Joe and Linda Jenkins sat on the porch yet again talking about their son Tim. Both were worried about him. Linda his mother understood the problem. Joe on the other hand didn’t understand the need to meddle in Tim’s life. Linda wanted to post an advertisement for a companion over the summer. Joe didn’t quite get it.
"Just say we need a farmhand," he'd said, his voice gruff. "Tim can make friends with whoever comes."
But Linda, with her gentle touch and knowing smile, tried to convince him otherwise. "Tim's not like other boys," she said, her voice tender. "We need someone who understands, someone who can help him feel accepted, someone like Tim."
Joe grunted, his eyes scanning the horizon. He knew his son was different, had known since Tim was young. He wasn't like the other kids in town, who talked about girls and football. Tim had always loved books and animals, preferring the quietude of the farm and, Joe couldn’t deny that Tim was extremely effeminate. “It troubles me, Linda, not because of any moral objection, but because the world isn’t always kind to those who don't fit with convention.”
“I understand how you feel Joe, but we have to do something,” Linda tried to explain.
"All right," he finally said, his voice a low rumble. "But I want you to promise me, Linda. No funny business."
Linda rolled her eyes but nodded. "Of course, Joe. It's just a companion, a friend for Tim. But Joe," she said, her voice taking on a serious tone, "you need to understand that Tim's a young man with needs. If something happens between them, it will be natural. And it's not for us to judge or stand in the way.”
Joe grunted again, his jaw clenching. He didn't like the idea of his son, his baby, being gay but he didn’t like the idea that his son might be lonely either. Linda was right; Tim was a young man now, and he deserved happiness like anyone else. "I just don't want him to get hurt," he murmured, his eyes misting over. “Linda, I sort of get it now,” Joe mumbled, “I guess I have to be the one who changes and accepts Tim for whom he is, but we decide the companion together, okay?”
“Okay Joe, I agree,” Linda responded to Joe’s change of heart as she finished the wording for the advertisement.
A few hundred miles away, a young man sat in his kitchen reading an advertisement that had attracted his eye in the newspaper. "You won't believe what I found," Mark said, slapping the newspaper down on the kitchen counter. His mother, Janice, paused mid-chop, the knife hovering over a cucumber. "A job. On a farm."
"In South Carolina?" she asked, her eyes scanning the page. "That's a bit far from home, isn't it?"
"It's perfect," Mark said, a hopeful lilt to his voice. "They're looking for a companion for their son, someone around my age. And they do not care if I am" He took a deep breath. "If I'm gay."
Janice looked up; the knife frozen in midair. "They said that?"
"No, but they're okay with it. And it's not like I'd be hiding it." Mark's cheeks flushed slightly. "They just want someone to help him, you know, be more comfortable."
Janice put the knife down and wiped her hands. "Comfortable with what, Mark?"
"With himself," he said softly. "They know he's gay, and they want someone to help him come out."
The kitchen was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator. Mark watched his mother's face, searching for a reaction. She was a good woman, a loving woman, but she had never talked about his sexuality with him, not since the awkward conversation they had when he was sixteen.
"And the job is good?" Janice said finally.
"Great pay, free room and board, a car to use. And we'd be doing farm work, so it's not like I'd be sitting around all day."
Janice nodded, her eyes never leaving the newspaper. "What do you think, Mark?"
He took a step closer to her. "I think it's worth a shot. I need to get out of here and meet new people. Maybe even find someone like me."
The silence grew heavier until Janice spoke again. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," Mark said, smiling. "Just a lonely kid who needs a friend of a similar age and I am eighteen so I match the criteria of age so what can hold me back?"
Janice sighed and picked up the knife again. "I'll talk to your father," she said. "But we're worried about you."
"I know," Mark said, his voice firm. "But I can handle it."
The decision was made with a quiet understanding between them. Mark's father, John, came in from the garage later that evening, wiping grease from his hands. He read the ad and nodded, looking at Mark with a mix of pride and concern.
