The Beach Houste, thread 2
- Thread starter IDreamaboutMen
- Start date
Here is the next ( a bit shorter part) of The Beach House.
The fizzy water danced in my mouth, tiny needles acupuncturing me from the inside.
His dick had been there—in this very mouth—just hours earlier. Just hours. And I’d fucking blown him.
I fucking had.
I’d felt its ridge along my tongue, the head pushing deep—to the very end of it, in fact.
I know the scent of his groin. The taste of his precum. The way his ass moves when he runs.
I’d made a fool of myself.
I’d made him hard.
His tongue licking my neck, moving upward—gentle, sensual against my earlobe. That playful smile as he watched me watching him, pulling out his dick for me.
The way his briefs had to be peeled down over his thick, muscular thighs—the elastic stretched tight, almost too tight to slide over them.
The tanline of his shorts.
How he loved being watched. How he loved me watching him. Watching his body.
He played me—and I followed.
Oh yes, I’d followed.
Reluctant… but wanting.
Yeah, fuck, how I wanted him.
And how I had wanted him.
All this time, I’d needed him.
Longed for him.
Calling it friendship. Best friend.
I shook my head. Tried to focus.
The girls were talking. The shadows of the old church had shifted across the restaurant, now resting over the table beside ours. People were talking. Someone laughed.
I shrugged. Was there a blanket around? Some kind of chill had gotten to me.
Now he leaned over, gently kissing Anna’s neck.
Had he unbuttoned his shirt some more? The roundness of his pecs was showing.
I downed my glass and poured some more water into it. It was a local brand. The bottle was heavy—probably some kind of artisanal quality signal.
The sky was still blue, towering above us, framed by plastered facades and glistening windows. Not a cloud in sight.
I felt Sussi’s hand on my arm.
—Are you alright?
She actually seemed concerned.
I stretched a smile and took another gulp.
—Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?
She still looked concerned.
—Just a little dizziness. We’ll have food soon.
—Okay, if you say so. Maybe we should head back to the house soon?
—Yeah, maybe. But let’s enjoy the food first.
She nodded, let go of me, and turned back to Anna to continue whatever they’d been talking about.
Mats tilted his head, still watching. He must have unbuttoned his shirt. Maybe even folded the sleeves higher.
His biceps were more visible now. So were his triceps, flexing like a breathing fish as he moved.
Those eyes of his.
Yeah.
That first meeting—he’d just rounded a corner, saw me, and smiled. That broad smile that fills the room.
Was that when?
His first sleepover. How I reluctantly—eagerly—followed him undressing. Still remembering the first glimpse of the bulge.
His white underwear, tightly trimmed against his body, and that bulge…
Tanning together.
Watching the muscles on his back as he reached into the freezer bag. How the sun rested on his skin, outlining every contour, every shape.
Then he had leaned back, resting on the sand next to me, not caring if his hand touched mine. Me, resting on my elbows, scanning the horizon—but always ending up staring at that bulge.
Following the trail of hair inward, beneath the lining. Hoping he’d need to adjust something—because when he did, I’d catch a glimpse of his pubes. And that dick. His big dick, resting, centered on his tight balls. Carelessly knowing it was being watched.
And if we turned over to lie on our stomachs, reading, talking, discussing…
How I leaned in, energized by every second our shoulders touched.
How I whispered—just to get his head close enough, so my lips could brush against his skin.
His ears were always cool.
And he bowed his head when I made him laugh.
His whole body moved when I made him laugh.
Yeah.
Best friends, we said.
Yeeright.
The waiter interrupted with our plates. He changed the cutlery, and within seconds, there were four steaming dishes in front of us. A strong scent of pepper, sweetness, and salty butter spread across the red-and-white, gingham-patterned tablecloth.
Ohlala for the French, I thought.
I pulled my hair back and sat up straight, resting my hands on either side of the plate, trying to look orderly, but messing that part by lifting the knife just to play with it.
Anna ordered some red wine somewhere in the background.
Cheers, she said after the glasses had been filled.
—Cheers, I said, lifting mine toward the blurry figures surrounding me. Not knowing what else to do.
Mats must have handed me his glass, asking if I wanted to try the wine.
I nodded and let the ruby liquid play against the tip of my tongue.
Strange, I thought, how it smells of Mats.
I gave it back with a slight nod, our fingers resting against each other for a second as they met.
I felt my pulse rise.
Am I gay??
I needed to throw up. Deep breaths.
I felt another version of me leaning back in the chair, hands behind his head, saying—Duuuh, bro! Of course I am. That’s what he told me. Of course!
But, I’m not gay!? How can I be? I’m Erik. I’m here.
Yeah, right, the figure said, tilting his head to watch the sky.
I can’t be! I’m… I’m… just not gay. That’s it. That’s right. That’s how it should be.
It felt calming to know that.
Sussi radiated her presence next to me. Her blurred outline, sipping wine while explaining something with her other hand gesturing in the air.
Of course I am. That’s my girlfriend.
Either I trust myself—or I don’t.
But that man on the other side of the table… that boy… I mean, How can I love a man? A boy?
He’s just nice. That’s all. Nothing more.
I can live without him.
Of course—it’d be sad if he weren’t here. But I’d survive.
That’s not love. That’s… something else.
I mean, I’m not Cate Blanchett and Mats is not Leonardo DiCaprio, haha.
The laugh helped me breathe, but the blurry faces around me suddenly seemed mildly concerned.
I heard Anna’s voice:
—Something wrong with the food?
—What? Her question surprised me. —What do you mean?
—Well, you gave off this strange… sound. And you seem off somehow. I just… well, we just wondered if something’s wrong.
—Oh no! All good here, I said, and quickly cut into the confit to take a bite.
—This is lovely, isn’t it?
I smiled and turned to meet their gaze, offering a flash of reassurance to each and every one of them.
The girls continued their conversation.
Mats stayed silent.
I’ll have to face my parents, I thought, feeling the chill grow colder.
Sitting on the sofa in the living room. Meeting their concerned faces. Seeing how their eyes would meet in quiet understanding. Hearing them agreeing that this "explains things".
How they'd pat me on the shoulder, saying they still love me, that "this doesn’t change anything."
But it would.
Their gay son.
Dropping expectations. Thinking I’d join the theater. Doing “gay” things. Kindly asking if I’d want them to walk with me in the Pride parade.
Filling the kitchen with rainbow teacups, just to make sure I felt included. Hoping for a cute boyfriend who can join them for shopping—but he won’t be able to help with the house or the garden.
Their gay son.
The bullies from school, laughing the second they hear of it: So the poof is gay. Knew it all along. Reassuringly patting each other on the shoulder, certain they’d been right from the beginning.
Saying hi in a peculiar tone to me if we pass on the street— lifting their now limp wrists into the air, taking a few exaggerated steps, as if they were on a catwalk.
But.. hey, I think Sussi is beautiful. I love her amazing green eyes. And I laugh at her jokes. And I like kissing her. Yeah—that’s right. I like kissing her.
And the sex… yeah… Cumming in her is amazing. No condoms. Feeling her nipples get hard when I play with them.How my dick just fits inside her. Fills her. No barriers. Just pure sex. A man and a woman.
My woman. As it should be.
I’ll be even more alone than I’ve ever been.
The headache was fundamental. I took a deep gulp of the water and turned to Sussi.
—Do you have any pills for a headache?
—Yeah, probably…
She grabbed her bag and started searching through it, still continuing her conversation with Anna. After some rummaging, she presented a white box with paracetamol written all over it.
—Here you are. Gosh, you look really pale, Erik.
She moved her chair slightly away.
—Sorry, but if you’ve caught something… I don’t want to ruin my vacation.
I gave her a faint smile.
—Don’t worry, you know I slept badly.
—Yeah, that’s right, she said, but didn’t sound convinced.
—You know what, Anna’s voice was reassuringly steady. We’ve all had our food now, and Erik, you really don’t look well. I think it’s time for us to head back to the house so you can get some rest.
