Steven stepped out of his beat-up, second-hand car and breathed the crisp morning air deeply. The farm sprawled out before him, vast and untouched by the modern world's cacophony. He adjusted his hard hat, a symbol of his newfound status as a freshly minted surveyor and surveyed the land with a critical eye. This was his first job out of college, and he was eager to prove himself.
The barn stood tall and proud, a testament to the generations of hardworking farmers who had come before. It was here that he'd be overseeing the construction of the extension that would revolutionise the way the client handled their distribution service. The thought of the towering machinery and burly men that would soon invade this serene landscape was both exhilarating and terrifying. He knew that in this world of grit and sweat, his effeminate nature might be seen as a liability, but he was the supervising surveyor.
The farm's owner, a gruff but fair-minded man named Mr Jenkins, met him at the gate. "Mornin'," he grunted, his handshake firm and calloused. Glad to have you on board, Steven. You're just in time to meet the crew." His eyes searched Steven's for any signs of doubt or weakness but found only determination.
Steven followed Mr Jenkins to the makeshift office, a small trailer that smelled of stale coffee and dusty blueprints. Inside, a group of men sat around a table, their eyes flicking up from their mugs to size him up. They were a rough bunch, with faces weathered by the sun and hands that spoke of years of hard labour. He swallowed hard, reminding himself that his brain was his tool, not his brawn.
The foreman, a man named Dave, stood up and offered a hand the size of a catcher's mitt. "Welcome to the team," he said, his voice a mix of gravel and good humour. "Don't let our looks fool ya, we don't bite." His laugh boomed through the trailer, and the other workers chuckled, their eyes still assessing him.
As the days turned into weeks, the extension began to take shape. The sounds of hammering and heavy machinery became a comforting symphony to Steven's ears. He worked hard to prove himself, often staying late to ensure the measurements were perfect, the angles precise. The crew, initially sceptical, began to warm up to him but there was one guy called Ralf who decided to take the piss out of Steven and his effeminate demeanour.
Ralf was a towering man, his shoulders broad and his laugh deep. He had a knack for finding the weak link in any group, and he'd set his sights on the young surveyor. His jibes started as subtle teases, a misplaced tool here, a snicker there, but gradually grew bolder. "Look at Steve here," he'd say, mimicking a high-pitched voice, "so careful with his little tape measure." The other workers chuckled, some out of genuine amusement, others to avoid becoming Ralf's next target.
Steven tried to ignore the jibes, focusing on the task at hand, but the barbs began to dig deeper. His confidence waned, and the doubt Mr Jenkins had seen in his eyes grew more pronounced. One evening, as the crew was packing up for the day, Ralf sauntered over to him, a sneer playing on his lips. "You know," he began, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken challenges, "you might be good with that fancy school stuff, but out here, you're just a pretty boy playing dress-up."
The other workers paused in their tracks, waiting for the reaction, eager for the entertainment. They had seen Ralf do this before, turning the job site into a gladiator's arena where the weak were picked apart for sport. Steven felt his cheeks flush, his heart racing as Ralf continued, "I bet you gay boys wear those tighty whities under their trousers, huh? Maybe you'd like to lift your shirt and show off that smooth skin as most shirt lifters do."
Steven's eyes narrowed, his grip on the tape measure tightening until his knuckles turned white. He knew he had to address the issue head-on; otherwise, it would fester like an open wound. "Ralf," he began, his voice steady and measured, "I don't know what your problem is with me, but I'm here to do a job, just like everyone else."
Ralf leaned in closer, his breath hot on Steven's face. "Oh, I know your type," he jeered. "You think you're better than us because you went to some fancy school. But out here, we do real work with no time for gay boys."
Steven took a step back, his jaw clenched. He had faced this kind of ignorance before, but it never failed to make his blood boil. "What's wrong with being gay?" he retorted, his voice carrying a hint of defiance. "I can lift the same stuff as you, maybe even more. And I know how to work hard. Maybe you should focus on your shortcomings instead of worrying about who I choose to love."
"Hey Ralf, that sounds like a challenge," one of the brickies shouted out.
The other workers' smirks vanished, their expressions now a mix of surprise and curiosity. Ralf's eyes widened, realising he'd gone too far. He stuttered, "W-what do you mean?"
"Sounds like our new boy is challenging you to a lifting competition if you're man enough," came the response from one of the roofers.