"You're going," John said. "But you call us if anything goes wrong."
"I will," Mark promised.
And with that, the stage was set for a summer that would change Mark's life in ways he could not begin to imagine.
The house was a picturesque relic of the old South, with a sprawling veranda and tall, proud oak trees casting shade over the yard. Mark pulled up in the dusty driveway, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The job was his, secured after a series of emails and phone calls that had felt more like interviews for a diplomatic position than a simple summer gig.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of home cooking and the hum of the air conditioner. Mark was met by a stern-looking woman with a handshake that could crush walnuts. "Mrs. Jenkins," she said, eyeing him up and down. "But you can call me Linda."
Her husband, Joe, was a bear of a man with a booming laugh and a firm handshake to match. He clapped Mark on the back and led him into the kitchen, where a young man with a shy smile was setting the dinner table. That had to be Tim, Mark thought. The shy son of eighteen he had been employed to provide company and companionship too.
Tim's eyes darted up and met Mark's briefly before dropping to the floor. "This is Tim," Linda said. "Tim, this is Mark. He's here to keep you company and to be a companion for you."
Mark felt a jolt of electricity run through him. Tim was beautiful, indeed, with a lanky grace that suggested a colt just finding its legs. His skin was tanned from the sun, and his dark hair fell in soft waves around his high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. He was tall, too, as tall as Mark, with broad shoulders that hinted at hidden strength. The final thing that Mark noted about Tim was his effeminate manner that was shrouded by his shyness and there was no denying Tim’s demeanour was subservient.
“Tim darling, why don’t you show Mark his room and get to know each other,” Linda suggested.
“Okay mum” Tim responded, “Come on Mark, follow me and I shall take you upstairs to your room and generally show you around,” as he picked up Mark’s bags and left the kitchen with the new guest in hot pursuit.
Mark viewed Tim closely as he showed him around, the more he saw of Tim the more he started to like the young man, painfully shy and reticent to speak more than necessary and his effeminate disposition made his company even more enjoyable.
The next two days were awkward as they worked side by side on the farm, getting to know each other. Mark was patient and gradually, Tim began to open up. They talked about movies, music, and the books they liked, and Mark felt the beginnings of a friendship blossoming between them.
Late on the third evening, Mark was sitting on the veranda, watching the sunset over the fields, wondering if he had made a mistake in taking the job when Tim came out from the house to join him. Mark was wearing his nightshirt ready for bed as Tim sat down on the other chair, looking closely at him. Mark preferred nightshirts to normal Pjs as they allowed more freedom to move in bed without anything getting pinched or uncomfortable and he suspected that his attire had intrigued Tim.
The silence was interrupted when Tim spoke without looking at Mark. "Thanks," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For not making it weird."
"What do you mean?" Mark asked, playing dumb.
"You know," Tim said, his eyes still on the horizon. "For not making it about... that."
"Oh," Mark said, understanding. "It's not about that. It is about you. Being happy, and your parents figured you might like some company over the summer, and it was a good way for me to save some money before going to college in the fall."
“Mark, can I ask something else,” his shyness impeding the flow of conversation.
“Of course you can, what would you like to know,” Mark responded.
“I like your Pjs, well nightshirt, its lovely and looks so comfortable. Do you wear them all the time in bed, and do you wear anything underneath?”
Mark had hooked Tim in the most unplanned way as he responded, “I do wear them all the time and have done so since being a child. I never liked standard Pjs, and my mother insisted we children had to wear something at night, so my sister suggested, I should try one of her nighties for a while and see if I liked it. I was about nine when I wore my sister’s nightie in a grand experiment to appease my mother I liked it so much, that my mother went out and bought me nightshirts and I have never looked back. And no, I do not normally wear anything underneath when in bed but in a setting like this I wear my tighty whities to maintain some modesty. It rather defeats the object of the exercise if you wear something underneath in bed. Why do you ask?”
