Page 8 of Hearing Hank

10

Lee

Imanagetogetseveral things done, including an appointment with a baker for the wedding cake, and an appointment with Miss Leeanne to talk about catering the main dishes, but most of my brain space is taken up by Hank and speculating about this evening. I’m so thrilled that he managed to talk to me. It looked like it was a challenge, and the relief on his face when I asked a yes or no question was obvious. It seemed like it was easier for him to talk when he had something to do with his hands, and I make a mental note of that for the future.

By 4:30, I’ve convinced myself that it’s not too early to take a shower and I take the time to clean all the parts. If the heat from the two kisses we’ve had already is any indication, there aren’t any limits on how far tonight can go as far as I’m concerned. By 5:30 I’ve tried on every outfit in my bag three times, and I’m driving myself insane. I don’t do this. I don’t get worked up about dates. I’ve been dating for years. But this feels important; like it really matters, and I have butterflies like I haven’t felt in ages.

I finally convince myself that what I’m wearing is fine, and swipe on gold eyeliner and lip gloss. I fold my legs into the lotus position and try breathing out the butterflies for a few minutes, but frankly, it’s not helping. When I open my eyes for the fourth time to squint at the clock on my phone, I give it up as a lost cause. I guess the butterflies are coming with me.

As casually as I can, I sail out past Wyatt and Mark with a breezy, “I’m having dinner at Hank’s house tonight.” I don’t hang around to see their reactions, I’m in too much of a hurry.

The walk to Hank’s house takes 5 whole minutes, so I’m still there 10 minutes early. I seriously consider walking past and then coming back, but you can’t really do that around here without looking odd. What goes over in the city doesn’t work for the only house on a country road.

I shrug to myself and march up the steps. Hopefully being early won’t throw his whole plan off. Hank opens the door shortly after my brisk knock, and he looks amazing. I’ve never seen him not in work clothes. He’s wearing a dark blue button-front shirt that compliment his blue eyes, and soft old jeans that hug all the right places. I notice his sock feet and his lack of shoes makes him look comfortable and vulnerable all at once, and I just want to snuggle up to him and get comfortable too. I realize that he probably doesn’t wear shoes in the house as a matter of course, so I toe my half-boots off.

Hank hasn’t said anything to me yet, and he has a flush rising up his neck. He looks like he has something to say and can’t get the words out, so I start talking to give him a chance to re-group.

“It must be really nice living so close to work, but not so close you can see each other’s windows. I just love the view out here. Do you sit out on the porch all the time and just take it in? You know what would be perfect out there? You need a porch swing. It would be amazing for watching the sunset. What are we having for dinner?” I realize my error as soon as the question comes out of my mouth. Not a yes or no question, and the stressed look on his face tells me that he’s having a hard time answering me.

There’s not anything for me to give him to put in his hands in the entry hall, but then I get a genius idea. I hang up my jacket on the coat hook next to the door and step forward to plaster myself against Hank, with his back up against the wall. His hands come up to my waist like he’s not even aware of it, and I bury my face in his neck and breathe deeply. He smells amazing, and I can tell he just took a shower too. His arms tighten around me and I can’t help sticking my tongue out to lick the side of his neck. He shivers at that, over his whole body, and the butterflies in my stomach have officially turned into dragons. I can’t remember ever being so excited and turned on by someone. It feels like coming home, if home was an amazing roller coaster I’d been waiting in line for my whole life.

The shiver seems to get him moving, and before I know it he’s spun us around, so I’m sandwiched in between him and the wall, and he’s licking into my mouth like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. He brings his hands up to cradle the back of my head, and I slide mine into the back pockets of his jeans to bring our hips flush together. I want to get as close to him as I can, but the second we touch it’s apparent that we’re already rock hard. I pull him harder into me and he rolls his hips so that our cocks rub against each other perfectly. That’s sort of the end of rational thought for me. The friction feels so good that it doesn’t even occur to me that maybe we should slow down or even just get out of the entryway. Hank reaches a hand between us and pops the snaps on both our jeans, desperately shoving everything out of the way until he can get both our dicks in his big hand. It only takes a couple pulls with the feel of his hardness against mine before I’m making a mess everywhere, and not caring at all. He follows right behind me, and then lets his head fall to my shoulder, working us both through the aftershocks.

Hank’s shoulders start shaking, and I worry for an instant until I realize that he’s laughing into my neck. His laughter makes me start giggling, and soon, we’re holding each other, laughing together, with a sticky mess on our fronts and our pants around our ankles.

“So that’s um, not..”

“I wasn’t really trying to…” We both say at the same time and then laugh again.

Hank reaches over and grabs his jeans with one hand and mine with the other and pulls them both up. There’s no way we want to zip them back up with the rapidly cooling cum streams in our underwear and down our legs.

Hank grins and reaches his hand out to me. I take it and he leads me through the house to a bedroom that’s pretty obviously his. He has a big, higher bed with a dark blue plaid comforter and a dark wood nightstand and dresser. It’s definitely masculine, and really nice for a guy living alone. Hank drops his jeans and steps out of them as he heads for the dresser. He opens the top drawer and pulls out a couple of pairs of boxer briefs, and then sweatpants from the third drawer. He looks over his shoulder at me and his eyes are still laughing.

It takes him a second to get the words out, but he closes his eyes for a second and manages it. “Do you want to wear some of my clothes for dinner?"

“I’d love to, as long as you have pants with a drawstring. I can just go commando. I’m going to go wipe off in the bathroom really quick.”

Hank points to a door off the bedroom, and I lean up and kiss his cheek as I walk by. I want him to know that I’m comfortable and that I recognize how much of an effort he’s making to communicate. As I’m wetting a washcloth and getting ready to clean up, I feel eyes on me and meet Hank’s gaze in the mirror. He turns red and drops his eyes as he lays a pair of pants on the vanity. But as he heads out of the bathroom again, I hear him say, “You’re beautiful,” and somehow it’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.

11

Hank

Iwalkintothekitchen in clean pants and take a second to bang my forehead into the archway column on the way in. That was not what I had planned for the evening. I’m not complaining, it was awesome, but I’m not sure how to navigate from here.

The lasagna has been in the oven a few minutes too long, but the middle pieces ought to be perfect, and I’ll eat the extra dark edge pieces for lunches later. I’m really grateful that I hadn’t put the garlic bread in. I do that, and I’m working on putting the salad together as Lee comes around the corner. I’m chopping tomatoes so I keep my eyes on the job, and I actually feel like I might be able to carry on a normal conversation. Being covered in each other’s cum probably means that we’re not strangers anymore.

“Anything you don’t like in your salad?” I ask and then congratulate myself internally for sounding so normal.

“Honey, I’ll eat whatever you want to feed me,” Lee responds, and just like that I blush bright red again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lee says between giggles. “I’ll stop. But you can’t really blame me, can you? That was a hell of a start for this date.”

I throw the rest of the veggies in the salad and grab two beer bottles out of the fridge. I open one and hold it out to Lee with questioning eyebrows, and he grabs it and takes a long sip.

“Beer is not usually my go-to,“ he says, “but this one is really good.”

“There’s a micro-brewery down the road that practices organic, responsible land management and sustainable brewing practices. I buy from them whenever I can. I did one of my papers on their field rotation policies and practices in controlling erosion, runoff, and maintaining soil nutrients.”

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