by Hayden Hunt
Plus, I want food to be the icebreaker if things get too awkward. I’m already feeling a little nervous now, and I think he is, too, based on our silence as we had gotten into our cars and driven off.
Once we got back to my place and were inside, things went a lot more smoothly, though.
“So, I already got the pizza ordered. I hope cheese and pepperoni is okay.”
“That’ll be absolutely perfect. Plain old pepperoni is my favorite.”
“Mine, too,” I lied, because I actually liked meat-lovers’ a little more, but pepperoni was a close second.
“This is a nice place you’ve got,” he said, looking around.
And it was. Now that I wasn’t married, my expenses for living on my own have gone way down. Which means I have more room for splurging. And that splurging went into renovating a new place for myself. And, not going to lie, I’ve always had good taste.
“God, you would flip if you saw my place,” he laughed. “Just a messy-ass bachelor pad in the cheap part of town.”
“Well, this is a bachelor pad too, you know,” I reminded him.
“Uh, yeah, but you’d never know it. My studio apartment is, like, total trash.”
I shrugged, ”Well, I didn’t always live in the nicest of places when I was younger, either.”
He eyed me nervously.
“What?” I asked.
“That’s kind of the elephant in the room, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“Our age difference. I feel like we’re both thinking about it, and neither of us are talking about it.”
He was so bold to confront me like this. It actually intimidated me a bit. I didn’t know how to answer, so I played dumb.
“Why would our age difference matter? You don’t need to be the same age to hang out.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you want? To just, like, hang out with me? You’re just looking for a friend to chill with?”
I shrugged, “Yeah, I could use more friends.”
Why was I lying? Ugh, because he intimidates me! This whole conversation was intimidating me. And it’s funny, he’s the young one, but he’s clearly the one with more experience in this department.
“I don’t buy it,” he said quickly. “The way you looked at me while you were photographing me today…. yesterday, I wouldn’t have thought you were interested in me. You’re so out of my league, I thought I didn’t stand a chance. But I can’t ignore how you’ve been looking at me. I know what a man’s eyes look like when they’re holding desire. The only thing I don’t know is… desire for what?”
“Desire for what?” I asked, legitimately confused this time. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, I’m not sure what it is you’re looking for exactly. Maybe you just think I’m cute and the desire is for a sexual encounter, or, maybe, you are actually interested in me as a person and you’d want to explore a relationship.”
I tried to flip it around, being as bold as he was, “Well, I don’t think I’m the only one here with interests.”
He smiled, “You’re definitely not.”
“So, then, what is your desire?”
“All of it,” he said quickly. “I know I don’t know you that well yet. You’re almost a complete stranger, but… I really think I might fall for you. Your personality is enticing to me. Your maturity is something I’ve been craving in another person for a really long time. And, you’re also incredibly sexy.”
I blushed, blushedncredibly sexy.er person for a really lo, the age gap does bring some concerns to my mind—”
“Well, it shouldn’t,” he said quickly. “I don’t want it to. I don’t care how old you are. I want to be with you. I don’t care about your age, I want you.”
“So where does that leave us?” I asked.
And he didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, he leaned in and gave me a deep kiss.
Shit went fucking crazy from there.
I’ve never had a kiss escalate to sex so quickly. One second, his lips were wrapped up in mine, and the next, our clothes were off, and we were rubbing each other’s bare cocks on the couch, him lying on top of me.
“Top or bottom?” I asked.
“Bottom,” he said quickly. “If that’s fine with you.”
“Perfect. I’m a top. Give me just one sec.”
I wriggled out from underneath him and made my way into the kitchen. In the top drawer of my right counter, there was a bottle of lube, and I was going to need it.
I made my way back to him as quickly as I could, my cock literally pulsing with desire. Even though he’d been rubbing my cock for the last five minutes, it wasn’t really necessary to get me ready to go. The second his shirt was off, my cock stood rock hard, at attention. Just the image of him had me ready to go.
So, as you can imagine, after having his naked body rubbing up on top of me, I was intensely fucking horny. I had to have him. I had to get in this ass.
I quickly flipped him over to his stomach, and he stuck out his ripe ass for me. It was the perfect little bubble butt. I dripped lube right onto his asshole, and he immediately flinched from the cool liquid, his tight ass clenching up. It only turned me on more, seeing the muscles in his ass ripple that way.
I lubed up my cock as well, and, without warning, started sliding my prick up into his tight ass.
Holy shit, it felt so good. Prior to this, all my hookups had been with guys my age, and none of them had been this tight. His muscles literally gripped my cock.
I had no idea how long I was going to stand this before having to orgasm, but I didn’t care. I felt like my mind had run away from me and I was a completely primitive, sexual creature. The only thing I could focus on was humping the shit out of him.
Which I did. I fucked him so hard that my balls were slapping up against his ass with every fucking thrust. And each time I bottomed out into him, he moaned underneath me.
