The Nut Behind the Wheel
Sunlight. That was the first thing I noticed when I finally opened my eyes on a rather relaxing Sunday morning. It was later than I thought I guessed, the sun pouring in through the blinds, painting warm stripes across the floor, across the bed, across him, and his beautiful golden body.
Troy was asleep, half on top of me, his head a heavy, perfect weight on my chest. His breathing was deep and even. One of his muscular legs was thrown over mine, looking so blonde and light and small next to my massive tree trunk thigh, a sculpted arm draped across my flat stomach. Possessive he was, even in sleep.
We’d fallen asleep briefly on the couch after we fucked again, a tangle of big limbs and quiet laughter before we somehow stumbled to bed sometime deep in the night for a longer session. I just couldn’t get enough of him.
And now, Sunday morning, in my bed, here we were, basking in the glow. The house was quiet. My head was quiet. The world seemed quiet.
I didn’t move. I just listened to him breathe and let my eyes stare at every inch of exposed skin. I felt the steady thump of his heart against my ribs. My hand was resting on the warm skin of his back, rising and falling with it, my fingers dancing lazily in small soft circles, feeling him, just tracing him. My eyes roamed over his smooth hard ass outside of the cover, down to the light hairs gracing his muscular leg before my eyes moved up the curves of his back to stare at his jawline resting on my chest, unafraid of being caught if he opened his eyes. He was perfect, and I was taking him in, enjoying every freckle I could count and every line on his body. His nose even was a perfect feature on an otherwise perfect face. Long blonde lashes touching his cheek as his lips remained slightly parted in sleep.
This was it. This was what I never knew I was missing, yet yearned for it. Not the sex, I mean I got enough of that when I wanted. But sex with Troy was different, beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. But it was this, the quiet aftermath, the not having to rush off, or hide, or feel any shame or regret.
It was this sense of belonging, of the looks we shared, of the comfortable nature of being in bed together naked. Unashamed. Unafraid.
At last.
He stirred eventually, nuzzling into my chest with a soft, sleepy sound that made my heart do this weird thing again. His eyes fluttered open. He blinked, disoriented for a second, then his gaze focused on me. A slow, drowsy smile spread across his face that became my new favourite sight.
“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
“Hey,” I rumbled back, my heart stirring, causing the rest of my body to respond. I wanted so badly to just roll him over and slide right back into him and make him groan out my name, but I figured I wore him out enough. Didn’t want to scare him, or ruin that perfect, hard ass too fast.
We lay there for what felt like an hour, just breathing, my fingers lightly caressing his bare skin anywhere I could touch as he just lay there, on me, breathing me in as I absorbed as much of him as I could. No one had to be anywhere. The shop was closed. The world was locked out.
And then my stomach growled, loud in the quiet room.
He chuckled, the vibration buzzing through me. “Pancakes?” he asked, echoing yesterday.
“Something more substantial this time I think,” I said.
We ended up in the kitchen, both of us barefoot and in our underwear, shirtless. Him in another black pair of boxer briefs with the word BOSS written across the band on his tight waist; me in another pair of briefs, blue this time, with him commenting on how sexy I looked in them with my big legs and round ass. I made coffee. He scrambled a dozen eggs. I fried bacon. He helped with toast. We moved around each other in the small space as if we’ve been doing this forever. A brush of a hand here, a hip bump there. Every touch was a quiet confirmation of what I was feeling: you belong here with me.
We took our plates to the living room and ate on the couch, legs tangled together, not talking much. I’ve never been so comfortable with someone while being almost completely naked. I couldn’t stop touching him, needing to feel his flesh and muscles, feeling his legs and feet as he sat across from me, reaching for his long fingers at other times. He did the same, grazing my skin with his hand, or outright feeling a specific muscle and commenting on it, or noticing a scar and asking about it.
After we ate and groped and smiled, we just poured more coffee and sat there in our underwear still entangled in each other’s bodies. He told me about growing up in California, the pressure of being the golden boy, the hollow feeling after the injury as he snuggled into me and I massaged his shoulders. Once he was facing away from me and enjoying the feeling of my strong hands on his neck, he talked briefly about the coach, and some of the casual encounters along the way, one with another closeted football player who eventually committed suicide, Troy being the only one who secretly understood why, and how he carried that with him in silence. I pulled him into my arms and wrapped myself around him after that confession.
He continued on, telling me about a few other married men he let use him after the coach dumped him, but he still felt guilty about it, thinking he was the one cheating on his married coach. Listening to him I wondered if he knew he was dealing with so much trauma. It killed me to listen, and maybe it was better he wasn’t facing me when he told me so many things. I took the pressure off and shared some of my deepest wounds as he rested the back of his head on my chest. I told him about my old man, the smell of his shop and how it became mine when injuries forced me off the ice, and the cold silence of a hockey bus that I was sure he understood. I talked rather openly and bluntly about all my indiscretions in the woods, in glory holes in truck stops, and in particular with a closeted coach I once had too. It was then that he switched positions, and pulled me into him, laying back with my giant body resting on him, probably crushing him. But he didn’t mind. And I felt the weight from both of us leave.
