Page 18 of One Hot Summer

I stripped him out of his trunks and slid my wet fingers back in his crease, tapping at his entrance.

He gasped when I pressed inside, tightening around me, head thrown back, eyes shut.

I prepped him quickly, then pulled my trunks down just enough to let my cock spring free.

It slapped against my stomach, reaching for my navel and I held it steady as he sank down, inch by inch, until I was buried to the root.

He whimpered, nails digging into my shoulders, legs shaking with effort.

I held still at first, letting him set the pace.

He kissed me, sloppy and raw, biting and sucking on collarbone.

Marks that could easily be covered up by my shirt, hidden from everyone else, leaving their existence a shared secret between the two of us.

It felt forbidden, naughty, and I fucking loved it!

I reached between us and stroked his cock, feeling it jump in my hand, slick and hot.

He was close, I could feel it, and I wanted to see him fall apart.

I sped up, lifting my hips and thrusting harder, the slap of our bodies drowned out by the sound of the river.

He started to tremble, then came with a strangled cry, shooting over my fist and onto his own stomach.

The way his body clenched around me sent me over the edge, and I came hard, hips jerking, teeth sunk into his shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close while we caught our breath, the sound of water and birds filling the silence. “That was…” he started, but trailed off, laughing.

“Inspired?” I offered.

He snorted. “Quick and dirty. But yeah, inspired too.”

We spent the next few hours floating along the river, the water cool on our backs and the sun warm on our faces. We shared a picnic lunch and talked about everything and nothing. It was the perfect day.

We made dinner together that night, Adam chopping vegetables with terrifying precision while I grilled chicken on the deck.

He kept sneaking up behind me, pressing himself to my back, kissing my neck as if he couldn’t keep his hands off me.

Trust me, I knew the feeling. The more time I spent with Adam, the more I wanted him.

I was insatiable when it came to my son’s best friend.

We ate outside, watching the last of the daylight slip away behind the ridge line.

Adam drank three glasses of wine, got giggly, and spent most of dinner trying to convince me to move to Spain and open a bed and breakfast. I pretended to be horrified, but the idea of running away with him didn’t sound half bad.

When the plates were cleared, he pulled me into the kitchen, shoved me up against the counter, and kissed me hard. “Now what?” I asked, breathless.

“Now I want dessert,” he said, and dropped to his knees.

I was already half-hard from the anticipation, but he took his time, teasing me through the fabric of my pants, licking and sucking until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I grabbed his hair and fucked his mouth, slow at first, then faster, using him until I came, painting the back of his throat.

He swallowed every drop, then stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Mmm. Yummy,” he said, voice smug.

I spun him around, bent him over the island, and yanked his shorts down to his ankles.

He was already leaking, his cock hard and flushed, and I couldn’t resist the temptation.

I spread his cheeks and licked him, slow and dirty, tongue swirling around his hole.

He moaned, low and desperate, gripping the granite until his knuckles went white.

I tongued him for a long time, savoring the taste, the way he trembled under me.

When I finally slid two fingers in, he nearly lost it, hips rutting against the counter, begging for more.

“Please,” he whined. “I need you. Fuck me, please?—”

Spitting in my hand, I stroked my length until I was nice and slick.

I lined up and slid in, fucking him slow, savoring the sight of his tight hole taking every inch of my cock.

The kitchen was flooded with the smell of sex, sweat, and wine, and the faint tang of garlic from the meal we’d just eaten.

I jerked him off as I fucked him, wanting to see him come again, to hear the way he said my name when he fell apart.

He didn’t disappoint. He came all over the front of the cabinets, shouting my name, his whole body seizing before it finally went limp.

I finished inside him, then pulled him back upright and kissed him, tasting the wine on his lips.

We collapsed onto the floor, tangled in each other, laughing at the mess we’d made.

“You’re such a pervert,” he said, eyes shining.

I kissed his forehead. “Only for you.”

We stayed there a long time, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten. I didn’t know what would happen when we went back to reality. I didn’t care. For now, this was enough.

The next morning, Adam woke up with a slight hangover, still smelling like sex, which, according to him, was the best way to wake up on vacation. I found him in the kitchen, shirtless, hair wild, chugging a glass of water.

He smiled, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ready for another adventure today?”

I raised an eyebrow as I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“Something more thrilling than tubing, but less scary than horseback riding.”

“Horseback riding isn’t scary,” I argued.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Says the man who was riding a docile pony. Meanwhile, my horse wanted to throw me off. Trust me, there was a murderous gleam in his eyes.”

I tossed my head back and laughed. “Okay, no more murderous horses. What would you like to do today?”

He slid his phone across the counter. On the screen was an ad for four-wheeler rentals: ALL-TERRAIN ADVENTURE! MUD, SPEED, GLORY.

I grinned, immediately on board. “You know how to ride one of those?”

He shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

I set my cup down and kissed him, savoring the taste of him on my tongue. “Let’s do it,” I said, and meant it.

We spent the morning at the rental place, which was run by a retired rodeo clown who wore a tie-dyed bandana and a mesh shirt.