“Thanks for explaining, because I really like them and perhaps, I shall ask my mother if she will buy me some,” their eyes meeting, and for a moment, the air between them crackled with something unspoken. At that point, Tim got up having satisfied himself with his questions answered.
“Goodnight Mark,” said Tim as he got up to go to bed, “I’m pleased we had that chat, and I’m pleased you are here.” Mark sat there and watched him go. “Goodnight Tim and by the way,” as a passing comment, “the only downside to a nightshirt is they will ride up your body during the night leaving you naked below the waist by the morning when you wake and weirdly, you might enjoy the sensation like I do. See you in the morning.”
“Okay, and thanks for the top tip. I hadn’t thought about that being an issue,” Tim responded before turning to walk away.
The work on the farm grew easier as the days passed, their friendship becoming as natural as the rise and fall of the sun. They discovered a shared love for swimming in the lake, the cool water a balm for their sun-kissed skin, and Tim showed Mark the hidden beauty of the farm, the quiet spots where the wildflowers grew, the secret paths through the woods, and the best place to sit and watch the stars at night.
It was during the swimming that Tim became aware of Mark’s body even though they were swimming in their tighty whities, the outline of Mark’s cock was visible under the wet cotton fabric and Tim could not get over the size of it. It was much larger than his own and Tim was curious to know what it looked like. Likewise, Mark had looked at Tim and enjoyed the view, not judging the size although left wondering.
Mark tried to talk with Tim about more personal things such as, did he like to masturbate, or did he look at porn magazines but that just caused Tim to retreat into his reclusive shell, so the conversations did not continue past the introduction stage.
One evening though, as Mark sat outside, Tim shuffled out onto the veranda in a new nightshirt. It was almost identical to one Mark had been wearing the night they had a chat, a soft cotton number in burgundy. Mark could not help but smile; it was clear that Tim had taken inspiration from his attire and had asked his mother to buy some.
"What?" Tim said, looking down at himself, self-conscious. “What’s wrong?”
"It's just," Mark began, "I’m surprised she bought them for you, you must have made quite a sales pitch, and you look good in it," Mark said, meaning it. The nightshirt brought out the colour in Tim's cheeks and made his eyes seem bluer in the fading light.
“I asked mum to buy them because you had said they are comfortable and,” Tim rolled his eyes. "She's been trying to get me to wear something other than the old holey t-shirts that I normally wear accompanied by my tighty whities. It wasn’t hard for her to agree as she has seen how good they look on you and she likes you. She told me when we chatted about my request."
Mark was chuffed that Linda liked him even though he had had, very little in the way of conversation with her since arriving, “Great, I am delighted and welcome to the club,” Mark responded wondering if Tim was wearing anything underneath as he came to sit next to Mark on the swinging chair.
The tension between them grew thicker, a silent acknowledgement of their growing closeness. Mark felt his heart race, the air thick with unspoken desires. He took a deep breath and leaned back in the swing chair, trying to ease the moment. "So, you are ready for bed just like me. We could almost play a game of snap but only if you are wearing tighty whities underneath."
Tim did not respond to that quip, but Mark could tell, his comment had broken the ice between the two of them as he saw Tim blush. Perhaps he wasn’t wearing anything underneath Mark thought t when Linda came outside with two cups of hot chocolate greeting them both, “I see you are ready for bed boys,” her smile providing reassurance that the nightshirts had her approval, “Enjoy the hot drink before bedtime boys and don’t forget to take the cups back to the kitchen when finished and Tim, I just want to say, you look lovely in the nightshirt, much better than those dreadful t-shirts you have refused to throw away until now and Mark, you look good wearing them too.”
“Thank you, Mrs J, for the compliment,” was all Mark could say to that.
They sat there in friendly silence, swinging back and forth to the gentle rhythm of evening sounds, the distant hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Mark's hand hovered over Tim's thigh, and with a gentle touch, he placed it there, testing the waters. Tim did not flinch, his eyes never leaving the horizon. Mark felt a jolt of excitement and a sudden sense of rightness as he gently repositioned his touch, just to see if a response was forthcoming.
