In the quiet embrace of dawn, a lone figure emerged from the quaint, ivy-covered cottage. The B&B's garden lay sprawled out before him, a patchwork of dewy grass and blooming flowers, not yet stirred by the day's impending activities. The young man's name was Steven, and he had the kind of unruly, curly hair that seemed to dance in the early morning light. He stepped out onto the cool stone path that wove through the garden, the hem of his burgundy nightshirt brushing against his knees as he stood on the damp earth beneath his bare feet. The night had been restless, his dreams a tangled web of whispers and shadows that clung to the edges of his consciousness even as he woke.
A gentle mist kissed the garden, giving the scene an otherworldly glow. The air had the scent of blooming lavender and the distant promise of breakfast cooking in the kitchen. Steven took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweetness, which eased the tension in his body. His eyes were drawn to the stone circle that stood sentinel in the garden's far corner, its ancient stones weathered by the hands of time and the whispers of countless secrets. It was a peculiar relic, a remnant of a bygone era, which the owner, Mr. Higgins, had proudly claimed was once used for sacred rituals and gatherings.
The stones beckoned to Steven, whispering a silent invitation that seemed to resonate with the unease in his chest. He approached them, each step bringing him closer to the centre of the ancient site. The circle was small, with stones no taller than him, but the atmosphere grew denser, the air thickening with a sense of ancient reverence as he entered. He could almost feel the energy of the past resonating through the earth beneath his bare feet. The whispers grew louder, not in his ears but in his soul, a soft hum that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of the world around him.
His nightshirt clung to his well-defined frame, revealing his toned body. The soft material caressed his skin, tracing the lines of muscles earned through hours of hard work and the occasional gym visit. Beneath the thin layer of his nightshirt, Steven felt a growing warmth, a physical response to the excitement and curiosity that thrummed through him. The morning air was cool against his skin, but the fabric was a gentle embrace that did nothing to hide the evidence of his arousal.
Mr. Higgins, the B&B's proprietor, a man with a knowing smile and a penchant for observing his guests, noticed Steven's approach to the stone circle. From the safety of his kitchen, where he was preparing breakfast, he peeked through the lace curtains. The sun's rays painted a soft glow on his face, revealing the twinkle in his eyes as they lingered on Steven's figure. The young man's nightshirt fluttered slightly in the breeze, the outline of his erection pressing against the fabric. The sight brought a knowing smile to Mr. Higgins' lips. He had seen that look before, the one of curiosity and burgeoning desire.
The old man set down his spatula, wiping his hands on his apron as he contemplated the situation. He knew the circle's allure, had felt its power himself in his youth. Perhaps, he thought, the stones had chosen Steven for their purpose, a new participant in their timeless dance of passion and energy. Mr. Higgins felt a strange kinship with the young guest, a sense of understanding that went beyond the usual host-guest relationship. He decided to leave the kitchen unattended for a few moments, the sizzle of the bacon and the aroma of brewing coffee a distant concern as he made his way to the back door, having turned off the gas, moving the frying pan to the side.
The dew-kissed grass felt cold against his bare feet as he padded silently across the garden. The air grew heavier with each step he took towards the ancient stones, as if the very essence of the place was aware of his approach. His heart raced, a mix of excitement and trepidation. What would he find in the circle's embrace? Would it be a moment of solitary contemplation, or something more primal and profound?
Steven reached the centre of the stone circle and closed his eyes, letting the whispers of the ancient site wash over him. He could feel the ground beneath him pulse with a strange energy that seemed to resonate through his entire body. As he took a deep breath, the fabric of his nightshirt stretched tightly over his erect cock, the sensation only adding to his growing arousal. The whispers grew into a gentle chant, a siren's call that beckoned him to shed his inhibitions and give in to the power that surrounded him.
Mr. Higgins arrived at the edge of the stone circle, his eyes never leaving Steven. He saw the young man's body tense with desire, his chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. The hum of energy grew louder, a symphony of need and want that filled the air. The old man stepped into the circle, his presence unnoticed by the lost soul at its heart. The stones seemed to welcome him, their shadows stretching out to embrace him as well. Steven's eyes remained shut, lost in the sensations that seemed to envelop him.
As Mr. Higgins approached, he reached out, his touch gentle and warm against Steven's waist. The young man's eyes snapped open, his gaze locking onto the older man's. For a moment, there was no sound but the heavy silence that hung between them. Then, with a soft smile, Mr. Higgins spoke, his voice low and soothing. "The stones are alive, my boy, and they wish to share their warmth with you." He stepped closer, his hands sliding down the young man's thighs. "Would you like some company in this sacred place?" he asked, his fingers brushing the skin under the hem of the nightshirt.
