So Paul and I were lovers. It was hard for both of us to believe the next day as we continued our journey home. We'd awaken in the night and continued our lovemaking, and had another eventful shower in the morning just before checking out of the motel.

As we drove along the snowy highway, the trailer wobbling behind us we talked about the meaning of what had happened. How would we deal with it? What were we going to do now? What was the next step? It was exciting, and frightening--I think more so for Paul than me. I knew that my marriage was secure, that Chris would understand. Paul was in no such position. His wife was a bitch, no doubt about it, with not a shred of understanding for homosexuals. If he were to be honest with her, our secret would be all over town in a moment and a divorce would be in the works immediately. I was not interested in the rest of my small town knowing this secret, but at the same time, I felt sorry for him having to deal with his home life.

For me, I knew I could go home and tell my wife everything, fully certain that she'd be understanding and supportive, but Paul was nervous about Chris being in on our secret, so I promised him I'd keep quiet. I didn't like this much, but I also understood his position. It would take him a while to work through the whole thing, and knowing that Chris knew about it too would just complicate things for him. So, against my own leanings, I agreed to leave my wife out of the loop. It would be a loop of two. Paul and me.

All of what I've just written took miles and miles to discuss and hammer out and compromise and consider. And part of the time we spent talking about sex. How fun it had been. How right it had seemed. For him, it was like a new world. Well, me too, but in a different way. I had had a great sex life--he hadn't. He could not quite believe where things were going. For me, it was more like, wow, that was cool, way more cool than I ever thought it would be. I want more.

And I decided to talk openly about stuff. I told him that he was going to fuck me, and that I was going to love it. I'd never had a man's hard cock in me, but my wife and I had played with all sorts of brush handles, vegetables, and sex toys, and I knew my ass was open to suggestion. Paul's thick cock would fit in there nicely, I knew, and I was sure he'd be fun to fuck, fun to teach to fuck, fun to learn to be fucked by. In my mind, it was like I'd already done it, I just hadn't done it well, and now I had the means to do it right. I could hardly wait.

As we talked, we threw around the idea of stopping for another night, but in the end decided it would be best to just get home, get things settled, and take it from there. Reluctantly, we agreed to keep driving past the all the Best Westerns, the Red Roof Inns, and the Microtels, which seemed to be calling us their direction. It was hard to be talking about what we were going to do in bed next time, and turning down the opportunity to do it. I did lean over and unzip his pants, suck his cock and squeeze his balls, and get us all horny as hell again though. It was like arguing against yourself in court: "No, we're not going to stop at a hotel, here, let me suck you off and tease you some more." So we looked for, and eventually found a wayside and parked way back in the darkest corner and sucked each other off again all the way. It was nice. I loved the taste of that man right away, and it was just as good watching him swallow his second load ever. He took it like a man.

When we got to his garage, we unloaded the trailer, and went our separate ways--after a few dozen or so long passionate kisses, gropes, and licks.

As I got into bed with my wife that night it took all my willpower not to tell her about what had occurred over the past few days. I really didn't like hiding it from her, especially as I knew she'd be okay with it. We talked in the dark for a long while, like we usually do after one of us has returned from a trip, and I told her nothing but the G-rated version of the trip. Felt a little shitty about it.

Over the course of the next few weeks Paul and I ran into the reality of trying to have an affair, trying to hide what you're feeling and living. It's not easy. And it was frustrating too. The first day Chris went off to work, Paul came to my house and we got in bed, but it wasn't right for either of us. We wanted to...but couldn't. It just seemed like the wrong place, the wrong time.

We decided to go down to the garage, and do regular stuff, but there was a strain there too, like a gorilla in the room, or in this case, the big old bear I guess.

A few weeks passed where we just kept to ourselves; we talked on the phone a bit, but played it really cool. He was real skittish about coming over to my house to go to bed with me, and I have to agree--it just felt strange. And I didn't want to hang out at the garage and feel the tension. But, as time passed, we got back to where we had been before the trip West. I spent a few hours at the garage somewhere over the course of the day along with Paul and his employees. No sex, but everything as it had been.

