Page 21 of His First Time
You nod.
Then it’s gravel under tires and squealing brakes, Justin shifting gears and tearing down the country road. A few people wave as you pull out, and the lights and the noise of the bar fade as the distance creeps into the rearview mirror. Justin turns a bend. Darkness ahead, darkness in front, only a twisting country road and your two headlights. Above, stars shimmer through the trees that crowd the highway. You could be anywhere, nowhere. You could disappear.
Justin’s hand squeezes your thigh. He strokes down, reaches for your hand. Snakes his fingers through and holds on.
This is nice. You’re shaking, and you don’t realize until he’s squeezing your hand tight enough that your knuckles go white. This is nice, just holding his hand. You exhale hard, your throat tight. This is something else you’ve wanted. Something sweet. Something simple.
You drive for miles, at least ten minutes, long enough to get into the country, for the trees to peter out into fields, empty tracts of land that cleave these small towns from each other. A sign for one of the state parks leaps out of the darkness, catching on the right headlight beam, and Justin lays on the brakes. Shifts down and turns on his blinker. He takes his hand back as he turns off the road and guides into the parking area.
You’re completely alone. Not a single other car at the state park entrance. No one at the trailheads. It’s midnight. Why would anyone be out here anyway?
Justin parks and turns off the truck. He shifts, turns toward you.
Why would anyone be out here, except to fuck?
He leans in first, cupping your face before kissing you. It’s different from the bathroom. Softer. Sweeter. More tentative. He’s not rushing now. He’s taking his time.
And, God, it’s everything you never knew you wanted. Soft and gentle, lips that linger, kisses that stretch into breaths and caresses of your cheek. You’re panting before you realize, reaching back for him, your hands sliding under his jacket and pushing it off his shoulders. He slithers out of it fast, and he reaches for yours.
Shirts follow jackets, and then his hands are on your skin, stroking across your chest. It’s more than you’ve ever had before, and you gasp against him, start to tremble. You can’t see, not past his face. You’re on fire, so fucking turned on, beyond anything you ever imagined. This is really happening. You’re here, with another man. Another man who wants you.
“Let’s get in the back,” Justin says.
There is no back. He’s got a bench seat and a truck bed, and-
Oh.
Justin slides out, adjusting his jeans as he walks. His bulge is huge, his cock pressing against his jeans. You salivate as you spy it, the outline of him. He winks and nods his head back to the truck bed.
You follow. Your cock is rock hard, too, painfully hard. Pressing-against-the-waistband-of-your-jeans hard.
A lifetime of hiding makes you peer into the darkness, but there’s nothing and no one for miles. Not a car or a house or a human being. You wonder about night scopes and midnight hikers, predators both animal and human, and serial killers lurking in the darkness. Dead bodies and bones lost in the woods. Your mind is a kaleidoscope of random thoughts, images that shift in and out of focus as you climb into the bed after Justin.
When he touches you again, your mind narrows to just one thought:him.
He’s on you, rolling you gently beneath him, pressing you into the bed. He’s got a cloth tarp spread out, something with paint stains and grass stains on it. It softens the truck’s cool metal.
Arms and legs intertwine. You’re holding him close, both arms around him, one leg tangled through his. He’s humping you, your cocks rubbing through jeans and briefs as you kiss like you’re never going to stop. His hands are in your hair, holding it, gripping it. Goosebumps rise on his back after you stroke his skin. Cool night air, the sound of crickets, of owls, and a hot body writhing in your arms. Perfection.
He pulls back, just slightly, just enough to breathe hard and slide a hand between you both. He fumbles at his buckle, undoes his belt. Pulls his zipper over his hard on, and then shoves his pants down.
His cock is the most perfect you’ve ever seen. It’s also the most real you’ve ever seen. Your first, other than your own and what you’ve seen in porn. He’s bigger than you, curved slightly, cut and thick. You’re a little shorter, a little thinner, but you checked online and you’re still considered above average. Justin, clearly, is even more so.
Your hands are on his cock in a flash, stroking up and down as he moans. Both hands, one gripping his shaft, the other circling his head, stroking, stroking, exploring. You’re doing everything on instinct, everything coming from something inside of you that tells you what to do. Your fantasies, your long nights awake jerking yourself and imagining it was another man.
Your mouth waters.
“I want to suck you,” you say. He groans, and he moves up as you shimmy down, and then you’re face-to-crotch with him and his cock is dangling in front of you.
Sucking him deep is like putting a key in a lock, like seeing the sunrise over the ocean. Like finding something you’d thought lost forever. Your eyes close, and you moan, sucking him as deep as you can.
This is what you’ve craved. This is what you’veneeded. This is what you can’t live without. He curses above you, holding in a pushup position, and you feel his hips and thighs quaking.
You reach for your cock and jerk it, smearing the precum you’ve dribbled out around your head. Fuck, you want to suck him for hours, suck him until you cum, but he’s shaking hard now, can’t last. He pulls you up, slides back down, and collapses on you, kissing you hard as his cock hits your belly. Your saliva spreads over your skin.
You did that. You made his cock wet. You made him that hard.
He opens your fly and shoves your pants down, and then your cocks are side by side, sliding against each other. You rut fast and furious, grinding hard, your spit slicking the way as you grunt and kiss and hump each other. It’s hot, feeling him in your arms, feeling his body, his cock, against yours. It’s like flying, or what flying must be like, taking a leap and not knowing how it’s going to turn out.
