To New Beginnings Pt. 02: An Intimate Gay Sex Story on Xboylove.com
A gay sex story: To New Beginnings Pt. 02 I slept fitfully that night, and each time I woke, I was immediately aware of how close Foster was, with his bedroom just down the hall. When the dawn light began to illuminate the windows of my room, I was relieved to finally get out of bed.
The cold front that had moved into our area the night before left a chill in the air, but that didn’t stop me from getting ready for my usual morning run. I was hoping I could burn off some of my restlessness. As I slipped down the hall, I hesitated before Foster’s bedroom door, which was slightly open. Holding my breath, I listened for any sound, and after a moment, I heard his deep, even breathing. At least one of us was getting rest, I thought to myself.
I was extra careful to be quiet as I made my way down the steps and out of the house, locking the door behind me. After warming up, I began a steady run and felt a sudden mental clarity. Everything felt… right, I realized, watching the sun rise higher in the sky. Yes, my mom had pretty much deserted me and my stepdad to go stay with her new boyfriend, and I knew that her marriage to Foster was all but over. As I ran, breaking into a sweat despite the chilly air, I could admit to myself that my own relationship with Mom might not survive, either. Instead of feeling devastated by that, I found I could hold the realization at a distance and examine it carefully without being deeply hurt.
As long as I had Foster in my life, I thought, I could deal with the fallout from the divorce. Mom would be furious when she discovered that my loyalty would always be with him and not with her, but I was willing to accept the consequences of her anger. Of course, Mom could never know about what my stepfather and I had shared last night, and what I hoped we would continue to share. I was more than willing to accept the secrecy the situation required, for I would do anything to protect Foster.
I cut my run short since I was eager to get back to the house, and to Foster. As I traversed the neighborhood streets, which were still fairly quiet that Saturday morning, I knew I was foolishly smiling, but I couldn’t suppress my excitement.
When I reached our front door, I let myself inside as quietly as possible. The house was silent, and after gulping down two glasses of water in the kitchen, I crept up the stairs, covered in a layer of sweat that was already growing cold on my skin.
As I headed down the hall toward the bathroom, Foster stepped out of his room. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt, and when our eyes met, he gave me a warm smile. “Good morning, Landon.”
I was beyond relieved that he seemed to have no regrets about last night, and the sound of his deep, resonant voice summoned a fresh surge of arousal within me. “Good morning,” I said, coming to a stop just inches from him. It was hard to hide how much I wanted to throw myself at him, to kiss his neck and work my lips along the line of his jaw while I steered him back toward his bedroom.
I managed to restrain myself, even when he slowly looked me up and down before meeting my eyes again. “Did you have a good run?” he asked.
I nodded, holding his stare. “I’m going to take a shower,” I told him, hoping my face, and my voice, made the invitation for him to join me clear.
I was certain that Foster got the message I was trying to send, for his smile grew wider. But he didn’t take me up on it. “I’ll make us some breakfast,” he said.
“Great!” I replied, trying to hide my disappointment. Even then, I was moving ever closer, overwhelmed by the need to be near him, to breathe in his scent and slide my hands under his shirt.
Foster ran his tongue over his lower lip, and the sight of that made me draw in a sharp breath. Was he teasing me? I wondered. I didn’t think he would torment me like that. Still, he had to know how much I wanted him. He had to know I was growing hard being this close to him and remembering the way his cock had felt in my hand last night.
“Enjoy your shower,” he finally said, and I could have sworn he was reluctant to leave me alone in that hallway. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. I told myself that I had to remember what he’d said the night before; I had to accept that he didn’t want things between us to go any further.
I spent longer than usual in the shower, letting the hot water bring a flush to my skin. “Stop acting like an idiot,” I muttered to myself, my words muted by the shower’s spray. I knew I couldn’t look all wide-eyed and horny every time I saw Foster. Not for the first time in my life, I wished I had more experience in this area. As it was, I felt like I was floundering in rough seas, trying to keep myself afloat.
When I finally got out of the shower, I quickly dried off. While brushing my teeth, I noticed that my face was still flushed, but I didn’t think it was from the shower’s heat. No, my eyes were bright as well, and I knew my morning run had done nothing to dampen the nervous excitement coursing through me.
I could have used a shave but decided to skip it. Once I was finished in the bathroom, I headed back down the hall with a towel wrapped around my waist. Unfortunately, my stepfather was nowhere to be seen. When I reached my room, however, I noticed my bed was neatly made, and I knew Foster had changed the sheets. The thought of him doing that made me smile faintly even as I wished he hadn’t been so quick in taking care of the task. It would have been nice to surprise him in my room, to let my towel drop so I could walk around naked before him.
Just imagining that made my cock twitch, and I hurried to get dressed before I ended up with a raging hard-on. After pulling on a pair of boxer briefs and jeans, I chose a lightweight sweater, incredibly soft to the touch. When I remembered that Mom had given it to me as a gift last Christmas, I felt a twinge of guilt. Then I pulled the sweater over my head, telling myself that she was the one who had decided to leave.
Downstairs, Foster was busy in the kitchen. “I made you an omelet,” he said, nodding toward my plate on the kitchen table.
“Hey, thanks.” As I went to pour myself a cup of coffee, I gave him a sidelong glance. “And thanks for changing my sheets. I planned to do that after my shower.”
Foster kept his stare focused on the pan on the stove while he made his own omelet, but a smile played at his lips. “I figured it was the least I could do,” he said.
I couldn’t hide my own smile as I went to the table and sat down to eat. That first bite made me close my eyes and moan. “Fuck, this is good,” I told him. “You make the best omelets.”
Foster looked over his shoulder at me, and I could tell he was pleased with my praise. I realized it was probably a welcome change for him, since Mom had been criticizing practically everything he did over the last few months.
When he joined me at the table, I studied his face for a long moment before I worked up the nerve to ask, “Have you heard from Mom?”