It's a Lovely Day

All characters are consenting adults (18+)

A second little one parter for you as I'm travelling this evening and tomorrow, so I'm not sure I'll get to post tomorrow! Who knows, maybe I will!

It was six inches long, erect. It bent off to the right when he was really hard, and a thick vein followed the curve. The head was pale pink usually, but when he was really aroused, it turned a dark shade of purple, and the cumslit gaped. It was thicker than you'd expect a six inch cock to be. I guessed that I wouldn't even be able to close my fingers around it, if I tried. He was uncut, and the foreskin hung loose for the most part, but slid back itself when it needed to.

His balls were some of the best I'd ever seen. They hung in his sack, like two golf balls in a sock. Low hangers, I believe is the term. They were big, too, and just like the rest of him, his nutsack was carpeted in a layer of thick, black hair.

Devon's body was neither shredded nor unfit. He worked out when he felt like it, and that summed him up perfectly. Devon did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and nothing or nobody would ever change that.

He was handsome, too. Oh, fuck, he was handsome. I once watched him fuck three women in one night, and he didn't even have to leave the house to find them. They came to him, and in turn, he came in them.

A shock of strikingly black hair was his crown. It was the darkest I'd ever seen, but Devon had plenty of things that I hadn't seen before. He had a jaw that could cut through steel, and an impressive ability to charm every man, woman and child whom he encountered. Since I'd known him, I hadn't met one person who didn't adore him.

His eyes reminded me of sweet little chocolate orbs. They seemed to swim when he looked at you close enough. He had a habit of doing it, too. He could pierce you, just by looking in your direction, and I was almost certain that he knew it.

Living with Devon was like living with a god. People worshiped him like I'd never seen before. Young men wanted him to notice them. Young women wanted him to fuck them, and then there was me. A quiet, somewhat self conscious kid who found himself living with a stranger at the age of nineteen. And speaking of me, well, I'd fallen in love with Devon the first night he showed me my new room and said "it ain't big enough to swing a cat, but it's big enough to jerk off".

He had a few years on me, at twenty four. He joked about it sometimes, too. Referred to himself as my big brother, and there were times I wished he was. I felt safe around Devon. Safer than I ever had before, and I suppose he realised that about me. He made me comfortable, and it only took a few hours before I came to the very real conclusion that I made him comfortable, too.

Most of Devon's life was spent naked. I don't know why, and I don't know what caused it, but over those six months, I'd seen more of his naked body, than I had of my own. He was proud, I guess. Why wouldn't he be? I'd never met anybody, however, who was so proud of their body, that they cared not, who else saw it.

Every morning at seven, Devon appeared on the stairs, an open gown draped lightly over his broad shoulders, a book in one hand, and an apple in the other. Every morning, without fail, and every morning, between the opening of the satin gown, his manhood stood on full display, not yet deflated of it's morning glory.

A bite of the apple, so juicy and succulent that the fluids often spilled down his chin. He'd chew slowly, and deliberately, and with his piercing eyes on mine, he'd say nothing more than "morn'n".

Morn'n.

Not a full sentence. Not even a full word. A half word, because he couldn't be bothered to add the extra few letters. He couldn't be bothered to roll the rest of it off his tongue, and then I would be left to gather my thoughts and not gaze upon the sight between his legs.

"Good morning".

Devon took his coffee in the nude. An odd sentence, but a sentence nonetheless. He liked to sit in the yard where he'd finish his apple, and wash it down with coffee so black that it mimicked the colour of his hair. He liked to spread his legs apart, and allow his full sack to hang over the edge of the chair. Sometimes the breeze made him hard, sometimes his imagination made him hard, sometimes nothing at all made him hard, and yet, he was always hard.

I was never invited out at that point. I suppose some moments are more private than others, though Devon hardly seemed the type. Only when the coffee was drained, and the core of the apple sat atop the table, did Devon appear in the doorway and beckon me out.

"It's a lovely day" he'd say, or if it wasn't, and a dull trickle of rain patted the umbrella above, he'd say; "it's a lovely day". Because rain, hail or sunshine, Devon found every day to be a lovely day.

Oddly, every day since I'd arrived had been a lovely day. My life had been a secretive perversion up until that point. Hiding behind a mask of heterosexuality, terrified that parents, friends or family members may one day discover the truth of me. Now, sexuality didn't exist. I was neither straight, nor gay, nor anything in between. I was simply there, with a man so beautiful that it hurt to look at him for too long, because one would wonder how someone can be so much of everything good in the world.