Encouraged, Mark's hand slid further up Tim's leg, the fabric of the nightshirt soft against his skin. Tim's breathing grew shallower, his eyes flicking towards Mark before returning to the view. Mark's heart was a drum in his chest, his mind racing with what this touch could mean. The warmth of Tim's skin under his palm was intoxicating, and he longed to explore more.
Mark leaned in closer, their knees brushing together. He could feel Tim's pulse-quickening under his fingertips, the silent invitation to bridge the gap between them. He took it, moving his hand to Tim's hand, their fingers entwining.
For a moment, they sat like that, their hands joined, their hearts beating, coordinated with the creaks of the veranda swing. Tim's voice broke the silence, low and tentative.
"What are you doing?"
Mark took a deep breath. "Nothing much, just trying to reassure you that all is okay. What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Tim's eyes searched Mark's face, looking for reassurance. "I... I don’t know," he admitted, “but if you wish to continue, it’s nice and I’m enjoying the feeling.”
They sat there, their hands clasped, the weight of their unspoken words heavy between them. The evening grew darker, and the stars began to twinkle above as if waiting for them to make their next move. Mark let go of Tim’s hand, feeling the need to test the waters a bit more by returning to Tim’s thigh. This time though, pulling the hem further up his thigh and slipped his hand underneath, playing more with the bare skin he now had access to.
Still, no complaint from Tim as his hand travelled further up his thigh until Mark could feel the first strands of his pubic hair and then, with deafening silence still abound, he felt the head of his cock and started to play. Tim was not wearing his trusty tighty whities.
Tim opened his legs slightly, an unconscious move or deliberate, Mark could not decide but it was quite apparent that Tim was allowing Mark to explore.
Mark explored a little more and visually, he could see that Tim was aroused as his cock pushed the fabric of his nightshirt. Mark could also tell that Tim was circumcised which excited him more, just like him he thought. He could also feel the precum from his cock and played with that for a while until he thought, enough for one evening, retreating to the safety of his thigh again while his other hand took Tim’s hand for a simple embrace.
All the time, Linda watched from the window, hidden by the darkness of no light in the kitchen, silently praying that this moment might become something more for her son. She saw what Mark had done and watched her son for any signs of retreat and rejection and there being nothing untoward, she smiled knowing that Tim was interested in Mark.
With a deep breath, Mark leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving Tim's. He felt Tim's hand tighten around his, a silent affirmation that gave him the courage to close the distance between them. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss; the first spark of a connection that had been smouldering since the first time they met.
The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as they both gave into the feelings that had been building like a storm inside them. Tim's hand found its way to Mark's face, his touch gentle, almost reverent. Mark's hand slid up Tim's arm, feeling the warmth of his skin, and the rapid beat of his heart under his fingertips. Tim was responsive to this approach as he kissed Mark without any hesitation.
When they finally broke apart, it was with a shared gasp for air. They sat there, their foreheads touching, their breath mingling in the stillness. The world outside had faded away, leaving only the sound of their racing hearts.
"I've liked you for a while," Mark murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "But I didn't want to push you."
Tim's eyes searched Mark's, a mix of wonder and fear. "I like you too," he admitted. "But I didn't know if you felt the same."
“I do feel the same and I want to take this further, slowly if you like, at your speed,” Mark said. “Did you like my exploring you Tim, did it turn you on?”
“I have never done this before, and I don’t quite know what to do,” Tim responded.
“That is okay Tim, neither do I but it feels right and that is all that is necessary.”
They sat there, their hearts racing in unison, the warmth of their bodies a beacon in the cool evening air. The kiss had changed everything, and yet somehow, it had changed nothing. They were still the same two boys, finding their way in their new feelings.
"We don't have to tell anyone," Mark said softly. Tim nodded in agreement; it was their secret for the time being. Linda on the other hand, had witnessed this first positive move and smiled to herself as she left the boys to the private moment.