He gave us a crash course in four-wheeler safety, which mostly consisted of “don’t die” and “don’t bring it back with blood on the seat.

” Then he handed us helmets, goggles, and some aggressively neon vests.

It occurred to me that this was the third time in as many days that we’d had to sign a waiver saying we wouldn’t sue if we were injured or killed… and yet, I’d never felt more alive. Of course, that had little to do with the chosen activities and everything to do with the man beside me.

Adam picked the biggest, meanest ATV on the lot and revved it like a demon. I climbed on behind him, arms tight around his waist, and let him take the lead. We roared down the trail, engine howling, dirt and rocks spraying behind us.

The first mile was pure adrenaline, the wind in our faces, the scent of pine and gasoline mixing in my nose. Adam whooped, taking corners too fast, grinning back at me every few seconds like he couldn’t believe his luck.

We hit a patch of mud and almost wiped out, but he righted us at the last second, laughing like a maniac. “Try not to kill us, okay?” I yelled in his ear.

He leaned back into me, speaking over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’d never hurt you.” Warmth filled my chest. I had a feeling he was talking about more than just the ATV.

We spent hours exploring the trails, stopping at every overlook and taking selfies with our faces smeared in mud.

Sometimes I drove, but mostly I just held on, resting my chin on his shoulder, watching the world blur by.

At a break spot overlooking a clear mountain lake, he cut the engine and peeled off his helmet.

He was flushed, sweat shining on his brow, hair a disaster of helmet-matted spikes. I wanted him so bad my teeth hurt.

He flopped onto the grass, stretching like a cat, and patted the ground beside him. I lay down next to him and watched the clouds reflected in the water. “I’m having the time of my life,” Adam said, suddenly serious. I looked over, searching his face for sarcasm, but there was none.

“I mean it,” he said, rolling onto his side to face me.

“I’ve never felt this… free. I’ve never had someone who made me want to take stupid risks or do insane things just to make them laugh.

I’ve always had to worry about everything, money, food, where I was going to live, not getting into any trouble, so maybe they’d keep me around a little bit longer.

But this last week with you… I feel like the person I was always supposed to be. ”

I touched his cheek, traced the line of his jaw. “I’ve never felt this either,” I admitted, surprising myself. “Not ever.”

He leaned in and kissed me, soft and slow, our bodies pressed together in the sun-warmed grass.

He tasted like sweat and hope and something else I wasn’t quite ready to name.

I rolled him under me, pinning him with my weight, and kissed him again, deeper this time.

His hands roamed my back, nails scraping over my skin, pulling me closer.

I slipped a hand under his shirt, palming the hard muscle of his stomach. He arched up, hips grinding against mine, and I felt his cock, hard and eager. “I need you,” I whispered.

He nodded, breathless. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

We stripped off our pants, slow and clumsy, pausing only to check for hikers or wildlife.

When he was naked under me, I knelt between his thighs, hands splayed on his hips.

I flattened my tongue and ran it up the side of his cock, tasting salt and sun, then took him into my mouth, working him until he was panting, fists tangled in my hair.

I lubed him with spit, two fingers working him open, then held his legs up while I pushed my way inside.

He gasped, eyes wild, mouth open in a perfect O.

We fucked like animals, hard and desperate, dirt and sweat and grass stains painting our bodies.

I held his ankles, spreading him wide, watching the way he took every inch, every thrust. He looked obscene and perfect, eyes unfocused, cheeks flushed, body shivering with need.

He came first, shouting my name, shooting over his stomach and chest. The sight of it undid me, and I followed, pouring into him, hips stuttering as I gave him every last drop.

After, we lay tangled in each other, catching our breath. I cleaned him off with my shirt, then pulled him close, burying my face in his neck. “You’re fucking incredible,” I said, words muffled.

He laughed, the sound raw and happy. “You too, old man.”

I bit his shoulder, playful. “You’re the one who’s going to need a walker when I’m done with you.”

He winced as if proving my point. “I think you’re right. I have been feeling a bit bow-legged, but I was hoping it was just the horseback riding.” We dressed, still laughing, and rode the four-wheeler back to the rental place.

That night, we soaked in the hot tub, a bottle of wine balanced on the edge, steam rising in the cool mountain air.

Adam sat across from me, his arms stretched out over the edge and a serene expression on his face.

We talked endlessly, never seeming to run out of things to say.

We talked about the future, the past, the weirdness of feeling so right in a place we barely knew.

He told me about his first foster family, about the night he ran away and slept in a park, about the way it felt to always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I told him how I’d discovered my wife’s infidelity, about Dalton’s first heartbreak, about the secret loneliness that crept in after the divorce.

He listened, really listened, like no one ever had.

And when I was done, he cupped my face and kissed me tenderly, like he was promising I’d never be alone again.

The wine went fast, and soon we were kissing in the bubbles, bodies slick and hot, hands roaming under the water. I urged him to sit on the edge of the hot tub and sucked him until he came in thick salty ropes down my throat, not needing anything in return.

After, we sat in silence, his head on my shoulder, my arm around him. I watched the sky, the endless sprawl of stars, and realized I hadn’t thought about work or responsibility or anything but him for days. I was falling for him. Hard.