Meeting Gerren

And what a home it was. Granite built on two floors and from what I could tell there was a large building and connected to it was an annex on the end of which was a spacious garage. The front door was tiny. Gerren explained that the main house was built in the eighteen twenties when people were so much smaller and that he had to bend his head down to enter the place ever since he was thirteen years old when he had his growth sprout. I decided to have a joke with him and asked if he was going to carry me over the threshold and he replied he’d do it but only when I was naked. Suddenly I liked this man even more. Forward planning – I liked it. He opened the door and an alarm sounded and he went to a cupboard and reached inside, and the alarm stopped. He explained that he had fifteen seconds to turn off the alarm and if he didn’t then the security company would turn up in about ten minutes to investigate and his brother would turn up even sooner with his rifle. Gerren explained that his brother was a farmer and was licenced to keep a rifle for vermin such as foxes, badgers, and other predators. Once the door was shut, I took Gerren into my arms and announced that I had waited far too long to do this, and I kissed him and boy, did he ever respond. My god it was like a Catherine wheel tied to a huge firework rocket. His tongue was almost touching my tonsils and he was sucking on my tongue so hard that I could taste the blood being sucked out of it. Not only that but he was checking out my back and my arms like crazy and I must admit I was doing the same.

It was only then that I had been able to gauge the height difference between us. He was a good three inches shorter than me, but his looks, body and demeanour outweighed and hang ups I had about guys being impossibly taller than me. At least he wasn’t five foot nine and I’d have to stoop to kiss him. Six foot three was fine by me on this man. When we stopped kissing there was only one work to say – Wow. He took my holdall from me which contained a couple of changes of clothes and my wash gear and led me up the stairs and pointed out the bathroom and shower and his bedroom. It was very old fashioned, and he explained it was how his grandparents had it and he’d not got around to changing much of the house since he inherited it from his grandparents. There was a door that led to a corridor with half a dozen rooms, three each side, and put my bag on a decent sized bed and he explained that he used the bed as a guest’s bed. I was about to say how comfortable it looked when Gerren told me that only guys who disappointed him slept there, most of the other guys slept with him, but there wasn’t all that many, though at New Year……… and he stopped leaving the sentence unfinished.

Back in his bedroom, he showed me the view from his window. I could see the garden and some land stretching three hundred metres or so away to the sea. It was the Atlantic Ocean, he told me. There was a footpath at the end of his land, but it was well below the wall marking the end of his property.  In fact, on both sides of the fields there was a wall of hedges and trees and the land sloped away slightly on both sides giving him total privacy. He winked at me and told me that he loved being naked at home during the summer months. That I wanted to see.

We headed downstairs and out through a conservatory that faced westwards, “I get all the afternoon sun here” he told me. There was a smallish patio just beyond the conservatory. I saw a rowing machine on the patio and some weights. “I can work out here”. He told me. Then Gerren walked me down to the end of his fields, and he explained that his brother sometimes let Ned, the Jersey Bull graze in the fields. “Don’t worry about Ned, he’s the friendliest Jersey bull you’d ever want to meet. Strange for a breed whose bulls could be bad tempered”.

At the edge of the property, Gerren showed me a stile and we crossed over it and down some well grassed steps about three metres lower than his field. He explained that the footpath was open to all as it was part of the Southwest Coastal path, but the steps were his property and there was a notice by the top of the steps saying so. He asked me to spot his house from the footpath and it was impossible even for me at six foot six. His home was totally hidden from view. Gerren thought that one of his ancestors had dug the footpath lower to deliberately hide the home from prying eyes.

