Chapter 4: Ex... Er...? Size?
Robert pulled his head back, but Eddie tried to follow, instinctively not wanting to break the connection. Robert pulled his hand from under the shirt and held Eddie in place, the hand travelling up to stroke his jaw and bring him back to reality.
“Fuck,” Eddie said, breathing hard. “Sorry, I just…”
“You got caught up in it,” said Robert with a smile. “It’s a great compliment, truly. And I would say you are definitely someone who is already wired for pleasure that way.” He added, his gaze travelling down to Eddie’s groin.
Eddie followed and saw the thick, pulsing outline of his hard dick and a large, dark circle of damp denim where the end of his cock was. “Jesus,” he said, a little awed. “You really are good at that.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” said Robert, his voice a low rumble. “As will you, in time, I’m sure. Now, tell me how it felt.”
Eddie described the sensations as best he could. The initial shock of contact, the way the pleasure wasn’t just in his chest but seemed to arc through his whole nervous system, coiling hot in his balls. He said he liked the rougher nipple play—the sharp pinch, the deliberate twist—but appreciated the softer moments, the grazing of calloused fingertips, because it varied the intensity and made the rough parts feel even more brutal and good. He finished, his voice husky, by saying Robert could probably make him cum that way, eventually.
“I believe you are right,” Robert said, knowingly. He let the silence sit for a beat, his hand still rubbing slow, warm circles on Eddie’s back. “Do you feel up to trying it yourself?” Robert asked, no expectation in his voice.
“I’d like to, please,” said Eddie.
Robert gave him a slight push. Eddie rose, his legs a bit shaky, and went to sit in the other armchair, adjusting his aching cock into a less tortured position within his jeans.
“Now,” Robert said, standing. “I really am heavier, and you really aren’t used to this. So, make sure your foot is flat on the floor, your knee at a right angle with a little tension in the muscle. It’ll give you a stable base.” He demonstrated, planting his own feet firmly.
Robert lowered himself down, a controlled descent, and Eddie repeated the same motion, his hands settling on Robert’s thick waist, pulling him closer until the man’s weight settled onto his thigh. He was excited to try this, hoping he would be as quick a study as he was with kissing.
He looked at Robert’s face, seeing the calm, assessing look in his blue eyes. Eddie slowly began to kiss him, very light and gentle to start, just the soft flutter of his lips. He coaxed Robert’s mouth open, his tongue tracing the seam until he was granted entry. The taste was familiar now—whisky, mint, and something deeper, muskier. Robert remained still, allowing him to lead.
Eddie’s right hand slid under the soft grey henley, finding the hot, solid wall of Robert’s abdomen. The hair there was coarse and dense. He felt clumsy, his movements less sure than Robert’s had been. He mapped the terrain, his fingers skating over the hard ridges of muscle, searching. He broke the kiss, panting slightly.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Don’t apologise. Explore,” Robert murmured, his breath warm against Eddie’s lips.
Eddie nodded, diving back in. This time, his hand moved upward, through the thicket of chest hair. He found a nipple, a small, tough nub. He circled it with his thumb, experimentally. Robert drew in a sharp breath through his nose. Encouraged, Eddie pinched it gently between his thumb and forefinger.
A low, gravelly groan vibrated from Robert’s chest into Eddie’s mouth. The sound went straight to Eddie’s cock. He felt a surge of power, of understanding. This. This was the switch.
He grew bolder. He rolled the nipple, then tugged it, not too hard, watching Robert’s face. The older man’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in concentration. Eddie switched tactics, flicking the taut bud with his fingernail. Robert’s whole body jolted, a sharp upward grind of his hips against the denim covering his leg.
“Fuck yeah,” Eddie whispered, more to himself.
He found the other nipple and worked them both, alternating between cruel twists and soothing palms, learning what made Robert gasp, what made him curse softly into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie’s kisses turned hungry, messy. He wasn’t mimicking anymore; he was inventing, conducting. He bit Robert’s lower lip, sucked on his tongue, all while his hands worked the man’s chest like it was an instrument he was mastering by the second.
Robert was a moaning, squirming mess in his lap. His big hands clawed at the arms of the chair, his hips rocking in erratic, desperate little thrusts. The raw, unfiltered sounds coming from him—guttural “ah, ah, ahs,” and shattered curses—were the most potent fuel Eddie had ever known. He couldn’t find the will to stop. He wanted to take him apart completely, to see what happened when the last vestige of control snapped.
