The Hunk of Long Bay

Mary was still up when they arrived. ‘Good evening,’ she said, then stopped abruptly. Because of Neil’s presence, Chris assumed. He waited for her reaction, protest, or anything, but she kept silent. When he went upstairs – Neil right behind him – he thought she gave him a slight nod, though.



The first hurdles were taken – Neil had agreed to come with him; Mary hadn’t sent him away – but Chris didn’t know how to proceed. It was one thing that Neil knew about his desire and apparently felt something similar, it was another to voice their joint yearning and act upon it.



He opened the door to his room and let Neil step inside, still searching for something to say or do to start things.



He didn’t need to have worried.



As he closed the door, Neil turned towards him, saying ‘Chris’ in a choked voice that seemed directly to touch his penis. But it was the helpless gesture Neil made with his left hand that really undid him.



He grabbed Neil and pushed him up against the door, holding him captive with his body. He pressed his lips unto Neil’s mouth, groaning, hungry, forcefully. His tongue demanded access and Neil complied, moaning as Chris stroked his teeth and pallet. Slick. Wet. Warm. Willing. Hard. Neil.



Kissing, rubbing against Neil, it slowly seeped into his oxygen deprived brain what he was doing and with whom. It was wonderful. He had no intension of stopping. At all. But he needed to gain some self-control to do it right.



He pulled back a little and searched for Neil’s eyes.



‘Neil,’ he said, ‘do you want …’



Neil nodded fervently. ‘Yes, Chris. Yes.’



Self-control, Chris reminded himself. ‘Come to the bed,’ he said, taking a step back to let Neil pass.



Which he didn’t. He stepped forward, put his hands on Chris’s shoulders and kissed him. With intend. He nibbled on his lower lip, slid his tongue inside Chris’s mouth, stroking there, pulling back a little to suck on Chris’s tongue.



Chris understood the benefit of the situation. It allowed for more body contact; he could pull Neil close, instead of pressing him against the door. He could put his hands under Neil’s jacket and feel the warmth of his back through the fabric of his shirt.



Neil’s kisses were slow and wet. Not tentative. He seemed to know exactly what he wanted and how to get it. Chris’s fogged brain registered vaguely that this was the first time he witnessed Neil taking the initiative. In any direction.



Neil broke the kiss to catch his breath. He smiled. A very beautiful smile. It reminded Chris that he wanted to do this right. And why.



He pulled Neil closer. Putting his lips to his ear, he said, ‘Bed.’



Sitting on the bed, he resumed their kissing. Things were different from other times he had been with a man. There were far too many clothes between them, there was no full body contact, hands were kept above the waist, genitals weren’t touched, but redeeming this was not Chris’s highest priority. Kissing Neil was.



He moved his mouth along the line of Neil’s jaw. With closed eyes and soft moans, Neil lolled his head back, allowing him access to his tendons. Chris moved his mouth lower, finding the hollow between Neil’s collarbones. He couldn’t go further; Neil’s shirt was in the way.



He pushed Neil backwards onto the bed. Slowly, gently, using a minimum of pressure, just directing.



His ‘May I undress you?’ was met with a nod and a movement of Neil’s Adam’s apple. Chris bent over to kiss it.



He opened the buttons of Neil’s shirt, pushing the fabric aside, using his full hand to caress the warm skin of Neil’s chest and abdomen.



The presence of clothes was unbearable all of a sudden.



‘Let me take off your jacket,’ he said.



Neil sat up, and Chris removed his jacket and his shirt, and gently pushed him down on the bed again.



He caressed the narrow pecs and the tight nipples, tracing the abdomen with his tongue and moving lower, to the waist of Neil’s jeans. They were rather wide. Chris could easily slip his hand inside, but he put it on Neil’s thigh instead, moving it upwards over his hip to his belt. He read Neil’s face to see if it was okay. It was.



He opened the jeans. The fabric of Neil’s white briefs was fiercely stretched by his erection underneath. He looked up for signs of embarrassment. Neil was blushing, but smiling as well.