His moans were hot, but I wanted more. I wanted him to fucking scream. I wanted to give him so much pleasure he couldn’t stand it.
I reached around him and grabbed his cock with my hands. As I began increasing my speed in his ass, I rubbed his prick quickly. The faster I went, the louder his moans got. And each one brought me closer to orgasm.
I knew I was close to cumming, and, while I wanted to last longer, I couldn't stop. I absolutely had to have him. I had to drop a load in this tight ass. I wanted him to be overflowing with my warmth.
To my relief, I wasn’t the only one nearing an orgasm. As my hand continued to stroke his fat prick, Patrick began groaning louder and louder until his balls tensed up and he shot out a load right onto the couch. I continued to hump and stroke him even as he orgasmed, causing him to scream out in pleasure.
That was all too much for me. It was too fucking sexy. I could feel my own orgasm coming on. I bottomed out into him and dropped the fattest fucking load I’d ever had. It was enough to make me scream, too, and I’d never screamed during sex.
I didn’t pull out of him right away. I lingered for a moment, and he didn’t seem to mind. When I finally did pull away, I was careful not to push him down onto the couch. I didn’t want him to get any of his own cum on him.
“Here, hold on, I’ll grab a towel,” I said, when I finally came to my senses.
I actually grabbed two, one for the couch, and one for him with which to clean himself up.
“Thanks,” he smiled as he sat down, still naked.
“For the towel or the orgasm?” I asked.
“Both. But mostly the orgasm.”
I laughed, “Well, thank you too…” I paused, unsure of whether or not I should say what I was thinking. But, what the hell? We’d been honest so far. “I think that was literally the best sex I’ve ever had.”
He gave a cheeky grin, “Me, too.”
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and a panic rolled through me. Why would someone be at the door? And how could I answer it when I was standing there naked in my livi
ng room?
Then, I remembered.
“Oh, shit, that’s the pizza!” I said, as I quickly began to redress.
He followed my lead, throwing on his jeans and buttoning up his shirt. I grabbed some cash from my wallet and quickly went to the door to pay the man.
“A large half-pepperoni, half-cheese?” the delivery man asked.
“Yep, that’s right,” I said, handing him cash with a generous tip, “Keep the change.”
“Thanks!” he said, as he turned to go back to his car, “Have a good day.”
“You, too,” I said, before closing the door.
“Ugh, yes, food!” Patrick moaned as he laid back on the couch. “There is nothing like a good pizza after good sex.”
“Uh, this is great pizza,” I corrected him, “and excellent sex.”
He laughed as he opened up the box. “Well, I haven’t tried the pizza, but I won’t deny the latter.”
I couldn’t believe how intense our chemistry was. This was it, this felt like what I had been missing all those years that I had spent with my wife. Somebody whose company I really enjoyed, who I connected with on a personal level.
I took a piece of pizza and started to bite into it before suddenly stopping.
“What? Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No, I just… I want to say something but I’m not sure if I should yet.”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
“Because it’s kind of early to be saying something so… serious?”
“Try me,” he insisted, “I like this thing we’ve got going on so far, where we’re both completely honest about our lives. I’d like to keep that going.”
And I wanted that, too. Even though we hadn’t known each other long at all, this made me feel closer to him. When I said what was on my mind, it was as if we had been friends for years.
“You’re special. I probably shouldn’t admit that already, but I really think you’re someone special. I haven’t felt this way about… anyone before. I really, really like you.”
He grinned, and I swear I saw his cheeks redden a little bit, “I really like you, too.”
And as I bit into my pizza, I already knew. This was the start of something great.
6
Patrick
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t fallen head over heels for Rich.
The past few weeks had flown by. I found myself spending almost every night at his house, and he occasionally would stop by my place, though his was infinitely better. And that’s not including the time we got to spend together in class, though we tried to keep our relationship low-key there.
It’s funny, the film class that I had been dreading so much and had been convinced that I’d hate had been what had led me to the happiest time in my life. Yeah, I’ll admit that these last few weeks have been the happiest I’ve ever felt.
And, surprisingly, the actual class wasn’t that bad, either. After spending time in the darkroom printing my photographs of Rich, I’d really come to love it. There was something peaceful about printing in the darkroom, even though it was a lot more time-intensive than digital photography and photoshop. You couldn’t just fix your mistakes with an “undo” button.
That also made it more special, though. Each photograph was completely unique, and each one brought me closer to the perfect print. And I was definitely better at printing than I had thought I would have been.
Our professor was pretty pleased with us too. She said our portrait project was one of the best she’s ever received on the assignment. Though, she complimented our prints for different reasons.
She loved Rich’s because they were very clean. They were the kind of photographs you’d get when you’d go to a professional to have a session done. His technique had been perfect. His prints were extremely well-executed. She’d told him he definitely had a future career in portrait photography.
Mine hadn’t been like that. They weren’t posed, and, honestly, they weren’t perfect. I was skilled in photography, but not really like Rich. He was logical, calculated, and all his prints showed the breadth of his technical ability.
