On the Sum

The warm rays of golden hour illuminated Justin. One arm bent showing a hairless armpit, his contented, beaming face twisted in my direction: pecks, abs, and arms looking as if fresh from the gym.

Down at my body, I frowned. White hair covered my forearms, chest, and stomach. I never reached the definition Justin had, not in high school or college. At five-foot-nine and 150 pounds, not ideal for distance running, but close. If you asked me, the extra ten pounds was muscle, except my abs, if you could call them that, told a different story.

At least his cock wasn't massive. How emasculated and intimated I'd be if he boasted a ten-inch pipe. If he did, I'd just have to convince him to marry me, that's all.

My cock roused. I wasn't near as thick, but over seven inches. Fucking that firm, tight ass would be amazing, but thoughts quickly turned to him using me, using my body for his horny teenage satisfaction. I shivered.

Justin stirred.

Shit, I should make breakfast.

When I forced myself to stand, my pole pained against boxer briefs.

God-fucking damn it.

I tucked it to the side and wrangled my dirt drenched hiking pants, slipping them over it as well. Would he even notice? Probably not, especially this early.

Into the ashes of last night's pit, plunged a narrow dry stick. As it smoked, Justin stretched and moaned, looking first to his side at my sleeping back, then at me through the ascending gray streams, eyes squinting.

"Good morning," Justin said, voice raspy.

"How d'you sleep?" I asked, curious if he'd give any clue he knew what happened.

"Really good--Must be the fresh air."

I poked at the recovering embers, stealing glances of Justin as he climbed to his feet and joined me topless on the opposite side of the fire. Over to the sunrise, he gushed about the scenic vista. He couldn't remember when he'd last been so relaxed.

"Yeah, has to be the air," I said, hiding a smile as I rolled my eyes up, regarding him. Justin didn't seem to catch on, and why would he? Poor kid, years of raging hormones with nothing by his hand. It's possible he could feel this good all the time, if properly drained.

My body ached to touch Justin. Taking any opportunity to lay a hand on his shoulder, playfully pat his ass, or strategically grip his waist while traversing the narrow paths. He didn't seem to mind, if he noticed at all.

The strong, bulky wrestler wasn't used to the altitude nor strenuous hiking. We rested under the sparse canopy of a maroon-tinted redbud, next to a shallow stream. With deep breaths, Justin sat on a broad rotting log, pinching a shoulder, groaning.

Not able to forgo this opportunity, I offered to massage his shoulders. Despite your legs doing all the work, shoulders often ached on a hike, I explained. Perhaps it had something to do with wearing a backpack and how it restricts your upper body movement. Total bullshit, but Justin seemed to buy it. He nodded, so I settled behind him, working his knots. The muscular texture of his neck, shoulders, and triceps swathed with smooth, paper-thin skin.

I shut my eyes, drawing in a slow, deep breath. The scent of sweat, the hypnotically smooth quality of his skin, intoxicated me. My body flared, cock rousing.

"Mm, ow," Justin said. "That feels real good. Wow, ow, thanks, uh."

In acknowledgement, I hummed.

A massage was my go-to move for seducing men of any professed sexuality. With an exhale, I bit my lip. Justin was the wet dream haunting my days. The inexperienced virgin hunk was sweet but strong; determined, but humble. Probably too old for him. I'd be the guinea pig until he figured out what he was into, and hopefully, I'd fall within his range.

Justin twisted backward, "Oh, it happens to you too?"

Heat burned my face and trunk. He must have seen my tented shorts.

"What's that?"

"When I give a massage, I get happy, too," Justin said.

"Uh," I said, stammering. "Yeah, pretty common. Give lots of 'em?"

"Nah, unless I wanna full around. Too embarrassing otherwise."

"In any case, I hope this doesn't make you uncomfortable."

"It happens, right? You're good."

The temptation to ask if he found massaging guys hot fled the moment it arrived. Without nuance, I reassured it was normal.

I patted his shoulders, indicating the massage was finished.

He squeezed at his right shoulder for a second and thanked me, standing, hiding his own erection.

"Don't be embarrassed, Justin. It's totally cool, and no one's around."

Still expressing chagrin, he turned, tipping his face downward.

"It won't always be that easy. When you're my age--can be a challenge to get hard."

Justin jostled with a restrained chuckle. There was no telling if my statement eased him. I stepped ahead, patting his back as I passed, hopping over the creek and up a steep bank.

At least four times over the next twenty minutes, I spun to check on Justin, hard-on still tenting, pointing in varying directions after unseen adjustments.

I turned around, seeking to communicate warmth, understanding, and acceptance with my face.