When we did find some time alone to talk, we tried to figure out the hows and wheres and whens of getting together. Just because we'd found each other didn't mean it was all a drop kick from here. Now we had to start scheming, and neither of us liked that aspect of it. Yes, my house was available, but for a variety of reasons, it just wasn't feeling right to either of us. Believe me, we tried, but the freedom to let it all out just wasn't there. He'd come over a few times, and we had a little fun, but the feeling there was that we weren't quite...alone somehow.

By this time, it was getting on toward the fall hunting season. Paul had never been a hunter. I had hunted all my life. My dad taught me how, and I had brought up all my kids to hunt, and my wife came from a hunting family too. I have a little cabin way up north where we go for hunting, and now and then for just a plain old getaway. It's a long drive for just a weekend away, but it can be worth it. One summer I spent nearly a month there mostly by myself. It's a snug little cabin my kids and I built, about the size of a small garage, and as the kids grew up, we kept making the place better and better. It seemed like the obvious place for Paul and I to get some quality time, but as I said, he had never hunted, so it was a little awkward for him to tell the wife that he was going to go deer hunting for the first time in his life. We were both a little concerned about this, but as it turns out, she really didn't give it a thought. She just told him that she wasn't going to eat anything he brought home. Okay, fine.

I could say plenty more about Paul's wife, but I won't.

We decided to go up there well ahead of opening day to cut some shooting lanes and so on, and...well, you know why we needed to get up there early.

We took off early one morning after squaring everything away at the garage, at home and after accounting for everyone in my family for the weekend. The last thing I wanted was for my daughter and her boyfriend to show up unexpectedly. Everything was good, and we finally headed out of town, towing my old battered duck boat along behind.

It was a long horny drive up there. I've been going to my cabin for years, and it's never seemed like a longer drive than that time. Paul and I avoided conversations which might lead to a wayside visit, and he kept his hands pretty much to himself as I drove. Well...pretty much.

My cabin isn't the sort of place you drive right to and park in a driveway. It's more secluded than that. I got the land from a guy who needed money fast and was selling stuff in a hurry. This piece of property butts right up against a National Forest. The closest you can get to it is three quarters of a mile away by car. Then you park and walk an old logging trail. Another option is putting in a few miles away at a nearby town, and taking a boat ride down river. This time we had the boat loaded with equipment for an extended stay, so at the boat landing we just backed the thing right into the water, ready to head out.

We are both raring to go, by this time believe me, and of course, what happens? I run into a guy I know from town, a good guy, and so we have to shoot the breeze for a good long while, as Paul and I are starting to sizzle in our shorts. I wonder if this guy can feel the tension in the air or not, because I sure can. I can hardly wait to get in that boat, motor down stream and get into Paul's pants, but we have to do the huntin' and fishin' report stuff, and talk about the thirty point buck that's been seen on so and so' s back forty and.....man it dragged on and on and on. This guy can talk, I think he's a little lonely, a bit of a local character, and once he gets going man, it's hard to extract yourself from a conversation. He had us there at the boat ramp, and he just wasn't letting go. It's still funny to me as I think about it now. I had to introduce him to Paul, and I think Paul was having a hard time formulating coherent sentences by this time. We kept on putting stuff in the boat, and then we got IN the boat and talked a long time there, and I started the motor eventually to sorta hint that we had things to do...

Finally, FINALLY we cranked up the motor an putted off down stream. Around the first bend, we looked at each other and just laughed. We laughed our asses off. I just about ran us aground we were laughing so hard. A half hour or forty five minutes of chit chat while we were thinking of nothing else but getting in bed with each other. I felt like a kid again. And it was a good icebreaker too, cause the tension was gone now, and we knew we were home free for a few days. It would be a few days of total relaxed lovemaking between two friends, two men, two lovers. God I felt good as we motored along, still laughing.

At the cabin we did the unload-the-boat thing, and then the stoke-the-stove thing, and then the make-up-the-beds thing and then finally, FINALLY we got things squared away enough to look at each other, and exchange a big bear-hug. And then we began to kiss long and slow.