She turned to the others for approval.
I heard Mats’s voice in the distance.
—Yes, a nap would be great.
I turned toward the closest figure in white and asked for the receipt. He nodded and went to the cashier at the bar to get it.
—You know what? We can make some fizz and bring it to the beach, Sussi said.
—Oh yes, Anna cheered, I like your thinking, sistah!
She swayed her hand in the air as if dancing.
—This day is getting even better.
—Sounds great, I said. I’ll come down and join you sooner than you think.
—We’ll be waiting for you. No one can party like you, Erik.
There she did it again—Anna, always rooting for me. How could I ever have thought about Mats the way I had? Just crazy.
I shook my head in disbelief.
Mats turned and smiled at her.
—No one can party like you, darling.
They kissed and smiled at each other.
Then I felt his leg gently touch mine. The coarse hair brushing against my skin, moving slightly up and down against it. And he let it stay there—resting against mine under the table.
I got hard. Rock hard.
The waiter stood by the bar, waiting for the bill to be ready for us.
—I’ll take care of it, I said as I rose to leave the table. No worries.
I turned to adjust my shorts, not to give anything away. Took a deep breath, pushed my shoulders back to straighten my posture. Deep breaths. Manly steps. Walking toward the bar.
Anything to get away. Anything to be straight.
The waiter stood by the bar, presenting the bill on a small plate he handed me.
He had dark brown eyes, almost black hair with neatly shaped curls that framed his face.
Broad shoulders, about my height.
There was something melancholic in his smile—like he knew something I would never understand.
Would he want to kiss me?
He was beautiful, after all.
And so was the girl at the cashier.
Short hair. Big—almost anime-shaped—eyes. Unpainted, soft pink lips.
Would she want to kiss me?
I tried to act casual as I searched for my card in one of the front pockets. The outline of my dick was pressing against the fabric—ready to get out and play.
I didn’t dare look at the waiter. Maybe he’d understand something?
After I had OK:ed the sum, adding a generous amount of tip, he took the card and tapped it against the machine, giving me a gentle smile as we waited for the transaction to go through.
He really did have beautiful eyes.
Suddenly, I wanted to make him smile.
—The food was excellent, you know. Please tell the chef.
He looked genuinely pleased.
—Well, merci, monsieur, I’ll certainly let her know.
—And the service… it was great. Really… great.
He handed me the card, holding on to it when I reached for it.
—That makes me very happy to hear. It’s been a pleasure having you with us.
He paused for a second before adding:
—As well as your friends.
We both held the card now. He looked almost shy.
—Well, we’ve totally enjoyed everything. From the huîtres to the confit de canard.
—Then I hope I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you here again.
—I hope so too, I said, unable to break my gaze.
—Are you all family… or friends?
—Oh…I turned and pointed at them —The two on the other side are my best friends, and the girl sitting next to me… or where I sat—sorry—she’s my girlfriend.
—Your girlfriend? Well, elle a eu de la chance, monsieur.
He let go of the card, and I slid it back into my pocket. It felt like my brain stood still, so I had no idea what he just said, but hey—I’m all for winging it.
—Well, yes, we’ll definitely come back if we get la chance. Merci, monsieur.
I smiled at him and took a few steps backward before I turned. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just missed something.
We gathered our things, left the dining area and stepped out onto the street. Right outside, I made a short stop just before we exited, turning in the hope of catching one last glimpse of him.
He was still by the counter, straightening a stack of menus. He looked up, as if searching for something, and then saw me and smiled.
That made me smile too.
Before I knew it, I gave him a quick wave, just like a shy schoolboy.
And you know what? He waved back.
To be continued...
The fizzy water danced in my mouth, tiny needles acupuncturing me from the inside.
His dick had been there—in this very mouth—just hours earlier. Just hours. And I’d fucking blown him.
I fucking had.
I’d felt its ridge along my tongue, the head pushing deep—to the very end of it, in fact.
I know the scent of his groin. The taste of his precum. The way his ass moves when he runs.
I’d made a fool of myself.
I’d made him hard.
His tongue licking my neck, moving upward—gentle, sensual against my earlobe. That playful smile as he watched me watching him, pulling out his dick for me.
The way his briefs had to be peeled down over his thick, muscular thighs—the elastic stretched tight, almost too tight to slide over them.
The tanline of his shorts.
How he loved being watched. How he loved me watching him. Watching his body.
He played me—and I followed.
Oh yes, I’d followed.
Reluctant… but wanting.
Yeah, fuck, how I wanted him.
And how I had wanted him.
All this time, I’d needed him.
Longed for him.
Calling it friendship. Best friend.
I shook my head. Tried to focus.
The girls were talking. The shadows of the old church had shifted across the restaurant, now resting over the table beside ours. People were talking. Someone laughed.
I shrugged. Was there a blanket around? Some kind of chill had gotten to me.
Now he leaned over, gently kissing Anna’s neck.
Had he unbuttoned his shirt some more? The roundness of his pecs was showing.
I downed my glass and poured some more water into it. It was a local brand. The bottle was heavy—probably some kind of artisanal quality signal.
The sky was still blue, towering above us, framed by plastered facades and glistening windows. Not a cloud in sight.
I felt Sussi’s hand on my arm.
—Are you alright?
She actually seemed concerned.
I stretched a smile and took another gulp.
—Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?
She still looked concerned.
—Just a little dizziness. We’ll have food soon.
—Okay, if you say so. Maybe we should head back to the house soon?
—Yeah, maybe. But let’s enjoy the food first.
She nodded, let go of me, and turned back to Anna to continue whatever they’d been talking about.
Mats tilted his head, still watching. He must have unbuttoned his shirt. Maybe even folded the sleeves higher.
His biceps were more visible now. So were his triceps, flexing like a breathing fish as he moved.
Those eyes of his.
Yeah.
That first meeting—he’d just rounded a corner, saw me, and smiled. That broad smile that fills the room.
Was that when?
His first sleepover. How I reluctantly—eagerly—followed him undressing. Still remembering the first glimpse of the bulge.
His white underwear, tightly trimmed against his body, and that bulge…
Tanning together.
Watching the muscles on his back as he reached into the freezer bag. How the sun rested on his skin, outlining every contour, every shape.
Then he had leaned back, resting on the sand next to me, not caring if his hand touched mine. Me, resting on my elbows, scanning the horizon—but always ending up staring at that bulge.
Following the trail of hair inward, beneath the lining. Hoping he’d need to adjust something—because when he did, I’d catch a glimpse of his pubes. And that dick. His big dick, resting, centered on his tight balls. Carelessly knowing it was being watched.
And if we turned over to lie on our stomachs, reading, talking, discussing…
How I leaned in, energized by every second our shoulders touched.
How I whispered—just to get his head close enough, so my lips could brush against his skin.
His ears were always cool.
And he bowed his head when I made him laugh.
His whole body moved when I made him laugh.
Yeah.
Best friends, we said.
Yeeright.
The waiter interrupted with our plates. He changed the cutlery, and within seconds, there were four steaming dishes in front of us. A strong scent of pepper, sweetness, and salty butter spread across the red-and-white, gingham-patterned tablecloth.
Ohlala for the French, I thought.
I pulled my hair back and sat up straight, resting my hands on either side of the plate, trying to look orderly, but messing that part by lifting the knife just to play with it.
Anna ordered some red wine somewhere in the background.
Cheers, she said after the glasses had been filled.
—Cheers, I said, lifting mine toward the blurry figures surrounding me. Not knowing what else to do.
Mats must have handed me his glass, asking if I wanted to try the wine.
I nodded and let the ruby liquid play against the tip of my tongue.
Strange, I thought, how it smells of Mats.
I gave it back with a slight nod, our fingers resting against each other for a second as they met.
I felt my pulse rise.
Am I gay??
I needed to throw up. Deep breaths.
I felt another version of me leaning back in the chair, hands behind his head, saying—Duuuh, bro! Of course I am. That’s what he told me. Of course!
