Climbing into the Blazer in the early afternoon, broad daylight, was nerve racking enough, on lookers, witnesses everywhere, he picked me up in the parking lot at the Wal-Mart near his house, less than a minute away. This was the routine, ours anyway, I parked in one place, and he picked me up and took me to another. It had been a few years, since we made it a frequent occurrence, but you quickly fall back into old habits, and he was not a habit, he was an intense addiction, and today he was taking me to his house, well not just his house, their house. His wife, she wasnāt at home of course, but she was never far from my mind.
My mind was racing with a million thoughts about him being next to me, people seeing us together, the inside of his truck, us being together at all and through all the confusion and rambling thought in my brain I was struck by my surroundings.
The neighborhood was beautiful, pristine almost. Gorgeous two story brick homes, sprawling yards, flags flying patriotically in almost every other yard, picture perfect I thought. We didnāt talk much in the truck, nervous tension takes a hold of us it seems when we arenāt inside walls of some kind, and even with all the nervous tension, my legs still managed to shake, for no reason, sitting so close to him, then my hands, and most other body parts quickly follow suit.
We pulled into his driveway, his house, a dark, brick and wood ranch style home, sat back farther from the visibility of the road than the others, but it was impressive. We got out of the truck, and I was immediately aware of everyone around us, well nobody was out, but a neighbor on each side, and they were relatively far away. We spent some time in the garage, looking at this and that; I wanted to go inside, I wanted to ask to just peek in the door, but he wouldnāt have let me. I could feel her everywhere, her house, her garage, her husband.
He had been telling me, in our long distance conversations, that he wanted to bring me here, on one of the very few visits we manage to have together, show me the house, the garage, the shedā¦I thought, why the shed?...but I quickly learned the reason.
We left the garage and walked around to the back of the house, and the yard, sloping down a bit, it was thick with trees and plants native to the Eastern United States. Sitting back, about 150 feet from the house, was the shed. Not small, not large, lightwood, very unassuming.
He walked in front of me and unlocked the two side-by-side doors, and opened it up. He walked in first, and then I followed. Nothing out of the norm, I did first notice two thickly woven straps hanging straight ahead from the ceiling of the shed; I immediately thought how nice to be strung up inside the depths of his shed, for him to do whatever he pleased with. The straps were actually to assist in lifting the front tire of a motorcycle off the ground. For maintenance and such. Being the complete and total Bike Guy that he is and always has been, there were motorcycle related items everywhere, tools, accessories, an actual motorcycle.
A red FZR1000, under track lighting displayed as if in a showroom against the side wall, it added a nice effect. The whole room inside the shed reminded me of exactly what makes me want him, what makes me think about him all the time, no matter what Iām doing. The shed just bled everything that made him a man to me.
Being slightly hesitant to move towards me, he leaned against the waist high workbench that extended all the way across the other sidewall. He stood there smoking a cigarette, one foot over the other, hat, glasses, jeansā¦very nice I thought. He was in the middle of a sentence, something about motorcycles Iām sure, and I took it upon myself to walk over and stand an inch from his face, trying to make him let down his guard, looking him straight in the eyes, it didnāt phase him, he just met my stare, and Iām sure the subsequent throbbing between my legs was somehow started at this moment, with his fucking eyes, his beautiful deceptive gaze back at me.
He leaned forward, the inch or so left between us, and kissed me, it was soft, careful, and I barely tasted him. When he was this close to me, my hands tremble, so I put them on his sides, I feel his body, him breathing, and he does the same with his hands. Things begin carefully, cautiously, between us at first, still re-learning each otherās bodies, although I want nothing more so than for him to just pull me into him as close as possible and bend me over the workbench and just⦠well, anyway, his hands were resting above my hips, holding me, tightly, not just sitting there.
I could feel him breath against my body, and it made me shake. I tried to kiss him, deeply, slowly, make him feel the intensity of what was behind it, as carefully as I could, and I began un tucking his shirt, as I like to do, slipping my hand up the second shirt he was wearing beneath. I ran my tongue from his Adamās apple to his left ear, tasted it, and felt his body jump, so imperceptibly; I had to be this close to even notice it. I hold my breath, close to his ears, so I can hear him; catch his breath ever so slightly. His hand had slipped down between my legs, still wearing my jean shorts, he ran his hand between my thighs, up into the crevice where they meet, it was warm and I could feel the smallest of movement he made, his other hand inside my shirt holding my breast.
I canāt breath deeply, every breath is shallow, I can get lost, even as his tongue is melting in my mouth, in thoughts about him on top of me, beneath me, inside of me, I canāt however, hold onto any of these thoughts long. My entire body, every nerve wakes up and stands at attention when he is in the same room, so here I was, smashed up against him, leaning on the workbench, noticing how hard he was, against my thigh. As soon as I felt him get rock hard, I wanted to taste and consume every part of him. I put my hand on the obvious enlargement going on in his pants, and rubbing him back and forth slowly, but hard, I felt his breath grow short, and he kissed me deeply. My heart was already pounding out of my chest, when I unbuttoned his jeans and freed his, very impressive hard-on, my heart almost jumped out of my chest.