to fuck my mouth.”
Looking down at him
, I cupped his face and fed him my cock, pausing for a moment to savor the sight of all but the last inch or two of my dick residing in his mouth. I rested my shaft on the flat of his tongue. It felt like velvet—soft but textured. His lips were full and rosy and formed an O around my shaft. The knowledge that they were so suffused with blood because of kissing my lips and sucking my dick excited me so much I surged into him with the last couple of inches. Still cradling his head, I fucked into him with wild abandon. The whole time my gaze was locked on his, and I suspected he knew I was trying to mark him as mine from the inside.
I gave him no warning of my impending climax, continuing to savagely fuck his mouth through my orgasm. I fucked him for not saying the words I needed to hear him utter. I fucked him because I had no choice but to leave. I fucked him for being who and how he was and making me fall in love with him.
I fucked him because I was scared to stop. To stop brought us too close to good-bye.
Only when my dick was so sensitive that even the touch of his velvet tongue made me hiss and cringe did I cease my thrusting. Staggering backward, I was grateful to feel the edge of the bed hit the back of my knees. I allowed myself to collapse on it, my chest heaving as if I’d just done the hundred-yard sprint.
Robert rose to his feet and followed me, licking his lips, his cock almost at full-mast again.
“Position yourself on all fours at the center of the bed, baby. Facing the screen,” he ordered me huskily. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you now?”
I nodded. Of course, I knew what was going to happen next.
He was going to fuck me.
And I was going to come like a geyser.
Crawling onto the bed behind me, he rubbed between my shoulder blades, skimming his gentle touch down to caress my butt. “What am I doing now, Noah?”
I lifted my gaze from the sheets below me to look at the screen. “You’re stretching Blondie’s ass.”
“Do you want me to prep yours, Noah? Do you want my cock up your sweet arse?”
“Yes,” I whimpered. “Yes.”
“I want it too, baby. I want to be buried balls deep inside you.”
At his words, he began the ritual of stretching me to be able to accommodate his girth. I gurgled and moaned at the burn, a burn I’d come to love, knowing what pleasure would follow.
He continued longer than necessary, pressing against and teasing my prostate until I whimpered in frustration, needing more than his fingers filling me.
“Robert—”
“What, baby?”
“Fuck me. Please, fuck me.”
He moaned at the need in my voice, and with two digits still scissoring and holding me open, he slid his sheathed cock between them and into me. When he pulled his fingers free, my sphincter snapped back like an elastic band, my channel fitting him like a glove. We both groaned.
“Baby, you feel so damn good,” he moaned, leaning over to kiss the nape of my neck. He placed his hands by mine on the bed and loosely entwined our fingers. I mewled like a baby at his continued assault on my neck and ears. “You like my cock up your arse, Noah?”
“You know I do,” I whispered.
“Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you like it.”
I whimpered. “I love it. I love your fat cock. I love it in my mouth. I love it up my ass. I love it soft. I love it hard. I love it sawing in and out of me. I love it coming in me.”
Did he know I was declaring my love?
And then he began sliding in and out of me, punishing my sweet spot, and I keened in an almost continual soft wail.
Just like Blondie.
His sounds echoed mine, or was it mine echoing his?
And just like Blondie I came, hands-free, from Robert’s talented dicking. The evidence of my overwhelming cresting of pleasure sullied the royal-blue sheets beneath me like a Jackson Pollock canvas. Robert followed me almost immediately, roaring his release. He collapsed onto my back, yet same as him, I was as weak as a newborn foal and fell to the bed, ruining my semen artwork. It smeared over my belly, but I was beyond caring.
While I was still panting and trying to regain a normal breathing pattern, Robert began to chuckle and shake above me.
“Fuck, sunshine. That was hot. My heart was pounding so hard and fast I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”
After placing a noisy kiss to the nape of my neck, he rolled off me and onto his back and started laughing again.
“I’m shagged… literally!”
“And I’m rooted… literally.”
We rolled toward each other, holding each other loosely as we laughed at our silly joke.
After we’d showered and changed the sheets, we crawled beneath the covers, both of us sighing contentedly.
I don’t know what made me do it. What made me start babbling about us and our sexual chemistry. Maybe it was because he never spoke of an “us.” Perhaps it was because the flame of panic flickering within me at the thought of my impending departure was getting harder to keep from igniting into an uncontrollable firestorm. Maybe it was just because the darkness gave me courage, though not enough to confess my love.
