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  • Roger and ted
  • Ted Baxter was playing street hockey with his friends when the moving van arrived and parked in front of the vacant two-story house on Stanley Street. Vacant, that is, until about an hour earlier when the new owner had arrived to take possession of it. Ted had noticed his arrival, and immediately thought that the thirty-something man who stopped to watch them play their game before he entered the house was someone he should know. Perhaps he saw him last winter at State U., a professor perhaps? Not one of his, but someone else who taught there maybe? Someone he passed in the halls? Certainly he had never been introduced to the guy.

    The newcomer was about 6 feet tall with dark hair, and well built for an older man, gone a bit soft, perhaps, but not too bad. He was clean-shaven, with a ready smile and clear blue eyes. Whoever he was, Ted was immediately attracted to him and felt that they would meet and become friends. He was sure of it.

    Roger Morton was not a professor at State U., though his ex-wife was. He had often attended functions there with her before things turned bad. He was a chartered accountant who had just come through a rather unfortunate divorce and, at his own request, had been transferred out of the city to this smaller rural town by head office: a new life in a new town; some quiet time to sort things out. That's what Roger wanted. He had rented the house for a year. Enough time, he hoped.

    While waiting for the moving van to arrive, Roger had pulled the lone ladder-backed chair left by the previous tenant over near the living room window to watch and wait. The air conditioner was not installed yet, so he opened the window to let in some air and saw the local boys playing street hockey. He began to take an interest in the game as the sound of their voices drifted in through the open window. Roger had been a hockey player in his youth, and a good one at that. Soccer in the spring, baseball in the summer and basketball in the fall, but hockey all year round, on ice in the winter, mostly in arenas, but pond hockey too. On pavement the rest of the year. An avid sportsman all his years at school and at university, Roger was still in pretty good shape at the advanced age of thirty-three. A little pudgy around the middle, he supposed, but an office job does that to a guy. At first, he had played handball two or three days a week with a guy from the office, and worked out in the gym when he could get the time. For the last few years, however, he found himself working longer hours at the office to support his wife of ten years and spending less time looking after himself.

    That had been the problem. Work. Only three months before he married Marianne, he had been hired by the company. Starting at the bottom, he worked his way up rapidly, but it meant long hours and often weekends. He left early in the morning to beat the traffic, and seldom got home till late at night, usually dog-tired. Sex on Saturdays was more of a ritualistic chore than a pleasure, and they both knew it. Bad timing, bad vibes, bad sperm, who knew, but their now infrequent mating did not produce any children, and after a while, they were glad of that. He became increasingly wrapped up in his work, and eventually his stay-at-home wife found solace in another man's arms. The marriage just faded away. No one's fault. What other choice did she have? What other choice did he have? If the truth be known, he was glad the marriage ended, and he was free again.

    The ball the boys were playing with rolled under his car, which was parked at the curb to leave the driveway free for the moving van. The older boy, whom he heard the others call Ted, tall, dark-haired, perhaps eighteen or a bit older, muscular, tanned and quite handsome, had thrown himself down spread-eagled on the ground reaching under the car with his hockey stick to get the ball. When he got up, he straightened his clothes, gave a tug at his crotch to straightened things there, and turned to go back to the game. He noticed Roger watching from his window and gave him a wave and a warm smile. To Roger's amazement, the boy gave his crotch another more exaggerated tug, another wide grin, and another wave and then returned to the game.

    Roger gave a tug to his own crotch, feeling a stirring there that embarrassed him a bit. After all these years, why was he getting a hard-on just looking at this handsome young man now? That sort of thing had happened a lot in high school and even at university, but he struggled to control those impulses and stayed straight. He even married, for Christ's sake! He wasn't gay! Or was he? Perhaps that's why the marriage didn't work.

    Once, when Roger and Marianne were driving to the mall to get groceries, they passed a similar group of boys, most of them quite young, playing street hockey. The boys stopped and moved their net to one side to let them drive through. It happened all the time in their neighborhood. It was a warm day in late spring and Marianne drew Roger's attention back to the boys by commenting on their styles as he navigated the car past their net.

    "Look at the shorts those guys are wearing," she said, "they're practically falling off!"

