It wasn't like Mr. Withers had suggested. He could see the anger in the man's face, that of his wife too, but they were wrong. Dylan wasn't some old pervert, hell he wasn't old as far as he was concerned. It had only been his 40th birthday a week ago, so while the Wither's might think he was old, he sure as hell didn't. Neither did their son Marshall, the reason for their little pow wow.

Marshall had come into his life last year, when the Withers had moved in next door. He was a tall young man, not blond but sort of, what they called a dirty blond colour. He was thin, about 150 pounds but man he was built solid. Every pound seemed to be pure muscle, and Dylan knew every inch of Marshall's body, though it had only recently happened.

The threats from Mr. Withers were rather pathetic, and yet Dylan didn't blame him too much. After all Marshall was still their child, even if he was half way past his nineteenth birthday. They still thought of him as a kid, when the fact was, Marshall was a damn site more self reliant than they seemed to comprehend, or want to.

He was taking classes at the local community college, was even on the college's track team. Fact was, he had earned the money to go their, saved it since he was just a kid, and his parents just didn't seem to understand how grown up that had been. They didn't even question it actually, which rather pissed Dylan off. You would think they would want to know how their son had saved enough money to pay for tuition, something they should have done actually.

Double standard there he thought, as he pursed his lips, staring over at the two angry middle aged hypocrites. Marshall worked hard for his money and still did. He did odd jobs in the neighbourhood, for others as well as him, which is how he had met Marshall. Thing was, he also had a full time job at a local coffee slash internet café, where he was now the manager. It paid not bad either, and yet these sanctimonious hypocrites didn't even acknowledge Marshall's skills. All they could think of, it seemed, was that he was somehow involved with a man who was 40, having ungodly sex with him. They blamed him, as if he had somehow corrupted their innocent child, who was not so innocent. He knew for a fact that Marshall had been having sex with other men since he was way too young, but they were with guys his own age. His leap into Dylan's bed was his first time with an older man, a much older man, but the Withers didn't seem to follow that.

They thought it sick, but frankly he didn't give a shit. Their claims of him being some child molester only infuriated him, because it was not only a lie, but a damn insult. Sure, Marshall was not yet 20, so he was older by 20 years and six months, didn't make him a child molester. Plus, Marshall had been the one who instigated that first tryst, not him. It was Marshall who first approached him, who made the first advances, and he had resisted. God how he had resisted, but Marshall had wanted him.

For the life of him, Dylan never could understand why. Marshall was a dream, he had the looks, the build, the equipment while he was an older man, an accountant with a paunch, balding a little on top, but other than that, nothing special. He was ordinary, yet Marshall had wanted him, had pursued him even, which is just one reason why he had fallen for the guy.

The problem he supposed, was that it was odd for someone like Marshall, to be with someone like him. He was older, more set in his ways nor was he rich either. He managed okay, but it was something that didn't seem to matter to Marshall. Course what had made his parents come storming over, had been his announcement that he was moving out from their home, to live with him.

Dylan had to admit, it was a big step. It was quick too, because while he had known Marshall for just over a year, their relationship hadn't become sexual until three or so months ago. It was still fresh, yet already he had surrendered his personal freedom, by agreeing to Marshall moving in. He still couldn't believe how he had accepted the idea, warmed to it almost instantly. He was a loner, always had been, yet with Marshall, somehow things seemed different, seemed fresher as well as more enjoyable.

Simply going for a walk in the park, had become something exciting. Hell even getting up at the crack of dawn to go jobbing with Marshall had become fun, enjoyable. He had even lost five pounds, which still amazed him. Exercise was never his passion, jogging least of all. Yet Marshall had somehow not only gotten him to wake up at the wee hours, but to actually dress in sweat pants and go jogging with him.

They had breakfast together, some weird health stuff, that he really didn't care for, which he no longer even thought about. It was looking at Marshall, watching his jaw work the crunchy food that captured his attention at the table. The way his eyes would glow when they would sit down, facing each other. The smile that would cross his face, making his thin pale lips seem fuller, as well as desirable. It was just one of the reasons he had agreed, without thinking of the consequences.

Frankly, he didn't give a damn about the consequences. Not about what Mr. & Mrs. Withers thought or the neighbours. It didn't matter if his whole life would be turned around, that he would find himself sharing a bathroom with a teenager, or anything else. His whole schedule was already shot, was the instant he had surrendered to Marshall's insistence advances.

