The following is a work of fiction. All characters are over the age of twenty-one years.
*
I walked out of the rural grocery store toward my car when I noticed the old truck. A vintage Toyota 4x4 similar to the one I had owned while in the service so many years before. I felt astonishment as I studied it. Not a common sight for sure. I stood staring at the interior and reminisced.
"It's an 88." A stranger's voice said from behind.
I turned to see a late twenties blue-collar type in typical grunge work Levis and a t-shirt. The shirt fit his frame well. We had about the same build. At 5' 11" and 170 he had a bit more muscle and I had a bit more gut.
He smiled and asked me if I liked the truck. I told him I had owned an 89. We chatted about the truck and I felt my package slowly warming up. It was tingling in that certain way simply due to the charm that the truck's owner was exuding. A gentle change in the wind caused me to catch his scent. I began to grow hard. What was going on? I suddenly felt unsure but was unwilling to walk away.
My bi desires were new to me and had never been acted on. However, I wasn't oblivious to the hints that this man twenty-five years my junior was tossing my way. We chatted some more and then I saw the bulge snaking its way down the right side of his tight jeans. He noticed me noticing, looked down, then up and grinned. I stood frozen.
"Want to see my shop where I keep her running?" he asked coolly. I nodded.
"Follow me. I'm Marc by the way." he added.
"Derek." I lied. Probably not convincingly. He didn't seem to care.
We bounced out of the pothole strewn parking lot, a swirl of autumn leaves in our wake. I followed closely behind. I could not get his masculine scent out of my mind. My body was betraying my very nervous mind as pre-cum leaked out of my semi erect cock like back in my teen days.
The brief ride ended with a last turn down a short dead-end street anchored by a small gray house with a detached garage. He pulled his rig up close to the open bay and I parked to his left. We both got out and he waited while I came around.
Again my body betrayed my mind as I unconsciously positioned myself so that the breeze would bring his scent toward me. He had me very curious.
"So this is where I make it happen" he said.
The air was pregnant with his double entendre and we both knew it. I walked around the shop trying to get comfortable with the situation. Butterflies and sexual tension filled me. As I walked further into the garage absently examining the usual contents I turned to look back. Marc had pulled his shirt off and simply dropped it to the concrete floor. He stood there displaying for me. It was game on. Luckily our vehicles blocked the view from the street.
"Anyone else home?" I asked a bit unsure.
"Roommates are at work." He replied.
My lust heightening, I decided it was now or never. I strode toward him afraid to think. I only knew I wanted this to happen. As if on auto pilot I reached out and ran my hand over his firm, smooth chest, down his flat tummy and back up, brushing over each nipple. He responded well to the abbreviated nipple play.
Taking a younger man while deep in his territory flipped a switch in me. Gone were any doubts. Enjoying the feeling of his nipples under my warm hands while slowly taking in the view was incredibly satisfying. His slightly curly dark hair, well proportioned chest and arms supported by taught thighs made me want more. It was obvious from the twitching pulse of his cock through his jeans that he did too.
I told him to clasp his hands behind him and close his eyes. He complied. I popped the top button on his jeans and heard his zipper part as I took it down. His breathing had become fast and shallow as had mine. I placed my hands flat on his tummy, fingers stacked and drew them away from each other, luxuriating in the feel of his oh so sexy skin. He drew in sharply as I hooked my thumbs into his belt loops and shucked those tight jeans and briefs down around his well-worn work boots.
"Wow, perfect!" I said slowly in a lusty voice as his uncut cock sprang free. It was average in size but had a wonderful thick lion's mane of foreskin wreathing the head. The ultra concentrated musk of his crotch captivated me as did his recently shorn private area. He started to smile but I stopped him by grabbing hold of his shaft and pulling up firmly.
"Up on your toes." I said. Years of teaching allowed the calm authority in me to come out. He again complied. I tugged, firmly leading him as one would lead a horse around a paddock only having to remind him once to stay on tiptoe. We both were clearly enjoying our new-found roles.