    Roger looked. They were the baggy kind, with pockets on the legs, hanging below the knee from slender hips, held up only by the good grace of God. The boy closest to his side of the car didn't have a shirt on, and he wore his shorts so low on his hips that the band of his white briefs and much of the material beneath it showed above his shorts. Roger had felt his cock begin to stiffen. Embarrassed, he diverted his eyes, perhaps a bit too quickly, and narrowly missed hitting a parked car as he drove on past. That night, he jerked off in the downstairs bathroom to the image of that boy. Did Marianne suspect? Roger didn't think so, but it was not long after that that he noticed a further cooling off in their sex life, such as it was. Was it his fault? Her fault? He didn't know.

    The boys playing street hockey outside his window right now were dressed much the same way: baggy shorts, some with no tee shirts, all lean and all physically attractive. They varied in age and ability, and all were totally absorbed in the game. He couldn't take his eyes off them, especially the older dark-haired boy they called Ted. Did Ted look towards his window as often as Roger imagined? Did he seem to be staring at Roger when not involved in the play?

    When the moving van finally pulled up, the game stopped and the boys came over to watch as the driver opened the back. He spoke to them, whereupon Ted and some of the others threw their sticks to the grass and jumped into the back of the van. Soon all the boys were helping unload the furniture and boxes onto the front lawn. Roger straightened his semi-hard cock in his pants once more and then went out the front door to join them and help carry his things back into the house.

    "Hi guys," he said when he approached the boys and the van driver. "I'm Roger, Roger Morton. Thanks for helping with my furniture. I've got some cold soft drinks on ice inside when you're finished. Some beer too, if any of you are of age." He looked at Ted, hopefully, then back to the rest of the boys. "I really appreciate your help."

    The driver, Roger, Ted, and the other boys carried the furniture into the house and distributed it among the various rooms. Roger found himself at one end of a mattress with Ted at the other. They carried it in through the front door and up the stairs to the master bedroom to the right of the bathroom. Two other boys followed with the head and foot boards, two with the box spring, and two more with the rails.

    "I'll help you put this together," said Ted. "My name's Ted, by the way, Ted Baxter." He held out his and Roger took it. His grasp was firm and, for some reason, Roger was shaking inside, thrilled by the boy's touch.

    "I know," said Roger. "I heard the others call your name as you were playing hockey. I'll get my tools," he continued, reluctantly letting the boy's hand go.

    It didn't take long to assemble the large king-sized bed and position it with the headboard against the far wall. They worked quietly, and Roger found himself a bit dizzy, whether from the exertion of assembling the bed, or from the adrenaline that coursed through his body from having Ted working so closely beside him, he couldn't tell. He couldn't help noticing Ted's muscular frame, his bare chest bulging in all the right places, a large bulge just where it should be in his shorts too, and his strong masculine body odor, probably from playing hockey earlier. Roger pulled in his slightly sagging stomach and felt foolish doing it. What was the matter with him, he thought. He hadn't felt like this around anyone for years, especially not around Marianne. What was it about this boy that made him so self-conscious?

    "That's it, Roger," Ted said. "I can call you Roger, can't I? You can call me Ted."

    "Sure you can, Ted," said Roger. "Thanks for all your help."

    "It was nothing," Ted said, smiling at Roger. "'Course, you know what they say: you make the bed, you lie in it! Right?" He laughed, his eyes sparkling.

    Roger laughed too, but could feel his ears burning. "I'll have to take you up on that sometime," he said.

    "Why the fuck did I say that?" he said to himself. "Ted's going to think I'm queer!"

    But Ted just laughed and turned toward the door.

    "You name the night, and it'll be my - our - pleasure," he said as he walked out and down the hall. Roger followed behind, awkwardly.

    "Is this a joke, or is this kid really coming on to me?" Roger wondered.

    They met up with the others in the kitchen and Roger opened the cooler he had brought in previously from his car. He let everyone help himself to a beverage. Some of the obviously younger boys took Cokes. Ted and one other older boy took beers and twisted the caps off with the ease that came from lots of practice. Roger reached for a beer, too, but then decided on a diet Coke instead: He was tipsy enough without the additional stimulant.

    After all the furniture was placed and the boxes were put in the various rooms, the driver left. The boys seemed to want to hang around, but Roger thought it was best to have some time to himself.

    "Thanks guys," he said, walking toward the door and opening it. "I've got some major unpacking to do now and that'll take me hours. Maybe tomorrow I can join your hockey game, if you don't mind an old fellow playing. I was pretty good in my high school days. Can someone lend me a stick?"