But, I’m not gay!? How can I be? I’m Erik. I’m here.
Yeah, right, the figure said, tilting his head to watch the sky.
I can’t be! I’m… I’m… just not gay. That’s it. That’s right. That’s how it should be.
It felt calming to know that.
Sussi radiated her presence next to me. Her blurred outline, sipping wine while explaining something with her other hand gesturing in the air.
Of course I am. That’s my girlfriend.
Either I trust myself—or I don’t.
But that man on the other side of the table… that boy… I mean, How can I love a man? A boy?
He’s just nice. That’s all. Nothing more.
I can live without him.
Of course—it’d be sad if he weren’t here. But I’d survive.
That’s not love. That’s… something else.
I mean, I’m not Cate Blanchett and Mats is not Leonardo DiCaprio, haha.
The laugh helped me breathe, but the blurry faces around me suddenly seemed mildly concerned.
I heard Anna’s voice:
—Something wrong with the food?
—What? Her question surprised me. —What do you mean?
—Well, you gave off this strange… sound. And you seem off somehow. I just… well, we just wondered if something’s wrong.
—Oh no! All good here, I said, and quickly cut into the confit to take a bite.
—This is lovely, isn’t it?
I smiled and turned to meet their gaze, offering a flash of reassurance to each and every one of them.
The girls continued their conversation.
Mats stayed silent.
I’ll have to face my parents, I thought, feeling the chill grow colder.
Sitting on the sofa in the living room. Meeting their concerned faces. Seeing how their eyes would meet in quiet understanding. Hearing them agreeing that this "explains things".
How they'd pat me on the shoulder, saying they still love me, that "this doesn’t change anything."
But it would.
Their gay son.
Dropping expectations. Thinking I’d join the theater. Doing “gay” things. Kindly asking if I’d want them to walk with me in the Pride parade.
Filling the kitchen with rainbow teacups, just to make sure I felt included. Hoping for a cute boyfriend who can join them for shopping—but he won’t be able to help with the house or the garden.
Their gay son.
The bullies from school, laughing the second they hear of it: So the poof is gay. Knew it all along. Reassuringly patting each other on the shoulder, certain they’d been right from the beginning.
Saying hi in a peculiar tone to me if we pass on the street— lifting their now limp wrists into the air, taking a few exaggerated steps, as if they were on a catwalk.
But.. hey, I think Sussi is beautiful. I love her amazing green eyes. And I laugh at her jokes. And I like kissing her. Yeah—that’s right. I like kissing her.
And the sex… yeah… Cumming in her is amazing. No condoms. Feeling her nipples get hard when I play with them.How my dick just fits inside her. Fills her. No barriers. Just pure sex. A man and a woman.
My woman. As it should be.
I’ll be even more alone than I’ve ever been.
The headache was fundamental. I took a deep gulp of the water and turned to Sussi.
—Do you have any pills for a headache?
—Yeah, probably…
She grabbed her bag and started searching through it, still continuing her conversation with Anna. After some rummaging, she presented a white box with paracetamol written all over it.
—Here you are. Gosh, you look really pale, Erik.
She moved her chair slightly away.
—Sorry, but if you’ve caught something… I don’t want to ruin my vacation.
I gave her a faint smile.
—Don’t worry, you know I slept badly.
—Yeah, that’s right, she said, but didn’t sound convinced.
—You know what, Anna’s voice was reassuringly steady. We’ve all had our food now, and Erik, you really don’t look well. I think it’s time for us to head back to the house so you can get some rest.
She turned to the others for approval.
I heard Mats’s voice in the distance.
—Yes, a nap would be great.
I turned toward the closest figure in white and asked for the receipt. He nodded and went to the cashier at the bar to get it.
—You know what? We can make some fizz and bring it to the beach, Sussi said.
—Oh yes, Anna cheered, I like your thinking, sistah!
She swayed her hand in the air as if dancing.
—This day is getting even better.
—Sounds great, I said. I’ll come down and join you sooner than you think.
—We’ll be waiting for you. No one can party like you, Erik.
There she did it again—Anna, always rooting for me. How could I ever have thought about Mats the way I had? Just crazy.
I shook my head in disbelief.
Mats turned and smiled at her.
—No one can party like you, darling.
They kissed and smiled at each other.
Then I felt his leg gently touch mine. The coarse hair brushing against my skin, moving slightly up and down against it. And he let it stay there—resting against mine under the table.
I got hard. Rock hard.
The waiter stood by the bar, waiting for the bill to be ready for us.
—I’ll take care of it, I said as I rose to leave the table. No worries.
I turned to adjust my shorts, not to give anything away. Took a deep breath, pushed my shoulders back to straighten my posture. Deep breaths. Manly steps. Walking toward the bar.
Anything to get away. Anything to be straight.
The waiter stood by the bar, presenting the bill on a small plate he handed me.
He had dark brown eyes, almost black hair with neatly shaped curls that framed his face.
Broad shoulders, about my height.
There was something melancholic in his smile—like he knew something I would never understand.
Would he want to kiss me?
He was beautiful, after all.
And so was the girl at the cashier.
Short hair. Big—almost anime-shaped—eyes. Unpainted, soft pink lips.
Would she want to kiss me?
I tried to act casual as I searched for my card in one of the front pockets. The outline of my dick was pressing against the fabric—ready to get out and play.
I didn’t dare look at the waiter. Maybe he’d understand something?
After I had OK:ed the sum, adding a generous amount of tip, he took the card and tapped it against the machine, giving me a gentle smile as we waited for the transaction to go through.
He really did have beautiful eyes.
Suddenly, I wanted to make him smile.
—The food was excellent, you know. Please tell the chef.
He looked genuinely pleased.
—Well, merci, monsieur, I’ll certainly let her know.
—And the service… it was great. Really… great.
He handed me the card, holding on to it when I reached for it.
—That makes me very happy to hear. It’s been a pleasure having you with us.
He paused for a second before adding:
—As well as your friends.
We both held the card now. He looked almost shy.
—Well, we’ve totally enjoyed everything. From the huîtres to the confit de canard.
—Then I hope I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you here again.
—I hope so too, I said, unable to break my gaze.
—Are you all family… or friends?
—Oh…I turned and pointed at them —The two on the other side are my best friends, and the girl sitting next to me… or where I sat—sorry—she’s my girlfriend.
—Your girlfriend? Well, elle a eu de la chance, monsieur.
He let go of the card, and I slid it back into my pocket. It felt like my brain stood still, so I had no idea what he just said, but hey—I’m all for winging it.
—Well, yes, we’ll definitely come back if we get la chance. Merci, monsieur.
I smiled at him and took a few steps backward before I turned. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just missed something.
We gathered our things, left the dining area and stepped out onto the street. Right outside, I made a short stop just before we exited, turning in the hope of catching one last glimpse of him.
He was still by the counter, straightening a stack of menus. He looked up, as if searching for something, and then saw me and smiled.
That made me smile too.
Before I knew it, I gave him a quick wave, just like a shy schoolboy.
And you know what? He waved back.
To be continued...
PouletAuPoivre
Loved Member
Excellent---you are a true master with words.
PouletAuPoivre
Loved Member
Hm. This actually confused me a bit. Except for dinner last night (Mat's first episode of cold feet following a sexual encounter with Erik), we haven't seen a "usual" introverted Mats. He's been ever-ready to exchange quips with Erik, energetic, athletic, restless, and yeah, cocky. So I was surprised by that description. (Yeah, Sussi called Mats boring, but really, who trusts her opinion on that sort of thing?)
I salute Erik. However discombobulated by his emotions (and Mats's ambivalence) he may be, Erik is ready to deliver a good jab where it's deserved. And those were deserved.
See? Always ready. And he knows just how to make Mats squirm and how to ease off. Bravo to our narrator.
But it seems Erik can't pull off jokes referring to outside material.