We walked back up to his home and behind the building I saw trees towering up and hiding the house from the narrow main road. He put his arm around my back as we trudged up the hill to his home and he asked if I was hungry. I was. I had missed breakfast on the invitation for lunch at his home. I hoped for a great meal. Back inside the small kitchen Gerren get to preparing the meal. I had noticed a table laid out in the garden with a couple of chairs and assumed that we were to eat outside. It was yet again another glorious day almost cloudless and a soft gentle wind. I stood back watching him put together the ingredients for a chicken salad most of which had been prepared with tiny eggs. He explained that they were quails’ eggs and he then asked if I had any food allergies. I didn’t but he did. Tomatoes, and certain fruits for which he had an intolerance. He told me a story of meeting a French guy in the Bayonne who took a fancy to him and had invited Gerren for lunch and the first course was a tomato salad which he couldn’t eat. “I was desperately trying to think of the work for allergy but couldn’t remember it”. Gerren explained. “Actually, it was simple when it came to me acting out being ill from food and the guy just said ‘allergie’. I felt such a fool. The guy was very understanding and really didn’t care, all he really wanted was me in bed with him”.

He had me helping to make a big bowl of garlic mayonnaise with me slowly pouring in Extra Virgin Olive Oil into a glass bowl as he whisked the concoction into a thick creamy sauce. He added a dash of salt and some freshly pounded pepper from his pestle and mortar and gat me to carry out some white wine and glasses and to return to help take the salad out to the table.

It was a marvellous meal made better by our conversation and good wine. I had totally forgotten about my lack of sleep the previous four nights until Gerren asked if I had slept the last night. I shook my head and he promised that he’d tire me out that evening if I wanted to be shagged out by him. Jesus that was a non-refusable demand. We spoke of out history and families, but I hesitated over my service days and the action I’d seen in Iraq and Afghanistan. I explained how difficult it was with my men, my colleagues being injured and killed out there. He didn’t press me on the matter, and he was equally understanding that I couldn’t tell of my work now with GCHQ and Internet security.

Gerren did know about the cables leaving the UK mainland in Cornwall and the GCHQ branch in Bude in Northern Cornwall and that impressed me, but I was also fascinated by his work overseas working on rare earths in Mozambique and in the pacific region.  I was amazed when we wrapped up the meal two and a half hours after we had started, and I helped tidy up. Gerren lived off mains when it came to water supply and showed me his well supply and explained his septic tank for waste and so on. He also had three turbine generators on his roof. They looked like the revolving vents at restaurants but were hooked up to generate electricity. He made more than he could use and made a profit from them by exporting into the local grid.

He offered me a walk up onto the moors above his home. And he checked out my clothing to see if was suitable. “There is gorse and nettles where we’ll be walking”, he explained, and we set off uphill. At the top he showed off the extent of his family’s farm and all the stone Cornish Hedges marking the ancient fields going back millennia he claimed. His family records went back to the early seventeen hundreds and could have been much, much earlier. He turned me around and showed me a group of stones. This was the Zennor Quoit, and it dated back somewhere between two thousand five hundred and three hundred five hundred years. About the same time as Stonehenge. The main top rock had fallen a couple of hundred years back but there were drawing of the quoit before the fall. It was an old burial chamber or a resting place for the dead before burial. Not far away was another quoit and he explained that there were many other ancient landmarks all over the area and many places were now protected. He pointed to a tor about a mile away, a group of wind-blown rocks millions of years old made of granite and we headed towards them. Here we were walking through the gorse and nettles and at the base Gerren pointed out the route to the top and like a mountain goat he clambered to the top in what seemed like fifteen seconds. On the other hand, it took me two minutes to get to the top and Gerren hauled me up to the top and we collapsed into each other’s arms. The view was amazing and so clear. Gerren pointed out all the headland going towards Newquay, four in all and he showed me the extent of the St Ives bay with the lighthouse on the Island at the tip of the bay. He told me of tales of smuggling and names of cliffs and bays that sounded foreign to me, all of which sounded most exotic with his wonderful soft Cornish Accent. He even translated the names into English from the local Cornish language.