‘I want to take this off you,’ Chris said, tugging at the jeans.



‘My shoes,’ Neil responded.



He sat up, removing them. And his socks.



Standing from the bed and following Neil’s movements with his eyes, Chris hastily took off his jacket, shirt and shoes.



Neil gasped as he looked up from his bare feet. ‘God. Chris. You …’



Chris knew. It was told him so many times before, by so many men. Mostly in lustful, growling voices, sometimes in truly amazed whispers, always in superlatives.



But Neil didn’t finish his sentence.



Chris held out his hand, beckoning him to come closer. Wrapping his arms around Neil, he relished the feeling of bones, muscles and skin. Of Neil.



They kissed again. Eagerly. Surprisingly eager, Chris thought. He would never have imagined that ‘eager’ was an appropriate term to describe Neil. He marvelled in Neil’s keen nibbling, sucking and stroking.



But they had to take a breath in the end, and Chris said, ‘Lie down on the bed.’



While Neil was moving backwards, Chris quickly removed his socks, jeans and boxers.



The sound of Neil’s landing was rather loud. Apparently, he had met with the side of the bed a little unexpectedly. He stared at Chris. ‘God …’



Please, Chris thought, don’t let me intimidate you. Don’t be embarrassed.



‘Neil,’ he said. ‘Neil.’



Neil blinked when Chris approached him. He obeyed the slight push against his shoulder that Chris gave him to make him lie down.



Lying next to him, Chris stroked Neil’s shoulders, chest, and belly, and tentatively cupped the bulge in his briefs. Neil hissed. Bucked his hips a little. Blushed when their eyes met.



‘I want to take off your pants,’ Chris said.



Neil lifted his hips, so that he could pull both jeans and briefs off in one move.



Chris stopped to look at him. His long and slender body pale, gleaming and naked; his penis erect. He was beautiful.



He lowered his head to press a kiss on each hip, and instantly felt Neil’s hands in his hair.



He moved, nuzzling the scrotum, licking the shaft of the penis, and the head. Neil hissed as he enveloped him and started to suck.



‘Chris, don’t. You can’t. I will. Stop. Please.’



He contemplated to overrule. Neil might be protesting, but his penis was begging to differ. He could make him see stars if he continued sucking the way he knew how for another minute.



But it wouldn’t be right. He didn’t want to force an orgasm from Neil; he wanted to give one to him.



And they were nearing forty. It would be foolish to think that either of them would easily come a second time, even with the yearning they had going between them. Neil’s ability to climax needed to be cherished. Neil needed to be cherished.



He stopped, removing his mouth, keeping his fingers around the shaft for warmth and pressure, so that the feeling wouldn’t be shockingly different, just enough to take the excess heat off Neil’s arousal.



He looked up. Neil let out a sigh.



Chris stretched out next to him. He started to stroke-kiss-lick-nuzzle Neil’s entire body, knowing he made it glow all over. Neil was panting as he touched his scrotum, avoiding the penis – that toy was to play with later. He dipped his finger lower, and Neil made a moaning sound. It meant, ‘More please, more’ (Chris was quite familiar with sounds like that). So he wet his finger and pushed gently against Neil’s asshole.



Neil took in a sharp breath. Chris waited, but the breath wasn’t followed by a protest. He wet his finger again and pressed. A little inside this time, to the first phalanx. Neil arched and pressed back.



God.



‘Easy,’ Chris said, as much to himself as to Neil.



He bit his lip. Self-control, he remembered. Self-control and doing it right.



‘Shall I go deeper?’ he asked.



‘Yes,’ Neil panted. ‘Please.’



Chris applied more saliva and reached in. Slowly, carefully, but far enough to touch the prostate.



Neil yelped. Still, no protest.



Chris started to massage the gland. Neil was making sounds of pleasure. And surprise, maybe. ‘Oh. Oh. Chris.’ Glistering drops of pre-ejaculate were leaking from his penis.