(And Chris, I salute you and Erik both for your familiarity, as non-Anglo-Saxons, with the Monty Python oeuvre. Very gracious of you after the way they dissed your homeland during the opening credits of MP and the Holy Grail.)
And for all the jabs that Mats deserves, Erik's aways ready to bail him out of an awkward turn in the conversation. I hope Mats appreciates just how much Erik has his back.
Yes – I agree, that's the side of him he shows when he's with Erik - whichs surprises Erik. There’s a reason behind Erik’s hesitation that runs deeper than what’s happening in this particular part of their lives. I’m constantly trying to balance keeping the pace fun and light, while still offering glimpses of how the characters live outside the immediate scope of the story. My hope is that their personalities will become more defined as things evolve.
Discombobulated — now that’s a word I now can't get enough of. And yes, I really enjoyed writing that scene — letting Erik get a bit mouthy and jab back where it stings. I’m very fond of that character.
Yeeeez. I think it is good for Mats to be challenged. And for Erik to challenge him.
Well, that was a tough crowd.
I think Mats would have gotten it, but his mind was too far elsewhere to react. Sussi too, but Anna is not that kind of a gal.And I love the intro to The Holy Grail and all the moose bits (isn’t there a llama in there too?). I remember the first time I saw it (as well as the second, third...) — I laughed so hard it actually hurt. It really changed the way I saw comedy and cinema–and what one can make of a movie intro, forever.
Well, let's see about that, shall we?
And here, dear friend, is the next part of The Beach House. It'll be on my substack soon if you want to read it in full in one go.
---
Any — and I mean any (which is kind of sad) — French grocery store is like a little piece of heaven for me. I can’t explain exactly why, but if there’s toilet paper with French wording on the packaging, my take is that it’s the most interesting toilet paper in the world.
And if you think it’s a bit bizarre to have that kind of relationship to everyday items like toilet paper, well… you’d probably walk straight out of the building if you heard me when I reach the dairy section.
I mean… love, attraction — those words might be too small to grasp my feelings.
And judging by the ooohs and aahs from the girls as they moved through the liquor section, I was in good company.
I rounded a corner and handed them my arms full of butter, a wide assortment of cheese, and sweet yogurts I wouldn’t even consider buying back in Sweden.
This body wasn’t made with sugar, but after all, French sugar is probably good for you.
Sussi gave me a quick glance and sighed.
—Butter, Erik… really?
—Come on, Sussi, this butter is the Gucci of butters. Cleopatra would have died for this butter.
—Cleopatra would have died from that amount of it, so… yeah, you’re probably right.
Then she turned to Anna, holding up two thin, peach-colored bottles.
—But these… these peachy thingies… we need them, don’t we?
—What are they? Anna asked.
Sussi took a closer look at the labels, making inquiring noises as she turned them around, trying to make sense of the text.
—Well… they are… peachy thingies… ah, look — 25% alcohol… with crème, so I guess creamy peach thingies! With alcohol!
—Yaii! Anna said with a big smile. Then we absolutely need them! I sense that bubbly stuff with that creamy stuff is exactly what the beach has been longing for.
—Absolutely! And speaking of that…
Sussi proudly showed two bottles of Absolut Vodka in the carrier, her eyes twinkling.
—Here is… liquid home!
—Aaaaw, darling, that is so sweet, Anna said.—Yes, we need that, we really do—we don’t want to lose that tiny part of Sweden still within us after… what? Thirty hours here?
Mats appeared, carrying big bags of potato crisps and a couple of six-packs of beer.
—Here you go, girls, he said as he dropped the bags in the carrier. You’ll need something to destroy the kitchen with—and I need beer.
But the girls barely noticed; they had found the surprisingly wide assortment of mixers in all colours, which took all their attention.
So there we were, Mats standing next to me, arms crossed over his chest. I was fidgeting with stuff in my pockets, feeling the contour of my still semi-hard dick. Trying to hide a yawn with a hand.
—Didn’t get much sleep, did you?
—Nope, not much at all. A bit surprised I’ve managed this far, to be honest.
—Well, now you’ve got some butter to look forward to, at least.
He knew how to make me smile.
—Yeah, I’ve never been happier, actually.
—Never? Is that so?
He stepped a little closer, standing just near enough so we were both watching the girls hunt through the shelves, our elbows barely touching. My dick rose like a sailor spotting land.
—Not happier… on the beach?
—Why? With the old lady, you mean?
—No… I heard that there was a young man there, too?
His forehead crinkled, trying to look as if he was solving some kind of tricky riddle.
—A young man? Nope, the man she had with her was far from young. But… his eyes had some kind of youthful… energy, I guess. At least a clear interest in youth, you could say.
—Oh, is that so.
The girls let out more happy ooohs and aahs as they brought over a bunch of multicoloured bottles and dropped them into the carrier.
Mats cleared his throat.
—I got the impression you had some happy moments there.
—Did you? I couldn’t hide this next yawn.
—Yeah, I got a clear impression of that.
—Well… I suddenly felt an almost unstoppable urge to get back to the house and dive into a bed with AC-chilled sheets… Well, I got the impression you were happy there too.
When he didn’t answer, I grabbed the carrier’s handle and began steering towards the cashier desks. Then I heard him from behind:
—I was. I told you so.
I kept pushing the carrier away.
—Mats, you can be so… very… I don’t know. Can’t we just get back to the house? I really need a bed.
—And yo! Girls! Haven’t we got enough booze now? I mean, look at this — they’ll think we’re Finns. Do we even have any proper food here?
—I put a steak down there somewhere, Mats said.
—Great — steak and Dubonnet it is then, I said, pushing the carrier forward.
I didn’t care to wait for the girls, so I paid while Mats began to pack what amounted to a silly number of small, clearly useless bags filled with our groceries.
—The French, he said, without looking at me. Gotta love ’em, isn’t that what you say?
I nodded and started lifting them back into the carrier.
—And zat is whai zizz izz amaaazink.
I turned to holler at the girls, who had stopped by the stand with beauty products.
—If you buy any of that perfume, you’re doomed to sleep on the veranda for the rest of our stay!
Sussi didn’t answer, but called to me, waving a small white bottle.
—Look, Erik, they have Old Spice! If you use this, you might get laid!
—Then maybe you should try it, darling!
I could hear Anna laughing as I stepped out toward the parking lot.
Never had life in a monastery seemed more appetizing.
At least there, you could sleep.
---
When we’d finally gathered back in the car, Mats took the seat next to me, leaning his elbow on the armrest between us, which made it nearly impossible for us not to touch.
The girls gathered in the back seat, chatting and comparing the various types of ultra-cheap makeup they’d found. Words like “oh, that is a nice Russian style for ya” and “no one wants to look like an expensive slut, it’s the cheap slut I’m after”drifted through the sound of the latest hits from Sky Radio.
We passed through the typical coastal landscape, with small plastered houses scattered among clusters of low Pin maritime pines and fields prepared for the second harvest. I tried to settle into a comfortable posture but found it nearly impossible.
—God, I’m weary, I said, more to keep my thoughts going, not really inviting conversation.
Mats sat silent, leaned back in his seat, probably enjoying the landscape as much as I did. His fingers gently played with the hair on my thigh, like it was the most natural thing in the world, which probably had exactly the effect he was after.
I was thankful I’d adjusted my dick so it was centered above my balls; otherwise, my reaction would have been all too obvious for my comfort. But even like this, I could feel it — the slow, stubborn pulse under my shorts, the heat spreading through my stomach, the skin on my arms tightening with every light graze of his fingers.
Even though I tried not to, my eyes couldn’t help wandering down to Mats’s legs and crotch, my hand resting on the gear stick next to his thighs. I held it firm, like it was the cock of the car. The stark sunlight made his skin gleam, causing the front thigh muscles to pop. His coarse hair created a mist-like illusion over his skin, the bulge stretching the fabric of his shorts, even more poignant with his right hand resting casually beside it.