Ralf's face turned beet red, his fists clenching. "Fine," he spat. "You want to prove yourself? Let's see how much of a man you are, pretty boy. What are you willing to bet?
Steven thought about it for a moment. "Tell you what, if I win, I get to give you a big juicy kiss you so desperately want. I can see it in your eyes you want it and since you like gay boys so much, if I lose and you win, you can show your mates here what a faggot you are by fucking me." Steven taunted him.
Needless to say, the crew collapsed in hysterics, laughing out loud as Ralf stood there unsure what to say or do. Dave recovered his composure enough to shout out, "steady on boys, it's not that.... funny," chuckling as he said the words. "Come on, enough of this and Steven, I love your approach but there's no way Ralf will take that bet just in case he loses."
"Oh, come on, Ralf," one of the carpenters called out, his voice teasing. "What are you scared of? A little kiss from Stevie here? Maybe he's better at it than your ol' lady!" The other workers snickered, nudging each other, and making kissing sounds. Ralf's face grew redder with each passing second, his pride bruised by the turn of events.
"Yeah, Ralf!" another chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. "Let's see if you can handle a taste of what you've been missing!" The air grew thick with the tension of unspoken jokes and the challenges laid before them. Steven held Ralf's gaze, his expression a cocktail of amusement and defiance.
"Yeh, maybe I can teach you something," Steven said still holding Ralf's gaze.
"Fuck you all," Ralf shouted, the colour in his cheeks deepening to a dark crimson. He whipped around and stomped out of the trailer, the door slamming behind him like a punctuation to his fury. The room erupted into laughter again, louder, and more uninhibited than before.
"Good one, Steve!"
"Way to put him in his place!"
"Didn't expect that from you!"
The words of support and camaraderie echoed around Steven as the crew clapped him on the back, their grins wide and approving. His heart pounded in his chest, but he managed to keep his cool. He'd never been one for confrontation, but Ralf had left him no choice.
The tension lingered for the rest of the week, Ralf avoiding Steven's gaze and the crew exchanging knowing looks behind his back. But there was a newfound respect in their eyes, a spark of admiration for the young surveyor who had not only stood up to the bully but had done so with wit and courage.
But as Friday evening rolled around, the workers packed up their tools and headed home for the weekend. Steven lingered, meticulously checking the day's work, his mind recounting the events of the week, feeling satisfied with another good week's work completed as he showed Mr Jenkins around, checking his client was happy with the progress.
Mr Jenkins nodded approvingly, his stern features softening into a smile. "Good job, son," he said, clapping Steven on the back. "You're doing just fine here, and I also heard what you achieved with Ralf, I’m proud of you."
"Thank you, Mr Jenkins," Steven replied, his voice filled with gratitude. He knew he had a long way to go, but the praise from his client was a much-needed boost. "I just want to make sure everything's perfect before the trucks start rolling in."
Mr Jenkins nodded and climbed into his dusty pickup, the engine rumbling to life. "You're doing a fine job," he called out as he drove away. "See you on Monday."
Alone again, Steven turned his attention to the feeder road. The extension was coming along well, but the feeder road was still a concern. With winter just around the corner, he needed to ensure that the drainage was up to par. He grabbed his surveying gear and headed out to the stretch of gravel that would soon be a bustling thoroughfare for the farm's machinery. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden light over the rolling fields, and the quiet was a stark contrast to the chaos of the day's work.
As he approached the spot where the drainage was supposed to be, he noticed a pickup parked at an odd angle. It was Ralf's, and his heart skipped a beat. He'd hoped to avoid the man until he could figure out how to deal with the unresolved tension. The truck's engine purred menacingly as Steven grew closer, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into a trap.
Ralf sat in the driver's seat, his arms folded over his chest, watching him approach through the dusty windshield. The door swung open, and he stepped out, his heavy work boots crunching on the gravel. The setting sun cast long shadows across the ground, and the air was charged with the scent of impending conflict.
"What do you want, Ralf?" Steven called out, trying to keep his voice steady.
Ralf smirked, his teeth glinting in the fading light. "Oh, I think you know what I want," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're going to find out what a big man is and it’s not you, it's me and I fancy some gay boy arse."
Steven's stomach churned, but he didn't back down. "I've got work to do," he said, raising the surveying equipment in his hand slightly as if it could serve as a deterrent. "Why don't you go home and leave me be?"