The question hung in the air, a silent invitation that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the ancient stones. Steven leaned back against Mr. Higgins' chest, his body responding, the heat in his groin growing more intense. Without a word, he nodded, giving the old man permission to join him in the dance that was about to unfold within the circle's embrace.
The energy grew more potent as the two men stood there, the air crackling with sexual tension as Mr. Higgins's hands continued their journey up Steven's thighs, the fabric of the nightshirt giving way to the gentle pressure. The young man's skin was smooth and cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the heat that was building between them. As the material lifted, the older man revealed Steven's hard cock, standing proud and eager, the tip glistening with pre-cum.
Steven's breath hitched as Mr. Higgins wrapped his hand around the shaft, his grip firm and sure. The old man's skin was warm, a comforting heat that seemed to pulse with the very essence of the sacred site. He began to stroke, his movements slow and deliberate, drawing a low moan from the young man's lips. The sound was a sweet music to his ears, a symphony of desire that matched the rhythm of the chant that still echoed through the air.
The world outside the circle faded away, leaving only the two of them and the stones that bore witness to their passion. The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm, golden light upon their entwined bodies. Mr. Higgins kissed the back of Steven's neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as his other hand moved to cup the younger man's ass, pulling him closer, aligning their bodies in a way that was both intimate and raw.
The young man's hips began to move in time with the strokes. His own hands reached back, gripping the fabric of Mr. Higgins' trousers, pulling him closer as if to merge their flesh completely. The old man's cock, equally hard and demanding, pressed against Steven's lower back, a testament to his desire.
Their movements grew more frantic, the strokes faster, the kisses more urgent. Steven's eyes rolled back in his head as the pleasure mounted, the energy from the stones feeding into his very soul. The climax approached like a tidal wave, an unstoppable force that threatened to consume him. With a final, desperate thrust, he came, the warmth of his release spilling over Mr. Higgins' hand, the intensity of the moment causing him to cry out in ecstasy as he shot more cum into the fabric of his nightshirt with more dribbling down onto Mr. Higgins' fingers as he continued to pump the seed from the young man's cock.
The orgasm seemed to shatter the very air around them, a burst of power that ricocheted off the ancient stones and back into the earth. The circle vibrated with the force of it, the whispers growing into a crescendo before finally subsiding into a contented silence. The two men remained locked together, panting and trembling, as the energy slowly ebbed away.
Finally, Mr. Higgins pulled back, his hand still wrapped around Steven's softening cock. He looked into the young man's eyes, and for a moment, Steven could see the echoes of the countless others who had found themselves in this very spot, succumbing to the circle's seductive embrace. The old man leaned in, his breath warm against Steven's ear, and whispered, "Welcome to the stone circle."
With that, the spell was broken, and reality seeped back in. Steven looked around, the garden once again a simple, serene place. He turned to face the older man, the dawn light painting them both in a soft glow. They shared a knowing smile, the kind that comes from sharing a secret that could never be put into words.
"Thank you," Steven murmured, his voice still thick with the aftermath of pleasure. "For what?" Mr. Higgins asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "For... for this morning," Steven replied, gesturing at the circle, his cheeks flushing.
Mr. Higgins chuckled softly, his hand still resting gently on Steven's thigh. "Didn't you know, my dear boy, that the stones have a way of calling to those who are open to their embrace?" He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Steven's ear. "I couldn't resist," he whispered. "The energy here is intoxicating, and you... You're like a beacon of it."
Steven's heart pounded in his chest; his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "I-I don't mind," he stuttered. "It was... incredible." The old man's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good," he said, patting Steven's leg reassuringly. "Very good."
Reluctantly, they stepped out of the stone circle, the energy dissipating like mist in the sun. Steven's nightshirt clung to him, sticky with cum and sweat, a tangible reminder of their shared experience. Mr. Higgins turned to him, his gaze lingering on the tent in Steven's nightshirt before looking up into his eyes. "I think we should return to the house before the other guests start to come down expecting breakfast," he said, his tone a blend of concern and mischief. "But perhaps we can catch up later?"
Steven nodded, the reality of their situation crashing over him. The idea of being found in such a compromising position by the other guests was not one he cared to entertain. He allowed Mr. Higgins to lead the way, the warmth of the old man's hand on his arm grounding him as they walked back towards the cottage.
"If you want me to wash your nightshirt, I shall be happy to do so," Mr. Higgins offered casually, as if the previous events were nothing more than a shared cup of tea. The nonchalance in his voice only served to heighten the absurdity of the situation, and Steven couldn't help but chuckle. It was a small, nervous laugh, but it was genuine, and it helped to cut through the lingering tension.