"You have soft hands, Charlie" Devon told me one morning, and took them both into his, inspecting them with prying fingers, and caressing my palms as though he was about to tell my future. "Beautiful".

Beautiful. Being described as beautiful by a man like Devon never ceased to amaze me. How could I be considered beautiful by someone so... Beautiful?

And then he touched me in a different way. The man whom I had heard and witnessed having sex with multiple pretty women. The man who oozed the confidence of a thousand men. The man who appeared so masculine, so heterosexual, so manly, touched my face so softly, and smiled.

"Let me make love to you, Charlie" he whispered, "right here, right now, just us".

I could have cried. The emotional explosion erupted inside me before the words had left his mouth. A feeling of satiation overcame me. Somebody finally wanted me, if only for a moment. If only just to put inside me, his pent up lust. Maybe Devon didn't want me at all, and I was simply a toy for him to use in a moment of madness, but did it matter, if, in my own brain, I decided that he did in fact want me?

When Devon undressed me so slowly, with such fluidity that it felt like the air itself stripped me off my clothing, did it matter how he felt? Could I truly say that I cared how he felt, when our bodies touched, and his manhood brushed off mine?

He tasted of apple and coffee. A divine concoction that would forever bring up memories of naked sex in the back yard of a house far away, with the sun blazing down on us, and the calming scent of a cologne he'd worn the night before, of which I did not know the name.

Devon kissed me like a lover returning from war. He held my face in his hands, and used his lips and tongue to convince me that I did care how he felt, because I'd been in love with him from day one. My tongue met his, and we stiffened together, like two finely tuned pianos playing the same song.

His touch was electric, and wherever it went, the hairs on my body prickled. When he slid a fingertip across my jaw, and gripped my chin. When he lifted my head, making my eyes close against the sunlight. When he licked from my collar bone, up to my ear, and when he whispered; "I'm going to fuck you, and you will never forget it".

Devon took me into his mouth with such expert precision that one had to wonder if he had practiced before. Swirling his tongue, gliding his fingers, sliding his lips, my cock twitched in response, and my body melted.

He took me to the grass, which was both cool and warm. He lay me down, and lay down, too. We touched again, our bodies now damp with lustful sweat. He showed me how to pleasure him like he had pleasured me, and the flavour of his prick made me drip.

My mouth filled with him. Hard, heavy, slightly ripe, for he was yet to shower. I enjoyed it more than I expected, and decided that his natural taste was far better than a showery, floral mixture that it could have been.

Devon taught me how to suck his balls. How terribly crude it might have been to witness two boys, naked like cattle, splayed out on the grass with the sun beating down, one sucking on the balls of the other. But I instantly became addicted to swirling my tongue around his hairy sack, chasing each globe until I caught one in my mouth and suckled on it.

He got me on my back, pinned down as though we were play fighting. Hands around my wrists, erection swinging, eyes, piercing. He took my legs, and pinned them too. Pinned them above my head, to expose parts of my body that I'd never exposed before. He licked me down there. Down in the place that was not for licking, but he licked nonetheless, until I gasped, and panted, and whimpered.

His tongue entered me. Not once, not twice, but many times. In and out, slipping deeper as my ring became drenched in his juices. In those hours, Devon trained my hole to enjoy his tongue, which was not that difficult at all.

When I moaned, Devon went harder. He liked the sounds he made me make. He made me make them again, and again, and again. He made me shiver and shake, and tremble like a brittle leaf in fall. He made me gasp, and groan, and sweat.

On my hands and knees, Devon made me his. He put himself against me, and held me with a gentle strength that made me understand that for those hours spent on the grass on that glorious sunny morning, Devon had total, complete use of my body, and I, of his.

The pain mattered not, and drifted away into the summer air a moment later. He filled me, deeper and deeper with each passing second. His fingers slipped against my moist flesh, which now trickled with excited sweat, but he held on as he bucked, and I stayed in place, because I could think of nothing better than to be bucked, fucked, filled and used by Devon.

Every inch of him explored my body. His balls, still dripping with my saliva, slapped against me with each powerful thrust. I moaned, and so did he. We moaned together, and gasped together, and shortly after, when my body could take no more, we came together.

He cleaned me with his mouth. He cleaned my front side, and my back side. He let me taste it, too. We kissed once more. Our cum mixed in our mouths, and we battled to swallow down our share, and when we were finished, and both of us had been completely pleasured in every sense, Devon stood up and returned to his chair.

"It's a lovely day".