Ralf took a step closer, his eyes glinting with malice. "You think that equipment is going to stop me?" he sneered. "You think because you've got a fancy degree and a pretty mouth that you can talk your way out of this?"
Steven's heart hammered in his chest, but he forced himself to stand his ground. "I'm not scared of you, Ralf," Steven said, his voice trembling slightly.
Ralf took another step closer, closing the distance between them. "No?" he taunted. "You sure about that, pretty boy?" He reached out, his hand grabbing a fistful of Steven's shirt and yanking him closer. "Because I'm telling you right now, I'm going to show you who's boss around here."
Steven's mind raced. He knew he didn't stand a chance in a physical fight with Ralf. The man was built like an ox, and Steven's slender frame was no match for his brute strength. Plus, Ralf had a nasty streak that seemed to grow wider with every challenge thrown his way.
"Come on, Ralf," Steven pleaded, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "We can settle this like adults."
Ralf's grip tightened; his knuckles white against the fabric of Steven's shirt. With a vicious jerk, he shook him again, ripping the shirt cleanly down the middle. The buttons popped off and scattered into the dirt, leaving Steven's chest exposed to the cool evening air. The sound echoed across the quiet farm, a harsh reminder of the power dynamics at play.
"Okay, okay," Steven suddenly said, surrendering to Ralk before he got hurt.
Ralf's smirk grew wider. "That's more like it," he sneered, his grip on Steven's shirt loosening slightly to play with the young man’s nipples through the white vest that remained tucked into his jeans. "You look real nice for a gay boy," Ralf commented.
Steven felt a mix of fear and confusion. The way Ralf was touching him was rough, but there was something else in his eyes, something hungry, something that made him wonder if Ralf's homophobic taunts were just a cover for his desires. It was like looking into a mirror, but the reflection was distorted and twisted. He didn't dare voice his thoughts, though. Instead, he kept his mouth shut, hoping that by giving in, he could defuse the situation without it escalating further.
As Ralf's calloused hands moved down to the button of his jeans, Steven took a deep breath and found his voice. "Ralf, if you want to do this, we can't do it here." He tried to keep the tremble out of his voice, his heart racing. "We'll get caught, and it's not... it's not right."
Ralf's grin grew wider, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and excitement. "You're the one who talked big, pretty boy," he said, his breath hot on Steven's cheek. "Now you're begging for it?" He gave a cruel laugh and stepped back.
Steven swallowed hard, trying to think of a way out of this. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice shaking.
Ralf looked at Steven, his anger disappearing to the point that he calmly said to Steven, "If you take your jeans off and get in my pickup wearing only your white vest and underwear, I know a spot we won't get caught and perhaps we can take our time and enjoy this."
Stevens's mind raced as he realised Ralf might indeed be attracted to him. He knew the risks, but something deep down told him that this might be his only way out of this situation. He took a step back, unbuckled his belt, and began to slowly slide his jeans down his legs, his hands shaking. The warm evening air kissed his bare skin, sending shivers down his spine. He stepped out of his boots, his feet feeling vulnerable in the cold earth as he handed his jeans and boots to Ralf who threw them in the drainage ditch.
Ralf's eyes were glued to the sight of Steven in his white vest and tighty whities, his gaze almost... hungry. “I knew it, gay boys always wear tighty whities,” he said, looking at the pristine white fabric hugging Steven's slim body, highlighting the curves of his hips and the bulge in his tighty whities that was growing larger with each passing second. It was a strange mix of fear and arousal that Steven felt, his arousal impossible to hide as he stood there in his tighty whities.
"Socks as well," Ralf ordered, “and then get in because I have big plans for you this weekend," Ralf said with a smirk that sent a shiver down Steven's spine. Steven knew that the game had just changed, and he was no longer in control. He had to play along if he wanted to make it out of this situation with his dignity, if not entirely intact, then at least in one piece.
He peeled off his socks, feeling the cold metal of the truck's floor against his bare feet as he climbed into the passenger seat. Ralf climbed in beside him, starting the engine with a roar. The pickup lurched forward, sending a cloud of dust into the air as they left the construction site behind.
Steven's heart pounded in his chest as they drove away from the safety of the farm and deeper into the countryside. Ralf's hand rested on the stick shift, but his eyes kept darting over to the side, ogling Steven's exposed legs and the tighty whities that clung to his crotch, leaving the young surveyor feeling like a piece of meat, on display for Ralf's enjoyment.