He had a stubble on his cheeks that felt so right. I had kissed him a fair amount in the past few weeks--that's about all we'd done--but he was usually clean-shaven at work. Tonight there was that two day growth and it felt nice against my lips, my neck my cheek, my ears. Everywhere he turned that mouth had a little sandpaper to it and it was such a turn on I couldn't believe it. Meanwhile I was brushing his tit through the flannel of his shirt and getting that great moaning reaction out of him. His tits were the hot button that never failed, like a blow job was with me. Suck that tit a little, fondle it a bit, and he was a horny lump of putty in your hands. Hard putty. I reached down to his pants and sure enough, that cock was full and ready. Mmmm...I wanted it now. The cabin was still cold, and the beds were still freezing, so, what to do?

I dropped to my knees and unbuckled his belt. I pulled those pants down and saw the goose bumps on his thighs, but kept pulling them down anyway. I pulled his underwear down just enough to free his cock and I went to work on it. I hadn't really sucked his cock like this since Nebraska, and I just let myself go and get lost in it. I squeezed his balls just enough, and took that shaft in as far as I could go. The scent of the man was so fine too; you could tell he'd showered, because he was nice and clean, but there was an unmistakable musk-y manhood scent that was unique to Paul. I loved it. I was feeling pretty good too--no gagging on my part, no nothing. It was as if his cock belonged in my mouth in my throat, and I didn't want it anywhere else. Well, maybe I shouldn't go quite that far. I did want him to fuck me, but that would happen when the time was right, and there was no rush. As hard as it had been to get this time to ourselves, I think we both felt like there was really no rush. We had years in front of us to enjoy one another. I wasn't going anywhere, and he wasn't either.

I sucked his cock and sucked it and ran my fingers under his shirt up to his tit and rubbed it in the same rhythm that I sucked his cock. It felt so right, and I was so enjoying learning how to do this that I was shocked when he said STOP! I hadn't realized that he was going to come, and he didn't want to yet. And I didn't want him to either. I wanted to get in bed with him, and here, were were both still mostly dressed. I stood up, kissed him and said, "Get in bed." When I stood up I was dizzy, and nearly took a header into the stove. I knelt down again and started to load that stove full.

He folded the covers back but came to help me stoke the stove instead. "Good idea, let's try to warm up those sheets a bit," he said, but I didn't give a shit. I said, "Let's get in bed baby, we'll warm it up ourselves."

It had been a long time since we'd been lying side by side naked in bed, and believe me, once I had gotten a taste of that cock again I wanted more. But then lying next to him kissing him deeply, feeling his tongue on me--his naked body against me--that wasn't bad either. We were shivering from the coldness as much as from the excitement. I caressed his tit and he groaned and arched his back and threw his head back, pushing his furry chest into my face harder. Man, he loved that. I gripped his stiff thick cock with one hand and sucked his tit and nibbled it while stroking him. I loved the feeling of his curly chest hairs against my face. I straddled him to push my face right into the hairiest part, right between his tits while I rubbed my hard cock against his belly. Then, I lay on top of him and resumed kissing and squeezing his tits. I threw the covers up over us, and we pushed against each other in the darkness, our body heat warming the little tent we'd made.

I felt his hands on my chest, my tits, squeezing mine like I was squeezing his, and they traveled down to my cock, my cock that was harder than it had been in years, it seemed. He got out from under me and lay me on my back and then took my position on top kissing and tit squeezing. He said, "Man I love you, I love this, I fucking love everything now," and then he licked my tits my chest and my belly and stopped at my cock. He got himself comfortable, straddling me with his feet up toward my head, and then he began to suck my cock, and play with it and squeeze my balls and rub those whiskered lips everywhere--the tip, the shaft, the balls. Man, I just lay there watching him and telling him with my words and mostly moans how right he was making me feel. I reached down to squeeze his tit, because I know what that does to him, and he made me stop. He took my cock out of his mouth long enough to say, "No, not right now." Later on, I would learn that his tits are so sensitive that he really can't do anything else when they are being worked on. He's incapacitated with intense pleasure. He says when I am sucking his tits it's better than having his cock sucked. I can't quite figure that one out, but I totally love doing it for him, to him, with him. It's cool to know that he has a button to push like that. I licked the split between his ass cheeks and even tested the asshole itself, which he let me do, but he went back down on my cock and waved me off his ass. He took charge.