I tried to focus on the road, I really did, but the traffic was slow, giving my brain plenty of time to replay all the scenes I was trying to avoid: Mats undressing in front of me, kissing his crotch with his pubes and cock all over my face, his body glistening in the moonlight as he adjusted himself before fucking me, his ever-present scent (having him next to me wasn’t helping), and his shame-ridden avoidance all through today.
And yet… he said he liked porcelain.
And… he touched me to get us aroused.
He isn’t a fool.
He must know what he was doing.
He must.
I lowered the window, hoping the warm French summer wind would bring some sense to it all.
---
Afterwards, I couldn’t even recall entering the house. I must have helped carry the food into the kitchen (because I always do, as Agnetha Fältskog would have put it). And I must have helped sort it all, but the next thing I remember is standing in the shower, letting the cold water splash all over my body, attempting to rinse out the weariness.
I let my head drop forward, feeling the pressure of the water spread across my shoulders — like a gentle massage laced with tiny ice needles, pricking my skin. Eyes closed, breath steady, all that remained was the sensation of skin awakening under the stream.
The water gathered, sliding down the valley of my spine, slipping between my buttocks — two giant whales, standing guard at the gates of Atlantis. It continued along my thighs, softly brushing against my balls as it cascaded downward.
The semi was still there. My cock stood out, hard and unwavering, splitting the stream of water. I pressed my forehead against the cool tiled wall as my hand began to stroke, not out of hunger, but almost mechanical — like something my body had to do, even when my mind was too tired to follow.
I’d brought a razor, figuring I might as well use the moment to tidy myself up—also it prolonged the moment and fealing of finally being by myself. The lathered skin waited, and I spread my legs, making all parts of me accessible for the blade.
With the lather spreading across my body, I felt my nipples harden under the sense of surveillance, the bare softness around my hole where the blade had passed, my waist arching slightly in response.
The scent of the chlorine water mingled with the flowery, cedar-like perfume of the shower gel — almost Mediterranean.
After that — cotton bed sheets.
Just like Ariana, I decided it was time to defy gravity and collapsed onto the bed, letting the silent chill from the AC dry the last drops off my body. The cool fabric was like a summer breeze against my skin — a soft anesthetic, silencing every nerve. Even my boner decided to relax, at least for a while.
And just like Kylie, I was spinning around. Scenes and emotions from the last 24 hours blurred into one giant haze. All the things with Mats, the surprises, his strange behavior, his magical behavior… His lips when we kissed, my hands stroking his skin, feeling the hair on his chest, sensing his disdain, his guilt, the guy at the restaurant — I didn’t even get his name. But he was beautiful, or was he? I couldn’t even recall what he looked like… oh, there he was… yes, he was beautiful — what a smile, but then, just like a mirage, he was gone again.
I stretched out, grabbed a pillow to lean my head on.
The girl came back more vividly. She smiled at me, a nice, warm, uncomplicated smile. So uncomplicated… and then who… was… nothing.
That’s until a gentle knock broke into it.
All the faces still swirled under my eyelids — Mats, the boy, the girl… and then the sun… the waves, as the ocean slowly took hold of the beach.
Then there was another.
—Erik, you awake?
A creak from some door, slowly opening. Then a happy giggle.
—Boy, am I the lucky one. Erik, awake or what? You’ve been gone for hours.
It was Mats. It must be Mats, at least. I stretched my back and shoulders, wincing at a sudden pain in my neck — yeah, my head had been lying at a strange angle.
I felt him taking the few step towards the, saying:
—Who needs a blanket when there is an AC working its magic, right?
I had no clue what he was talking about, until… oh, yes… I streched again, realizing that I lay nude on my stomach. Legs spread wide apart.
He sat down next to me on the bed, making the mattress tilt gently toward him. Then I felt his warm, dry fingertips slowly stroke my skin, tracing the curve of my ass cheek.
—Managed to get any sleep, did you?
I couldn’t even bring myself to open my eyes, so I just gave a small, lazy nod into the pillow.
His hand was still gently stroking me, tracing its way along the ridge of my back, up to the center of my shoulders, then slowly back again.
—That’s good. You must have been crazy tired.
He returned to my ass, now following the crack, eventually letting his fingertips find their way deeper down, now play against the skin between my thighs.
—Do you always sleep in the nude?
I sighed softly and gave a small shrug.
—It will be difficult to forget this sight.
His fingers moved back along my ass crack before he continued, his voice lower:
—It is a sight to behold.
He moved up to my shoulders again, letting his fingertips follow a flowing pattern, then downward again. When his fingers returned between my thighs, I felt him shift on the mattress, leaning over me, then gently kissing the small of my back.
What was he up to?
His fingers searched further, deeper, finding my cock, resting eagerly against the soft cotton. The fingertips played lightly over the head as I once more felt his lips brush against my skin.
Then his hand wrapped around my cock, slowly jerking it with small movements that worked within the tight space, his warm breath spreading like a fountain of feathers over the small of my back.
I was still in my dozing haze, his movements adding a soft rhythm to the ever-changing imagery taking shape behind my closed eyelids.
It was as if my mind was making a list of all the feelings and moments I’d gone through — like a visual diary. I stretched my shoulders and realized I’d simply dived into whatever was offered, letting myself be engulfed in every passing sensation, taking charge of situations I had never faced — nor even allowed myself to dream of, placing myself at the center of an emotional kaleidoscope.
A 24-hour roller coaster.
His touch was so comforting.
My feelings were not.
His lips kissed their way up my spine, sending shivers through me like a Tesla at a MAGA rally. His hand firmly placed between my thighs, stroked me while his thumb played with my hole.
—You smell so nice, he murmured against my back. —So soft and clean.
I didn’t answer. My brain was busy throwing moments at me like an angry divorcee.
Mats was strong. I felt his hand lift my crotch to get a better grip, and my body followed, arching my ass upwards, opening for his kisses.
I stood halfway into the ocean, the waves flooding me with memories, feelings, touches… The saltiness flowered on my lips, followed by the soft sweetness of Mats’s, the harsh sweetness of the wine on the beach, the sharp crusts of crisps scattered all over the kitchen bench… The strength when he carried me, the way he turned away when I got close… Sussi’s distant slander…
—Now turn, Erik. I want to see all of you.
His hands grabbed me, and my body followed until I was on my back. He continued kissing my stomach, licking my nipples, a firm grip around my cock, his thumb tracing the ridge of its head.
—Fuck Erik, you’re hot.
His fingers moved like a hummingbird over my body, a soft tension radiating from his hands as they worked my foreskin. I had to cover my eyes with an elbow, just to stop them from showing the tears welling up from nowhere.
I gasped. He must have taken that as a yes, because immediately I felt his warm lips swallow the head. His saliva slowly coated its shaved shaft, shining like lacquer on a Japanese doll.
I was running along the waterfront, chased by the waves closing in on the beach. The man’s eyes lingering on my body. Mats’s tongue playing with my earlobe in ways no one ever had before. Opening his most private parts for my pleasure.
Sussi saying I’m inattentive.
Anna’s blushing smile when Erik kissed her at the restaurant.
—Erik, this dick is… amazing. I mean it… it’s beautiful.
He leaned over it, adjusting his position as he slowly devoured it, inch by inch, until his nose nearly touched the lean, shaved skin.
I heard him gag slightly as the head touched his inner throat. Then I felt a finger follow the trail of saliva between my cheeks, lubed enough to slip inside me, despite my tense muscles.
Why the shame?
Why the need for my adoration?
Why the… if it didn’t mean anything?
And why am I even blaming him? I’m the one losing my religion.
We both are.
But, jiiizuz, he wanked me so well. His hand, drenched in saliva, working in joint force with those soft lips and that warm, moist mouth. His admiration and lust… how I wanted them… I wanted them to fill me, and I knew that. Damn—it was like coming home… I mean… I knew it allready—he is him.
And — oh, fuck — now he touched me deep inside, massaging while playing the head with the tip of his tongue.