    The boys agreed that a spare hockey stick could be found and he could join them whenever he wanted. They shook hands with him as they passed through the door. It was getting too late to continue their game, so most of the boys headed for home.

    But not Ted. He had pulled on his tee shirt, gathered up the empty Coke and beer bottles and had put them on the kitchen counter, and now was about to be the last to leave the house. After the others were out of earshot, he turned to Roger, flashed his wide smile, and said, "Do you believe in dreams?"


    Roger was a bit taken aback. "I - I'm not sure what you mean," he stammered. There was that feeling in his crotch again. What was happening to him? He blushed, sure that Ted could tell he was now sporting a raging hard-on. But Ted kept looking straight into his eyes.

    "I met you before," Ted said. "I thought it was at State U., but now I don't think so. It was in a dream. Weird, eh?"

    "Sort of a premonition, maybe?" asked Roger. "Like second sight? I've heard of people who have that. Do you?"

    "If I do, this is the first time I've noticed it," said Ted. "But I did dream of meeting you, here, in this house." He paused, and then added, "I remember the bedroom specifically."

    He seemed to hesitate, waiting for Roger to say something. Then he looked down. Roger was certain now that Ted noticed his hard cock pressing against the front of his pants, especially when he looked up again and smiled.

    "Yes, you were the man in my dream. I think we're going to get along quite well, you and I," said Ted. "You've got no food in the house, do you? Wanna go out for a burger and fries? A man's gotta eat, you know."

    Roger was uneasy. Not because of the boy's offer to go for food, but because of the raging hormones that were confusing him, giving him a hard-on when he didn't want one, and making him stammer, when normally he was in complete control. Something was happening, but what it was he didn't know. He did want to find out, however.

    "S-sure thing," he said. "A burger sounds fine, but I insist it's my treat. That's the least I can do after you helped me, you know, with the furniture and all."

    "You mean with the bed, and stuff?" Ted said with a grin. "Yeah, okay." His eyes glanced towards Roger's throbbing cock again and rested there a few moments. "So, let's go then."

    Roger and Ted drove the three blocks to McDonald's and had their meal at a secluded table in the far corner of the crowded room. Ted's knee brushed against Roger's as they slid in from opposite sides. He left it there, pressing it firmly against Roger's who didn't move his knee away, thrilled by the bodily contact, even if it was only knees. He was glad the table blocked Ted's view of his crotch. He hadn't had such a hard-on in a public place since he was a horny teenager. It just wouldn't go away. He reached down to push it to one side, and felt a wet spot on the front of his jeans. "Jesus, pre-cum!" he thought to himself. "What's happening to me?"

    "So, tell me more about your dream," he said finally.

    Ted looked into his eyes. "It might shock you," he said. "What we were doing together in my dream, I mean. I'm not sure I can tell you."

    Roger took a deep breath. "I think I can guess," he said finally. "Were we enjoying ourselves?"

    "I certainly was," Ted said. "You'll have to speak for yourself."

    "Can't comment," said Roger. "It was your dream."

    "It seemed to be so real, though," said Ted. "Something I wouldn't mind doing again."

    They sat in silence for a few moments, looking into each other's eyes.

    "Let's go," said Roger, breaking the moment and gathering up his tray and wrappers.

    Back in the car, Roger sat behind the wheel, hesitating before putting the key into the ignition. "Tell me what we did in your dream," he asked.

    "If we go back to your house," said Ted, placing his hand on Roger's thigh, and then sliding it slowly upwards, "I'll show you."

    Roger turned the key and the engine roared to life.


    Ten minutes later, Roger was nervously fumbling with his keys as he tried to unlock the front door. Ted reached over and steadied his hand. The key went in, turned, and the door opened. A few seconds later they were inside and the door was shut behind them.
    "Want another beer?" asked Roger.

    "Sure, if you need one," answered Ted.

    "Are you legal?" asked Roger. "I mean, I'm not contributing to the delinquency of a minor, or anything," Roger said jokingly, but anxious for the reply which might help determine the course of the rest of the evening.

    ""I've been drinking beer since high school," said Ted. "Before high school, even. At State U., I developed a taste for whisky: straight up, no ice. I'm in my second year, by the way. I'm going to be twenty this summer."