"Thanks," Steven murmured, his cheeks still flushed from their encounter. He allowed the older man to lift the cum-soaked fabric over his head, feeling a sudden rush of cold air against his sticky body. The nightshirt came off with a wet sound, leaving him naked before Mr. Higgins, his erection slowly fading, but the memory of their shared passion still vivid. The kitchen, with its warm, homey smells of breakfast, seemed to close in around them, suddenly feeling much more intimate than the open expanse of the garden.
Mr. Higgins took a step back, his eyes travelling over Steven's body with an appreciative gaze. "You're quite the catch," he said with a wink, slapping the young man's firm buttock playfully. The sudden contact sent a jolt through Steven's body, and he yelped in surprise before laughter bubbled up from his chest. The sound was infectious, and even the stoic Mr. Higgins couldn't help but chuckle. "You better run along now," he said, his smile never wavering. "Wouldn't want to give the other guests a show, now, would we?" Steven's cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. He nodded, his cock still semi-erect as he sprinted towards the staircase, his bare feet slapping against the cold, hardwood floor.
Once in the safety of his room, Steven collapsed onto the bed, the softness of the mattress a stark contrast to the roughness of the stones they'd just shared. He couldn't believe what had just happened. It was as if he'd been caught up in a whirlwind of passion, and now, as the dust settled, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. The whispers of the stones still echoed in his head, a siren's call that he couldn't ignore. He had come to the Isles of Scilly in search of adventure and peace, but it seemed he had found something much more intense, and it had changed his focus.
Breakfast passed quickly as the other guests filled the breakfast room with their laughter and chatter. They spoke of their plans to explore the island's beauty, the sandy beaches and the clear, azure waters calling to them like a siren's song.
Steven listened, his thoughts elsewhere. The encounter in the stone circle played out in his mind, the sensation of Mr. Higgins' hand on his cock still a vivid memory. The desire to explore the islands was now intertwined with the desire to learn more about this mysterious proprietor who had initiated him into the stone circle's secrets, and it puzzled him that he hadn't resisted the advance of the old man.
He took a deep breath, the scent of the garden's blooming flowers a stark contrast to the musky scent that still lingered on his skin. The whispers of the stones were faint but still present, a gentle reminder of the power they had shared. He picked up the local history book he had brought with him from his room, hoping the tales of the Isles of Scilly would distract him from the tumult of his thoughts.
The pages were filled with stories of shipwrecks and mermaids, of pirates and hidden treasures. But it was the folklore of the stone circles that truly captured his attention. He read about how the ancient inhabitants had used these sacred spaces for rituals, for love and war, and how the energy of the earth had been harnessed to create something... more.
Mr. Higgins' gentle cough pulled him out of his thoughts, and Steven looked up to find the older man standing in the doorway, a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a knowing smile on his face. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, gesturing to the empty chair across from Steven. The young man nodded, setting the book aside and accepting the tea gratefully. The warm liquid soothed his nerves as he took a tentative sip, his eyes never leaving Mr. Higgins.
The old man sat, his gaze curious as he leaned back in his chair. "So, tell me," he began, "what brings you to our little island paradise?" The question was simple, but the way he spoke held a depth that suggested he was probing for more than just travel plans. Steven took a deep breath, the events of the morning still playing on his mind.
"I needed a break," Steven replied, his eyes drifting to the garden beyond the patio. "I wanted to get away from the noise, the crowds... everything." The words spilt out of him like a confession, the weight of his unspoken thoughts suddenly feeling lighter. "And I've always had a fascination with ancient places, like this one." He gestured to the stone circle, now basking in the full glow of the sun.
Mr. Higgins nodded thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming with understanding. "Ah, a seeker of peace and knowledge," he said. "Our little island has a way of drawing in such souls." He took a sip of his tea, his gaze lingering on Steven's face. "What is it that you truly seek?" His question was open-ended, inviting Steven to share his deepest desires.
Steven shifted in his chair, the fabric sticking to his damp skin. He felt a thrill run through him as he thought about the morning's events. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I've been feeling... lost, lately." The words tumbled out of him, a confession he hadn't intended to make. But something about Mr. Higgins made him feel safe, as if the old man could see right through to his soul.
Mr. Higgins leaned forward, his eyes holding a gentle warmth. "Ah, lost souls often find their way here," he mused, his gaze drifting to the stone circle in the garden. "The stones have a way of guiding those who seek them," as he took a sip of tea, his eyes never leaving Steven.
"Mr. Higgins, what's your story?" Steven enquired softly, trying to assess the man before him.
"Steven, if we are to be friends, call me Lennard," he said after a moment, setting his cup down. "My story is a long one, but the short of it is that I've lived many lives on these islands. I've seen the stones claim many lost souls, give them what they truly desired, and watched them leave again, forever changed." He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "And sometimes, if they're lucky, they get to keep a piece of that magic."