This was so different from the fucking hotel and the town of St Ives. This was as wild and beautiful as the North of Scotland where my mother came from and which I had spent weeks walking over, though this was a gentler landscape with villages and towns nearby. I hugged Gerren to me. I was happy for the first time since I had arrived on the Wednesday night for the cursed wedding, and that fucking useless bed and worse room. We clambered down the tor and I followed Gerren through what seemed like an invisible footpath through ferns, gorse, and more nettles onto a wider and clearer area from which I could see St Michaels Mount and the Channel on one side and the Atlantic and St Ives on the other. We were above a place called Halsetown, a place Gerren recommended for a decent pint of cider at the local pub. We had stopped for a couple of minutes when a large unfit man came by and stopped to comment on the view and weather. He had an accent like Gerren’s, and it seemed that he wanted a chat. Then I had an idea and asked it the guy would take our photo with the Mount in the background. He agreed and took my phone, and I showed him how to take a snap. He actually took a few, some of us closer and some further away. I was standing behind Gerren with one arm around to his chest with Gerren’s opposite arm holding onto my forearm. The guy asked if we could take a phot of him in the same background and Gerren obliged him.

The guy explained that his partner was now an invalid and couldn’t get out walking the area with him anymore. They had been together for over thirty-five years and his partner insisted that he take a walk on a fine day and to take some photos to show him when he got home. He looked at the photo Gerren had taken and said he was mightily pleased and told us that we were “really handsome” and set off away from us the way we had just walked. I opened the folder on my phone to look at the photo’s he had taken of us, and they were really pleasing. I was about to thank and compliment the old guy, but he had gone, and he was walked quite a distance from us. For an overweight guy he was sprightly on his feet.

 Gerren suggested that we head back home. Suddenly my tiredness returned but my eagerness for the man and his body had not waned one bit, in fact, I was more attracted to him the more I was getting to know him. He came across as honest and true, and it was obvious that he loved his home and the area he was brought up in. I on the other hand felt no connection to anywhere. Not my home, not boring Billingshurst, only my Ma and Pa, who I wouldn’t hurt for the world.

Gerren announced that it would take thirty minutes or so to get back home and I was very tired when we got back. Inside the house I nearly collapsed into him, I was that exhausted. The time took me by surprise as it was nearly four thirty. I took off my boots and was about to sit down when Gerren suggested we go up to the bedroom, with that sexual look in his face. Now that was the boost of adrenaline into my system. Upstairs, we half stripped, and I sprung a huge hard on when he took off his top. He was beautiful, with not a blemish on his skin, and gorgeous slightly raised nipples, very dark against the fairness of his satin-like skin. His pecs were very nicely defined with great firmness and he had a marvellous set of six pac abs. For the next ten minutes or more we just kissed and licked each others bodies and I couldn’t resist sucking on those delightful nips.

When it came for him to work my nips he was perfection itself, licking, sucking and chewing them as he looked up into my eyes for approval and then flicking them with his fingers before pinching them and twisting them. What turned me on the most was his reaction to my efforts on his nips. He was pushing his body against mine as I finger worked them and groaning like crazy. The guy was obviously nip wired to his dick and balls. And what a dick I could feel against my crutch. The guys seemed to be just as massive as myself. What a turn on. I attacked his trousers opening the button at the top and pulling down the zipper and let gravity do its work as they fell to the floor. Fuck the guy was seriously hung and bulging in his white underwear. I took a hold of his cloth covered dick just for the pure pleasure of doing it, and he was trying hard to get my trousers off as well. I wasn’t going to let him. I’d had guys who freaked out at my cock, both ways in my experience. Those who ran away, seriously they had, there was no way, they’d let me fuck them with my monster and there were those who squealed in delight, but really didn’t know how to handle someone of my girth and length. I didn’t want Gerren to freak either way. If it took me a few weeks to get to fuck him then I was prepared for that with him. This was not going to be a one night or afternoon stand; I wanted to really get to know this man.

We were still standing up by his thankfully, large bed, arms around each other, kissing like mad and grinding our encased cocks against each other. Our passion and desire for each other equalled, and I dropped backwards onto the bed pulling him down on top of me. I now had better access to him, and his backside which was amazingly hard. To give Gerren his due, even though he is three inches shorter than me and has an amazingly hard muscled body he was able to turn me over onto my back and I was now able to pull off his underwear. My, did he ever have an amazingly large cock. He was thick and about nine inches long and uncut. I wanted to devour it there and then and he had two lovely balls that were just the right size by comparison. The guy was a stud. I wanted him even more.