My photos definitely had flaws. They could have been set at a better aperture, could have been more contrast-y, and could have had better lines. But our professor said they felt very genuine, very artistic. She believed I’d captured the soul of Rich, and I was inclined to agree.
Because that’s what it felt like when I looked at my pictures, like I was looking through his frozen eyes and into his soul. I only got a few shots off that roll that I really loved, but they perfectly encompassed what I felt about Rich.
We’d shot more film since then, but that first one was still my favorite. I’m not sure if my pictures are good because I’m a naturally artistic person or because I’m so inspired by Rich. Probably a little bit of both.
We kept our romance out of class as much as possible, though. He occasionally let his hand brush across mine in the darkroom as he walked by, a gesture nobody would ever see. But it made me smile. I was already a total sucker for this boy.
And that should probably be a good thing, but, honestly, my feelings weren’t all positive. A big part of me was actually scared about what I felt for Rich.
I can only attribute it to a fear of commitment. Right now, I really like him, and we’re having fun, but I’m not sure how I’m going to feel when that all ends. When things are no longer new for us, and it feels like more than a fling.
I like him, I really fucking do, so I shouldn’t be against being in a relationship with him. But the idea of being more serious terrifies me.
I don’t know, I just hope things would stay the way they are for awhile. I know, as soon as things feel more real, I’m not going to be able to help thinking about my parents and all the ways that their relationship went to complete fucking shit, and I don’t want that.
I want things to stay fun and lighthearted forever. I’ve never known anything else. I’ve never had anything be serious, and I can’t imagine it leads to anything good. Most relationships end, and I’m not looking for that harsh reality yet.
One thing that’s nice about the position I’ve been in, just dating around and never being serious with anyone, is that I’ve never had my heartbroken. Because I never cared enough about the guy I was with to be hurt. But this shit is totally different with Rich. I already care about him so deeply. If he wanted to, he could hurt me.
I couldn’t help but think about my mom and how she tortures my dad. I remember the stories about them when they were young and first got together. My dad said he fell totally in love with my mom. In their wedding video, they had looked blissfully happy.
But, somewhere down the line, she had gone off the deep end. She had forgotten about love and had wanted to be nothing more than controlling to my father at every opportunity. And he’d had to live that way my entire life, until I graduated. He had wasted most of his life because he had committed too soon.
Don't get me wrong, I’m glad he did, because I’m glad to be alive at all. But it hadn’t been the right move for him. What if Rich pulled that shit one day? What if he became a totally different person who, in the end, hurt me deeply?
Speaking of my mom, her calls have lessened quite a bit over the last few weeks. She’d finally signed the divorce papers from my dad, and I think she’s finally accepted that their relationship is over. I’m glad, not only because I’m getting fewer phone calls, but also because it’s the only healthy thing for her to do.
Though fewer phone calls is pretty nice, I won’t lie. And when she does call, it isn’t all drama and her yelling about my father. We actually are able to have conversations about me, my life.
I haven’t told her about Rich yet. And not my father, either. Not that I’m hiding, or anything. My parents have actually always been very accepting of the fact that I’m gay. I think, more than anything, they’d mostly be happy that I had finally found someone I cared enough about to call my boyfriend.
But telling
them would make it all feel more real, which I’m still desperately avoiding. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
I was laying in my bed, both fantasizing and stressing about Rich when he called me.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey, are you busy tonight?”
It was only noon, and we hadn’t discussed plans yet, though I was intending on going over to his place like usual.
“Not really, I thought I’d come by, if that’s okay.”
“Actually, I was hoping we could maybe go out instead?”
“Oh, okay, where do you want to go?”
“Just on a dinner date. Can I pick you up at six?”
“Yeah, no problem. I’ll be ready.”
“Perfect, I’ll see you later.”
This was new, because Rich and I rarely go out. We mostly stay in, have food and a lot of sex. It’s different from the lifestyle I’d previously been living, but I honestly don’t mind it. There’s comfort in doing nothing with him. And it helps me to avoid drinking to ignore my problems, which is good.
I passed the time until dinner by watching a lot of television. I didn’t have any homework to do, so I was pretty bored. I had almost wanted to ask Rich if we could go eat earlier so we could hang out longer, but I hadn’t want to be too desperate or needy.
When five rolled around, I hopped in the shower and got ready. He was very punctual, so I wanted to be ready if he came early.
Which, he did. It was ten till six when he pulled up outside of my house.
I saw him drive up through the window, so I got up quickly and rushed out the door so that he wouldn’t have to get out of his car to come get me. But even though he saw me coming, he got out of his car anyway, to my surprise.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Giving you the star treatment,” he answered, as he opened the passenger side door for me.
I raised an eyebrow at him, “Well, aren’t you cute.”
“I try,” he said, as he shut the door behind me.
‘So, where we off to?” I asked.
“I was thinking Jerry’s?”