"I have to say, Lennard, I didn't expect what happened this morning, and I don't know why I just allowed it to happen."
Lennard leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. "Expectation is a curious thing, my dear boy," he said. "Sometimes it's the things we least expect that bring us the most profound experiences. How old are you, and why is such a beautiful young man not with someone?"
Steven felt a twinge of sadness as he replied, "Twenty-five. I've had relationships before, but nothing ever felt...right." He paused, his eyes searching the depths of his tea. "I came here hoping to find myself, I guess."
Lennard's gaze was warm, understanding. "Ah, the quest for self-discovery," he said. "It's a journey we all undertake at some point in our lives." He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Steven's. "And to that end, I must ask, are you a lover of your kind, or do you find pleasure in the company of all?" His question was blunt, but there was no malice in it, just a gentle curiosity that seemed to hang in the air.
Steven felt his heart race. He'd never been one to shy away from his desires, but something about the way Lennard asked made it feel like the most natural thing in the world. "I've never really... put a label on it," he admitted. "But I do find myself drawn to men, yes."
Lennard nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Good to know," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "Our little island has a way of bringing together those who share such inclinations." He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Steven's face. "And it seems the stones have chosen you as well."
Steven felt his cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "What do you mean, and what is the stone in the middle of the circle for?"
Lennard's eyes twinkled with mirth. "Ah, the keystone," he said, leaning back in his chair. "It's said to be the heart of the circle, the focal point of the energy that flows through it." He took a moment, his gaze drifting to the garden before continuing. "It's a place of transformation, where desires are laid bare and truths are revealed."
Steven felt his pulse quicken as he thought of the sensations that had overwhelmed him within the stones' embrace. "What kind of truths?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lennard leaned forward, his eyes locked on Steven's. "The kind that change lives," he replied. "The kind that shows you who you truly are, and what you truly want." His gaze was intense, as if he could see into the very core of Steven's being. "You felt it, didn't you?"
"I certainly felt something," Steven replied.
Lennard's smile grew more mischievous. "Would you like to find out more?" He raised an eyebrow, the question hanging in the air between them like the sweet scent of the garden in which they sat.
Steven's heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing with the implications of what Lennard was hinting at. He took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the tea spread through his body. "Yes," he said, his voice steady. "I would."
With a knowing smile, Lennard took the cup from Steven's trembling hands and set it aside. He took the young man's hand in his, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down Steven's spine. "Come with me," he said, his voice a whisper. "We have the privacy of the garden, and I want to show you the true power of the stone circle."
They made their way from the patio, as he followed the trail of warmth that was Lennard's hand in his. The stone circle loomed before them, its ancient stones standing tall and proud in the early morning light. The air was alive with energy, the whispers of the past now a steady hum that seemed to resonate through Steven's very being.
As they approached the keystone, Steven could feel his heart racing in anticipation. The key stone was larger than the others, almost as if it were a throne, waiting for a king to claim his place. Lennard guided him gently, his touch a promise of the secrets that lay in wait. Steven lay down on the cool, smooth surface, the stone's power pulsing beneath him, sending waves of heat rushing through his body.
"Steven, I want you to close your eyes and just go with your feelings. Can you do that?" Lennard asked.
"I can, but my heart is pounding with excitement and anticipation."
With a knowing smile, Lennard stood at Steven's feet, his rough, yet tender fingers deftly unlacing the young man's trainers. The coolness of the stone seeped into Steven's back as he felt the gentle pressure of Lennard's touch on his toes. The sensation was unexpectedly erotic, sending a shiver through him that made his cock stir again. He felt the old man's calloused hands slide up his legs, his touch feather light as he peeled the socks from Steven's feet, exposing his bare skin to the mid-morning air.
Lennard then moved up the young man's legs and unbuckled the belt that secured his shorts, his gaze never leaving Steven's face. The leather belt was pulled free, and the fabric of the shorts loosened, allowing Lennard to unbutton and unzip the cotton material and with a gentle tug, he pulled the shorts over Steven's hips, revealing unexpectedly, the young man wore white Y-fronts, with a growing erection tenting the fabric. The anticipation was electric, the air in the garden charged with a sexual tension that was almost too much to bear.
Changing ends, Lennard whispered into Steven's ear, his breath hot and tickling. "Just relax, let me show you the true power of the stones." His fingers traced the line of Steven's jaw, then moved to play with his earlobes, the gentle tugging sending shivers down Steven's spine. His other hand slid under the neck of the t-shirt, his fingers playing with the soft hairs at the base of Steven's neck.