He was trying hard to get at my dick, pulling down my tight underwear but I held him tight next to me and once free my dick slid between his upper thighs and he continued to try to ger to see it. He was still on top of me and our hands were locked together as we arm wrestled against each other, the prize being my dick. He fell against me laughing and I loved the feel of his muscled body against mine when suddenly oblivion struck. I’d relaxed a bit too much and fell asleep.

The next thing I knew was Gerren shaking me awake telling me it was eight o’clock and we’d better get ready to go to the local pub to get a bite to eat. I asked him how long I had been sleeping and he told me three hours. It was the first time a guy had fallen asleep on him during sex.

I was so apologetic and embarrassed and explained for the twentieth or so time, that I had hardly slept in the fucking hotel. I stood up from the bed and embraced him, my cock was flaccid but I loved his scent and his touch. He spanked my backside and told me to shower and I remember telling him jokingly that I liked being spanked, and he said he’s make a note of it for the future. From the shower, I called for Gerren to get my washbag from my bag, but he told me to use his things. He had a scented shower gel which smelled wonderful and reminded me of his odour. It was in a simple but pleasantly labled bottle. I made a note of the brand, Penhaligons, in my head for the future. A word came into my head that describen Gerren perfectly. Class.  Yes the man had class in abundance. He came into the bathroom with a pair of extra large white towels and a long white towelling gown.  More to admire the man for.

He was waiting on the bed when I walked in naked just drying myself, he looked at me admiringly making no comment about my body or nudity. It felt so natural to be naked with him in his home. Then a brief moment of doubt passed through my head. Was this to be just a one night stand, what if he’d been put off me by my falling asleep on him during sex? There was that look of admiration in his eyes that re-assured me. I knew he was talking to me but nothing was staying in my brain. Again I was apologising to him and asking him to repeat what he had just said.

We were going to the village pub for a bite to eat and a pint and his family farm supplied the majority of the food. It sounded great and I told him so. We walked to the pub along what Gerren called the main road to the village, about half a mile away. Turning towards the place and all I could see were a couple of houses, the church and the pub building. Not much. Gerren pointed out his family farm house on the other side of the road, and a few more houses which made up the tiny hamlet of Zennor, a place, Gerren told me was full of History and mystery and legend. A group of men and women were sitting at a couple of tables in a smallish courtyard by the tiny entrance to the pub and many called out to Gerren in greeting, hailing him as Mr Gerren, which I thought was strange as he was much younger than all of them.  “They call my Brother Mr Korneys as he runs the farm business, though I am the older brother and head of the family”. He explained. Inside there were more greetings from people, from the barman and the cheeky waitress at the table. All of whome seem to know he was gay. Gerren chose a cider and I had a local beer which was very good and we both chose the same meal with the meat and vegetables from his familys farm. The food was superb.

After the meal we returned to the bar where Gerren was greeted in Cornish by an old man with two sheepdogs who were very excited to see Gerren. I was introduced to the old man who was a retired shepherd on his family’s farm. A growl from him had both the dogs down on the floor looking up at me suspiciously.  I was asked when my birthday was and I told the old man, wondering why. In his very strong Cornish accent he pronounced me a Christmas child. I hadn’t ben born anywhere near Christmas to much laughter from the bar staff and Gerren. Having reminded the old shepherd that my name was Stephen, he said to everyone that it was proof enough. I was totally confused and looked desparately at Gerren.  He explained. My birthday was twentieth of September, go back nine months and you get Christmas and my name being Stephen was the evidence. December twenty-sixth was St Stephen’s day. It was how it was called locally and not Boxing Day like the rest of the UK. I still didn’t get it until Gerren whispered into my unbelieving ear that the gestation period for humans was nine months. Give or take a few days for an early or late birth, Christmas would be the time his mother and father created him. I must have looked shocked. It was certainly something I had ever considered thinking of, and by the mirth of the locals it must have shown.