On each of his shoulders, I placed a hand, peering square into his eyes. "Not goin' away, huh?"

He broke from our gaze, shaking his head.

I asked how long it had been since he'd nut; he wasn't sure. He chuckled and confessed he thinks he had a wet dream last night, but in the morning, he wasn't wet.

My face flushed.

When I suggested he take care of things off-trail, he insisted he'd be fine.

"I could do it with you," I proposed. His eyes widened. "I mean, not here--together, but at the same time, so like--"

Justin squinted at me.

"Sorry, that was weird. Not sure what I'm trying to say, um."

I looked away, face searing.

"Like it's totally natural and healthy to jerk off. Don't feel ashamed or anything."

He huffed, brows lifting. "That's not what my parents' say."

Face cooling with relief, I broke into a smile.

"Your Dad has no room to talk," I said, eyes bulging as soon as the words escape.

"What?" Justin asked, voice loud with surprise.

"Nothing, nothing."

"Tell me!"

"Really," I said. "It's nothing; shouldn't have said anything."

"Are you kidding me, Mike? You have to."

Justin glared at me, insistent, determined.

As if competing for who would blink first, we stood, silent.

"You CAN NOT tell ANYONE, ANYTHING," I demanded, eyes wide.

"Tell me," Justin said. "I need to hear my dad isn't the lame guy he pretends to be."

I chuckled, looking away.

"Oh no, Gary--your dad, he was quite the player at your age."

"No way," Justin said, head rattling in disbelief.

"Promise me."

"Fine, I promise not to tell him," Justin said, palms moving to hips.

"Let's just say there was many a night he'd come home after two with some random chick."

"Fucking serious?" Justin asked, incredulous.

"Uh, yeah."

"Told me he never did that stuff."

"I don't know what to tell you," I responded with a shrug.

Justin rested on a boulder two steps away, leaning his brows against a thumb and forefinger, calf crossed over thigh, supporting the elbow, turning his head from side to side.

Pausing for a moment, Justin said, "I don't want and do want to believe at the same time."

He tilted his face upward, peering into my eyes, voice earnest. "Does that make any sense?"

I nodded. "Mm-hm."

"Do you know when he, uh, had his first?"

I stammered, "Well, uh, don't let this upset you, but pretty sure he was fourteen."

"Goddamn it."

"Sorry," I said, lips awkwardly peeled back, displaying teeth.

"How many girls are we talkin'?"

"Jesus, um, no idea. A lot," I answered. "And those are just the ones he brought to the dorm."

Justin studied me up and down, jaw low, mouth open. He continued his line of questioning, righteous indignation bubbling in his bones. I struggled to explain to him that his dad probably didn't want him to make the same mistakes, though I didn't even buy that. In college, our beds were mere feet apart. Gary assumed I was the world's heaviest sleeper, or just didn't care.

"Those particular nights were really dark, but could've sworn," I said, but stopped myself.

"What?" Justin insisted.

"No, I can't be sure--shouldn't say."

"Come on!"

"Well, I don't think he only brought women home," I lied.

Speechless, Justin stared at me, eyes wide, stupefied.

Justin shook his head, asking questions about why I thought he brought men home. I piled on the lies about their low voices, and once seeing a nearly naked guy leaving the dorm room.

"It doesn't make him gay," I said. "Everyone experiments in college."

With his eyes, he regarded me with intensity. "Everyone?"

I nodded. "Uh-huh."

Justin's lips formed consonants and vowels, but he articulated nothing, furrowing brows in frustration, fear, and uncertainty.

"You probably have questions, and I don't have all the answers. But I'll be honest," I lied again.

I'd say nearly anything to get into this young stallion's pants. A stud like him shouldn't be wasted on a palm. He was missing out on incredible things and had much offer too. It was a fair trade, right? Experienced, good-looking older man, blowing a hot young man's mind.

"Are you gay, Uncle Mike?"

"Wow, no beating around the bush." I said, clearing my throat.

Motionless, he stared at me.

I nodded. "Yes, yes, I am."

"Does Dad know?"

I nodded again, "Told him years ago."

Tongue hooked over his upper lip, he looked away, shaking his head.

"Hey, Justin, don't worry. I'm not gonna creep on you or anything," I lied.

"It's not that," Justin finally said. "I wish, uh, I just wish Dad would have been more honest with me is all."

At the lush undercover of the thick spruce forest floor, I stared at a loss.

"Fuckin' dirty old man," Justin said, playfully hitting my shoulder with the side of his fist.

"Wha--?" My opposite hand rubbing where he hit.