With a sudden boldness, Lennard's hands moved to the fabric of the t-shirt, his rough thumbs tracing the sensitive line where skin met cotton. He pulled the shirt up, baring Steven's chest to the cool air, his nipples tightening into hard buds as the fabric brushed over them. The old man leaned in, his mouth replacing his hand, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Steven arched his back, a soft gasp escaping his lips as the sensation of the warm, wet mouth sent waves of pleasure through him.
The t-shirt was peeled away, leaving Steven fully exposed to the elements. The morning breeze kissed his skin as the sun's rays danced upon his body, a stark contrast to the warm, wet heat of Lennard's mouth. The old man's hands moved to the waistband of the Y-fronts, his eyes never leaving Steven's. The young man's breathing grew shallow as he felt the fabric of his underwear being pulled away, the coolness of the stone beneath him now pressing against his bare ass as his cock sprang free, standing proud and leaking precum.
Lennard's eyes widened with hunger; his gaze fixed on the young man's erection. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty of Steven's body, the muscles tensing and relaxing as he lay there, open and vulnerable. The old man's hand slid down the length of the cock, his thumb swiping over the head to collect the sticky fluid before bringing it to his mouth and licking it off with a hungry smile. Steven's eyes fluttered shut, his body jolting with pleasure at the intimate gesture.
The whispers grew louder, the ancient energy swirling around them as the older man explored the younger man who lay there, connected by more than just skin and desire. It was as if the very stones were chanting, urging them to explore each other's bodies, to revel in the passion that flowed through the circle. Steven felt himself being pulled into a whirlwind of sensation, the gentle touches and kisses from the old man's lips a stark contrast to the harshness of the stone beneath him.
Lennard's hand continued to stroke Steven's cock, his movements growing more deliberate as he watched the young man's reactions. Each touch was a question, each gasp a silent answer. Steven's hands found their way to the older man's shoulders, his nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as the pleasure grew.
As Steven kept his eyes closed, absorbed in the moment beyond his control, Lennard leaned in, his mouth closing around the tip of Steven's cock, the heat of his breath sending shivers down the young man's spine. The sensation was exquisite, the warm wetness of his mouth a stark contrast to the coolness of the stone beneath. Steven's hips bucked involuntarily, his body begging for more as the old man's tongue swirled around the sensitive head.
The first touch of Lennard's mouth to Steven's cock sent a jolt of pleasure through him that was almost too intense to bear. He moaned, his hands tangling in the old man's hair as he guided him deeper, his hips thrusting upward to meet the welcoming warmth. The whispers grew louder, the stones vibrating with the power of their union, the earth beneath them seemingly alive with the energy of countless lovers’ past.
The world outside the circle ceased to exist as Steven gave himself over to the sensation of the blowjob. His mind was a whirl of pleasure, his thoughts consumed by the feeling of Lennard's mouth on his cock. The old man's technique was masterful, his tongue swirling and lapping at just the right moments, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin with the perfect amount of pressure to send Steven's body into spasms of pleasure.
Lennard took his time, savouring every inch of Steven's shaft, his cheeks hollowing with each deep suck. His grip on the base of the cock was firm, his strokes in sync with the rhythm of his mouth, drawing out the young man's arousal until it was a tight, pulsating ache. The whispers grew louder, the air thick with the scent of sex and the promise of a climax that was building like a storm in the young man's loins.
As the tension grew, Steven's moans grew louder, his hips thrusting upward, his body desperately seeking release. The stones around them seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, the ancient power of the site mingling with the raw passion of the moment. The whispers grew into a crescendo, the very air seeming to vibrate with the intensity of their union.
And then it hit him, the orgasm that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. Steven's body arched off the stone, his back bowing as he came, ropes of cum spurting into the warm, welcoming mouth of the old man who had claimed him. The stones sang with the power of his release, the energy of the earth itself seeming to pulse through his veins as he emptied himself into Lennard's eager throat.
The old man swallowed every drop, his eyes never leaving Steven's as he pulled back, a trail of cum connecting them. He licked his lips, a satisfied smile playing across his face. "Welcome to the true power of the stone circle," he murmured, his voice thick with his desire.
Their eyes locked, the connection between them palpable, as Steven's breathing slowly returned to normal. The whispers grew softer, the stones seemingly sated by the offering of passion. He reached down to cup the side of Lennard's face, his thumb tracing the man's cheekbone. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Lennard leaned in, kissing him gently. The taste of Steven's cum lingered on his lips, a salty sweetness that only served to stir the potent cocktail of lust that simmered between them. "It's only the beginning," he murmured, his hand moving to cup Steven's cheek in return. "The stones have chosen you, and they have much more to show you."