    Roger breathed an audible sigh of relief. "No whisky tonight, I'm afraid," he said leading the boy into the kitchen, "But I'll put it on the top of my shopping list for tomorrow."

    Ted took the beer and this time Roger took one, too. They moved into the living room. Roger drew the drapes, left there by the previous owner, plugged in and turned on one of the table lamps, and they sat down, Ted on the couch, Roger on the matching arm chair.

    "Want music?" asked Roger? "I think I can find the stereo and some CDs."

    "Nah," said Ted, "let's just talk, and get to know each other better."

    "So, tell me more about this dream," said Roger, taking another sip of his beer. He was still unsure where everything was leading, and didn't want to make a false move. What if he was wrong? He decided he had to let Ted take the lead.

    "It started just like this," Ted said. "We were sitting here, in the living room, having beers, just like now. But you were sitting over here, on the couch, not way over there on that chair." He patted the seat beside him and looked at Roger, waiting.

    Roger stood up, moved to the couch, and sat down. "Like this?" he asked.

    "Closer," said Ted. "More like this." Ted moved closer to Roger, and rested his knee against the older man's. "And you had your hand about here," he continued, taking Roger's hand and placing it on his own thigh.

    Roger felt the heat of the boy's muscular thigh, and his last bit of doubt faded. Lust took over. He slowly moved his hand up Ted's thigh and, reaching the top, cupped the root of the boy's semi-hard cock and his balls, giving a gentle squeeze.

    "Oh yeah," Ted moaned. "You were doing that, alright. And I was doing this." Ted leaned over and kissed Roger full on the lips. Surprised at first, Roger soon began to kiss back and found Ted's tongue searching his mouth, grasping for his own tongue, which he freely gave. Ted's hands pressed against his chest, hot fingers tracing light little circles around his hardened nipples.

    Roger moved his hand higher and felt the outline of Ted's now rock-hard cock rising towards his stomach. He wanted desperately to feel skin, to feel Ted's throbbing manhood in his hand. He reached for Ted's belt buckle and opened it, then reached for his zipper and, finding it, began to pull it down. Ted lifted his hips and Roger drew the boy's shorts down below his knees.

    Ted spread his legs and the shorts dropped to his ankles. Roger broke their kiss long enough to look down and see Ted's raging hard-on pressing his white briefs out to form a love tent, but Ted pushed his lips back against Roger's and he had to let his hands do the seeing for him. He reached down and followed the coarse hair growing down under the waistband of Ted's briefs until he was rewarded with the first touch of the soft, silky foreskin that barely covered the head of Ted's hot young rock hard-cock. Slipping his finger inside, he felt the moisture there as Ted groaned and leaned his body into Roger's.

    "That feels so good," Ted moaned. "You want me, don't you? You want me bad! And I want you. But not here. Not in the living room. In my dream, we were in your bedroom. I want you to take me in your bed."

    Roger reluctantly released Ted's throbbing hard cock. Ted stood and pulled up his shorts, fastening the single button to keep them in place. The two men renewed their embrace, and moved towards the hall, stopping to kiss again at the foot of the stairs.

    "Got a rubber?" Ted asked, as he chewed on Roger's earlobe.

    "Fuck, no," said Roger. "I was married. I didn't use them when I was screwing my wife and I haven't had sex with anyone else, not for years."

    Ted stopped and looked at Roger, questioningly.

    "She's gone now," Roger said simply. "Left me for another man."

    "Her loss is my gain," said Ted.

    "Ever fool around with other guys?"

    "No," said Roger. "Never, not even in high school. You're the first."

    "Well, that's alright then," said Ted. "'Cause you're my first, too. Leastways, the first without a rubber since high school, and the only boy I fucked around with back then was a virgin. You do want to fuck, don't you? You do want to go all the way?"

    A shudder racked Roger's body. "All the way, or stay home," he said, reaching for Ted's lips with his own to seal the bargain. Locked in that embrace, they continued to mount the stairs.


    Though the bed was assembled, there were no sheets on it. Neither of them noticed this, however, as they moved closer, first sitting on the edge, then falling sideways to lay on the bare mattress, their lips still locked in a passionate kiss and their arms encircling each other in a firm but gentle embrace.
    Roger was happier in this moment that he had ever been in his entire life. This was who he was, and this was what he was, and this was the person he wanted to be with. Marianne was wrong for him. Marianne and he should never have happened. He had lost so much time.