I just had to watch.
His tongueplay shattered the moments of reverie that had engulfed me, like a mind master snapping his fingers — there, the kaleidoscope was gone. Elvis had left the building.
All that was left was my best friend giving me the blowjob of my life.
I dried my tears quickly, with the back of my hand.
Mats turned to me, smiling, saliva dripping from his lips.
—Hell yeah, Erik. This is amazing… I mean, your dick… yumm!
He kissed his fingertips like an Italian chef.
I couldn’t help smiling back. In fact, I grinned.
He let one hand play with a nipple as he continued licking my shaft and head. My legs were spread wide so he could move freely, following his own inspiration, playing with my hole.
I moved a hand to his back, slipping under his T-shirt, then sliding down to grab his ass, trying to get between his legs through the fabric of his shorts.
He stopped me with a firm grip.
—This is about you…
Then he swallowed me down to the groin, tears flowing as he gagged.
To be contined...
---
Any — and I mean any (which is kind of sad) — French grocery store is like a little piece of heaven for me. I can’t explain exactly why, but if there’s toilet paper with French wording on the packaging, my take is that it’s the most interesting toilet paper in the world.
And if you think it’s a bit bizarre to have that kind of relationship to everyday items like toilet paper, well… you’d probably walk straight out of the building if you heard me when I reach the dairy section.
I mean… love, attraction — those words might be too small to grasp my feelings.
And judging by the ooohs and aahs from the girls as they moved through the liquor section, I was in good company.
I rounded a corner and handed them my arms full of butter, a wide assortment of cheese, and sweet yogurts I wouldn’t even consider buying back in Sweden.
This body wasn’t made with sugar, but after all, French sugar is probably good for you.
Sussi gave me a quick glance and sighed.
—Butter, Erik… really?
—Come on, Sussi, this butter is the Gucci of butters. Cleopatra would have died for this butter.
—Cleopatra would have died from that amount of it, so… yeah, you’re probably right.
Then she turned to Anna, holding up two thin, peach-colored bottles.
—But these… these peachy thingies… we need them, don’t we?
—What are they? Anna asked.
Sussi took a closer look at the labels, making inquiring noises as she turned them around, trying to make sense of the text.
—Well… they are… peachy thingies… ah, look — 25% alcohol… with crème, so I guess creamy peach thingies! With alcohol!
—Yaii! Anna said with a big smile. Then we absolutely need them! I sense that bubbly stuff with that creamy stuff is exactly what the beach has been longing for.
—Absolutely! And speaking of that…
Sussi proudly showed two bottles of Absolut Vodka in the carrier, her eyes twinkling.
—Here is… liquid home!
—Aaaaw, darling, that is so sweet, Anna said.—Yes, we need that, we really do—we don’t want to lose that tiny part of Sweden still within us after… what? Thirty hours here?
Mats appeared, carrying big bags of potato crisps and a couple of six-packs of beer.
—Here you go, girls, he said as he dropped the bags in the carrier. You’ll need something to destroy the kitchen with—and I need beer.
But the girls barely noticed; they had found the surprisingly wide assortment of mixers in all colours, which took all their attention.
So there we were, Mats standing next to me, arms crossed over his chest. I was fidgeting with stuff in my pockets, feeling the contour of my still semi-hard dick. Trying to hide a yawn with a hand.
—Didn’t get much sleep, did you?
—Nope, not much at all. A bit surprised I’ve managed this far, to be honest.
—Well, now you’ve got some butter to look forward to, at least.
He knew how to make me smile.
—Yeah, I’ve never been happier, actually.
—Never? Is that so?
He stepped a little closer, standing just near enough so we were both watching the girls hunt through the shelves, our elbows barely touching. My dick rose like a sailor spotting land.
—Not happier… on the beach?
—Why? With the old lady, you mean?
—No… I heard that there was a young man there, too?
His forehead crinkled, trying to look as if he was solving some kind of tricky riddle.
—A young man? Nope, the man she had with her was far from young. But… his eyes had some kind of youthful… energy, I guess. At least a clear interest in youth, you could say.
—Oh, is that so.
The girls let out more happy ooohs and aahs as they brought over a bunch of multicoloured bottles and dropped them into the carrier.
Mats cleared his throat.
—I got the impression you had some happy moments there.
—Did you? I couldn’t hide this next yawn.
—Yeah, I got a clear impression of that.
—Well… I suddenly felt an almost unstoppable urge to get back to the house and dive into a bed with AC-chilled sheets… Well, I got the impression you were happy there too.
When he didn’t answer, I grabbed the carrier’s handle and began steering towards the cashier desks. Then I heard him from behind:
—I was. I told you so.
I kept pushing the carrier away.
—Mats, you can be so… very… I don’t know. Can’t we just get back to the house? I really need a bed.
—And yo! Girls! Haven’t we got enough booze now? I mean, look at this — they’ll think we’re Finns. Do we even have any proper food here?
—I put a steak down there somewhere, Mats said.
—Great — steak and Dubonnet it is then, I said, pushing the carrier forward.
I didn’t care to wait for the girls, so I paid while Mats began to pack what amounted to a silly number of small, clearly useless bags filled with our groceries.
—The French, he said, without looking at me. Gotta love ’em, isn’t that what you say?
I nodded and started lifting them back into the carrier.
—And zat is whai zizz izz amaaazink.
I turned to holler at the girls, who had stopped by the stand with beauty products.
—If you buy any of that perfume, you’re doomed to sleep on the veranda for the rest of our stay!
Sussi didn’t answer, but called to me, waving a small white bottle.
—Look, Erik, they have Old Spice! If you use this, you might get laid!
—Then maybe you should try it, darling!
I could hear Anna laughing as I stepped out toward the parking lot.
Never had life in a monastery seemed more appetizing.
At least there, you could sleep.
---
When we’d finally gathered back in the car, Mats took the seat next to me, leaning his elbow on the armrest between us, which made it nearly impossible for us not to touch.
The girls gathered in the back seat, chatting and comparing the various types of ultra-cheap makeup they’d found. Words like “oh, that is a nice Russian style for ya” and “no one wants to look like an expensive slut, it’s the cheap slut I’m after”drifted through the sound of the latest hits from Sky Radio.
We passed through the typical coastal landscape, with small plastered houses scattered among clusters of low Pin maritime pines and fields prepared for the second harvest. I tried to settle into a comfortable posture but found it nearly impossible.
—God, I’m weary, I said, more to keep my thoughts going, not really inviting conversation.
Mats sat silent, leaned back in his seat, probably enjoying the landscape as much as I did. His fingers gently played with the hair on my thigh, like it was the most natural thing in the world, which probably had exactly the effect he was after.
I was thankful I’d adjusted my dick so it was centered above my balls; otherwise, my reaction would have been all too obvious for my comfort. But even like this, I could feel it — the slow, stubborn pulse under my shorts, the heat spreading through my stomach, the skin on my arms tightening with every light graze of his fingers.
Even though I tried not to, my eyes couldn’t help wandering down to Mats’s legs and crotch, my hand resting on the gear stick next to his thighs. I held it firm, like it was the cock of the car. The stark sunlight made his skin gleam, causing the front thigh muscles to pop. His coarse hair created a mist-like illusion over his skin, the bulge stretching the fabric of his shorts, even more poignant with his right hand resting casually beside it.
I tried to focus on the road, I really did, but the traffic was slow, giving my brain plenty of time to replay all the scenes I was trying to avoid: Mats undressing in front of me, kissing his crotch with his pubes and cock all over my face, his body glistening in the moonlight as he adjusted himself before fucking me, his ever-present scent (having him next to me wasn’t helping), and his shame-ridden avoidance all through today.
And yet… he said he liked porcelain.
And… he touched me to get us aroused.
He isn’t a fool.
He must know what he was doing.
He must.
I lowered the window, hoping the warm French summer wind would bring some sense to it all.