Their kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as they rolled over, their bodies entwined on the warm stone. Steven could feel the old man's erection pressing against his thigh, a reminder that the energy of the circle was not yet spent. As their tongues danced together, he reached down to unbuckle the belt that held up the other's trousers, eager to return the favour.
His trousers fell away to land on the grass as Lennard climbed onto the keystone. Steven's hand wrapped around Lennard's hard cock, stretching the cotton of his briefs as the old man moaned into his mouth, his hand moving to caress Steven's ass.
Steven found a weakness in the cotton material and ripped a hole that just got larger the more he pulled the material apart. In no time, Lennard's briefs became surplus to requirements as Stevenn felt the head of Lennard's cock press against his hole, the anticipation of what was to come making him shiver with excitement as Lennard's precum was flowing at an increased rate providing the lubricant that was required.
The whispers grew louder again as Steven opened himself to the old man, the stones seeming to urge them on. He felt the naturally lubricated tip breach him, the pressure intense but not unduly painful, as if he had been made for this moment, for this man, for this sacred union.
With a groan, Lennard pushed into him, edging further in with each attempt until he was filling him, as their bodies began to move in a dance as old as time. The stone beneath them was alive, the energy pulsing through their bodies as they rocked together, the whispers of the past swirling around them, a chorus of encouragement for the lovers in their midst as Steven ripped the buttons on Lennard's shirts allowing him access to Lennard's now naked form as he continued to make love to the young man under him.
Their movements grew more frantic, the pleasure building like a crescendo. Steven could feel himself getting close again, the sensation of being filled by the man he'd just met both terrifying and exhilarating. And then it was there, the edge of the cliff, and with a final, desperate thrust, they both fell over it together.
Their cries of ecstasy echoed through the garden, a testament to the power of the stone circle that held them in its thrall. Steven's body was a canvas of sensation, painted with the colours of pleasure that only the most skilled of lovers could evoke. His eyes rolled back in his head, his fingers digging into the stone as the waves of orgasm washed over him.
Lennard's mouth was a masterpiece of pleasure, each stroke of his tongue a symphony that played directly to Steven's soul as he kissed the young man. The old man took his time, savouring every pulse and quiver, his experienced hands cradling Steven's buttocks with a gentle firmness that only added to the intensity of the moment. It was as if the very essence of Steven's being was being drawn out through the older man's penetration, and the stones around them thrummed with the power of it.
The whispers grew louder, a cacophony of voices that seemed to chant in unison with the rhythm of their lovemaking. The earth beneath them vibrated, a testament to the ancient rites that had been performed here countless times before. Steven could feel the energy of the past swirling around them, a warm embrace that seemed to urge him closer to the edge of release.
And then it hit, the climax that Steven had never dreamed possible. His body arched off the stone, his cock spasming as he released himself onto his chest. The old man kept thrusting inside him until a sudden realisation that Lennard was about to climax and... the older man groaned, his eyes never leaving the younger man's face as he shot his first load into Steven. The stones sang their approval, the whispers now a shout of triumph that filled the garden with their power as Lennard continued to pump his seed into the young man. Not once or twice but four and then five times, Lennard flooded Steven's inside, the warmth of his fluid a reminder of what they were sharing.
As Lennard's body slowly descended from the heights of pleasure, the whispers grew softer, the stones seemingly sated by the offering they had just received. He collapsed onto the young man, panting and trembling, his body feeling both exhausted and invigorated.
Their eyes met, and in that moment, Steven knew that he had found something more than just a fleeting encounter. There was a bond between them now, forged in the sacred space of the stone circle, a bond that went deeper than the mere physical.
Lennard leaned over him, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "You see, my dear boy, the stones do not lie," he whispered. "They reveal the truth of our hearts." His hand stroked Steven's cheek, the touch as warm and comforting as a lover's embrace. "And your truth, it seems, is a hunger for the kind of love that only the most ancient of places can provide."
Steven nodded, his eyes glazed with a mix of pleasure and wonder. He felt a sense of belonging that he hadn't felt in years, a sense of homecoming that was as profound as it was surprising. "What happens now?" Steven asked, his voice still shaky from the intensity of their union.
Lennard chuckled, a deep, rich sound that seemed to resonate with the very earth beneath them. "Now, my dear, we see where the whispers lead us." He kissed Steven softly, the taste of their shared passion lingering on both their tongues. "The stones have chosen us, and together, we shall explore their secrets, and perhaps, uncover a few of our own."
Lennard, slipped out of Steven, climbing off the keystone, pulling the young man up to now sit on the ancient stone, his legs either side of Lennard's torso, their bodies sticky with sweat and cum, a physical reminder of the connection they had just forged.