As usual, I was asked about my work and my past and I gave a brief resume to them all, and the old shepherd was impressed with me but I think he got confused with me and my father. What I did notice was the respect Gerren had within his community. He had told me that he was now head of the family and that the local tradition was to show the respect to a long standing family of landowners.

Walking back to this home, he explained that it might have seemed very old fashioned but it wasn’t all that long ago that the title Squire was used in large parts of England. The term may not be used and he didn’t feel like a squire but liked the acknowledgement that he was head of the family, even though his younger brother worked nearly all the families land. Back at his home we sat in the lounge each at one end of a very comfortable sofa sipping Armagnac and discussing the journey back to London the next morning. Again I was impressed by his forward planning and determination.

We went upstairs and stripped off and lay on top of the bed, naked. I was very happy when he told me that he liked to be around the house naked during the warmer months and kept a pair of shorts by the front door in case of unexpected guests. I had turned to face him and kissed him gently. In spite of my falling asleep on him, it had been a wonderful day. He was hard and I held his massive cock in my hand and looked at it in awe. I moved down and noticed that it reached up to just past his navel. I lifted it up away from his flat belly and it felt heavy and I breathed on it and his cockhead dilated. I also saw that his cockhead was very smooth and shiny and there was a slight bead of pre-cum coming out from the tip of his huge cockhead. I could not stop my desire for him and slipped my mouth over the first couple of inches and felt the heat from his cock. It tasted wonderful; neither too salty nor soapy. It was a natural flavour and moving my tongue around his cockhead and felt the release of more lube. Gerren gave off a deep growl of appreciation and he put his hand under my chin to raise up my head and presumable look at me sucking his marvellous cock. His eyes were soft with appreciation and he thrust his hips slightly to push more into my mouth. I loved this action.

He was shifting his body around so he was also facing my cock holding it up in the air and snorting air over my cockhead like a bull angrily blowing air, bad temeperedly, his nostrils flaring; the air exciting my cock even more.  Then he opened his mouth as wide as he could and took in my cockhead. I’d been sucked many times but the sensation was never as good as this felt. He was rubbing his tongue over the underside of my cock exciting it wonderfully, and bobbing his head over the top three inches or so in his mouth and trying hard to take in more of my thick length. He couldn’t do much mre and I could tell he was tring hard not to gag. He released my cock and gasped for air. “I’m sorry but I’ve never learned how to deep throat”. I calmed him as best I could, it was something I had learned to accept being so well endowed, not everyone could swallow more than three or four inches of my dick and I appreciated his efforts. He tried again and I took his cock into my mouth and swallowed more of his impressive meat.

We were close to a sixty nine when I felt my legs being lifted into the air and split apart and the next thing was that I felt him gently licking my hole. I had not expected it and it was marvellous, actually he was not licking it but performing a form of foreplay by blowing against my hole. It was sensational and exciting, after a few moments Gerren was licking my hole and I was getting more of his dick into my throat, something I am able to do well but the more Gerren was rimming me the more I wanted to scream out my joy at what he was doing to me. Sucking his huge dick could now wait, I wanted to get at his arse now and I rolled him over on top of me, and pulled his legs apart and nearly died. His hole semed to be small and tight but most of all he was hairless down there. I had no thoughts of foreplay and blowing on his hole but thrust my face directly onto his hole as if trying to force some favourite food into my mouth, and joyously rimming his arsehole hard. The more I licked at his hole the more he returned the compliment. This was fantastic, the guy was a rimmer and I couldn’t be happier. I rimmed him for only a few moments and I just had to do it. I pushed him off of me and grabbed hold of his face and kissed him with all the passion I could muster, and did he ever respond, telling me for the first time something I still get off hearing from him and with other guys. “Taste your hole on my mouth, tongue and lips”. As we kissed, we were panting at each other our appreciation and becoming frantic with excitement, playing and pulling at each others nips, and enhancing each others excitement, diving back to each others holes and cocks, sucking and licking and kissing like mad, and rolling around on the bed with one or other of us on top for a few moments and then changing. He was licking me all over, my pecs, biceps and abs as well and he was really into me. It was as if we had both discovered the absolute joy of man to man sex without fucking.