---
Afterwards, I couldn’t even recall entering the house. I must have helped carry the food into the kitchen (because I always do, as Agnetha Fältskog would have put it). And I must have helped sort it all, but the next thing I remember is standing in the shower, letting the cold water splash all over my body, attempting to rinse out the weariness.
I let my head drop forward, feeling the pressure of the water spread across my shoulders — like a gentle massage laced with tiny ice needles, pricking my skin. Eyes closed, breath steady, all that remained was the sensation of skin awakening under the stream.
The water gathered, sliding down the valley of my spine, slipping between my buttocks — two giant whales, standing guard at the gates of Atlantis. It continued along my thighs, softly brushing against my balls as it cascaded downward.
The semi was still there. My cock stood out, hard and unwavering, splitting the stream of water. I pressed my forehead against the cool tiled wall as my hand began to stroke, not out of hunger, but almost mechanical — like something my body had to do, even when my mind was too tired to follow.
I’d brought a razor, figuring I might as well use the moment to tidy myself up—also it prolonged the moment and fealing of finally being by myself. The lathered skin waited, and I spread my legs, making all parts of me accessible for the blade.
With the lather spreading across my body, I felt my nipples harden under the sense of surveillance, the bare softness around my hole where the blade had passed, my waist arching slightly in response.
The scent of the chlorine water mingled with the flowery, cedar-like perfume of the shower gel — almost Mediterranean.
After that — cotton bed sheets.
Just like Ariana, I decided it was time to defy gravity and collapsed onto the bed, letting the silent chill from the AC dry the last drops off my body. The cool fabric was like a summer breeze against my skin — a soft anesthetic, silencing every nerve. Even my boner decided to relax, at least for a while.
And just like Kylie, I was spinning around. Scenes and emotions from the last 24 hours blurred into one giant haze. All the things with Mats, the surprises, his strange behavior, his magical behavior… His lips when we kissed, my hands stroking his skin, feeling the hair on his chest, sensing his disdain, his guilt, the guy at the restaurant — I didn’t even get his name. But he was beautiful, or was he? I couldn’t even recall what he looked like… oh, there he was… yes, he was beautiful — what a smile, but then, just like a mirage, he was gone again.
I stretched out, grabbed a pillow to lean my head on.
The girl came back more vividly. She smiled at me, a nice, warm, uncomplicated smile. So uncomplicated… and then who… was… nothing.
That’s until a gentle knock broke into it.
All the faces still swirled under my eyelids — Mats, the boy, the girl… and then the sun… the waves, as the ocean slowly took hold of the beach.
Then there was another.
—Erik, you awake?
A creak from some door, slowly opening. Then a happy giggle.
—Boy, am I the lucky one. Erik, awake or what? You’ve been gone for hours.
It was Mats. It must be Mats, at least. I stretched my back and shoulders, wincing at a sudden pain in my neck — yeah, my head had been lying at a strange angle.
I felt him taking the few step towards the, saying:
—Who needs a blanket when there is an AC working its magic, right?
I had no clue what he was talking about, until… oh, yes… I streched again, realizing that I lay nude on my stomach. Legs spread wide apart.
He sat down next to me on the bed, making the mattress tilt gently toward him. Then I felt his warm, dry fingertips slowly stroke my skin, tracing the curve of my ass cheek.
—Managed to get any sleep, did you?
I couldn’t even bring myself to open my eyes, so I just gave a small, lazy nod into the pillow.
His hand was still gently stroking me, tracing its way along the ridge of my back, up to the center of my shoulders, then slowly back again.
—That’s good. You must have been crazy tired.
He returned to my ass, now following the crack, eventually letting his fingertips find their way deeper down, now play against the skin between my thighs.
—Do you always sleep in the nude?
I sighed softly and gave a small shrug.
—It will be difficult to forget this sight.
His fingers moved back along my ass crack before he continued, his voice lower:
—It is a sight to behold.
He moved up to my shoulders again, letting his fingertips follow a flowing pattern, then downward again. When his fingers returned between my thighs, I felt him shift on the mattress, leaning over me, then gently kissing the small of my back.
What was he up to?
His fingers searched further, deeper, finding my cock, resting eagerly against the soft cotton. The fingertips played lightly over the head as I once more felt his lips brush against my skin.
Then his hand wrapped around my cock, slowly jerking it with small movements that worked within the tight space, his warm breath spreading like a fountain of feathers over the small of my back.
I was still in my dozing haze, his movements adding a soft rhythm to the ever-changing imagery taking shape behind my closed eyelids.
It was as if my mind was making a list of all the feelings and moments I’d gone through — like a visual diary. I stretched my shoulders and realized I’d simply dived into whatever was offered, letting myself be engulfed in every passing sensation, taking charge of situations I had never faced — nor even allowed myself to dream of, placing myself at the center of an emotional kaleidoscope.
A 24-hour roller coaster.
His touch was so comforting.
My feelings were not.
His lips kissed their way up my spine, sending shivers through me like a Tesla at a MAGA rally. His hand firmly placed between my thighs, stroked me while his thumb played with my hole.
—You smell so nice, he murmured against my back. —So soft and clean.
I didn’t answer. My brain was busy throwing moments at me like an angry divorcee.
Mats was strong. I felt his hand lift my crotch to get a better grip, and my body followed, arching my ass upwards, opening for his kisses.
I stood halfway into the ocean, the waves flooding me with memories, feelings, touches… The saltiness flowered on my lips, followed by the soft sweetness of Mats’s, the harsh sweetness of the wine on the beach, the sharp crusts of crisps scattered all over the kitchen bench… The strength when he carried me, the way he turned away when I got close… Sussi’s distant slander…
—Now turn, Erik. I want to see all of you.
His hands grabbed me, and my body followed until I was on my back. He continued kissing my stomach, licking my nipples, a firm grip around my cock, his thumb tracing the ridge of its head.
—Fuck Erik, you’re hot.
His fingers moved like a hummingbird over my body, a soft tension radiating from his hands as they worked my foreskin. I had to cover my eyes with an elbow, just to stop them from showing the tears welling up from nowhere.
I gasped. He must have taken that as a yes, because immediately I felt his warm lips swallow the head. His saliva slowly coated its shaved shaft, shining like lacquer on a Japanese doll.
I was running along the waterfront, chased by the waves closing in on the beach. The man’s eyes lingering on my body. Mats’s tongue playing with my earlobe in ways no one ever had before. Opening his most private parts for my pleasure.
Sussi saying I’m inattentive.
Anna’s blushing smile when Erik kissed her at the restaurant.
—Erik, this dick is… amazing. I mean it… it’s beautiful.
He leaned over it, adjusting his position as he slowly devoured it, inch by inch, until his nose nearly touched the lean, shaved skin.
I heard him gag slightly as the head touched his inner throat. Then I felt a finger follow the trail of saliva between my cheeks, lubed enough to slip inside me, despite my tense muscles.
Why the shame?
Why the need for my adoration?
Why the… if it didn’t mean anything?
And why am I even blaming him? I’m the one losing my religion.
We both are.
But, jiiizuz, he wanked me so well. His hand, drenched in saliva, working in joint force with those soft lips and that warm, moist mouth. His admiration and lust… how I wanted them… I wanted them to fill me, and I knew that. Damn—it was like coming home… I mean… I knew it allready—he is him.
And — oh, fuck — now he touched me deep inside, massaging while playing the head with the tip of his tongue.
I just had to watch.
His tongueplay shattered the moments of reverie that had engulfed me, like a mind master snapping his fingers — there, the kaleidoscope was gone. Elvis had left the building.
All that was left was my best friend giving me the blowjob of my life.
I dried my tears quickly, with the back of my hand.
Mats turned to me, smiling, saliva dripping from his lips.
—Hell yeah, Erik. This is amazing… I mean, your dick… yumm!
He kissed his fingertips like an Italian chef.
I couldn’t help smiling back. In fact, I grinned.
He let one hand play with a nipple as he continued licking my shaft and head. My legs were spread wide so he could move freely, following his own inspiration, playing with my hole.
