It was wet and freezing when I arrived at his small cottage on the outskirts of Maldon in central Victoria, the rain was bucketing down and it felt cold enough to suggest snow, unlikely as that was. I hadn’t seen him for a while and guilt had forced me to keep this arrangement, much as I would have liked to stay at home in front of the fire.
He was always pleased to see me though, as I was him, and once inside I was glad that I’d made the effort. His house, cool in summer, was a refrigerator in winter and I found him bundled up in layers of thick clothing against the frigid conditions inside and out.
A hug, longer and tighter than usual, made my cock twitch even though it had been many years since our attempt at a relationship had slipped away into a comfortable friendship, without sex. We were both considerably older now (old men, dare I say?), and his health hadn’t been good after a lifetime of drinking and smoking, which he didn’t seem to regret at all.
An old copper kettle was on the stove and he made a pot of tea which we drank at the kitchen table, a packet of ginger snaps produced to fill the gap of anything grander, not that I’d expected even that much. His frugality was borne of disinterest rather than miserliness, and in so many ways he was supremely generous.
Even so, I could have done with a bit more generosity as far as the heating was concerned, and I laughed at the sight of my foggy breath as he led me into the tiny sitting room where he had a small bar heater struggling against the cold.
We sat for a while, chatting amiably about everything and nothing, listening to the steady drumming of the rain on the tiled roof, remembering old times together and catching up with news about shared friends. The rain continued in a relentless fashion, and the coldness of the room seemed to be winning the battle against the inadequate heater.
I laughed when he asked if I was cold, and he had the good sense to chuckle in reply. Getting up he put out his hand for me to take, which I did, and he led me into his cosy bedroom, explaining that he kept the electric blanket on for these particularly bad days.
Pulling back the doonas and sheets he motioned me in, and after kicking off my boots and removing my coat I was only too happy to oblige. He did the same, removing at least four layers of coats and jumpers, and pulled up the blankets once we were both happily ensconced in the gentle warmth.
I moaned loudly with pleasure as I felt the heat permeate my body and he put an arm around me, inviting me to snuggle into him for additional comfort. It felt good being back in his arms, his familiar smell making my cock twitch again, not that I was expecting to revisit that aspect of our friendship after so many years.
A comfortable silence descended and we were both happy to just lie there, our bodies warming each other as I drifted (for I don’t know how long) into unexpected sleep, him holding me gently, humming some unknown tune ever so softly into my ear, burying his face in my unkempt hair as he’d always done in the past.
When I awoke some little time later I realised that I was too warm, the electric blanket and covers (not to mention his body) having done the job all too well. Disentangling myself from sheets and arms I told him to stay-put while I hopped out of bed and undid the buttons on my shirt, shucking it off before undoing my jeans and letting them drop to the floor as well, keeping on my tee-shirt and unfashionable white pouch briefs.
He chose to remain clothed, and I remembered how impervious he had always been to extremes of temperature, remaining remarkably unperturbed in either the height or summer or the depth of winter. But I always liked being naked (or even partially) with a fully dressed man, the sense of exposure gently erotic, inviting further intimacy.
My cock had become stiff (of course!) and had worked its way out of the pouch, and I was aware of his amused gaze as I stood there, feeling pleasantly exposed. I was quick to snuggle back under the covers and into his arms however, the cold air already nipping at my bare flesh, my penis ready for whatever warmth he cared to give it.
Reaching down he tickled the scrunched tip of my foreskin which still covered my knob, purple and moist in its protective sheath. I moaned, as he knew I would, as he pinched and pulled the velvet flesh between his fingers, eliciting a loud groan as my cock hardened even more.
I would like to have held his balls in my hand, remembering how smooth and soft his scrotum was, like caressing silk. His balls were small and beautiful but still managed to hang loose in their sack, making them all too easy to lick and kiss and fondle; happy memories.
I rubbed the front of his pants feeling the mound of his genitals inside. He didn’t seem to mind so I kept my hand there and squeezed gently, enjoying the fullness of his balls and the contented limpness of his dick.
We were happy lying there, taking from each other’s bodies what we needed. I didn’t particularly want to ejaculate and adjusted his grip on my cock when I felt I was getting too close, which he understood. Reaching further down into the pouch he found my balls, gripping them firmly as I have always preferred, his index finger massaging the hard muscle of my perineum, making me gasp softly with the deep pleasure.
We talked lazily of this and that, listening to the heavy rain occasionally striking against the window, oddly calming. I rolled into him, my face buried in his fragrant armpit, my hand still resting on his bulge.
He reached down and undid his belt and the stud on his jeans, allowing me to pull down the fly and work my hand inside his cotton jocks, finding his warm (almost hot) cock and those wonderfully smooth balls. I felt a dribble of precum on his piss slit which made me ridiculously happy, and I rubbed it into his knob, which pulsed in appreciation.
So there we were, holding each other’s balls in his warm bed, perfectly content, happy for the rain to continue forever. It was too late to return home in the downpour and gathering gloom, and in unspoken recognition of this he pulled off my undies and peeled off my tee shirt, leaving me naked except for my thick woollen socks.
He stood up for a moment and casually stripped off as well, leaving on his worn singlet which I pulled off once he climbed back under the covers. His cock was flaccid and beautiful with its pale foreskin, mirroring the soft whiteness of the rest of his body, a thick patch of greying ginger pubes his only body-hair apart from his armpits.
He climbed on top of me, the heat from his body luxurious and seductive, as was his weight pressing down on me. He liked the feel of my body-hair as much as I enjoyed his smoothness, and I felt his cock slowly stir against my own. We kissed and his taste flooded back into me, full of wood and tobacco and strong drink, the habits of a lifetime.
His dick hardened with that kiss and I felt his hips slowly start to gyrate as he rubbed himself against my stomach, my own cock sliding pleasantly alongside his. I told him he was beautiful, which he laughed at, but his cock hardened even more and his rubbing became more vigorous. He was breathing rapidly, his face almost touching mine and I licked his slightly open lips, feeling his warm breath on my face, his tongue meeting mine.
A shudder, a gasp and I felt his wetness flood my belly as his body stiffened and then spasmed once, twice, three times before a final shudder and a deep gasp of pleasure and exhaustion. He’d always been quick to cum once he got going, and I could tell that he hadn’t had sex for a while, the intensity of his spasms and the sheer amount of jizz witness to his need.
He lay there breathing heavily for a few minutes, his hot cum cooling as it slid down my side and onto the sheet. I put my arms around him to hold him there and stroked his back before running my hands tenderly over his smooth buttocks. He lifted his face and we kissed again, this time for quite a while. I moved my cock against his slippery stomach and came within seconds, our lips locked as I sobbed into him, my spunk flooding the space between us.
After a while (I don’t know how long) he rolled off and I curled back into his arms, running my fingers across his sodden stomach, anointing his lips with our jizz before kissing him again. The rain continued to fall as we fell asleep, warm enough now.
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