“I once read an article about sexual chemistry. It said we all have types and that we develop our ‘type’ from things like our family, peers, culture, and the media. They reckon it starts forming when we’re kids from things that we have a strong arousal response to. Of course, being a child, it’s not sexual, but it’s something really pleasurable. Things like, maybe someone hugged you and their long hair brushed over your cheek, and it felt nice, so when you become an adult you’re attracted to women with long hair. Or perhaps there was someone who it was nice to be around because they were funny and happy and smelled pretty. So what do you think we experienced as kids that made us be attracted to each other?”
“Hmm,” Robert murmured, nuzzling me.
“Physically do you prefer blonds, or is it more character and personality that attracts you? Until you, I preferred green or blue eyes, so it can’t be that I really liked being around someone with brown eyes when I was little. Do you think we have so much spark because of our careers? Because we both like and appreciate art and enjoy a lot of the same things?”
Robert remained silent. It made me feel anxious. I wanted reassurance. I wanted him to tell me he cared. That we had a future once the summer was over. I chuckled a little nervously. “Maybe when Mom was trying to instill a little culture in me by making me watch TV movies made of some British classic literature like Pride and Prejudice, she was unknowingly giving me a thing for tall, lanky Englishmen with posh accents. I wonder what made you attracted to someone like me?”
“Noah, stop,” he said quietly, pressing his face into the back of my neck. “You’re talking this thing to death. Some things just are. You and me… this… it just is.” He stroked my hip and it felt like an apology. “This thing between us just is. If you keep dissecting it like it’s some high school science project, the magic will get lost. Let’s just enjoy it for what it is, for the time we have left.”
For the time we have left. The words echoed in my head over and over again.
Outwardly, I was silent. Inwardly, the first fissure in my chest opened, and instead of my heart pumping blood through my veins, it pumped pain.
14
FROM THE moment Robert parked the car, I knew where he was taking me.
He was taking me to the bathhouse.
The knowledge made me hyperaware of my heart as it thudded, heavy and pronounced, against my ribcage. I couldn’t deny the thought of being with him in any way sexually within its walls was arousing, but it was also nerve-racking.
I felt sick. I had a bad feeling. The lunch I’d shared with Robert only an hour earlier, which I’d thought delicious at the time, no longer tasted so great.
What if my bathhouse stranger was inside? He’d expect me to play with him. In that moment, I realized I didn’t want to. I only wanted Robert.
Robert, mistaking my reluctanc
e for shyness, grabbed my hand and gave me a reassuring smile. “Trust me, you’ll like it. It will be like watching one of my movies, only better.”
Robert had no idea I’d been to the bathhouse many times. How could he? I’d never told him. It wasn’t information I’d intentionally withheld. It just wasn’t something that came up in regular conversation.
My tongue felt thick in my mouth. My gut was screaming at me that this was a bad idea. I felt as if I was witnessing a car crash in the making.
And yet, like a faithful puppy, I allowed myself to be led inside.
“Hey, Phillip,” Robert casually greeted the dark-haired attendant, who was unfamiliar to me. Phillip, it seemed, did the day shift.
“Hey, Robert. Long time, no see.”
“Miss me?” The teasing note in Robert’s voice exacerbated my sense of unease.
“Of course, handsome. I reckon there’ll be a few guys happy you’re home.”
Robert chuckled, releasing my hand to dive into his jean pocket to retrieve his wallet. I wanted to ask him to forget taking me inside. I wanted to ask him to take me home. Instead, I stood silently by his side while he paid for us both.
The coil in my gut tightened as Robert ushered me toward the door and I accepted the towel Phillip offered.
Robert made his way to the lockers with the ease of someone who knew his way around, which was no surprise. The bathhouse was probably his second home. The truth of that was like a blow to the solar plexus. It robbed me of breath.
I watched him shed his clothes, swallowing at the sight of his cock. It was semihard and thickening even as I gazed upon it.
“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss me on the lips while he made quick work of unbuttoning my shirt.
He licked and sucked his way down my torso, smiling up at me when he reached the waistband of my jeans. I watched, feeling an odd sense of detachment as he unbuckled my belt and popped the button of my pants. Next my zipper succumbed to his nimble fingers. Moments later, he had me divested of the last stitch of clothing. I shivered.