He knew what Neil was feeling. He felt his own ass tighten and his cock twitch in empathy. He longed to be closer. He could …



No, he wouldn’t. Deflower Neil. Not at this moment. But he could ask to be penetrated by him instead.



He stilled his finger. ‘Neil.’



The violet-blue, now mostly black eyes opened.



‘Can I make a suggestion?’ he said softly. ‘Would you fuck me?’



There was a shocked pause. Neil said, ‘I never have …’



‘It isn’t complicated,’ Chris reassured him. ‘It is not so different from what you do to …’ He didn’t want to say her name. ‘To your wife.’



‘Oh,’ Neil said.



He seemed to wait, so Chris took the condoms and the lubricant from the drawer near the bed.



The little box was already opened, the tube was squeezed because of previous use, and Neil was staring.



‘I’m not unfamiliar with the subject of sex between men,’ Chris said. It was such a blatant euphemism, it felt almost as a lie. So he added, ‘I’m gay.’



As if on cue, Neil turned crimson. This was a surprise to Chris, because the information couldn’t be unexpected – they were involved in gay sex right this moment, both naked and hard, and Neil’s legs were splayed to expose his asshole. Nor could it be unwelcome, because Neil seemed very much to enjoy was they were doing. Then it occurred to him that Neil was … jealous. Of the many men that had shared with Chris before he had.



A fierce, protective tenderness tightened his chest.



He stroked Neil’s leg upward, his hip, his arm, his shoulder, the line of his jaw. He bent over to kiss Neil’s lips gently, savouring the touch. Revelling in the luxury of doing this lazily instead of urgently.



Finally, he broke the kiss. Neil looked dazed. Chris smiled. ‘Would you apply the lubricant to me?’ he asked.



Neil blinked and swallowed.



‘Just like I touched you,’ Chris said.



Neil gave him a slight nod, frowned at the lubricant for a second and unscrewed the lid.



Chris turned on his back, and Neil knelt at his side.



He pressed in. Slowly, tentatively, steadily until he reached the prostate. Chris felt a familiar warm little shock at the touch.



Neil’s face was full of concentration as he started to stroke. He was mimicking what was done to him minutes earlier, doing it extremely skilfully. Chris felt drops of pre-ejaculate on his belly, and arched into the touch.



He felt something wet touching his dickhead. When he looked down, he saw Neil’s crown. Neil’s tongue was drawing warm circles around the top of his penis. Chris made a whimpering sound and touched Neil’s hair. God. He wanted …



‘I want to feel you inside me,’ he said. ‘If you’d apply more lubricant, you-’ He gasped as Neil touched his prostate in a newfound manner. ‘Please.’



‘Yes,’ Neil said hoarsely.



Trice, he added extra lubricant, gently, and concentrated and pleasurable, with a flustered smile on his face.



Chris stroked his thigh and hip while he was busy, trying to reassure Neil, to take away his embarrassment.



‘Enough,’ he said after the third time. Too much lubricant caused the feeling of friction to become less intense.



He took Neil’s wrist, stroking the back of the hand with his thumb. ‘Let me …’



He reached for the condoms and took one out of the box. Holding Neil’s glare, he broke the cellophane wrapping and disposed of it.



Neil’s cock had softened. So nervous. It was … understandable. Endearing. Unnecessary. Unwanted.



He wrapped his fingers around the shaft and stroked. Neil responded immediately. Chris bit his lip.



‘I’ll put it on you,’ he said.



When the condom was rolled off, he rubbed some lubricant onto it. Then he lay back, smiling at Neil for encouragement, and said, ‘Kneel between my legs. If you spread your knees under my thighs, you’ll be able to press inside.’



Neil moved. Chris saw that he tried hard not to tremble.



‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘Go on.’



Neil pressed and slid inside, carefully, just a bare inch. Then, at Chris’s nod, a little further.



He gasped. ‘It’s … tight,’ he said.