It took Robert pushing himself gently away, a firm hand on Eddie’s chest, to bring the moment to a shuddering pause.
Both men were breathing like they’d run a sprint. Robert’s face was flushed a deep red, his hair wild. A string of saliva connected their mouths for a second before breaking.
“Not to blow smoke up your ass,” Robert panted, his voice wrecked, “but Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie. That was excellent.”
“I could tell,” said Eddie, his own eyes dark with lust and need. He could feel the wet spot on his jeans where Robert’s ass had been rutting.
“Let’s take a second,” Robert said, standing up. He adjusted his own cock, the bulge monstrous, a similar dark stain blooming on his jeans. He stumbled slightly, his balance off, moving towards the drink cabinet. Eddie smiled, a fierce surge of pride flooding him. He caused that reaction. His skill.
His initial, habitual thought was that he was getting closer to MJ’s guarded delights. But then his mind, slick and hungry, locked onto Robert’s body as he walked away—the powerful set of his shoulders, the way his jeans strained across his ass, still high and tight for a man his age. It looked so appealing, so strong. Eddie’s mouth watered with a sudden, shocking image: what that would look like spread open for him, those muscular cheeks parted, clean and pink and waiting. He shook his head, briefly overwhelmed, realising where his mind had gone. It didn’t feel wrong. It felt like the next, logical, desperate step.
He accepted a finger of whisky from Robert, who downed his own in one smooth, throat-bobbing swallow. The liquid fire steadied Eddie’s nerves, even as it stoked the heat lower in his gut.
Robert set his glass down with a definitive click. He turned, and his grin was back, wider now, edged with something wilder than pedagogical interest.
“Now,” Robert said, the word hanging in the charged air. “Let’s try that again.” He walked back, not to the chair, but to stand directly in front of where Eddie still sat. He loomed over him, the firelight haloing his broad frame. “To… er… make sure you really understand.” The false hesitation was gone. His voice was pure, dark invitation. Eddie looked up, his heart hammering against his ribs. The chapter of theory was over. The next page was blank, waiting for them to write it in sweat and skin and gasped affirmations. He simply nodded, his throat too tight for words, and reached for him.
Eddie pulled Robert back down on to his lap, his fingers trembling slightly as they rediscovered the terrain of coarse hair and solid muscle. He focused, his breathing slowing as he traced the paths he’d learned, circling ever closer to the tight, pebbled nub of Robert’s nipple. When he finally touched it, Robert inhaled sharply, a reward in itself. Eddie began to work, applying pressure, twisting, flicking, his movements gaining confidence with each ragged breath he pulled from the older man’s mouth during their deep, probing kisses.
For ten solid minutes, the only sounds were the wet slide of their mouths, the crackle of the fire, and Robert’s increasingly broken sounds of approval. Eddie lost himself in the feedback loop of cause and effect, of pinch and gasp, of scrape and moan. He learned the subtle differences between Robert’s left and right, how one preferred a slower, persistent roll and the other responded to sharp, sudden tugs that made his whole body jerk. Eddie’s own cock was a furious, neglected ache in his jeans, a distant thunderstorm compared to the intricate lightning he was conducting across Robert’s chest.
Finally, Robert placed his broad hands on Eddie’s shoulders and pushed him back, putting a foot of smoky air between them. They were both panting, their lips swollen and wet. “Enough,” Robert said, the word husky but final. He stood on slightly unsteady legs and moved back to his own armchair, collapsing into it with a sigh that was part exhaustion, part profound satisfaction.
He looked at Eddie, who was now sitting forward, hands on his knees, looking thoroughly and beautifully ruined. “Not only a quick uptake,” Robert said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “But an ability to improvise. To make it your own. That’s rare.”
Eddie managed a lopsided grin, his eyes still dark pools of lust. The thought of doing that with MJ was thrilling, a mainline shot of pure anticipation. Although, with a confused and startling clarity, he realized he could have kept going with Robert for another hour and been just as completely, perfectly happy.
Robert was talking to him. “Sorry?” Eddie said, blinking.
“When is your next date with Mary-Jane, son?” Robert asked again, his voice back to a casual, paternal rumble.