    Finally, Ted broke the kiss and began to suck on Roger's neck. Roger lifted his head higher, and Ted proceeded to explore his upper body with his hot lips. With his hands, Ted unbuttoned Roger's shirt, and his lips moved lower onto Roger's chest. Finding a hardened nipple waiting, he flicked at it with his tongue, then sucked on it. First one nipple, then its brother. He nibbled at the coarse black hair that carpeted Roger's large, muscular chest between the nipples, and licked his way down to his belly button, teasing it with his hot, moist tongue.

    Roger's whole body ached with passion. His own hands were busy, too, exploring Ted's young, hard body, tracing the curve of his well-developed chest muscles, and moving lower across his hard stomach, and lower still to reach under the waistband of Ted's briefs to find once more that precious treasure he had so recently been persuaded to abandon, even if only until they made their way to the bedroom. Finding the throbbing cock waiting, and the foreskin as before, he slipped his finger inside and traced circles around the moist head of Ted's cock. This time, he drew his hand out and put his wet finger to his lips. He had never tasted pre-cum before, but now he couldn't get enough of its saltiness. Again and again he refreshed his finger, and put it into his mouth. It made him want more. It made him want to take Ted's manhood into his mouth where he could suck every drop of pre-cum from it directly.

    Ted must have known, for he reached down and pulled his own underwear down to his knees, then shifted his legs till he managed to drop his white briefs over the edge of the bed. Then he worked on Roger's clothing.

    Soon the two men were naked, their bodies pressed together as their lips and tongues and hands continued their explorations. Ted broke away, and, turning end for end, knelt at Roger's head and lowered himself down across Roger's body. Looking up to find Ted's cock staring him in the face, Roger took it into his mouth as Ted lowered his face to take Roger's cock into his. Ted was better at this than Roger was, at least at first, but Roger tried to do everything to Ted that Ted was doing to him.

    Soon, however, he got the hang of it and set up his own rhythm. He reached up with his two hands to find Ted's ball sack, covered in short, twisted, coarse dark hairs. He rubbed the loose skin between his fingers, gently, and then found the balls, which he squeezed so that they slid past each other, back and forth, back and forth. Releasing Ted's cock for a moment, he took each ball into his mouth one at a time; they were too large to both fit in together.

    Ted moaned, and twisted his body, which hung suspended above Roger's. He was proceeding along that glorious path to orgasm, faster than Roger was, he realized, and he started to work the older man's cock harder and faster. Soon he could tell that they were side by side on that blessed road to release, each one now anxious to reach the end, but each one wanting to hold back, too.

    Lust took over, and the two men began their race to the finish: no slow tortoise here, no sleeping hare. Instead, two men, reaching climax together, a tie, spurts of hot fluid striking the backs of their throats as both of them came, almost at the exact same time. One, two, three and even more spasms wracked their bodies until, spent, Ted lowered himself on top of Roger. A minute later, he rose again, turned his body, and they lay face to face, their arms wrapped around each other, their bodies pressed together, their lips gently nibbling. Then that blessed moment of rest, their passion spent, their love only beginning.

    It was some time after midnight when Ted woke, still wrapped in Roger's arms. He lay still, listening to the older man breathing. Then he began to slip out of Roger's grasp, trying not to wake him. Once his feet found the floor, he rose and walked to the bathroom to relieve himself. Returning to the room, he dressed slowly, then looked for the box with the bedding in it. Finding a sheet and blanket, he covered Roger's naked body, kissed him gently on the forehead and left, locking the front door behind him.


    Roger, still in his dreams, shifted his body to a more comfortable position and slept on. When he woke in the morning, his first reaction was to wonder where he was. The room seemed unfamiliar to him. He rolled onto his back and found himself naked, under a loose sheet and blanket. Then the memories came flooding back.
    He rose and walked into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and wondered, was it all a dream? Had he really had sex with Ted? The love marks that still showed red on his neck were evidence enough that he had not been dreaming. "Hickies!" he thought to himself. "At my age, and getting hickies! What would Marianne think?" But then, Marianne was gone, wasn't she? Gone with another man. It didn't really matter what Marianne would think.