We made sandwiches for lunch and resumed our naked embracing and talked more, not just deep stuff, but about stupid things, too. Favorite movies. Clinging women. Worried moms. Worst jobs. Music. Smitty and Big Ray. My most ticklish spot he had yet to find (my neck); and his (his feet).
Noted.
He laughed at one of my jokes, a real, full-throated laugh, and the sound of it filled the house, made me feel alive. I wanted to hear that sound again, and I vowed to make it happen, whether by tickling his feet or by telling him more funny things.
Later, he excused himself to shower, clean himself up he said and I gave him his privacy. When he returned, I was enjoying another cup of coffee and reading a car magazine on the couch, still in my briefs, and I caught him just watching me from the doorway, like I could feel his gaze before I knew he was there.
“What?” I asked, looking over at him.
He just shook his head, his hair still wet from the shower, his cheeks a little blushed full of a wondering look on his face. “Nothing. I was just looking at you.”
I knew what he meant. I felt it too. This simple, ordinary Sunday was the most extraordinary thing that had ever happened to me. It wasn’t about hiding or talking. It was about being. Being together.
As the sun started to dip, painting the room in gold, he leaned his head against my shoulder. I dropped the magazine and wrapped my arm around him, pulling him close.
We sat like that as the light faded, not needing to go anywhere, not needing to do anything. Just two men, in the quiet, finally home, thinking about dinner now.
Until I grabbed one of his bare feet and his laugh ripped through the house.
“Don’t!” he pointed a finger at me as we froze, me shocked at how loud he laughed and how he tried to pull his foot from my strong grasp.
“You really ARE ticklish there.” I let my eyes look down at the soft sole of his blonde foot, his toes long and carefully pedicured. Looked like manicures wasn’t the only service he was secretly getting. With an evil grin, I moved my face to the bottom of his foot I had in a vice grip and playfully let my tongue out to lick the bottom.
He groaned, instinctively trying to pull his leg back and free his foot. But I had a firm grip, and his eyes had changed. I kissed the middle of his foot, smelling like my soap from the shower, his toes still wrinkled from the water and he flinched again. But this time he closed his eyes, and I saw the bulge in his underwear.
“Don’t.” He said, less convincing, watching me.
My kiss moved upwards, to the big toe, before my mouth encircled it, sucking it back, and he groaned louder.
“Holy fuck Ivan.” His chest heaved and his head lolled back. Not so ticklish after all as I let my mouth suck back a few more piggies and my hand slid up to the insides of his leg. My mouth moved up to his ankle, then his calf, then his inner thigh as he moved onto his back on the floor where I had tackled him. My hand was ahead of my mouth, and I grabbed his erection. Troy was so fucking turned on he was already pulling his underwear down over it, and holding it up for me. I grabbed at it, and dove on it as Troy ran his fingers into my hair.
I’ve never been into sucking dick, but Troy’s cock was simply fantastic, and tasty, and built just like the rest of him. Smooth and beautiful, hard and carefully crafted, and the source of the sounds he was now making was what I wanted to fill my house with.
He resisted long enough for me to grin widely at him before he sat up and pushed me backwards, freeing my cock from my own confines and devouring me in a hungry manner that made me see stars. I sat back on my feet, my hands behind me splayed on the floor to try to hold myself up. This hunk of a quarterback, naked before me, on his knees, blowing me like his life depended on it.
I leaned over him, wetting my finger in my mouth before I found my new favourite place again and teased him into groaning, his hot breath between my legs as he panted between engulfing my prick.
“Fuck me.” He moaned into my thigh, and I couldn’t agree more. He climbed upward, to find my mouth as his legs moved around me. I simply stared into his eyes as I felt his hand on me, felt his body wrapping around me as I sat on my own legs, and then felt the heat of his ass as he fed my throbbing dick into him.
His breath became mine. Our lips teasing one another as we panted until I was inside him once again. Then he gripped the sides of my face and looked deep into my eyes.
“I never imagined it could feel like this Ivan.”
I nodded, feeling his forehead resting against mine. “I know.” I breathed out, trying hard not to come too fast as the feelings overwhelmed me.
I didn’t care about dinner. And that was a first.
All I cared about was this quarterback, naked, wrapped around my lap, riding my cock as if there was no one else in the world.
As I blasted another round into his glorious ass, I kissed him so fiercely and hugged him so tight I didn’t think I could ever let him go.
As he smiled next to me, and we regained our senses, I knew at that very moment I didn’t want to let him go.
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