The sun was higher in the sky now, casting long shadows across the garden as they kissed and hugged each other. Lennard was now flaccid, but Steven was still feeling the power of the circle as his cock began to respond to Lennard's gentle touch. Their hearts were full; their spirits bound by the magic of the stone circle. They had shared something that went beyond the physical, something that could never be replicated or forgotten.
"Come on, let's make a fresh pot of tea and chat," Lennard suggested.
They shared a knowing smile, their secret nestled between them like a warm, purring cat as Steven held Lennard's hand and followed him up the garden path into the kitchen.
The room was filled with the comforting aromas of brewing tea, a stark contrast to the raw passion they had just shared. The cosy warmth of the cottage enveloped them, and Steven felt a strange sense of belonging as he sat on the patio, cradled in the older man's lap, the sun kissing their skin.
Lennard's hand idly played with Steven's pubic hair, the gentle tug and pull of each strand sending shivers of pleasure through him. It was a tender gesture that belied the intensity of their encounter in the stone circle, a reminder that this connection was not just about the physical but about something much deeper.
The tea steeped in the pot, the sound of the spoon clinking against the ceramic a comforting metronome that punctuated the silence. Steven leaned back against Lennard's chest, his legs splayed open, allowing the sun's warmth to kiss the insides of his thighs. The world outside their little bubble seemed to hold its breath, waiting for them to emerge from the cocoon of intimacy they had created.
As they sipped their tea, Steven felt the whispers of the stones caressing his mind, a gentle reminder of the power that had just claimed him. He looked at his host, the man whose touch had unlocked something within him that he didn't even know existed.
"Lennard," he began, his voice still hoarse from his moans of pleasure, "What happens now?"
Lennard's eyes twinkled with mischief as he set his cup aside. "Now, my dear, we enjoy the rest of the day. The circle has given us a taste of its power, but it's only the beginning. We've much to explore together." His hand moved to Steven's cock, giving it a gentle squeeze. "And I suspect you're not quite ready to be done with me yet."
The warmth of his touch was like a brand, setting Steven's blood aflame once more. He leaned back, his eyes half-closed as he felt the old man's hand begin to stroke him again, the gentle rhythm matching the whispers of the stones.
The garden was quiet, the only sounds their soft moans and the distant chirp of early morning birds. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a slice of heaven nestled in the heart of the ancient rites that had bound them.
Steven felt his arousal building again, the warmth of the sun and the gentle stroking of his cock creating a symphony of pleasure. His hips began to move, a silent request for more, and Lennard was only too happy to oblige. The old man's other hand moved to cup Steven's balls, rolling them gently in his palm, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin beneath.
The whispers grew louder, the energy of the stone circle seeping into their very pores. They were one, bound by the sacred space they had shared, and the promise of what was to come.
With a gasp, Steven's body arched, his cum spurting into the air, only to land on his stomach. The moment was perfection, a testament to the beauty of their newfound connection.
Lennard leaned in, kissing him deeply, tasting the saltiness of Steven's release on his lips. "You see," he murmured, his hand slowing, "The stones are never done with us. They demand our passion, our love, and in return, they give us a glimpse of something truly divine."
Their breathing synced as they pulled apart, the world around them slowly coming back into focus. The garden looked on, unchanged but somehow different, the air thick with the scent of sex and the promise of more to come.
They sat there, naked in the sun, their bodies sticky with sweat and cum, a tableau of post-coital bliss that seemed to defy time itself. It was a moment that Steven knew he would carry with him always, a secret shared with a man he had only just met, yet felt as though he'd known for lifetimes.
"And what of the other guests?" Steven asked, his voice a whisper as the reality of their situation began to creep back in.
Lennard chuckled, his hand still wrapped around Steven's softening cock. "They come for the peace, the quiet," he said. "They don't need to know about our little stone circle rituals. Besides," he added with a wink, "it's all part of the charm of the place. Keeps them coming back for more."
Steven couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the situation dissipating like the early morning dew. He leaned back into Lennard's embrace, the warmth of the sun drying the stickiness on his skin. "I suppose so," he murmured. "But what happens when they... find out?"
Lennard shrugged, his grip loosening as Steven's erection waned. "They won't," he said simply. "The circle has a way of keeping its secrets. And if they do," he paused, a glint in his eye, "we'll just have to invite them to join us. But let's not worry about that just yet," Lennard said, his voice soothing. "For now, we've got the whole day to ourselves." His hand travelled up Steven's body, tracing the contours of his abs before coming to rest on his chest. "How does a picnic on the beach sound?"
"Nice, if you have the time," Steven managed, his voice barely a whisper.
"I have the time, boy, but have you got the stamina?" Lennard responded with a cheeky smile.