Finally, the pickup pulled up to a cabin, nestled in the embrace of ancient trees that whispered in the warm evening breeze. It was a surprisingly cozy sight, with smoke curling lazily from the chimney and a soft light glowing in the windows. Ralf's grin grew wider as he turned off the engine, the silence of the woods enveloping them.
"Now, get out," Ralf said, his voice low and commanding. "But remember, don't even think about running. You're mine for the weekend and there is nowhere for you to run."
Steven's heart sank as he stepped out of the truck. The cabin looked warm and inviting, but the fear of what was to come washed over him like a cold shower. He could feel Ralf's eyes on his back as he walked to the cabin door, his bare feet sinking into the soft earth.
As he reached for the doorknob, Ralf's hand shot out, grabbing Steven's vest. With surprising strength, he yanked it down, the material tearing away with a violent sound, leaving the vest to hang in tatters around his arms.
With a shove that was more forceful than necessary, Ralf pushed him against the rough wood of the cabin door. Steven felt the splinters dig into his back as Ralf leaned in, his breath hot and moist against his ear. "You're mine now," he growled, his hand moving to the fly of Steven's tighty whities.
Before Steven could react, Ralf's strong hand grabbed the fabric and with one quick yank, he ripped the tighty whities apart. The cotton shredded with surprising ease, leaving Steven's erect cock exposed to the evening air, leaking pre-cum for Ralf to see.
But then, something strange happened. Ralf's tough exterior crumbled like the fabric of Steven's tighty whities. His eyes filled with tears, and he dropped his head, his shoulders heaving. "I can't do this," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.
Steven's fear turned to confusion as he watched Ralf's bravado dissolve into what looked like genuine pain. "Ralf?" Steven said tentatively, his voice soft with concern. "What's wrong?"
Ralf's shoulders heaved with silent sobs, and he didn't move for what felt like an eternity. "I'm sorry, Steven," he finally choked out, his voice barely audible. "I can't do this."
Steven stared at him, his mind racing. The fear of what was about to happen had been so intense that he hadn't allowed himself to consider the possibility of this turn of events. He took a deep breath, his erection slowly fading as he tried to process the situation. "What do you mean?" he asked softly, not wanting to spook the volatile man.
Ralf lifted his head, his eyes red and wet. "I'm not... I'm not that kind of person," he said, his voice shaking. "I just... I don't know." He dropped his hands from his face, revealing the torment etched into his features. "I've always been like this, you know. A... a fag in a world that won't let me be." He spat out the last word like it was a curse. "When I saw you, so proud and confident, it just... it just brought it all up again. And I hated you for it."
Steven took a step closer, his heart aching for the man who had terrorised him all week and now had him naked and about to be raped or certainly abused. He knew what it was like to live a lie, to hide who you truly were out of fear of rejection and violence. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Ralf," he said gently, his voice filled with understanding. "We can just talk."
Ralf looked up at him, his eyes searching, desperate for an escape from the cage he'd built around himself. "You're not... you're not like the others? You are kind and sincere and…I’m sorry."
Steven, although naked, sat down next to Ralf and the two men sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds and cows in the wind. Then, with a shaky hand, Ralf reached out and took Steven's hand. The warmth of the contact was surprisingly comforting, a silent apology for the horrors he had almost inflicted.
"I've never told anyone," Ralf whispered, his thumb tracing circles on Steven's palm. "Not even myself."
Steven squeezed his hand gently. "You can tell me; I won't judge you."
So, Ralf did. He told Steven about his lonely childhood, about the taunts and the beatings he had endured, about the fear that had driven him to hide his true self from everyone. He talked about the bottled-up desires and the painful attempts to live a life that didn't fit, about the hollowness of his marriage and the emptiness of his heart.
As Ralf spoke, Steven felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He'd faced his share of adversity, but he'd always had the support of his family and friends. For Ralf, it was a different story.
"Thank you," Ralf said, his voice thick with emotion, as he looked into Steven's eyes. "Thank you for... for not being scared of me." Steven leaned in and kissed him softly, tasting the salt of his tears. It was a kiss of compassion, of understanding, of two souls finding refuge in the most unlikely of places.
They sat there for a few moments, their bodies pressed together for warmth and comfort, their hearts beating in a tentative rhythm of newfound connection. Then, gently, Steven stood up and held out his hand. "Let's go inside," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "You're shivering, I'm cold and we can enjoy a hot drink."