Fucking would come at some time, but it was this joyous oral exploration of each others bodies that was so wonderful. We had waited four days since we had first seen each other ever so briefly outside of that shop and I had jacked off a few times thinking of him and we had that brief connection a few hours erlier when I dropped off to sleep on him. This was just a small sample of the contact I was desparate for from Gerren and it was marvellous. I am sure it was really what Gerren wanted too. Most of what happened became a blur but I definitely recall that I was kneeling on top of his chest and my cock so hard that it was pointing in the air and so fucking hard. His pretty handsome face was below my tool and I reached to the base of my cock and smashed it hard against his face making loud slapping sounds as I did it. The appealing look in his eyes encouraged me to do it more and even more so when he stuck out his tongue to lick my shaft each time I rubbed my huge tool into his face. He reached up with both arms and attacked my nipples twisting and pulling them hard. I found the musculature of his arms so appealing that I didn’t care about the pain.

Then he shifted his body further below mine and was lapping at my balls and I was wildly jacking off. He het go of one of my nips and brushed my hand away from my dick and was wanking me, still working one of my nips and licking me between my balls and my arse. This was wonderful. Then his tongue hit my hole and he half ordered me to sit on his face. Fuck this was so good. The pain from my nips fired through my brain to my balls which were tightening, and he continued wanking my cock. Then I couldn’t hold back anymore and my head sort of went ZING!!!!!!! And I was shooting my load. Where the fuck it went, I didn’t notice but fuck it was one of the best orgasm’s I’d ever had, and it seemed to last for ever.

In the end I had to grab hold of his hand wanking me. My balls were empty and there was nothing left. I was totally replete, and Gerren was still working my nipple hard and eating my hole. I was shaking so much. I’d never felt anything like it in my life, even when I’d been at an orgy with a couple of mates, and I was made the centre of attention of all the guys. It was astounding what he had done, and I told him so. No one had ever jacked me off to an orgasm before and it was the truth. Gerren looked mightily pleased with himself. “Do you usually shoot like that”? He half mumbled from beneath my balls. I hadn’t seen it though I knew that I blast out a major load at times. I sat up slightly to give his face some space. “I mean it fucking flew all over the place”. I looked down at him and there were ropes of cum on his forehead and in his hair. I rolled off him and lay down on the bed besides him. “Some landed on the pillow where you are now and some even further away. I don’t know how many times you shot but it was many”. I sat up and looked around. My jizz seemed to be everywhere and Gerren hadn’t shot yet.

He turned to one side and produced yet another white towel and started to wipe his face and hair and the pillow on the bed and threw the pillow to me. “It might take a week to find where all your spunk landed”. He jokingly complained. I did my best to dry everywhere and cleaned up my dick and knelt on the bed above him, my still erect dick pointing to the ceiling. “How would you like to cum”? I asked. He paused. “Kiss me, rub that massive tool over my face and work my nips good. I love my nips being worked well”. Who was I to object, and he jacked off looking at me and my body as I kissed him and slapped his face again with my erection and played with his nips. Soon he was breathing hard, and he called out for me to chew his nips and he reached out with his spare hand and took hold of my erection, calling out that he was going to shoot and for me to really bite his nipple. His oragasm was the equal of mine if not more intense and once again the spunk shot out all over the place, against his chest and abs on his arm and hand, now tightly squeezing my dick onto his face and in his hair and onto the pillow in big lines of cum. Like me he was shaking, and I lay down on top of him and kissed him gently. He threw his arms around my back and held me tightly to him and thanked me profusely. Now that we had broken the ice sexually, I wanted him more. After half an hour’s dirty chat we showered, both of us somehow getting into his small shower to clean each other and using his beautifully scented shower gel and making sure we were properly clean everywhere.

After drying we went downstairs to finish of our nightcaps and returned to the bed and lay on top of his bed in each other’s arms ending up with me spooning against him my flaccid cock against his hard butt and my arm over his big chest. I slept so peacefully and deeply, being totally weary from the lack of sleep in that fucking hotel and exhausted by the sex we had just completed. I was content.