Page 73 of Oz
He whistles in appreciation. “Good one. Which gender?”
I swallow. “Both.”
“Okay. Fifteen to a girl and sixteen to a boy.” I look at him and he smiles. “There was very little in the way of entertainment at boarding school,” he says wryly. “What about you?”
I grin. “I thought I won the question.”
“This is for the hill of grass on my side of the run.”
“That’s not a hill. It’s a pouch.” I smile. “I was fifteen.”
“Was it good?”
I shake my head. “No, but I thought I was in love, so it didn’t matter.” I laugh. “I should have known better. He told everyone at school about it and I got beaten up and my head stuck down a toilet.”
His face darkens. “What a little fucker.” He pauses. “What did you do?”
I stare at him for a second, struck that he already knows me well enough to guess I did something.
“I told everyone he had a four-inch penis, suffered from premature ejaculation, and called me mummy when he came.” He laughs loudly and I smile. “Shaun helped spread the rumour.” I pause. “Actually, I think Shaun is still spreading the rumour.”
I hand him the ball. “Try and challenge me this time, please,” I say in a bored voice.
Half an hour later I’m dressed in my briefs and one sock while he’s wearing just a smile and listing slightly from the bottle of Jack Daniels we’ve finished.
I look at him and laugh, but my mouth waters at the sight of all that tanned skin and hair and the long cock that’s plumping up nicely. “Don’t you think I’ve won?” I ask. “You have nothing left to lose.”
“Only my virtue,” he says primly. “I play to the death, Oz. Now bowl.” I go to throw the ball and he steps beside me. “Afterwards I’m going to fuck you against that tree.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I say, trying to sound modest, but I know I’m failing.
He would dare. One of the things that I’ve found out about Silas is that he’s shameless. In bed he’s amazing. He’s earthy with a bawdy sense of humour and lacks any inhibitions. He does whatever feels good and he’s not afraid to laugh. Sex has never felt like it does with him. Immediate and raw and fun.
I’d thought he would just top but he’s happy to bottom too. It’s not my preferred position, but the other night he’d asked to be fucked, and pushing down on him and into him brought me a pleasure I’ve never felt so strongly. I’d crouched over him, watching my cock shiny with lube disappear into his arse as he groaned and panted beneath me.
“Oh look,” he says happily. “Someone likes the idea.”
I look down at my hard-on which is barely contained by my electric blue briefs, the head poking out impudently, and then shake my head. “I will not fall for your diversionary tactics,” I say loftily and throw the ball.
I don’t get the chance to look where it lands because at that moment he grabs me and turns me, taking my mouth with a deep groan. His callused hands slide my briefs down, throwing them impatiently over his shoulder.
“Fuck! I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I say. “Are you sure we can’t be seen?”
From a pocket in his shorts he produces a condom and a small sachet of lube. “No. But I don’t care anyway. If someone wants to spy on us, then they must accept the eye bleach they’ll need afterwards.”
“I like your attitude,” I laugh, but it turns into a groan as he backs me up to the tree and kisses me hard. He fucks me against it ruthlessly, waiting until I’ve come twice before he finds his own release. When we finish we’re covered in sweat, and we half collapse, half lower ourselves to the ground.
“I like Kayling,” I say slowly, hearing the slur in my voice. “I think I’m quite good at it. I could take it up professionally.”
He chuckles from his position lying crossways with his head pillowed on my stomach so I can stroke his hair. “I don’t think professionally you’ll be required to strip.”
“Oh,” I say in a disappointed voice. “I won’t bother then.” I glance towards the kayles and poke him. “Hey,” I say indignantly. “I fucking won that last round. You totally cheated.”
He laughs and snuggles closer, patting my hand demandingly to resume the stroking of hair. “You can have your question then.”
My question must be borne from my soft feelings of satiation and contentment because I’d never fucking ask it normally. “What do you most want in a boyfriend?”
Other men might have answered with looks or money or just lied, but Silas’s answer is simple and honest to his bones. “I want someone to love me for just me. Someone who will watch out for me and someone who will feel like home.”