‘It feels wonderful,’ Chris responded.



‘Yes.’



‘You can go deeper if you want.’



‘Oh,’ Neil said as he did so. ‘Oh, Chris.’ He closed his eyes, then opened them, looking at Chris, apparently not knowing how to proceed.



‘You can move now,’ Chris said.



Neil pulled back and thrust. Chris shut his eyes for a second. The push against his prostate was perfect. But he mustn’t loose himself too much in this. He had to guide Neil.



Neil thrust again. And hissed.



‘I have to … I can’t … I will … god, Chris.’



Chris put his hand on Neil’s chest. ‘It’s okay. I want this. I don’t mind if you come early. You can do it as hard and as fast as you like.’



Neil let out a shuddered breath. ‘I want … closer.’



Chris lifted his legs a little more, and Neil leaned in. Not enough for them to kiss, but Chris was able to touch Neil’s face this way. Neil was sweating, panting. Stroking inside with exactly the right force for Chris to melt. He didn’t close his eyes and nor did Neil as he screamed his orgasm. Chris felt his cock twitch at the sight and the sound.



For a moment, Neil just rested on top of him, trying to catch his breath. Chris stroked his cheek and combed the lock of wet hair from his forehead. Dismissing the feeling of regret that it was over too soon (he had insisted that Neil did him fast and hard, he knew there would be a price to pay) he smiled at Neil’s dazed look.



Neil moved and slipped out of him. Chris gestured at the bin next to the bed where he could dispose of the condom.



When Neil turned towards him, Chris seized him for a kiss. A hungry one. One that conveyed that he had been deprived of something vital, and needed this to keep alive. Kissing Neil was … something he had not not been thinking about every single day for the past decade. And now he finally had the chance to do it, he couldn’t stop.



Neil slid his leg between his thighs and Chris rode it. Neil moved with him, providing a wonderful friction, but stilled his leg as he broke the kiss to take a breath.



His hand moved down, to wrap around Chris’s penis. His entire body moved lower, leaving Chris’s fogged brain confused about what he was doing. Then he felt Neil’s tongue laving his shaft, Neil’s mouth enveloping him.



Neil started sucking. With amazing abandon. Chris was taken in by that warm, wet hollow and lifted his hips in surrender.



Neil stopped. For a moment Chris feared that he had caused him to gag and withdraw. Then the sucking started again. And with such skill.



He was melting from the heat that was spreading trough his body. And nearing climax fast. He wanted to warn Neil, but the sounds he made were blurred. Neil didn’t understand. Or wouldn’t listen.



The sucking only intensified and when Chris arched his back and emitted, his squirts were drunk.



It took a while before he could control his breathing again.



‘God.’



Neil lifted his head and smiled at him.



‘Come here.’



He heard the urgency is his own voice and saw it make Neil’s smile widen. But he complied and Chris seized him, wrapping his arms around him, cradling the back of his head, kissing him again. Possessively.



When he stopped, Neil was panting, and more than half-hard. Chris moved his hand lower and put his fingers around Neil’s penis. It strongly reacted to the touch.



Neil groaned as Chris tightened his grip and started to stroke. He looked beautiful like this; eyes closed, concentrated, yielded to Chris’s hand.



He ran his thumb over the head that was already wet. Neil shivered.



Chris increased the pace of his strokes and the pressure. Neil groaned and arched and came.

Chris watched him reeling from the orgasm. He smiled as Neil opened his eyes.



Twice. Neil had come twice. Like he had been craving this. The twinge Chris felt at this notion was a strange mix of joy and sadness.



‘Lie still. I’ll get a washcloth,’ he said softly.



When he came back from the bathroom, Neil looked very dazed and almost asleep. His smile, as Chris cleaned his belly and dried it with the towel, came from very far away.



As Chris returned again and got in the bed, Neil didn’t move. But he cooperated in being seized and held, and his last words, albeit blurred, were, ‘Good night, Chris,’ and ‘Thank you.’