Page 26 of Where the Pines Kiss the Sky

As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,

Wishes and tears, poor fancy’s followers.”

I watched him as he spoke. The words fell from him with ease and passion. When he opened his eyes, our gazes locked. Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald were singing “Dancing Cheek to Cheek” inside the little yellow cabin, the song floating out the open windows.

“Amazing,” I said, my smile sincere. He took a theatrical bow, righted himself, and offered me his hand.

“Would you like to dance?” The moon was still hidden behind the trees, so the only light in this private copse was from dancing candles and one small square of illumination from the rectangular kitchen window.

“I’ve never been asked by another man to dance,” I confessed, slipping my hand into his. He moved closer, his raspy cheek brushing mine, causing my breath to hitch. He slid the palm of his left hand around my back as he began softly singing along to Louis.

“That is a crime against humanity,” he whispered into my ear, then resumed his song. I let him lead. No reason really other than I had never experienced it before. His chest moved against mine with each swaying step. My free hand came up to rest on his shoulder. We never moved much, just a few steps one way and then the other, the rub of his erection jolting me from head to toe. His cock stood out proudly. “Yes, I am not wearing anything under my kaftan. I rarely do at home.”

“God,” I croaked as my dick grew longer and thicker. I clung to his shoulder with my free hand, letting my lips brazenly move through his beard until my lips located his. “Can I kiss you?” I enquired breathlessly.

“Please,” he answered softly as he moved me in a tiny circle, the hand on my hip now pulling me into him more fully. I ran my lips over his, a brush of touch, then applied some pressure. Gibson lapped at the seam of my mouth, asking for entry, which I granted him. The flick of his tongue over mine made me lightheaded. He tasted of wine and chocolate. A mixture that made me delirious with want. The song ended, and our dancing faded to two lonely men grinding against each other as we explored with teeth, tongue, and lips.

“I would very much like to take you to my bed,” he gruffly said when the kiss broke. This was all so new to me. All of my previous encounters had been hidden in the dark, the fear of discovery always at the back of my mind, dimming the joy of the moment. This night was different. Hell, this man was different. He wasn’t a starstruck twink looking to score the big bad movie star. Gibson was an open and out gay man. And…so was I.

“I would like that as well,” I replied with a little more volume than was needed.

He chuckled as he held me to him, his pelvis tight to mine. “Why don’t you shout that to the stars? Tell the world and all the creatures upon it what you’re feeling right now.” He dropped a kiss to my jawline, then moved back, his hand still clasping mine.

“That feels silly,” I stated as I tipped my head back to stare at the few twinkling stars I could see through the jack pines standing sentry in knowing silence.

“It will free you,” he said and waited.

I inhaled and then shouted skyward. “I’m gay and going to take this man to bed!” My bellow rolled upward and was swept off with a gentle wind rich with the sea scent. I glanced from the stars to Gibson. “You were right. Thatdidunlock something in my breast.” So I did it again and again once more.

“One more step to being the proud gay man the world didn’t want you to be.” He lifted my hand to his lips, kissed my knuckles, and took a step toward the back door. I followed with eagerness, my heart thundering, my cock aching. “Now let’s see how being free to love another man feels on your skin.”

As we tumbled into his bed—a wide, firm thing with vibrant quilts and eclectic pillows in various shapes and sizes—I already knew how loving him would feel. It would be glorious. He turned on a tiny hobnail lamp on an old oaken nightstand and then rolled me to my back, easing my shirt up and inhaling as if he had found old Phillippe’s treasure. My hands were shaking as I moved them up and down his thick forearms. He nestled between my legs, sitting on his heels, and placed both hands over my pectorals.

“You are one of the most sinfully beautiful things I have ever seen,” he said, his voice heavy with lust as he began rubbing the material of my bralette over my nipples. The scratch of fine lace making the nubs stand up and beg. “Such a stunning man. I adore seeing you wearing such gorgeous things. The combination of male and female…” He paused to slow his breathing, his blue eyes now dark with desire. “I’m so turned on right now.”

Feeling desired and pretty and free, I slid my hand under his kaftan to find his cock. It was easy to locate. Hard, fat, and leaking, it sat in my palm as if it were made to be there. I gave him a stroke.

“I can tell you like it,” I panted like a work mule just done plowing the back forty.

“So very much.” He moved over me with a grunt. “Can only sit like that for so long,” he playfully explained before slanting his mouth over mine. I held onto his dick, working him slowly, rubbing my thumb into the wet slit so that I could hear his huffs of pleasure as they puffed into my mouth. Then he moved downward, latching his lips onto a nipple covered with lace. I yelped, arching up for some friction, my balls tingling and tight to my body.

“God fucking yes!” I dug at his shoulders, kicked my legs, and writhed under him. I was mad with want. If I came from him just sucking a tit, I might just die of embarrassment, but the possibility was real. “Tug harder…”

He did as asked, using his teeth to pull on my sensitive nub. My bralette was wet with his spittle, which was just another ratchet upward. I pulled on his now hard cock, working him with an urgency that he picked up on. He lifted his head to look down at me.

“You’re close?” he asked with bright pink, wet lips.

“Yes, so close,” I huffed, my fingers biting into his thick biceps. “It’s been a long time for me and—”

“No need to make excuses,” he whispered over my lips before stealing a long, wet kiss. My balls throbbed now, my cock so hard it ached. “I’m right there with you.”

He sat up, pulled the kaftan over his head, and whipped it somewhere over his shoulder. My eyes moved over his big, brawny, hairy body. Saliva pooled in my mouth when I peeked at his cock locked in the vise of my fist. He reached down, uncurled my fingers, and gave me a wink.

“We do this in unison,” he said, tugging my zipper down. When he saw my cock trapped in see-through black lace, he made a sound like a lion spotting a gazelle. “Look at you. My gods, just look at you.”

“Hurry, please,” I begged, digging my heels into the bed to hoist my ass from the mattress. He yanked down my shorts, then flung them to the wind too. His gaze was glued to my dick wetting the fine lace panties. “Do you really like me?”

“Yes, oh yes, I adore you.” He ran a finger over my cock. I gasped and shuddered. Then, with infinite care, he placed his cock next to mine, leaving my prick in the confines of my underwear. With eyes ablaze, he hovered over me, hands on either side of my head now, and began humping my cock. My eyes rolled back into my skull. Strange sounds tumbled out of me as he ground down on me, his grunts mixing with my cries, until I blew apart, soaking my panties. Brow resting on mine, he rolled his hips, groaned roughly, and pumped rope after rope of spunk over my belly and dick. His cum mingled with mine, soaking through the fragile lace.

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