Slipping Into Someone Comfortable

It's Saturday evening and I'm feeling happy - in a guilty sort of way.

Steve was at the gym this morning. We smiled and exchanged nods as usual and then went through our separate gym rituals. As has become customary, we showered, dressed and met up in the reception area.

Over coffee, Steve asked if I had a busy weekend ahead of me. I explained that I'm in a child-free zone until tomorrow. There was a slight pause - I scooped the froth off my cappuccino and felt like the tennis player who wonders if a high lob will be returned.

It was. Steve asked if I'd like to stop by his place on my way home. I explained that I had a little shopping to do but would like to catch up after that.

"But it's my turn to play host" I said. "If you'd like to come by my place around ten, we can have a good chat and I might even find the energy to provide lunch."

"Deal" he replied.

I gave him the address and some easy instructions on how to get there. Steve has never ventured so far south before. Few people do. They usually take the grand new freeway or bypass road. I'm happy about that.

We went our separate ways for an hour or so. Before heading home, I bought myself a new pair of gym shorts and stocked up on some groceries at the supermarket.

Call it presumption or call it optimism but, for the first time in over twenty-five years, I bought some condoms. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Australia now has condoms in different sizes. In my youth it was one-size-fits-all. I was torn between embarrassment and pride at the check-out, but the assistant acted as if she routinely sold larger-sized condoms every minute of the day. Made me wish there was an extra-giant-sized version just to see if that sparked any interest!

I heard Steve's car as soon as it entered the long drive up to the house. It really is a clunker! I went to the front door to greet him and direct him into the garage but, to my surprise, he'd left the car with the motor still running and was staring up at the house on the rise above him. A minute or so later he was back in his car and negotiating his way into the garage.

Inside the garage, I had my back to Steve as I used the remote to close the roller-doors. He came up behind me and gave me a hug.

"You might have told me you live in a bloody mansion!" he said.

"It's not a mansion" I said, having heard this so many times before. "It's a home."

"Well, it's beautiful" he said. "That's why I stopped at the gates - I wanted to absorb it. I wanted to sketch it too."

He was still hugging me from behind and I could feel his erection pressing against me. I turned around and gave him a quick kiss on the lips and lightly touched his groin. I was excited but nervous at the same time.

"Come on through" I said, leading the way through the door that leads to the laundry and then the kitchen.

"I'm desperate for a coffee" I lied, having already had quite enough for one morning. I was playing for time - hoping I wasn't making a mistake. The coffee was already brewed and I poured out two mugs while Steve gazed about him.

"I want a tour" he said.

"You're kidding."

"No" he replied. "I love what I've seen so far. I want to see the rest."

So, taking our coffee mugs with us, we toured all the rooms, both upstairs and down, and I pointed out to him all the aspects which had been a part of my original dream. From previous conversations, Steve already knew that one essential part of my original dream was gone. When I showed him the master bedroom suite, now so ruthlessly masculine in its decor, I explained that it had once looked far softer and his eyes expressed understanding of why I'd changed it so drastically.

The tour extended to the outside too. Steve admired the large pergola and, unlike my in-laws, he loved the pool-house with its wide veranda. To some, these structures are follies, mere conceits; for me they add to the authenticity of the architecture. I explained to Steve how the rough-textured red bricks were part of a special order when the house was built and how I'd tinkered with lots of different mortars before settling on one that toned in perfectly with the limestone retaining walls and paving.

We entered the pool area and I took him to the flat above the pool-house. From the upstairs balcony the view never loses its power to enchant me. To the east, over the treetops, you can see the estuary. To the west, you can see the lake and the beach beyond. And, immediately below you is the swimming pool.

Steve knew I was not showing off in any way. He knew that I was explaining something that's an integral part of me. It was like discussing an artwork and I could see that the artist in him was absorbing my own rural landscape and sharing my pleasure in the rightness of it all.

My children sort of understand "Dad's vision". My wife understood and shared it too. Now I sensed that someone else was capturing the essence of what I feel.

And now, in the flat above the pool-house, I felt far less constrained than I had in the house itself. Steve sensed it too. We moved into each other's arms and kissed with an urgency that I have missed for so long. Our clothes somehow fell away and we were naked and embracing once more.

Steve has a beautiful body - fine and slim, but with the underlying strength of a man who works at keeping fit. The hair at his chest, armpits and groin is a reddish-gold colour, slightly darker than the hair on his head. And his cock is truly magnificent - neither extraordinarily long nor thick - it's just perfect, and has an elegant upward curve.

We moved to the bed and took turns admiring each other's body with our eyes, hands, lips and tongues. Apart from body hair, we have so much in common physically that I might almost have been making love to younger version of myself. Similar height, similar build, both fair, both blue-eyed and both horny as hell. Even our circumcision marks are practically identical.

Inevitably, the moment came when a decision is made as to who does what to whom. I never got to ask the question, however. Steve murmured that he wanted me to fuck him. Unfortunately, I'd left the package of condoms in the glove-box of my car - a large detour when you're hard as a rock and primed for action!

Steve laughed when I told him this. He reached for his jeans on the floor and pulled out some condoms he'd brought with him. He had some little sachets of lube too. Obviously as much a Boy Scout as he is an artist. I'd not even thought about lube.

Steve lay on his back with his legs over my shoulders as I eased my way into him. His eyes never left mine and I felt incredibly connected to this beautiful man. I leaned forward and we kissed before I slid my cock in to its full extent. It was like a homecoming. At long last I was slipping into someone comfortable.

Comments

How wonderful. A shared hope, a wordless communication, a multi-level connection moving fluidly to a warm affirmation. We all wait to hear more.
 
WOW! Revel in that well-deserved happiness you feel, and ditch the guilt! As lgtrmusr says, we all wait to hear more.
 

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comically
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