"Trying to get me to jerk it."

I said, tittering, "Oh, no, uh, I, uh--"

"Trying to peek at my dick."

I smirked, skin igniting with unease.

"That's what I thought," Justin said with playful accusation.

I tried to laugh. "No need, those shorts leave little to the imagination."

Eyes wide, he gaped, cheeks pushing against a smile, and hit my shoulder again.

It was surreal how comfortable Justin seemed with the overt flirtation. It could simply be that made him more comfortable, making light of things, allowing time to unpack the news about me, about his father.

I shouldn't read too much into it; a common coping mechanism, that's all. It would be nice to talk to someone I'd known longer than a few months about these things. My god, though, the kid was gorgeous. How could I not try to push the line further? His chest and stomach flexing in rhythmic cascades, hips smashing my ass with loud slaps, palms pressed heavy on my chest, holding me d--

I shook my head, shivering, cock rising again.

Damn it.

Justin watched me closer now. Fastidious, I avoided rousing suspicions further, fielding question about what was making me hard, talking the night away, choking out the last night I had with him alone, perhaps the final opportunity I'd get to savor his seed. My cock jolted; the flavor returned to my tongue. All it took was one hit, and I was hooked. Crazy. I'd go crazy without a fix. Fuck, I'm already thinking crazy. At least I walked in front of Justin. He couldn't see the tent forming.

Calm down, Mike, think of Grandma in the bath. Yuck. Jesus, how long had it been since I needed to force a cool down? Fifteen years? Goddamn, this boy affected me.

On the return, Justin asked questions about his dad and me. Had we ever hooked up? No. Did you want to hook up? No. Why not? It was hard to explain. Hand-to-heart, I would have hooked up with Gary had an opportunity presented. But his friendship was too important, then and now. I didn't want things to end over one stupid night of drunken debauchery.

I did my best to explain, but my best just wasn't good enough.

"So, uh, I'm hearing that if Dad wasn't so committed to his bullshit, you two might have messed around."

"No way to be sure, Justin," I said, sighing, frustrated with my ability to blend the truth with lies. "Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda, right? Can't go back."

Quiet lingered, the silence punctuated with the crunch of dry spruce branches under shoes. With a groan, I pulled the pack from my shoulders, one strap at a time. The heat diminished as the sun descended behind the distant pine-covered peaks. Exhausted, my knees gave out, slamming my ass hard against the sleeping bag's foot spread over the enormous stone. Justin followed, two feet to the right, but with more grace. He reached into a separate bag, retrieving a trail mix of peanuts, dried cranberries, cashew halves, and chocolate kisses, and pointed the open end toward my face. I reached in and snatched a handful. "Thanks."

Justin nodded, grabbing a second helping, tossing it all into this mouth, the salty, sweet blend crunching. I scammed on him through the side of my eyes. Six-foot-three, arms, and shoulders like the men on those world's strongest competitions, but with a lean stomach and smooth boyish face. He could probably snap me in two with those tree trunks for legs with force to spare. I crossed my legs away from him, so I didn't worry as much about a bulge forming. The idea that he could hurt me, take what he wanted, really got the blood flowing. He seemed too nice, too reserved, but they likely said the same about me. Everyone is corruptible. A sinister smile stretched across my face.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked.

Startled, I sputtered.

He grinned. "Wait, who are you smiling about?"

"Well, I mean, if you must know," I answered. "I was just thinking about this guy."

"Uh-huh. Go on."

"You don't know him," I lied. "Really cute and sweet, great in bed."

"Ok. Showing my ignorance here, but, like, what do men do together in bed."

From ground zero, I had to explain things to this kid. If he was even curious about men, wouldn't he have Googled it? He seemed to, or at least pretended to, know nothing. Top and bottom, oral and anal, twinks, bears, cubs, silver foxes. He understood what jocks were, at least.

"You're a silver fox then, huh?"

Heat pulsed in my face. "I mean, you can be gay or straight or whatever and be one."

"And me?" he asked with a sweet sincerity that made my heart go 'ah.' "Would I be a jock?"

I bounced with a silent giggle. "No."

He looked over at me, brows furrowed.

"Well, what the--?"

"Beefcake," I interrupted. "They'd call you a beefcake."

Justin doubled over in a long wheeze of laughter, eyes tearing up, mouth wide. From contagion, I laughed too, not appreciating exactly what was so funny. Still, it made my stomach flutter to see him so amused, especially at something I'd said. It only cultivated the growing infatuation.