And with that, the two of them stood, hand in hand, having finished their hot chocolate they kissed each other again, this time aware that they were both aroused with noticeable erections pushing out the cotton fabric of their nightshirts. “Goodnight Tim,” kissing him again. “Goodnight Mark,” as Tim’s hand for the first time slid up Mark’s thigh to gently embrace his buttock. The touch was the act of growing confidence and desire and did not go unmissed as they broke apart and returned to the house for bedtime.
Their daytime walks became easy, and Tim’s shyness disappeared when he talked about the wildlife and the fauna and flora of the farm. Tim would even smell the flowers and would actively encourage Mark to do the same and casual glances of friendship were exchanged during these magical moments along with the odd gentle kiss on the lips, a silent but physical act that spoke volumes about their growing relationship. Playing though became less often, and Mark wondered if he had overstepped the mark whereby Tim felt uncomfortable.
As they sat on the veranda swing after an enjoyable day exploring the farm and its hidden secrets, Tim finally found the words to speak the truth that had been hovering just out of reach. "Can I tell you something?"
"Of course," Mark said, his heart racing.
Tim took a deep breath. "I think I might be, in love with you."
Mark felt the world tilt slightly on its axis. He hadn’t suspected it, but hearing it aloud was something entirely different. He searched Tim's eyes, looking for any sign of doubt or uncertainty. But all he saw was hope and vulnerability.
"Tim," Mark said, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I might be too and my time with you so far has been wonderful and so relaxed."
And with that confession, the dam broke, and they were in each other's arms, the weight of the world lifted from their shoulders. They kissed, tentative at first like the previous kisses that had been exchanged, and then with a passion that neither had ever experienced before.
Their kissing deepened, the warmth of it spreading through Mark's body like wildfire. As the stars twinkled above, they made a silent pact to navigate the complexities of their newfound feelings together. Linda had also taken to secretively watching the boys as they spent time on the swinging chair, ever hopeful of spying a change between them. That evening her patience was rewarded and she turned away from the window, an incredibly happy mother knowing that her and Joe’s plan was working. The romance was beginning to blossom.
The next day, after a breakfast filled with knowing glances and secret smiles, Mark suggested they visit the wildflower field Tim had shown him earlier. It was a place that held a particular beauty, where the colours of the flowers seemed to dance in the gentle breeze, and the only sounds were the rustle of leaves and the distant call of a lone cricket. "We should go there," Mark said, his voice low and earnest. "It's perfect for talking."
Tim's cheeks flushed at the idea, but he nodded eagerly. They both knew what Mark was asking, for a chance to explore the depths of their feelings without the watchful eyes of the farm. "I'd like that," Tim said, his voice barely above a whisper. They both changed into their work clothes, shorts and t-shirts and set off toward the field, their boots kicking up clouds of dust as they went.
From the veranda, Joe and Linda watched them go with a mix of fondness and apprehension. They had seen the bond forming between their son and Mark, the way their laughter carried across the fields, the way they looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. They had hoped for this moment, the moment when Tim might finally find the courage to live his truth and Linda’s reports to Joe on the boys and their evening conversations added to their aspirations.
The wildflower field was a kaleidoscope of colour, a riot of blossoms that stretched as far as the eye could see. They walked in companionable silence, their fingertips brushing together, until they reached the centre. The air was thick with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the sky above was a canvas of pinks and oranges. Tim took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his secret lift just a little. "I've never felt like this before," he said, his voice shaking.
Mark turned to him; his eyes filled with understanding. "Neither have I," he admitted. "But it's okay. We're here, and we're together."
They sat down in the soft grass, their legs touching, and held hands. The words they had held in for so long tumbled out in a rush. Tim listened, his heart swelling with each word, knowing that he had found in Mark someone who truly saw him.
As they lay there in the grass, the warmth of their bodies melding together, Mark kissed him knowing their feelings were real. They kissed again, the sweetness of the moment stealing their breath away as Mark's hand found its way under Tim's t-shirt, feeling the softness of his skin and the hardness of his nipples.