“Er… not until Thursday,” Eddie replied, running a hand through his sweaty curls, frustration leaking into his tone. “She said she has a busy week.” He wanted to see her sooner. And, if he was honest with himself, to see Robert sooner. This was better than jerking it to porn in his silent apartment; it was alive, it was reciprocal, it meant something.
“Well,” Robert said, stretching his arms over his head, the fabric of his henley pulling tight across his chest. “We did talk about my helping you with a consistent exercise routine. Mary-Jane and her mother are at church and out for a long lunch tomorrow. You could stop by?”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Eddie said immediately, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Better than laying around the house all day rubbing myself raw.” He chuckled, a low, relieved sound.
“Oh, I’ve been there, that’s for sure,” Robert said, joining in the laugh, a shared understanding passing between them. “11am okay?” Robert asked. “I realise it’s less than 12 hours away but…”
“That’s great,” Eddie interrupted, knowing with a bone-deep certainty that he’d rather be here than almost anywhere else at the moment. Except maybe inside Mary-Jane, but that wasn’t on the table yet. This was.
“Okay, until tomorrow then,” Robert said with a warm, crinkled-eye smile. “And don’t rub yourself too raw between now and then.”
“You too, old man,” Eddie said cheekily, somewhat unsure if he was allowed to cross that line yet.
Robert just chuckled, a rich, deep sound. “We’ll see who’s old tomorrow, you young whippersnapper.” He stood at the same time as Eddie and pulled him in for a firm, encompassing hug. The scent of sweat, musk, and leather filled Eddie’s senses. “Really great work tonight, son,” Robert murmured into his ear. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks… er…” Eddie stuttered, his face pressed against Robert’s shoulder.
“You can call me Dad,” Robert said, his voice low and intimate. “Or Daddy. I don’t mind.”
Eddie pulled his head back, looking at Robert fully, seeing the earnest offer in his blue eyes. This was another lesson, another layer of permission. “Thank you, Daddy,” Eddie said earnestly, and couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss. The two men shared a quick kiss, deep and wet, but Robert ended it before it could spiral.
Robert smacked Eddie firmly on the ass, a stinging, possessive tap. “Now get going.” He walked him to the study door. “And don’t worry about what to wear tomorrow. I have plenty of gear to share.”
“Thanks,” Eddie said, and quietly moved through the dark, sleeping house, letting himself out into the cool night. The drive home was a blur of streetlights and humming asphalt. Only in the vibrating solitude of his car, his head swimming with the smell of Robert and the feel of his skin, did the earlier comments fully detonate in his mind. Mary-Jane will be leaving a large wet patch on your thigh. He knew what MJ's tits looked like, felt like, tasted like...
He said it like he knew. Not theoretically. Like he had experienced her. Like he knew exactly what it was like to taste her, to excite her, to feel her dampness seep through fabric. The implication was staggering, a door blown open to a room Eddie hadn’t known existed. His cock gave an almost violent throb, thick and insistent against his jeans.
He couldn’t make it home. He signaled, tires crunching on gravel as he pulled into a deserted layby, the car shuddering to a halt. His hands were shaking as he unfastened his jeans, yanking them and his boxers down just enough to free his aching erection. He didn’t stroke it. He just wrapped his fist around the base, the image of Robert’s knowing smile and Mary-Jane’s imagined whimpers colliding in his head, and that was all it took. With a choked-off gasp, he came, thick white stripes erupting across his steering wheel and dashboard, his body convulsing in the lonely dark.
He cleaned the mess with fastidious, shaking hands, the scent of his own release sharp in the enclosed space. The drive home was a hollow, buzzing silence, his mind circling the implications of Robert’s words like a satellite locked on a distant, forbidden signal. He showered in water so hot it left his skin pink, his cock rising to attention again, seemingly insatiable. He used the shower shot, as usual, a cool, clarifying shock that felt like preparation for something he couldn't yet name. But it helped bring him off for a second time that hour.
Sleep was a thin, restless blanket.
The next morning, anticipation coiled in his gut like a tight spring. He arrived at the house at 10:55 am. The place looked quiet, empty, the usual Sunday morning stillness hanging over it like a held breath.
He rang the bell.
