Flowers for Steve

The day after my fortieth birthday an out of control pick up jumped the median and smashed into my car. I remember nothing of the accident, spent a few days in the hospital and the next five months meeting with therapists as they helped me regain my range of motion, strength and coordination. I had been lucky; there was no permanent damage.

After the insurance guidelines said I no longer needed it, the therapy stopped. What didn't stop was my interest in the exercise. Prior to the accident I was a typical guy, enjoying my beer and pizza, football, baseball and my sofa. I continued the exercise, changed my diet, starting playing adult league softball, biking and hitting the gym. On my forty-second birthday I was in better shape than I was at twenty. Granted I wasn't a muscle man, but I was trim, toned and looking really good in my clothes and pretty damn hot without them.

It was just after eleven in the morning as I returned home after the gym. I was looking forward to a nice birthday dinner with some friends. Stepping out of the shower I looked at my reflection in the mirror and congratulated myself on the changes I had made since the accident. As much pain and work there was to recover from it in the end I looked great, felt great and my outlook on life had improved. The door buzzer interrupted my self-admiration. Slipping on a pair of sweats I went to the intercom.

"Hi, I'm looking for Steve Parker." The voice was a younger male.

"This is, who are you?" I asked.

"Delivery from Bell's Flowers."

"Come on up, number 312." I buzzed the guy in. Flowers, wonder who sent them. I smiled at the idea of receiving flowers. The last time I received flowers I was in the hospital unable to move.

Opening the door I looked down the hallway eager to see what kind of flowers were sent and who had sent them. The delivery guy was maybe twenty, average height; he wore his brown hair in a sloppy style. He walked with a lazy gait and carried a decent size paper wrapped packaged.

"Steve?"

"Yep, that's me."

He smiled as he handed me the package, it was bigger and heavier than I expected. Turning into the apartment to put the package on the counter the young man followed me inside.

"Special day?" He inquired.

"Yeah, I guess. Birthday." I smiled.

"Happy Birthday Man."

"Thank you." I was looking for my wallet; obviously he was waiting for his tip.

"You gonna open it?" He asked.

Looking at him I swore he was generally interested in seeing me open the package. "Sure."

I started opening the paper and the excitement of being remembered and who had sent them really took over. Why was this such a big deal?

The bouquet was mixed flowers, most of them I couldn't name, but it looked really nice. They even smelled wonderful. So many of the flowers sold today look great but have no fragrance, these had both.

"Those look great. Smell good too. Perfect compliment for you." The young guy said.

Was he flirting with me?

"They are really beautiful. Wonder who they are from?"

"There should be a card." He offered.

Looking among the flowers I couldn't find a card. Puzzled I looked to the delivery guy, "No card."

"That's odd." He said as he looked at me with a goofy face and shrugged his shoulders. "So, what birthday? You have a big one?"

"What?" I chuckled. He had to be flirting with me, or I was letting myself be entertained by a young guy interested in me?

"Birthday? Is it a big one, Thirty?"

Laughing I shook my head, "Nice try, you still get the same size tip, but I appreciate it."

"Sorry, I was just..." he stammered.

"Just trying to flatter me. Thank you. Let me get my wallet."

Returning from my bedroom with the wallet I looked up to find the young man standing in just a pair of black briefs. He was trim as young men his age often are, smooth, nicely muscled with skin that hadn't been sacrificed to the sun. He smiled.

"Whoa!" I stopped in my tracks.

"Happy Birthday." His smiled was cocky with a hint of embarrassment.

"I...I...um..."

"Not interested?" He looked heartbroken.

"No! That's not it at all. I just...didn't expect..." Not interested? Was he kidding? He was exactly what I was interested in!

"I can leave if you want but I would rather..." he looked down at the floor and cupped the pouch of his briefs.

Walking closer to him my heartbeat increased. I wanted him. I want to touch him, feel him and fuck him. I hadn't had sex since the accident. Part of it was being so physically beat up and after that it was the mental games that kept me from seeking sex.

He looked up at me. "I want this, if you do."

"I do." I reached my hand for his arm, rand my fingers along his bicep and resting my hand on his shoulder stepped in to kiss him. He closed his eyes and accepted my kiss. His taste was sweet, innocent and almost hesitant. I didn't let that stop me. My hands roamed his soft skin as I kissed him. He was warming up. I left his lips and kissed my way down his neck. Exploring his body with some haste before he changed his mind. His physical reaction to my approach had me wonder if he was a virgin.