The farm grew quiet around them, the only sound the gentle hum of the crickets. Tim's hand found its way to Mark's shorts, mimicking the action, his fingers brushing against the warm skin of his thigh, playfully pulling strands of leg hair as Mark's heart raced, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
"Is this, okay?" Tim murmured against his lips.
"More than okay," Mark replied, his voice a hoarse whisper.
Tim's fingers grew bolder, slipping under the waistband of Mark's shorts feeling his tighty whities to trace the firm outline of his erection. The fabric was thin, and Mark could feel the heat of Tim's touch through it, sending shivers down his spine. They had both been dancing around their desires, afraid of what might happen if they gave in. But here, in the wildflower field, with the grass and flowers wrapping around them like a warm blanket, there was no room for fear.
Tim's heart hammered in his chest as he felt Mark's hand mirroring his actions, sliding under his shorts to find his erection. The sensation was electric, a silent declaration of want and need that went beyond words. They moved together in a silent dance of exploration; each touch a question and every gasp an answer.
Tim's fingertips brushed against the tip of Mark's cock, and Mark's hips bucked involuntarily. The feeling was so intense, so new, that Tim could not help but smile against Mark's neck, his teeth grazing the skin lightly. "You like that?" Tim asked his voice husky with desire.
"God, yes," Mark moaned, his hand now moving in slow, deliberate strokes along Tim's shaft. The air grew heavy with their mingled breaths and the scent of arousal. It was a heady mix that intoxicated them both, pushing them closer and closer to the edge.
They lay there, entwined in the soft grass, each touch and kiss a promise of more to come. Tim leaned back, looking up at Mark, his eyes filled with a mix of wonder and desire. "I want you," he said, the words barely audible.
"I want you too," Mark whispered back, his hand still caressing Tim's cock.
With trembling fingers, Tim reached for the hem of Mark's shirt and began to lift it, revealing the toned abdominal muscles and muscular chest that had been hidden beneath. Mark helped him, his breath hitching as the fabric grazed his skin. The sight of Tim's eyes widening with excitement was all the encouragement he needed.
Once Mark's shirt was off, Tim leaned in, placing gentle kisses along his stomach, feeling the muscles quiver beneath his lips. His hand slid down to grip the waistband of Mark's shorts and gently pushed his shorts down and off. Now, Tim could see the tighty whities hiding the erection he so wanted to see and hold. With a gentle tug, he rolled off Mark and positioned himself between his legs, his gaze fixed on the prize before him.
Mark's cock was a beautiful thing, long, thick, and hard, straining against the thin cotton of his tighty whities. Tim could see the outline of the head, the fabric damp with pre-cum leaking through the material at increased levels. He leaned in closer, his heart racing, and pressed a soft kiss to the fabric-covered tip. Mark's hips jerked, and he let out a low groan.
With a sense of wonder, Tim took the head of Mark's cock into his mouth, the fabric a barrier that only served to heighten the sensation. He could feel Mark's pulse against his lips, the heat of his arousal, and he knew he was doing something incredibly intimate. Mark's hands found Tim's hair, tangling in the soft strands, guiding him closer, urging him on.
Tim's hands trembled as he reached down to peel the tighty whities away, revealing Mark's cock in all its glory. Just short of eight inches and circumcised. It was beautiful to behold being the first time he had seen one up close, the first time he had felt the weight of it in his hand. He took a moment to simply look, to memorise every inch of him. Then, with a newfound sense of confidence, he leaned in and took Mark into his mouth, the warm, wet heat enveloping him.
Mark's moan was all the encouragement Tim needed. He began to suck, tentative at first, but growing bolder with each passing moment. The taste was new, salty, and slightly sweet, and it only served to fuel his desire. He felt Mark's hand tighten in his hair, the grip firm but not painful, as Mark lost himself in the sensation.
The field was alive with the sounds of their passion, the rustle of grass, and the steady rhythm of Tim's mouth on Mark's cock. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other's embrace.