They quickly dressed, with a newfound sense of excitement, not bothering to clean themselves as they embarked upon their grand adventure. They packed a basket with fresh bread, cheese, and fruit from the cottage's kitchen, along with a bottle of wine that Lennard insisted was "perfect for the occasion."
The beach was a short walk away, the sand warm and welcoming beneath their bare feet. The sun had reached its peak, casting a brilliant light over the crystal-clear water that stretched out to the horizon. They found a secluded spot, the waves whispering secrets to the shore, as if sharing the tales of the stone circle with the sea.
As Lennard spread the blanket on the sand, he couldn't help but ask, "Why the Y-fronts, Steven? It's not exactly the norm for young lads these days." His eyes twinkled with amusement; the question was innocent yet tinged with curiosity.
Steven felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he looked down at the offending undergarment, sticking slightly to his legs from their earlier encounter. "I, uh, I just like them," he stuttered, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "They're comfortable."
Lennard chuckled, the sound low and warm, as he began to unpack the basket. "No shame in that, my dear," he said, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "But they do seem a bit... old-fashioned, but you look good in them," as he pulled out a chunk of bread and a wedge of cheese, handing them to Steven. "Let me enjoy the view, here and now."
Steven took the offered food, feeling a newfound boldness as he bit into the bread, the crunch echoing in the quiet of the beach. He watched as Lennard uncorked the wine, the liquid glinting in the sunlight as it splashed into the plastic cups. The old man had a way of making him feel seen, accepted, and desired in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.
"If you insist, Lennard, I will," as Steven slipped off his shirt, letting it land on the blanket. Lennard, though, had other plans as he started to unbuckle the leather belt on Steven's shorts.
"Let me deal with these shorts," the older man instructed.
Steven felt the warmth of his cheeks deepen as he nodded, his heart racing as Lennard's deft fingers worked at the button and zipper. The shorts fell away, leaving him once again exposed to the elements, the cool breeze from the sea caressing his skin as he sat down in his Y-fronts with an erection evident.
They sat on the blanket, the gentle whispers of the waves a backdrop to their feast, the salty air mingling with the aroma of their food. The picnic was a sensual affair, each bite shared with a kiss, each sip of wine a silent declaration of their bond. Steven watched the way the light played across Lennard's features, the lines etched by time telling a story of experience and wisdom that only made him more attractive.
Their eyes met, and without a word, they both knew what was to come next. Lennard leaned in, his breath hot against Steven's neck as he kissed his way down the young man's body. His teeth grazed Steven's collarbone, making him shiver with delight, before his mouth found his cock once again, through the cotton fabric. The salty taste of Steven's sweat mixed with the sweetness of the wine on his lips as he took him in, his tongue swirling around the head.
Steven moaned, his hips moving instinctively with the rhythm of the old man's mouth. His eyes closed, he could feel the sand beneath him, the warmth of the sun above, and the coolness of the ocean breeze as it danced across his skin. It was a symphony of sensation that washed over him, a crescendo that built with each stroke of Lennard's tongue as Lennard pulled down the Y-fronts allowing him access to take Stevenn's cock in his mouth.
Lennard had full control over the beautiful cock in his mouth as he sucked and played with the head and shaft as Steven felt himself building again, the pressure in his balls reaching a fever pitch. With a final, desperate thrust, he came, his release spilling over the old man's chin and onto the sand.
They lay there, panting and spent, their hearts racing as one. The sun kissed their skin, the whispers of the stones now a gentle lullaby that promised more.
"You're amazing," Steven whispered, his eyes still closed.
Lennard chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "The stones have a way of bringing that out in people," he said. His hand found its way to Steven's chest, his fingers playing with a nipple, the touch sending a bolt of electricity through him.
The young man's eyes snapped open, his body responding eagerly to the gentle caress. "More?" he asked, his voice hopeful.
Lennard leaned in, his breath warm against Steven's ear. "Always more," he murmured, his hand moving to stroke Steven's cock once again. "Why don't you undress me?" Lennard suggested.
"I can do that," Steven replied as he started to undo Lennard's shirt buttons. The whispers grew stronger, the energy around them swirling like a tornado of desire. Steven felt himself harden in Lennard's grip, the promise of another round of passionate lovemaking beckoning them like a siren's call.
They kissed deeply, the saltiness of the sea air melding with the sweetness of their kiss. Their bodies moved in a ballet of passion, each touch, each kiss, a declaration of the love that had blossomed between them in the heart of the stone circle.
The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across their naked forms as they made love on the beach, and afterwards they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore a testament to the beauty of their shared experience. The beach was their sanctuary, the circle their temple, and they were its devoted acolytes as they both realised, they belonged together on the island they had found each other.