So who was I to say no? The man wanted to put his undivided attention to sucking my hard cock, and I had to bow to his wishes. And he bowed to mine, I'll tell you. Paul was not a great cocksucker yet, but the man had potential and I believe in helping everyone live up to their potential. It was sweet, to lie there in my cabin, my head propped up by a pillow and watch this hairy chunk of a man learn to suck my cock. I stroked his cock while he sucked mine, and I told him what was good, better and best, and he had a pretty good time that night as he worked on his lessons. He got long strings of precum to ooze out of me and I got to watch them dribble off his chin and drop onto his chest hairs. Later on I licked some of my own cum off of him and swallowed it. Paulie has big fat hands, work hands, nothing delicate about them, but he made them feel like the clean hands of a surgeon that night, squeezing, scratching lightly, rubbing and holding my cock like it was a prize he didn't want to let go of. He has big beefy forearms covered in nice fur, and a hairy armpit that kept winking at me as he worked.

My pleasure heightened as he unexpectedly slid a finger ever so slightly into my ass, without my, prodding, shall we say. We had talked about this and here he was taking the first step on his own. He knew I liked ass play since I'd told him about how my wife and I had explored the flip side of sex. Once I'd discovered the fun my ass could be, I had become a glutton for it. I couldn't get enough. Paul took some of my precum down and lubed my ass with it and the finger just kept on coming in further and further, while he worked my cock with his mouth and hand. I felt just like a king there on my back in the lantern light, getting such loving treatment from my man. And every time I tried to stop to give some of the same to him, he'd push me back and stroke that finger faster and harder. Finally I was just on the edge of an orgasm, and I forced him to stop. I wanted this to last longer, and I was sure he did too.

More kissing and caressing and telling one another that this was love as well as lust. I finally went down on him again to give him the same treatment he'd just given me, including the finger. This time, Paul was relaxed about it, ready for it, and open to the idea, so when my pinkie went in, he didn't jump. He just let it go in and lifted his knees up higher while I sucked that thick cock, pushed my face into his crotch hair and sent my pinkie all the way in his ass. I sucked his balls too, while gripping them tightly and rubbing my whiskered lip around them. Coupled with the pinkie in his ass and my other hand twisting one of his tits, Paulie was in ecstasy. Literally, because he suddenly blew his load into my mouth. What a load it was too, thick and creamy and more than I could swallow right away. It dripped from my mouth while I swallowed his come and that cock all the way down, sucking hard trying to get every drop. I kept his cock in my mouth for a long time and it was so incredible to listen to him moan convulsively as his cock softened and I licked the tip, and sucked it in and out of my throat, letting it almost slide all the way out of my mouth, but then sucking the softness all the way back in. He'd jump and moan, and sigh, and almost sound like he was crying.

I was so concentrated on Paul's cock that I forgot my own--probably the first time in my life I can say those words. When Paul made the move to pull himself free of me and suck me, he found me pretty soft, but still dripping. He knew what to do to remedy that situation. Soon I was getting the same treatment again, only this time he was really fucking my ass with his middle finger, and then two fingers, maybe more. I don't know. All I know is that I too shot a big wad into my baby's mouth and splattered all over his chin, and licked a lot of my own come off his face chest and chin as we lay cradled in each other's arms when we were done.

I've made love to women many times, but there's something so different and special about two men being naked together, laying themselves open to one another in that way; feeling him next to me, his hairy chest against my own, touching and rubbing his round belly and sticky cock, stroking his balls, and having him do the same to me, nestling against each other, totally relaxed, totally satisfied, and knowing that the weekend ahead held more of this, as much more as we wanted to give one another...I can truly say I've never been happier.

continue reading...  Paul and Me - Part III