I moved a hand to his back, slipping under his T-shirt, then sliding down to grab his ass, trying to get between his legs through the fabric of his shorts.
He stopped me with a firm grip.
—This is about you…
Then he swallowed me down to the groin, tears flowing as he gagged.
To be contined...
After that, he was all about control. Steering me with his lips, barely brushing the head, teasing the foreskin against them, then lowering… quicker and quicker.
His finger inside me dug deep, pressing in, then up — what was he up to? Trying to squeeze my balls from the inside? Whatever the plan — tickling the prostate created fire. Real fire.
He kept stroking my stomach while his mouth worked its magic. His hand moved as lightly as a butterfly along the outlines of my muscles, creating ripples that multiplied as they travelled over, inside, and around me. Treated my abs like sphere like stones in a Japanese garden.
The shave made my skin shimmer and shine, making every move easy. And his mouth… those lips, those gentle caresses, while his dark eyes watched my descent into heaven.
I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my groin against his face, forcing my dick deeper…
But he restrained me. He used his weight and sheer force, controlling my movements down to the smallest detail.
And he enjoyed the power he had.
He smiled — even with his mouth full of me.
Every light bite turned my skin into a dynamo, generating beams of energy that charged the string between my balls, growing tighter, heavier — more and more ready to blow.
I had never enjoyed the sight of my thighs more than now — how the muscles moved in perfect coordination, like a bagpipe parade, with Mats’s body centered over them like a giant figure balloon floating through a St. Patrick’s parade. His dark hair tangled in sweat as his strength worked to match mine.
He backed off for a second, still focused on every detail of jerking my foreskin.
—I want you to shoot now. I think you’re ready.
And then he leaned in again, mouth open, aiming my dick straight into it.
And who was I to disobey a direct order? No siree.
He let another finger join inside, and it made my ass explode. The pure pressure shattered any restraint I might have had — I could almost hear the click when my dick unlocked. His lips glistened in the soft light, his mouth open for whatever load I was ready to release.
And I shot.
My thighs, tensed to the max for what felt like a lifetime, imploded as the thunderbolt of orgasm crashed through me. All the brute force I had built within them came together, driving out what was many erect hours of sperm into my man’s mouth.
I shot. And he swallowed.
Load after load fountained into him, and he took it all. His tongue swept up any stray drops that missed their mark, claiming the debris like a dragon after burning King’s Landing.
And I arched like the vaults of the Sistine Chapel, while he held its spire. He was the Pope, and he had just given me Holy Communion.
My Pope.
He rose, stretched his shoulders, never taking his eyes off my dick, which now rested heavy against my thigh. His tongue swept the last traces of sperm from his hand and cheek. I heard a soft chuckle.
—Wow, that was… a blow.
He turned to watch me — a rather unimpressive sight, draped in sweat and exhaustion.
—And here I was, thinking you had stamina.
I raised a middle finger at him.
—Oh, Mr. Dictionary seems to have left us again, has he?
I managed to whisper:
—Quoting Ab Fab is my thing. Get off it.
—It seems to me that you’re the one getting off.
I heard the grin in his voice as I pushed myself up to rest on my elbows. The sweet scent of my sperm mingled with the cedar and citrus of the shower gel.
—You know what, asshole? I have absolutely no energy to match that right now. I’ll get back to you, I promise. But right now…
I shook my head, too wasted to respond properly.—I have nothing.
He took another careful lick off the skin of his hand, doing it slowly so I could follow every detail.
—Well, that’s because I have it all. All your little babies gathering inside me for a while.
—Exodus, I murmured and fell back, resting my arms behind my head.
—Sexodus, and a lot of it, if you keep looking like that.
He tilted his head, taking in the whole view.
—You know I’ll fuck you if you keep being this hot.
I nodded in response.
—And what’s stopping you now?
—Dinner, baby. The grill’s glowing and the girls are drinking. They need another man at their side.
He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
—And so do I.
To be continued...
His finger inside me dug deep, pressing in, then up — what was he up to? Trying to squeeze my balls from the inside? Whatever the plan — tickling the prostate created fire. Real fire.
He kept stroking my stomach while his mouth worked its magic. His hand moved as lightly as a butterfly along the outlines of my muscles, creating ripples that multiplied as they travelled over, inside, and around me. Treated my abs like sphere like stones in a Japanese garden.
The shave made my skin shimmer and shine, making every move easy. And his mouth… those lips, those gentle caresses, while his dark eyes watched my descent into heaven.
I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my groin against his face, forcing my dick deeper…
But he restrained me. He used his weight and sheer force, controlling my movements down to the smallest detail.
And he enjoyed the power he had.
He smiled — even with his mouth full of me.
Every light bite turned my skin into a dynamo, generating beams of energy that charged the string between my balls, growing tighter, heavier — more and more ready to blow.
I had never enjoyed the sight of my thighs more than now — how the muscles moved in perfect coordination, like a bagpipe parade, with Mats’s body centered over them like a giant figure balloon floating through a St. Patrick’s parade. His dark hair tangled in sweat as his strength worked to match mine.
He backed off for a second, still focused on every detail of jerking my foreskin.
—I want you to shoot now. I think you’re ready.
And then he leaned in again, mouth open, aiming my dick straight into it.
And who was I to disobey a direct order? No siree.
He let another finger join inside, and it made my ass explode. The pure pressure shattered any restraint I might have had — I could almost hear the click when my dick unlocked. His lips glistened in the soft light, his mouth open for whatever load I was ready to release.
And I shot.
My thighs, tensed to the max for what felt like a lifetime, imploded as the thunderbolt of orgasm crashed through me. All the brute force I had built within them came together, driving out what was many erect hours of sperm into my man’s mouth.
I shot. And he swallowed.
Load after load fountained into him, and he took it all. His tongue swept up any stray drops that missed their mark, claiming the debris like a dragon after burning King’s Landing.
And I arched like the vaults of the Sistine Chapel, while he held its spire. He was the Pope, and he had just given me Holy Communion.
My Pope.
He rose, stretched his shoulders, never taking his eyes off my dick, which now rested heavy against my thigh. His tongue swept the last traces of sperm from his hand and cheek. I heard a soft chuckle.
—Wow, that was… a blow.
He turned to watch me — a rather unimpressive sight, draped in sweat and exhaustion.
—And here I was, thinking you had stamina.
I raised a middle finger at him.
—Oh, Mr. Dictionary seems to have left us again, has he?
I managed to whisper:
—Quoting Ab Fab is my thing. Get off it.
—It seems to me that you’re the one getting off.
I heard the grin in his voice as I pushed myself up to rest on my elbows. The sweet scent of my sperm mingled with the cedar and citrus of the shower gel.
—You know what, asshole? I have absolutely no energy to match that right now. I’ll get back to you, I promise. But right now…
I shook my head, too wasted to respond properly.—I have nothing.
He took another careful lick off the skin of his hand, doing it slowly so I could follow every detail.
—Well, that’s because I have it all. All your little babies gathering inside me for a while.
—Exodus, I murmured and fell back, resting my arms behind my head.
—Sexodus, and a lot of it, if you keep looking like that.
He tilted his head, taking in the whole view.
—You know I’ll fuck you if you keep being this hot.
I nodded in response.
—And what’s stopping you now?
—Dinner, baby. The grill’s glowing and the girls are drinking. They need another man at their side.
He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
—And so do I.
To be continued...
Awesome update and material. Your writing and character development is Excellent as always--this story and characters are just hot as fuck my man...You have outdone yourself. THANKS!!!
Aaaaw—you are so kind Michael! And I am so happy you like the story.
This will keep me going for a long time.This story is so good, loving it! I want to keep reading and am disappointed when each chapter ends.
Oh - that is sooo nice to hear! Thank you!This story is so good, loving it! I want to keep reading and am disappointed when each chapter ends.
Thank you Bruzzki
More is on the way...Similar threads
