"Good night, my friend," Lance replied.
Neal drops off to sleep almost at once; Lance hears him snoring at the other end of the short hallway. Lance's mind is so full it takes him somewhat longer, but he too is snoring before long.
The little beach house is quiet beyond silence. It seems to Lance that he can hear his own heartbeat. He has awakened in the middle of the night with the first spontaneous nocturnal hard-on he can remember in years. With one single, simple, unselfish act, Neal has given him, perhaps inadvertently, a rebirth of sexual feeling. He grasps his aching penis with both hands, in the oh so familiar way he has learned to pleasure himself through six decades of practice. In his mind's eye, he sees Neal's gentle, caring face, cheeks and throat bulging around his massive cock. He remembers times when he, too has enjoyed a cock. Suddenly a huge grin comes to his face. He has an idea.
It is not from a sense of gratitude or indebtedness that he steals softly down the hall to Neal's room, but of curiosity. It has been over thirty years since he has held a cock other than his own; three decades since he has enjoyed the savory smell and taste of a hot man. He wonders to himself if he still likes it as much as he had before giving it all up for Martha. The thought of Martha causes a sharp pain, he waivers, clears his mind. Cautiously, quietly, he creeps into Neal's room and slides beneath the sheets, grinning madly. The ocean-side room is filed with the pewter light of a full moon and its refection off the sea. Slowly, quietly, carefully, he draws down the sheet to reveal Neal's sleeping form. Normally, sex is a serious thing for him, (Martha had patiently taught him over the years that laughter was an acceptable part of intercourse) but tonight he cannot stop smiling. Neal is neat and trim and surprisingly muscular for a man his age. The cock curled softly on his thigh reminds Lance of the small but perfectly formed penis on Michelangelo's David. And also of that other Lance, so many years ago. Its foreskin, though long enough to cover the head completely, is smooth and pink and unwrinkled, just as was the penis of that other Neal.
Captivated, Lance reaches out gently to lay his open palm over Neal's genitals. With effort he restrains himself, for the time being, from burying his face there. His other palm settles lightly on Neal's cheek. With a great deal of trepidation, he leans, tentatively brushing Neal's lips softly with his. Neal's eyes pop open. For a moment his face holds confusion, uncertainty. Then, smiling, he puts his hand at the back of Lance's head, pulling his face down, deepening the kiss. This is no peck of friendship, but a real lover's kiss. Though dry and tongueless, it is deep and heartfelt and passionate. Both men respond. Neal's other arm clutches Lance's waist, urging him closer. Lance curls his fingers, enclosing Neal's penis tightly. The head of his own cock stretches across the bed to touch Neal's thigh.
Lance breaks the kiss first, moving back a few inches to more clearly see the face of his friend. Neal looks back at him, in his eyes a burning question. Lance gazes back, passion, need, love answering. They kiss again, longingly, lovingly, tongues searching, twining. The stubble on Neal's face feels rough and strange against Lance's face, but achingly exciting, forbidden. Their kiss becomes rougher, harder, more insistent. Lance releases Neal's cock and rolls to kneel astride him, still holding the feverish kiss. They break for air, aging lungs not all they had once been. Lance scoots down, his kisses lowering. Neal throws his head back, offering his sensitive neck as if to a vampire's bite. Lance responds, covering his neck with nips and kisses and tiny bites. Neal shrugs his shoulder, involuntarily, tightening his neck and reducing access. Lance bores in, forcing his lips and teeth deeper. Neal squirms on the bed beneath him, his body covered with goose-bumps. His small cock jumps up, stiffening against Lance's lower back, the top of his buttocks. Lance's now hardening cock lays heavy along Neal's chest, its dripping head touching the collarbone. As Lance moves farther down, Neal's engorged manhood drags along his ass crack, pokes at his balls and pops free to nestle alongside the larger cock.
For a long moment, everything stops. The light of the full moon, mirrored off the sea, casts a soft diffused, platinum light over Neal's body. Its delicate beauty belies time and age. Something in his shinning beauty makes Lance's heart and cock go thump. Lance thinks Neal's body looks as if it might be a computer-enhanced run-up of Michelangelo's David, fifty years later.