Tim's eyes never left Mark's face, watching the play of pleasure and need as he worked him closer and closer to climax. Mark's eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, his breath coming in ragged gasps. And when he finally came, it was with a roar that echoed through the farm, his seed spilling into Tim's eager mouth as he tried to take it all but Mark was well endowed with matching testicles as he pumped cum into Tim’s mouth in huge spurts that started to dribble down Tim’s face.
Tim sat back not being able to take any more, licking his lips, feeling a sense of power and satisfaction that was entirely new to him. Mark’s cock had not finished pumping his fluid as it started to dribble down his shaft settling in the pubic hair at the base Tim turned his attention to the leakage, playing with it and licking it all up as much he could.
Mark lay there, panting, his chest heaving with exertion as his hands started to push Tim back onto his back settling in the grass. "Your turn," Mark murmured, his hand reaching for Tim's shorts as Mark changed position to kneel at Tim’s feet.
Their roles reversed, Mark took his time, savouring the moment as he revealed Tim's cock to the daytime air. He stroked Tim gently, watching the young man's face contort with pleasure, twisting with fun his nipples, gently using his fingers to scratch his stomach and chest with the lightest but most sensual touch.
Mark continued his journey down Tim’s body, stopping to play with his belly button and then lower still to twist and play with his pubic hair, his erection fully grown waiting to be enveloped in Mark’s mouth. Tim was feeling the tension in his body as Mark licked his circumcised cock at the tip, and then he slid his mouth down all the way, and he started to suck him for the first time. Mark’s rhythm was poetry as he slowly edged Tim towards his growing climax. Tim could feel the excitement of his growing tension as he grew closer and closer to his release. And when it came, it was like watching a star being born, a moment of pure beauty that filled Mark's soul with warmth. Mark took it all enjoying the salty taste as it slipped down his throat, but Mark refused to stop as Tim edged even further into the ecstasy of the prolonged orgasm.
Mark was spent as he collapsed onto Tim who lay there feeling dizzy and satisfied, as Mark kissed Tim again with the sincerity of absolute passion and love. They had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, but in doing so, they had found a connection that was more profound than anything either of them had ever known.
Tim looked up at Mark, his heart racing. He had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, and yet, with Mark, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He reached down, his hand shaking slightly, and found Mark's cock, already beginning to harden again. "I want you," Tim whispered in Mark's ear, his voice barely above a breath. "I want you to take me."
Mark's eyes widened with surprise, but the love he felt for Tim washed away any doubt or fear. He rolled onto his side, his hand still playing with the soft blond curls surrounding Tim's cock. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.
Tim nodded; his eyes filled with a determination that Mark had not seen before. "Yes," he said firmly. "I've never been surer of anything. I want to feel you inside me."
They kissed, long and deep, as Mark's hand slid lower, caressing Tim's ass, feeling the heat and softness of his skin. He slid a finger down Tim's crack, feeling the tightness of his hole, the promise of what was to come. Tim shivered, his body reacting instinctively to Mark's touch. He knew it would hurt, but the love in Mark's eyes made it feel right, made him feel safe.
Slowly, carefully, Mark began to prep Tim, his finger sliding in and out, loosening him up using his saliva for lubricant. Tim's breath hitched with every movement, a mix of pleasure and pain that grew more intense with every passing second. "Relax," Mark murmured, his voice a soothing balm. "You're doing so well."
Tim nodded, his eyes squeezed shut, focusing on the feeling of Mark's touch. The pain grew, but so did the pleasure, until it was all a delicious mix of sensation. And then, with a final deep breath, Mark slid in, filling Tim.
They moved together, their rhythm grew faster, more urgent, the slap of skin on skin. Tim's nails dug into Mark's back, leaving little half-moons that Mark welcomed as badges of passion. Tim's legs wrapped around Mark's waist, urging him deeper, his hips rising to meet each thrust. Mark could feel Tim's body opening to him, the tension in his muscles giving way to the pleasure that Mark brought. His hand found Tim's cock, stroking in time with their rhythm, feeling the pulse of desire that matched his own. Tim's moans grew louder, a symphony of pleasure that was music to Mark's ears.