His hands began to caress my chest, back and stomach. Hitting the gym as I had been doing had paid off; I wasn't ashamed in the least. Finally he reached for my cock. "Wow." He uttered to himself. Slowly he got down on his knees. I did nothing to prevent him for reaching his goal. Using both hands he slowly pulled my sweats down until my half hard cock was released from the fabric. He sat back on his heels and looked at my cock and balls. "Wow."

I smiled.

Very slowly he stroked it a few times. Had he ever held another man's cock before today? Very carefully he leaned in, opened his mouth and took the head of my cock in. The kid had to be a virgin. Whatever, I was not about to stop him; I had every intention of fucking him. He did what he thought was needed to give me head. I moaned and groaned, not because he was doing such a good job but because I knew my cock was the first one to enter his mouth. Fuck it was turning me on. Finally I couldn't resist, I pulled him off the floor and grabbed his hand leading him to my bed. I turned him around and had him sit down.

Pushing him flat on the bed I crawled over him, kissing his young skin. He was moaning. Bringing my lips to his I kissed him and this time he returned it with a little more enthusiasm. Pushing my cock into his briefs I rubbed until I felt his cock become hard. Moving down to his cock I pulled the briefs off of him. He was sporting a nice six inches of hard cock.

Taking his cock into my mouth he shot his load.

"Sorry! Sorry! Man, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to do that." The sound in his voice was truly one of sorry, or embarrassment.

I finished sucking his cum and released his cock. "Don't be sorry." I winked and went to work on his balls. And down between his sack and his ass and eventually to his hole. Fuck this guy was hot and clearly virgin. It had been a while since I had rimmed a guy but I quickly found myself back in the saddle. Once he was loosened I stood up and grabbed a condom and lube. He didn't say anything as he watched me gather the supplies needed to deflower him. I didn't say anything either.

Once covered I lubed up my cock, squirt a huge blob onto his hole as he twitched from the cold gel. Grabbing my cock I rubbed the head of my cock along his hole. He was holding his legs wide and back giving me access. Yeah, this guy wanted it. Slowly I pressed my cock into the tightness. I was torn between watching my cock enter that sweet virgin territory or watching his face. I decided to watch his face.

Something about the way a guy reacts to the initial entrance of a cock into his ass, how do you explain it? Virgin or whore the look is priceless. His was worth a million. I took my time. He showed no sign of being in a hurry and after two years I was ready for a nice long, slow fuck. He got it.

The cum was building in my balls. I pulled out, removed the condom and aimed my cock at him. Stroking a few times as he watched I unloaded on his abs, cock and balls. He was breathing heavily with a smile of satisfaction on his slightly sweaty face.

"Thank you."

I smiled at him, "Thank you."

He refused a shower, accepted a damp cloth and was acting guilty as he returned to the living room to get dressed. Neither of us spoke. He opened the door to leave, closed it and turned. "Would you want to do this again?"

"Of course I would!" Was he kidding? No but he was new.

"OK. Um...can I give you my number?"

Weekly over the next year Arron would stop by for his sex lesson. He was eager and willing and became quiet good at sucking and taking a good fucking. Our sessions lasted anywhere from thirty minutes to a couple hours and every time I tried to teach him something new, or at least fuck him in a different room. The shy young man who delivered flowers on my forty-second birthday became a skilled bottom.

On my forty-third birthday he came over and actually spent the entire night. His abilities had improved to the point where he was going to make many a man thrilled to have him. Stepping out of the shower the morning after I could smell the coffee brewing. Wrapping the towel around my waist I walked into the kitchen. Arron wasn't around. Were had he gone? Puzzled I looked around and spotted a small envelop on the counter. Opening it I realized it was a card like the kind you get with flowers. Inside, in the handwriting of a young man it read: 'Sorry I hit you. Hope you forgive me.'

I smiled. Yeah, I forgive him. I tried calling him but there was no answer and his voicemail didn't kick in. A week later the number was no longer in service. Arron never called again, I didn't see him again. Where he went I never found out. But the year of sex with the young stud, the changes in my life and body all had been worth the accident.