Ralf nodded, his eyes never leaving Steven's face, and took the hand that was offered. As they made their way to the cabin, the crunch of gravel underfoot seemed to echo their unspoken agreement to leave the past where it belonged. The door swung open with a creak, revealing a cozy space filled with the scent of pine and the warmth of a crackling fireplace.
But as the door closed behind them, something shifted in the air. Steven turned to Ralf, looking up at the man who had once terrified him, and leaned in. Without a word, pushing him against the wooden wall, he kissed him firmly on the lips. Ralf's eyes widened in surprise, but then, his arms snaked around Steven's waist, pulling him closer. The kiss grew in intensity, Ralf's rough hands finding purchase on the smooth skin of Steven's buttocks, squeezing them as he returned the passion with surprising tenderness.
Steven's hands found their way to Ralf's shoulders, his fingers digging into the tough fabric of the flannel shirt. The heat of Ralf's body was a stark contrast to the cooling air outside, and he felt his arousal stirring once more. He deepened the kiss, exploring the taste of this man he'd once thought of as his enemy, but now saw as a kindred spirit, lost and afraid just like he had been.
Their kisses grew more urgent. Ralf's hands roamed, exploring the curves and dips of Steven's naked body with a newfound reverence. It was as if he were discovering a treasure that had been hidden away for far too long.
Their kisses grew more passionate, their breaths mingling in the quiet cabin. The fire cast flickering shadows across their intertwined forms, painting their bodies in a dance of light and dark. It was a moment of pure connection, a bridge built over the chasm of misunderstanding that had once separated them.
Finally, Ralf broke away, his eyes searching Steven's face for any sign of rejection. His hands found their way to Steven's nipples, his rough thumbs tracing delicate circles around the sensitive peaks. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I've never seen a man naked like this before."
Steven looked at him, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. "It's okay, Ralf," he said, his voice soothing. "This is your first time, and I'm here for you and feel free to explore my body. This might be your chance to be yourself if you wish it."
Ralf nodded, his face a mask of uncertainty and desire. He leaned in again, his mouth finding Steven's neck, kissing, and nibbling the sensitive skin there. His hands continued to wander, learning the landscape of the other man's body as if it were a map to a place, he'd always wanted to visit but never dared to.
"I know you are a virgin, Ralf, but you can take me if you want to," Steven murmured, "Or we can have a hot drink and talk more."
Ralf took a moment, his breath ragged and his eyes searching Steven's. Then, with a nod, he released his grip on Steven's ass and stepped back, his hands dropping to his side. "Yeah," he said, his voice still thick with emotion. "A drink sounds good and I'm sorry about your clothes, but I love the way you look. You have a lovely body."
Steven walked into his kitchen and put the kettle on as Ralf just stood watching the younger man and his nakedness busy making a hot drink. The room was silent except for the crackle of the fire and the sound of their breathing when Steven carried two steaming mugs of hot chocolate to a small table by the hearth. "Ralf, come and join me by the fire so we can be warm and don't worry about my clothes, I might be able to borrow some of yours."
Ralf moved from the safety of the cabin wall and joined Steven on the rug, the warmth of the fire wrapping around them like a blanket. "Ralf, what would you say if I undress you?" sensing Ralf was nervous and unsure of the next move.
Ralf nodded, his eyes never leaving Stevens. “I would like that if you are happy to do that?”
Ralf lay down on the rug, his hands trembled as Steven unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a broad, hairy chest that was a stark contrast to Steven's smooth skin. His jeans followed, leaving him in just his boring boxer shorts, his erection visible through the thin cotton fabric.
Steven knelt beside him, the warmth of the fire playing across their bare skin as he reached out, his hand shaking slightly. He placed it on Ralf's thigh, feeling the muscle tense beneath his touch. "Is this, okay?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.
Ralf's eyes searched Steven's, looking for any sign of mockery or disgust, but finding only kindness and desire. He nodded, his breath hitching as he felt the younger man's hand move up to his boxer shorts, feeling the heat of his cock through the fabric. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with need.
Steven leaned in; his breath warm against Ralf's skin as he kissed his way up his thigh. His hand cupped the bulge in Ralf's boxer shorts, squeezing gently as he took Ralf's cock in his mouth, the material being the only barrier, tasting the pre-cum that Ralf's body had started to produce, leaking through.