    Roger showered, found some clean clothes in a suitcase, dressed and went downstairs to the living room. He looked at the couch, and remembered with a thrill exploring Ted's hot young body there. Ted was only a bit more than half his age, a devastatingly handsome young man. What drew them together? Was it really Ted's dream? Or was that just a story? Would Ted come back? Roger thought he would die if Ted didn't come back. He never felt that way about Marianne, not even in the beginning. What if Ted didn't come back? Could he bear to have loved so completely and then lose the object of the first real affection he had ever felt towards another person?

    He needn't have worried. He had just put water on to make coffee when the doorbell rang. He opened the door, and there was Ted, grinning from ear to ear.

    "Miss me?" he asked as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

    Roger stood there, staring. Ted, tall, dark and handsome, just like in the movies, had come back, not to some cinema heroine, but to him, 33-year-old Roger. Tears came to his eyes.

    Ted smiled even more broadly as he reached up and wiped a tear away, drawing the wet finger to his lips and tasting the saltiness. "Umm," he said, "salty, but not as tasty as another bodily fluid of yours that I've recently had the pleasure of tasting." Then he threw his head back and laughed.

    "I was afraid you would not come back," said Roger.

    "Not come back? Man, you read me wrong! I'm here to stay. That is, if you want me," said Ted.

    "Want you?" asked Roger. "I don't think I could go on living without you."

    The two men wrapped their arms around each other and kissed, long but not passionately. Instead, their kiss was an expression of deep love. At last they broke apart. "I'm here for the long haul," said Ted. "Now, let's have breakfast. I'm starving."

    Though the pot of coffee was brewing, there was still no food in the house and neither man wanted to go back to Macdonald's, so it was more than an hour later that they arrived back, with grocery bags by the armful. Ted started to cook breakfast as Roger began putting things away in cupboards in the kitchen. Eggs, bacon, toast and coffee were soon consumed, mostly in silence.

    When they finished eating, Ted looked at Roger. "You're too quiet," he said. "What are you thinking about?"

    "I'm thinking about us," said Roger. "What are we going to do?"

    "Well, we're going to make mad, passionate love again, and you're going to suck me and maybe even fuck me," said Ted. "After all, you promised last night. But that's not what you mean, is it?"

    "I love you," said Roger. "I want to be with you always."

    "And I love you," said Ted. "I knew I did the first time I saw you looking at us playing hockey through your window."

    "So, what do we do now?" asked Roger. "How can we be together?"

    "We've got the rest of the summer to figure that out," said Ted. "Let's think only of today. Tomorrow will take care of itself."

    He leaned forward and took Roger's face in his hands. He kissed him full on the lips, then encircled him with his strong, young arms. Breaking the embrace, he reached down and found Roger's cock, already hard under his jeans.

    "Are you happy to see me, or is that a gun in your pocket?" he said, in his best Mae West imitation, and laughed at his own joke. He squeezed the bulge he found there, and leaned over for another deeper, more passionate kiss, this time searching Roger's mouth with his tongue. Roger gave in to the mounting lust that was rising from his loins and reached for Ted's waist belt, anxious to feel once more the young hard meat that waited for him inside. There is something about clothing that is really sexy, thought Roger, as he pulled the tail of Ted's shirt up and over the younger man's head. This time, instead of stripping it off completely as he had done last night, he flipped the front of the tee shirt up and over Ted's head, leaving his shoulders covered but his chest bare. Likewise, when he dropped Ted's pants to the floor, he did not remove the underwear, not yet anyway. The delights hidden behind the white material were too great a treasure to bare all at once. He leaned into Ted, kissing his lips, then his eyes, then his ears, and then his neck. He rubbed his body against him, feeling the young man's hard cock rubbing against his own. Ted began to dry hump him, sliding up and down as if fucking, but really just rubbing - no front hole into which he could shove his rock hard cock.

    Roger continued down Ted's front, kissing his neck, licking his hard nipples, nibbling at the hair that seemed to sprout from his skin at his belly button and proceed downwards to disappear into the waistband of his white briefs. Roger followed the hair line, licking his way down, covering every square inch of the boy's stomach, feeling his hard muscles ripple under the teasing his tongue gave to his sensitive skin. Down further, now at the waistband, then forcing the waistband down with his chin as he tried to follow the hair to the root of the boy's throbbing, pulsating hot cock. The material caught, however, on the very object of his desire, so he had to lift it away with his hands and only then did he pull the briefs down to the knees and then let them drop to the ankles.