Looking at the two parents, Dylan knew they would never understand, simply because they couldn't understand that two grown adults, both males, could actually find something to share, beyond just a physical attraction. Though, that certainly was a factor, he realized that it wasn't everything.

Their first time, was not some wild passionate sex orgy. Sitting, looking at the disbelief, he realized that what made Marshall so special, wasn't his prowess in sucking dick, in making Dylan groan and scream as his ass got ploughed, but was in how he made him feel human, feel wanted. Yes the sex was damn good, unbelievably good, but it was more than that, and their first time together was just a classic example of that.

He could feel the excitement, that he first felt when he had suddenly decided to accept the advances. Marshall had been leaning against him, while they watched some old movie on the Turner Classic Network. Marshall had his hand on Dylan's knee, had squeezed it a few times, and even caressed the inner thigh a little. He always was trying, and normally Dylan would gently move the hand back to Marshall's own leg, but this night, this time he didn't.

Instead he let the hand stay, which didn't go far. It just sat there, uncertain, and then he could feel it, the slight tremble in the arm, as Marshall understood the signal. The hand reached out, and slowly made its way to lay across his crotch. He felt the tingling running up and down Marshall's arm, or maybe it was his own quivering, but whichever, it made him feel different, more relaxed than nervous.

He had turned to look at Marshall, saw the questioning look of those innocent eyes, and had smiled. It didn't take more, as the hand suddenly gripped his crotch, squeezing the lump inside, which only made Dylan smile more. He liked the touch, and he could smell the cologne, as it wafted past him. It was a fresh scent, one that only young men like Marshall could ever exude.

As he leaned back, opening his legs slightly, he found the other arm suddenly reaching around him, and then was staring into Marshall's gleaming face. The eyes seemed so brilliant, so full of life, that he couldn't help but grin, which he barely managed to show. Marshall was suddenly leaning closer, the eyes closing and his own followed the lead, as Marshall's lips brushed his. He felt the electricity in his body, the way he simply felt like he was about to be shot into space.

Every nerve in his body was suddenly alert, tingling in eager anticipation as the hands began to slowly explore all of his older body. He felt the hands touching him, that seemed to just make him tingle even more. The lips came back, and pressed against his, lightly at first, then with growing desire and firmness. He couldn't help but open his lips, to allow that desire some satisfaction.

He had no idea why he had let the hand stay, no clue as to why he didn't stop him at that first kiss, but he knew now, sitting there, that he was glad he hadn't stopped him. Dylan felt the raw power of Marshall's youth as the tongue had licked him hard, dug deep into his mouth, to play with his own. He could still hear the sounds of their kissing, feel the hands as they crept under his shirt, to run lightly over his chest. The way the fingers were spread apart, to probe at his flesh, to touch him in such a way that he could hear himself groaning his pleasure.

The movie was forgotten, as Marshall continued to press him, to lean more into Dylan. The scent was over powering, it made him react out of instinct as his own hands began to reach out, to touch and explore the hard body that was pressing his. He could recall the thrill he felt when his hand moved across the firm nipple, beneath Marshall's shirt. How his fingers had trembled as they circled the jutting out flesh, feeling its firmness. Yet it was the soft whimpering of pleasure that made the most impression on him.

The low sound, how it filled his ears, his heart even with its pleasure, had broken down his last barriers. His heart had begun to pound, and its roar filled his ears and head with its thunderous beating. His pulse had become rapid, as he felt the wet soft kisses move from his lips, to his chin, then under the chin and along his long neck. The press of the lips were just enough to let him feel, to experience the sensation of movement, as Marshall's head was underneath his, and without even realizing, his shirt and pants were no longer covering him.

The lips were gentle, as they moved down his quivering stomach. His whole body was on edge, shaking in ways he had never experienced before as Marshall had moved further down. He was now also spread out, his legs on the other end of the couch, and his head on Dylan's lap. He looked down, to see that mop of hair, as it kissed him with such devotion, such desire, that he found himself running his own hands over the strands of hair. He let his fingers twist and twirl the strands, feeling the satisfaction it was giving Marshall.

Marshall let his hands slowly move down his legs. They were soft as they caressed the insides of his bare inner thighs, making him quiver even more. His cock was rigid, but still within his shorts, as Marshall's head was raised above it, looking down at it. He couldn't see his eyes, but he could feel them as they seemed to devour the image of it, tented under the thin fabric. Dylan had never felt so aroused before, as he had continued to wrap the hair around his fingers, letting his own hand caress Marshall's head.