Ralf groaned, his body jerking at the unexpected pleasure. His eyes had been tightly shut but they snapped open, meeting Stevens. "You don't have to do this," he said, his voice strained.
Steven looked up at him, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. "But I want to," he whispered, his voice filled with a newfound confidence. He reached up, his hands shaking slightly, and gripped the waistband of Ralf's boxer shorts. "Can I?"
Ralf nodded, his eyes never leaving Steven's. "Yeah," he breathed, his voice shaky with a mix of fear and excitement.
With trembling hands, Steven hooked his fingers into the waistband of Ralf's clothing and gently pulled them down, revealing Ralf's erect cock. It was indeed a remarkable sight, thick and veiny, standing proudly against his muscular thighs. “Wow, Ralf, you have a monster cock, perfect for sucking.”
For a moment, Steven just stared, his eyes wide with a mix of wonder and awe. He'd never seen anything quite like it before. It was the embodiment of raw masculine power, and the thought of it being attached to a man who had once bullied him was almost too much to comprehend.
He took a deep breath and leaned in, his heart racing. The tip of his tongue darted out to lick the head of Ralf's cock, the salty taste making his mouth water. Ralf's hips jerked upwards with a gasp, his hand shooting out to grip the edge of the rug for support. "Fuck," he hissed, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Steven took his time, exploring every inch of Ralf's cock with his mouth, savouring the feel of the velvety skin and the hardness beneath. He wrapped his hand around the shaft, pumping gently as he took more of Ralf into his throat. Ralf's breathing grew ragged, his body tensing and releasing with each stroke.
"Oh god," Ralf moaned, his eyes squeezed shut. "You're so good at that."
Steven felt a strange thrill at Ralf's words, a sense of power that was new to him. He'd never been the one to give pleasure before, especially not to a man like Ralf. But as he felt Ralf's cock throb in his mouth, he realised that he had the power to give this rough, tough man something that he'd never experienced before: true acceptance and pleasure.
He continued to suck, his hand moving faster and faster. He could feel Ralf's thighs quivering and knew that he was close. Ralf's grip on the rug tightened, his knuckles turning white. "Steven," he grunted, his voice strained. "I'm going to come."
Steven pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting Ralf's. "Do you want to come in my mouth?" he asked, his voice a little muffled by his mouthful of cock.
Ralf nodded; his eyes glazed with lust. "Yes," he groaned. "Yes, please."
Steven took him back in, deep and slow, and Ralf's hips began to buck. With a roar that seemed to shake the very walls of the cabin, he came, his hot cum spurting into Steven's waiting mouth. Steven swallowed, his eyes never leaving Ralf's, the act of submission and acceptance more powerful than any words could ever be.
When it was over, Ralf's body went limp, his breathing heavy. "I know my wife sucks me off occasionally, but I've never had that done to me before. It just felt divine and tender with no teeth getting in the way," he murmured, his eyes still closed. "Thank you."
Steven sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You don't have to thank me, Ralf," he said gently. "It was lovely to take a cock like yours and to taste you and your seed.”
Ralf lay on his side as Steven sat there, naked in the warm glow of the fire, sipping their hot chocolate in a companionable silence that felt more intimate than any words could have expressed. The air was charged with the aftermath of their encounter, but there was also a sense of peace, a bridge built between them that had once seemed impossible to cross.
"You are no longer a blowjob virgin Ralf, what's it feel like?" Steven chuckled whilst he waited for Ralf's response.
Ralf's eyes remained closed, a serene smile playing on his lips. "It feels... amazing," he finally managed to say, his chest rising and falling heavily. "Better than I ever could have imagined, and I can't believe I have never done it before. All these years of wanking lots and having boring sex with my wife. What have I missed?"
Steven leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek, his hand resting comfortingly on Ralf's thigh. "I'm glad I could help you with that," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth.
The silence grew between them, the only sounds the crackling fire and the distant call of an owl. The tension from the week dissipated, replaced by a newfound understanding. Ralf reached out, his hand brushing against Steven's cock, which was still hard and begging for attention. "Your turn," he murmured, his voice rough with lust.
Steven's eyes widened, but he didn't pull away. He took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice a little shaky.
Ralf opened his eyes and met Steven's gaze, the heat in them unmistakable. "More than anything," he said, his hand moving to stroke Steven's erection. "Let me show you what you do to me."
