A gay story: To New Beginnings Pt. 04
I reluctantly moved away from the embrace with Foster, grinning at the mess I had made. My semen was smeared along the front of us. Foster looked down at the cum matted in his chest hair and chuckled, relaxing massively, as if he could doze off any second.
I whispered, “I’ll clean you up, I’m going to the bathroom first,” thinking he would let me go without a word. Before I could climb off the bed, he grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips.
“Thank you, baby,” he whispered, and I melted at the warmth his words spread across my chest, and the tenderness in his eyes.
“Always,” I whispered back.
After I retrieved the anal plug so I could clean it, I carefully made my way to the bathroom, for I could now feel Foster’s cum oozing out of my stretched asshole. I figured it was easier to simply hop back into the shower, and with the hot water cascading over me, I washed away his semen and my own. All the while, I couldn’t hold back my grin. As I closed my eyes, I kept remembering the way Foster had looked, the way he’d felt, while he was inside me.
Once I was clean and dried off, I grabbed a washcloth and got it good and wet with warm water. Then I headed back to the bedroom where I found Foster lying on his back, sleeping softly.
When I sat on the edge of the bed, he opened his eyes and smiled. “Hey, sleepyhead,” I murmured, stroking his hair. I knew he was tired from traveling this past week, and I’d kept him busy since he’d gotten back home. While I used the washcloth to wipe his chest and belly clean, he released a contented moan.
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly. “Are you sore?”
I shook my head. “I feel absolutely fantastic,” I assured him. My gaze drifted to the window, and I could see the afternoon sun streaming through the trees outside.
Foster sat up and rubbed the back of my neck, massaging the muscles before guiding my mouth to his. We’d kissed many times before, but every one still felt, in its own way, like the very first.
“We should get outside and enjoy this beautiful day,” he suggested when we finally pulled apart.
“Sounds good,” I told him with a smile.
After we got dressed, I grabbed a couple of drinks for us from the kitchen, along with my phone. As Foster and I walked down to the dock, I looked at my phone’s screen and discovered I couldn’t get a signal. Just as well, I decided. It could all wait until after the weekend. I still wanted to get some photos of Foster, though.
Once we were settled on the dock, sitting side by side and gazing out at the water, I opened my drink and took a sip, then dared to move a little closer to Foster. I spotted an occasional boat in the distance, and at one of the houses across the lake, there seemed to be some kind of party going on, with music and laughter drifting over to us.
Glancing at my stepfather, I saw that he wore a faint smile as the breeze ruffled his hair. His profile was perfect, I thought, and that expression on his face was one I wanted to be able to see again and again.
Retrieving my phone, I managed to snap a quick photo before he looked over at me. “What are you up to?” he asked, his smile widening to a grin.
“Just taking a picture of the most gorgeous, sexy man I know,” I replied. I expected him to laugh, maybe make a joke, or even dare to briefly touch my hand. Instead, his gaze darkened a little, as if something was troubling him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my own smile fading.
Foster kept his stare fixed on the lake. “I’m thinking of what you said earlier, about me being your only,” he told me in a quiet voice. My heart started a nervous, rapid beating in my chest, but I stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue. “And I keep thinking about the fact that I’m almost twenty-five years older than you.”
My nervousness was quickly morphing into alarm. “So? Why should that matter?” I asked, sounding more defensive than I’d intended.
Foster sighed, finally meeting my stare. “As I get older, I worry I won’t be able to keep up with you,” he replied. “I don’t ever want you to feel trapped in a relationship with me, out of some sense of obligation. I don’t want to hold you back, Landon. I worry this isn’t fair to you.” It seemed as if it pained Foster to say the words, but he never looked away from me as he spoke them.
I sat up straighter, my shoulders bristling with tension. “Is this your way of saying that you want me to date other people? And that you want to date other people?” I asked. It was suddenly harder to breathe, but I managed to keep my voice low and even.
“No!” he cried. Then he did grab my hand. “Baby, you are all I think about. You’ve become my whole world, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. But what if some guy your age takes an interest in you, and you decide you want to have new experiences? Or different partners?”
It was then that I fully understood his meaning, and I realized he was afraid. Afraid of being hurt, and of losing me. I looked down at his hand grasping mine, and then I lifted my head so my eyes locked with his. “Foster, there will never be anyone else,” I told him gently, my smile tender. “How could I ever leave the man I will always love most?”
His gaze softened, and I could see the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him then. I looked away, giving him time to recover, though I still held tightly to his hand. We were quiet for several moments before he brought his lips close to my ear and whispered, “And I will love you for the rest of my days, Landon.”
***
We spent the rest of the afternoon near the lake, either lounging on the dock or walking through the woods. I noticed that Foster was often playful and quick to laugh, and I realized how long it had been since I’d seen him so relaxed. I loved that I was the one who had brought about this change in him.
When we finally returned to the cabin, the light was fading and a chill was seeping into the air. I pulled a flannel shirt on over my t-shirt, and Foster changed into a lightweight sweater. Then he set about heating up the leftovers for our dinner.
Slipping my arms around Foster, I hugged him tight and murmured, “Best day ever.” Then I slid my hand lower until it rested between his thighs.
He moaned in response to my touch. “No playing until after dinner, young man,” he said with a grin.
I withdrew from him, releasing an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, Daddy.”
As we sat at the table and ate dinner, I listened attentively while Foster discussed his current project at work. He was animated, revealing his passion for the job, and I hung on his every word. How long had it been since Mom had even bothered to ask him about his day, or what he was working on at the office?
“I’m probably boring you,” Foster suddenly said.
I quickly shook my head. “Not at all!”
“So I know you’ve been working hard in all your classes. Which course is your favorite?” he wanted to know.
I thought for a moment. “I’m enjoying all of them, but I think my favorite would be Psychology,” I said.
Foster picked up our empty plates and carried them to the sink. “You think that might be something you’d want to pursue as a career?”