    His prize was now at eye level. The moist, purple head of Ted's young cock poked through the foreskin that only partially covered it. When it was soft, the skin was enough to do the job. But now that it was hard and rigid and thumping against the boy's stomach with every heart beat, the skin was stretched to its limits and pulled slightly back and off, exposing the little eye that met Roger's as he looked at the object of his most ardent desire. An early drop of precum oozed out and Roger swiped at it with his tongue. It stuck and a long trail of it stretched across the gap between cock and mouth, hanging like a bridge across a deep canyon. He slowly sucked the clear liquid bridge into his mouth, being careful not to break the tenuous line, moving his head close to the source, as he tasted the salty precum. And then the glorious boy cock was gone from his view and he took it into his mouth and would have swallowed it if it had not been attached to the young man he loved more than life itself. He licked the sides of this hard cock, and closed his teeth gently on it, teasing it, feeling the hard muscular shaft ripple as he slid his head forward and the cock moved to the back of his throat. If he could have swallowed it, he would have, to make it his own forever. But the most he could manage before he felt the coarse pubic hair tickle his nose was to have it reach the back of his throat; it would not go down. Nor did he really want it to; not now. He was pulling back now, feeling the hard meat between his teeth and licking it with his tongue, around, over, under, inside the hood which slipped up again to protect the head as his own head reached the outwardmost end of the cock. Then in again he moved.

    But now Ted began to take over. Ted held his hair firmly but gently in both hands and began to move Roger's head back and forward, driving his cock as far in as he could before drawing it out again. In and out, in and out, the pressure building, but a blowjob was not what Ted wanted. He wanted to possess his lover, to have Roger, to get inside Roger. He wanted to fuck Roger, to meld their bodies together, to become one with Roger. He pushed Roger back and the cold air of the kitchen felt strange on his hard, wet cock. His fulfillment could wait.

    Ted reached down and began to undress Roger, who stood still, not sure why the younger man had prevented him from sucking him to a glorious climax. Ted removed Roger's shirt, and dropped the older man's pants, and played with his cock, gently at first, then with more insistence. Then he dropped to his knees and began to lick Roger, underneath his cock, licking his ball sack that hung there and further under, trying to reach the bum hole that was above and behind.

    Roger spread his legs and moved his hips, and Ted reached under and began to massage his ass hole. Finding it resistant to intrusion, he licked his own fingers and tried again. First one finger slid in, then another. Ted moved the fingers around, and Roger, somewhat of a virgin in this form of man-to-man sex, realized what Ted wanted. He was ready for it. He left Ted in charge. Ted turned Roger around, and put his face right up to his ass, his tongue moving into position as his fingers came out of their deep, dark cave. Ted tried to force his tongue into the hole, but the opening had shut again and his tongue was not strong enough to push its way inside. No 'Open Sesame' would do here. He'd need something else, something long, something hard. He had just the tool to do the job.

    Ted stood now, and bent Roger's body over onto the surface of the kitchen table, leaving his ass exposed, bare and waiting, but not for long. He spit on his fingers and wet the tightly sealed entrance and then moved his cock into position. The first forward thrusts were unsuccessful. But the third time he applied the forward pressure slowly but firmly and the door opened and his cock slid in, a little way at first, then with a thrust of his hips, it slid all the way in and Roger felt his very being filled with Ted's cock and was happy.

    The two men could have stayed like this for an eternity if the mind controlled all functions. They were joined. They were one. They were satisfied, but men's cocks have wills of their own and Ted's cock was not satisfied with just being surrounded by Roger's flesh. It had a will to explore the dark cave, to look for ultimate pleasure with its single eye. In and out it moved, searching, reaching, trying to get in further, then sliding almost but not all the way out only to plunge in again, and Ted knew that this was not just his cock's idea but it was what he wanted too. He wanted to shoot his load in Roger's insides, to coat his lover inside with his most treasured body fluids, his cum.

    Faster now, and faster yet Ted moved in and out, in and out, his balls hanging and slapping time at the back of Roger's legs, and with every thrust, Roger, knew what heaven was. Heaven was this thrilling feeling and heaven was where it would never stop, but this was earth, and on earth all things must come to an end. With one mighty thrust, Ted shot his load up Roger's ass, spurt after glorious spurt, and Ted's body shuddered, and Roger's body felt weak, and then all movement stopped, only breathing continued, rapid, heavy, gasping breath, and then all was over, and Ted lay his body on top of Roger's and they rested.

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