With a nod, Steven leaned back, his heart racing as Ralf moved over him, his body blocking out the warmth of the fire. The older man's rough hands began to explore, his touch tentative at first, but growing more confident with each gasp and moan that Steven gave. Ralf took his time, as if he were memorising every inch of the younger man's body, his eyes never leaving Stevens.
The kisses grew more urgent, their bodies pressing closer together, the heat from the fire and their passion creating an intense, almost suffocating atmosphere. Ralf's hand found its way to Steven's cock, stroking it firmly, his thumb flicking over the sensitive head.
Steven arched his back, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Ralf," he groaned, his body writhing under the other man's touch. "More."
Ralf's hand tightened, his strokes growing faster and more deliberate. "Tell me what you want," he murmured against Steven's neck. "I'll give it to you."
"I want you," Steven whispered, his eyes flicking open to meet Ralf's. "I want you inside me."
Ralf's eyes went wide with surprise, but the lust didn't leave his gaze. He leaned back, reaching for a bottle of lube on the side table. "Then that's what you'll have," he said, his voice thick with need, but you will have to guide me, Steven."
Steven lubed his fingers with some KY Jelly that had been in the kitchen of all places and applied it to Ralf's member and then he straddled Ralf's hips allowing the bear of a man to probe at Steven's entrance, his touch gentle despite his rough exterior. Steven's body tensed, his breath catching in his throat as Ralf pushed the tip inside. The stretch was almost painful due to Ralf's size, but the pleasure that followed was intense, making him moan with need.
"Am I in?" Ralf asked, his voice a gruff whisper, feeling nervous and inexperienced.
Steven nodded, his eyes never leaving Ralf's. "Yes," he breathed.
Ralf positioned himself, his cock slick with lube and need. He pushed in more, slow, and steady, watching the younger man's face for any sign of pain. But all he saw was ecstasy, and it spurred him on. Inch by inch, he filled Steven, the tightness around him unlike anything he'd ever felt before.
They moved together in a slow, sensual rhythm, their bodies fitting together in a way that neither of them had ever expected. The firelight danced across their skin, highlighting the sweat that beaded on their foreheads and the muscles that flexed with each thrust.
Steven's eyes were closed, his head thrown back as he savoured the feeling of Ralf's thick cock sliding in and out of him, hitting his prostate with an almost painful precision, but in the most exquisite way. With each stroke, a wave of pleasure washed over him, making him moan and arch his back, his hands gripping Ralf's shoulders tightly.
Ralf watched him, his own eyes glazed with lust and wonder. He'd never been with a man before, never felt the tight warmth of a man's body surrounding him, never knew the power of giving someone else pleasure. It was a heady feeling, one that made him feel alive in a way he never had with any woman.
Their breaths grew harsher, their movements more urgent as they both chased the edge of release. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the cabin, mingling with the crackle of the fire and the occasional squeak of the floorboards. They were lost in their world, a world where the past didn't matter and the future was uncertain, but in that moment, all that existed was the here and now.
But as the tension grew, so did the fear that this was a dream that would soon shatter. Ralf's hand found its way to Steven's cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts, the friction making the younger man's body tighten even more. "Come for me," Ralf whispered, his voice hoarse with need.
Steven's eyes snapped open, meeting Ralf's gaze. He could see the hunger there, the need to possess him fully, and it sent him spiralling over the edge. His orgasm hit him like a wave, making him cry out as he came, spilling his seed onto Ralf's chest. The feel of it was too much for Ralf, and with a final, powerful thrust, he followed, his release filling Steven up, the heat of it making him feel complete and a real man for the first time.
As they lay there, panting and spent, the reality of what had just happened began to settle over them. Ralf's arms tightened around Steven's waist, holding him close as if afraid he might slip away. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I've never felt like this before."
Steven leaned down, pressing his forehead against Ralf's. "It's okay," he said, his voice shaking. "We're okay."
They stayed there for a while, their hearts beating in sync as the fire crackled and popped. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, a testament to the connection they'd forged in the heat of passion. It was a moment of peace in the storm that had been their week, a moment where the world outside didn't matter, and all that existed was the two of them.
But eventually, the world did come crashing back in. The sound of a car pulling up outside the cabin broke the spell, and they both jumped up, their bodies stiff with panic. "Shit," Ralf muttered, his eyes darting to the door. "That's my wife."
Continued in Part Two