The door opened almost immediately. Robert stood there, bare-chested, wearing only loose grey sweats slung low on his hips. The sharp v-line of his pelvis cut a defined path into the waistband, a trail of coarse hair leading down. "Right on time," Robert rumbled, and before Eddie could speak, he was pulled into the dim foyer.
Robert’s arms enveloped him in a firm, full-bodied good morning hug. One broad hand tapped a familiar, possessive rhythm on Eddie’s ass. The other held the back of his head as Robert dipped his face to Eddie’s neck, planting a warm, open-mouthed kiss against his pulse point. Eddie, feeling emboldened by their recent lessons and his dawning realization of the relationship Robert had with MJ, moaned softly from the attentions. He let one hand travel up Robert’s flank, his fingers brushing a stiffened nipple.
"Easy, tiger," Robert growled, laughing against his skin. But as he pulled away, Eddie could see the distinct, thickening outline of Robert’s dick already tenting the soft grey fabric. The sight sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to Eddie’s groin.
Robert led him through to the study, the familiar scents of leather and woodsmoke a welcome embrace. "You eat? Hydrate properly?" Robert asked, his tone practical despite the charged greeting.
"Yeah," Eddie said, his voice a little rough. "Large glass of water first thing. Then eggs, toast, coffee."
"Good enough. And how long ago?"
"Finished about an hour ago."
"Excellent." Robert nodded, a coach assessing his athlete. "Just making sure you're ready to go."
A filthy chuckle escaped Eddie. "I am definitely ready to go."
Robert gave him a long look, his blue eyes darkening. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. "Later," he murmured, the word a promise that tightened the coil in Eddie's belly. He turned towards the large oak cabinet where he kept clothes.
"If you don't mind my asking," Eddie ventured, "why do you keep so many clothes in your study?"
"It's convenient for working out. And if I make a mess." Robert opened the cabinet door, revealing neat stacks of dark t-shirts, shorts, and other garments. He glanced back at Eddie, his smile turning conspiratorial. "In all honesty, son, I like to see my cum. And there's nothing like a dark t-shirt to set it off perfectly."
Eddie barked a laugh, the tension easing into something more comfortable, more mutual. "That's genius. I'll have to remember that."
Robert tossed him a small pile of fabric—a deep green thong, matching tight stretchy cotton shorts, and a black oversized vest. "Put that on."
As Eddie pulled off his sweatshirt, Robert hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants and pushed them down in one smooth motion. He let his half-hard cock breathe for a moment, thick and heavy against his thigh.Eddie stared. He thought Robert's cock was awesome, a heavy, veined thing of beauty, and he knew Robert didn't care if he looked. Hell, he was showing it off for him.
Feeling his own cock begin to harden in response, Eddie removed his corduroys and stood there in his grey boxer-briefs. He picked up the thong, the material impossibly small in his hands. He looked up just as Robert was stepping into an identical blue thong, his back to Eddie.
Eddie found himself stunned for a moment. The two hairy globes of Robert’s ass were firm and full, parting slightly as he bent to arrange the fabric. A fleeting glimpse of a pink hole, one that looked used, well-stretched and inviting, flashed at him before being covered. His cock twitched and hardened further, pressing insistently against his briefs.
"I've never worn a thong before," Eddie said, his mouth dry.
"They take a bit to get used to," Robert said, his voice muffled as he carefully arranged the thin strap between his own cheeks, folding his substantial cock into the front pouch. "Especially the floss up your crack. But once you do, they're the best. Support without restriction." He straightened and turned, now decent. "I hope that ass is clean, or I'll be soaking your butt stank out of it for a week," he chuckled.
The casual mention of it, the assumption of shared fastidiousness, unlocked something in Eddie. "I have a thing about cleanliness," he said, the honesty surprising him. "I have a bidet. Like to shower and shot it quickly. Always feels better clean."
Robert nodded, pulling on the tight shorts and the vest. "Couldn't agree more. A clean hole is a happy hole. Ready for anything." He said it as if stating the most obvious fact in the world.
Eddie stepped into the thong, shimmying it up his legs. He struggled for a second, trying to get the back strap to sit right. It felt alien, a narrow wedge of fabric parting his own ass cheeks in a way that was simultaneously strange and intensely arousing. He tucked his hardening cock into the pouch, the green fabric straining. "Is this right?" he asked, feeling oddly vulnerable.