Mark's hand tightened around Tim's cock, his thumb circling the sensitive head, feeling the precursor of his release. Tim's eyes were screwed shut, his teeth clenched, his body a live wire of passion. Mark knew he was close, could feel the tremors starting to build in Tim's legs, the way his body tensed around him.
And then it happened, Tim's body arched in the grass, a sound of pure ecstasy ripping from his throat. His cock pulsed in Mark's hand, hot jets of cum spurting out to cover both their stomachs. The sight and feel of it sent Mark over the edge as well, his orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave. He thrust deep inside Tim, feeling his ass clench around him, milking every drop. They came together in a symphony of pleasure, their bodies joined in a way that was more intimate than any friendship could ever be.
For a moment, they lay there, panting, and sweaty, the aftershocks of their climax rippling through them. Mark's cock remained buried inside Tim, the connection between them still strong, still palpable. He kissed Tim's neck, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling the racing pulse beneath his lips.
Tim's eyes remained closed, a smile playing on his lips. "Is that what it's like?" he murmured.
"What?" Mark asked, still catching his breath, his forehead resting on Tim's shoulder.
Tim's cheeks flushed; his eyes still closed. "Is that what it's supposed to be like?"
Mark chuckled softly, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. "Yeah," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Tim's neck. "That's what it's like." He felt a warm sense of satisfaction, knowing he had given Tim that kind of experience, that he had been the one to show him this part of himself.
They lay there in the grass, entwined in each other's arms, the scent of sex and sweat mingling with the sweetness of the wildflowers. As the afternoon sunshine cooled a little, they drifted into a peaceful slumber, the sound of each other's breathing a gentle lullaby only to wake up as the first darkness of dusk found them still wrapped in their makeshift blanket of love, their bodies fitting together as if they had been made for this moment. They stirred as the sun began to set realising; they had to return to the home soon for dinner. Linda and Joe would be waiting for them.
They kissed again, tenderly, before reluctantly pulling on their clothes, the fabric sticky and damp with the evidence of their passion. Hand in hand, they made their way back to the house, the dew-kissed grass cool under their bare feet.
Tim's heart raced as they approached the veranda, where he knew his parents would be waiting. He squeezed Mark's hand, his nerves a tangible force between them. They had talked about this moment, the fear of rejection and the hope for acceptance. But as they climbed the steps and saw Joe and Linda sitting there, sipping coffee, watching the sunset, the reality was so much more potent.
Linda looked up from her mug, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she took in the sight of her son, hand in hand with Mark. Joe's gaze followed, and the unspoken question hung in the air. Tim took a deep breath, the words on the tip of his tongue, but it was Mark who broke the silence. "We talked," he said simply. "A lot."
Joe and Linda exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions unreadable. But then Joe leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm guessing it was more than just talking," he said, his voice gruff but kind.
Linda set her coffee down, her hand reaching out to Tim. "Are you okay, honey?" she asked, her voice filled with a mother's concern.
Tim nodded, feeling the tightness in his chest ease slightly. "More than okay," he said, squeezing Mark's hand.
The tension on the veranda was heavy, but it was Mark who spoke next. "Tim told me about how you guys know he's gay," he said, his voice strong and steady. "And I just want you to know that I'm here for him, to help him in any way I can and not for you to worry about, Tim will be fine.”
Joe and Linda looked at each other, the unspoken conversation between them speaks volumes. Finally, Linda nodded. "We just want him to be happy," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "And if you can help him with that, then you're welcome here."
They went inside, hand in hand, and the warmth of the house enveloped them. The smell of dinner beckoned them both as Tim's stomach rumbled in response. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, a weight he had not even realized was there until that moment. His parents had not just accepted him; they had embraced him fully.