Time seemed to be non existent, as he felt the hands slowly move back up his bare legs, to then run across his crotch, touching the still hidden cock inside. He groaned as the palm of Marshall's hand brushed across the throbbing pole, then as it moved down to rub the balls, that were now aching. He sighed, as the fingers dug a little into his sac, and then he felt the tug. Out of instinct, he found himself lifting his buttocks up off the couch, and his underwear was suddenly around his knees, then with his pants, pushed down to his ankles. His knees spread open, exposing more of himself.

His cock wavered in the freedom it now enjoyed. Marshall didn't immediately grap hold either, but instead seemed to just stare down at it, look at it as if it was some magical wand that had come to life before him. He felt elated, as a strange warmth came up his body, to wrap itself around him. The quivering was no more, as he licked his lips, ran his hand with a new found tenderness over the mop of hair. It was something new to him, as he just stared down, watching as the head slowly moved down.

The soft little kiss on the edge of his cock almost made him lose it, right then and there. It was so unexpected, so tender, that it made his whole body tremble with pleasure. The nerves were suddenly sending shock waves throughout his body, to his mind, that no longer seemed able to decipher them all. He shook, as one hand slowly reached up, and gradually let the fingers wrap themselves around his throbbing pole. The head suddenly turned and looked up at him.

He felt himself shake as he stared into Marshall's eyes. He saw the glint in the eyes, the desire but he also saw something more. There were no words for it, as he beamed down, caught in the moment of pure rapture. His heart was pounding and he had no feeling left in his arms, or legs even. He was panting as he watched the head turn away, and once more lower itself to his penis. Biting his lip, he felt the moist lips touch the head again, making his body flinch.

The lips didn't let go, but slowly began to wrap around his cock head. He felt the tongue suddenly flick out, taking the pre cum from the head, tasting it and swallowing it. He heard the sound of it going down Marshall's throat, as he let out a low rumbling groan of pleasure. His body was tense now, as the lips continued to press, tighter with each second, as they also moved down his penis. They held him tightly as the mouth opened wider, and he felt the warm moist mouth cover his head, then began to close around his shaft.

Marshall's hand reached down, to push the balls up, not that they needed the help. He was in agony, as he tried to hold on, to not surrender too fast, but it was too much. He felt himself losing control, even muttering something that didn't seem to effect Marshall one bit. If anything, his muttering, his cries only made the lips tighten, made the hand gripping his shaft grow tighter.

His own hands were now pushing on Marshall's head. They were urging him down, pressing hard, but Marshall was strong, and held his own, he let the cock slowly enter his mouth, and as his nose began to press into Dylan's soft groin, he felt himself shaking, jerking, as his body exploded.

Dylan had never cum so fast, or so much as he did that instant. He felt his whole body shaking, felt himself arching upwards, off the couch. His hands were pressing down as his hips shot up, his cock was firmly impaled into Marshall's mouth, as it reared back and shot forward again in a split second. His cum was spraying out of his throbbing cock, deep into Marshall's throat. He heard the distant sound of gagging, but his hands continued to press the head, as his body shot every ounce of its load out.

Three, then four times his cock head reared back, then fired, and not once did Marshall let go of the grip he had on it. He sucked, taking every drop of his hot milk, swallowing it all as fast as Dylan could release it. Long after he had finished, he finally was able to speak, but Marshall had stilled his comments. He had placed two fingers on Dylan's lips, shushed him and then kissed him, curling up into his arms, breathing out a sort of sigh of contentment.

He lay in Dylan's arms for what seemed ages, before he even looked up, and no words were needed. Dylan could see that glint, and he knew now what it was. It wasn't lust, wasn't just desire, but was total and unconditional love. It was something he had always read about, but never felt until now. He didn't say a word, as time once more began to march on for them, and now here he was, sitting across from Marshall's parents, listening to their rantings.

Dylan smiled at them both, and turned as Marshall entered the room. He saw the look on Marshall's face, and turned to stare at Mr. and Mrs Withers, as Marshall walked in, sat on the arm of the chair Dylan was in, reached down and kissed Dylan on the lips. He then turned to his parents.

'Does that answer your questions Mom, Dad?'



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