***

The warm gleam of the waning fire pulsed in the breeze's ebb and flow, the moon's slight silver sliver flowing amidst sparse feathered clouds. I'd been too protective of this site. It was nice to share it with someone.

"Perfect night," I thought aloud.

"Mm," Justin grunted in agreement.

"Hey Mike."

"Yeah."

"When did you like, uh, know?"

"That I was gay?"

"Mm-hm"

"Well, I guess a part of me always knew. You just kind of feel that you're different. Not responding to girls like other guys. You fake it..."

For far too long, I rambled about my apparently still confused notions about my sexuality. I'd been with women, liked it even, but had greater sexual and romantic attraction for men. Technically, that made me bisexual, I guess, but I lived as a gay man. It was easier that way, less confusing for me and my friends.

"Makes sense to me," Justin said.

"I mean, it's sex, right? You're gonna like it."

Brows low on my eyes, I worked to decipher what he meant. "Well, uh, studies seem to show that most people are at least somewhat attracted to the same sex."

There was a silence lingering. My mouth went dry, and I chickened out.

"Yeah, I think I get what you mean," I lied.

Belly full, and bodies exhausted, we lay under the brilliance of the stars. I, however, barely noticed them. The soft silver glow on Justin's bare upper body held me in rapture. My crotch stirred with temptation, my chest tightened, and breath quickened, saliva flowing.

I swallowed hard, kicking myself for not digging deeper with Justin. Maybe we'd confess something, experimented a little. But no, my stupid ass let the opportunity go.

To lick those abs, nipples, and neck, that alone might bring me to climax. The salty taste of this dried sweat, the musk saturating his shaft and balls.

My eyelids fluttered, my tongue pushing beyond my teeth, imagining his skin making contact. Against my briefs, a painfully tight tent stretched cover my hard-on. I had to release it, plunging both my hands deep into my underwear, pulling the fabric down from my cock. Massaging my balls and squeezing my rod, I stared at Justin.

Oh my god, he's so beautiful. A full thanksgiving feast, just for me. I'd savor and swallow every bite. What wouldn't I give or do for a single night with him?

The pace of my pumps quickened. I lifted my legs, reaching past my taint with my free hand, pressing on my hole. With difficulty, I held back a moan. I needed Justin to fuck me, slam his tight, smooth body against my ass.

When I got close, I forced myself to stop. It'd be sad to have a lonely jerk off with such gorgeous company mere feet away.

Like the night before, I stealth'd his cock through his pant leg and welcomed his thick meat into my mouth. The soft give of his sleeping cock, the flavor of his sweat, the aroma of his manhood was even better than I remember, better than fantasized. My skin roared with lust as his cock responded, offering the first drizzle of honey. I muffled a moan. Cock at full attention. I give Justin my best, thrusting the tip far past my throat, lapping his cock on the way up and down, pivoting my mouth around his pipe, massaging his pair. The sucking and slobbering sounds rose.

Did I hear something?

His legs spread further apart. The vibration in his chest purred through his cock to my lips. A hand lifted. I followed it with my eyes, landing on the back of my head. Is he awake? Sleep fucking? I didn't care.

Emboldened, I worked the shaft with greater aggression, the sucking vulgar. I stroked my cock. Gentle hip bouncing grew to all-out face fucking, his hand forcing his cock deep into my gullet. Honey streamed from my piss hole while gorging on his spring of syrup. Far too close now, I released my cock to touch his flexing, pulsing stomach. I pushed my fingers firm against pulling them down across his smooth skinned bulging eight pack, thumping as my fingers hit the next muscle peaks. With my palm, I groped his massive peck and squeezed, pinching his hard nipple.

"Mike, I'm close."

Off I popped, "Is this what you want?"

"Yes," Justin answered.

"You don't want more?"

"More?"

"More of me, more for you."

I lept over Justin's feet and squat over his crotch, guiding his thick wet hard-on to my bud.

"Oh god!" Justin said, gasping as the head slipped past my tight resistance.

Toward the sky, I lifted my face, bouncing on his coke can.

"FUCK!" I moaned.

Justin thrust with his hips, slapping hard against my ass.

"Fuck me, Justin! Fuck me hard!"

Justin growled, his pumps smashing me harder. "Fuck ya, Mike. You gonna be my dirty cock slut?"

"Oh god, fuck ya, I'm your cock slut to use and abuse, fuck me!"

Toward him, Justin pulled me to his chest and rolled us, his cock still nested inside me. Now on top, Justin pushed behind my knees and pounded me. I stroked harder than his thrusts grew, more urgent, more intense. Again, I approached the edge, his thick shaft stretching me tight, thumping my prostate.