Neal groans with pleasure, fighting to maintain control, nearly losing. He manages enough coherence to reach Lance's hip, clawing with his fingertips, struggling to bring Lance's body within reach. Finally Lance gets the message. He turns his body, keeping contact with Neal's cock, but placing his knees on either side of Neal's head. When Lance kneels on all fours, his long cock hangs down the side of Neal's face, touching the bed covers. Neal turns his head to the side, to take the shaft of Lance's cock between his lips. His upper lip encloses the fat pulsing vein on the underside; his lower lip makes it barely half way around the top. In their present position, Neal can only move his head from left to right and back, sucking the side of Lance's massive dick, balls hanging just above his nose. He pushes hard on Lance's hips, turning them both on their sides, allowing him more freedom of motion and easier access to Lance's huge cock.
Lance's penis, is of truly immense proportions, the largest Neal has ever seen or heard of, dark brown and covered from its base to well past its tip with a very loose, wrinkled foreskin. Dense dark red hair, streaked with gray surrounds this massive organ and grows nearly half way up its shaft. To deal with it in any fashion, Neal has to place at least one hand around its base. It does not grow larger or longer as it becomes erect, but only hardens, becoming like a granite rod covered in wrinkled brown velvet. The balls that puddle below this massive organ are small by comparison, but also deep brown and covered by a curly mass of dense red fur mottled with gray.
Neal takes the bulbous head in his mouth like a big round cock-flavored jaw breaker, swirling his tongue around the fluted corona. Sean moans, taking all of Neal's cock into his mouth and throat, licking, sucking, moving his head slowly on and off its slender length, working his lips and tongue and throat. Knowing nothing of Neal's sexual preferences. He decides to experiment by running the fingertips of both hands lightly up and down between the cheeks of Neal's firm white ass while he sucks him.
"Oh god," Neal thinks at once. The fingertips teasing at his crack excite him, bring back memories of the one and only time in his sixty plus years he has been fucked. Oddly, though it had been somewhat painful, he had enjoyed it, being particularly excited by the feeling of being filled by part of another person's body, the taking of another into himself. But, given the size of Lance, he isn't sure he wants to encourage such invasion. He places one hand around the base of Lance's cock and pushes the rest into his throat, gagging almost immediately. He practices breathing through his nose and swallowing as he begins to move his head up and down in a slow teasing rhythm.
Lance lifts his mouth off Neal's cock, uses three fingers to push back the foreskin and flicks his tongue rapidly in and around the tiny cock lips. Encouraged by the lack of resistance, he furthers his efforts on Neal's ass, continuing to tease his fingertips up and down the crack, but inserting the tip of his index finger slightly each time it passes the tender pink opening.
"Uh," Neal grunts softly around Lance's cock each time the fingertip slips inside him.
Lance, placing both hands on Neal's chest, asks. "Are you all right? I mean. Okay with this, with all of, this. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
"No, I mean yes, I mean. . . I am not sure of, of anything, but if you, if we, er. . . that is. . ." Neal pauses to get it right. "I'd rather regret doing, something with you, er, making love with you, than regret not. . . not loving you."
"If I. If, we. Er. Jeez, I sound like a stupid schoolgirl. I want. . . uh, very much, to, er do this, do everything, with you, but I want to still be your friend. Okay?"
"You got it buddy. Nothing you can do here, that is, nothing we do here is gonna change that." Neal reaches to lay his palm on Lance's face. "I am your friend."
Lance slides farther down. He takes Neal's dick between his fingers, sliding back the loose foreskin. He leans to sniff Neal's exposed glans. "God how I've missed that savory aroma. He licks tentatively, as one might test the flavor of a new ice-cream. "Um, nice. If I might say so, Neal, you have one beautiful penis. I love the shape and feel of it, so neat and trim and smooth." He laughs. "And the smell and taste. Funky, hot, divine." He uncovers the head of Neal's cock by pushing the foreskin down with his lips, then licks round and round the sensitive ridge. Finally, he reaches with his fingers to pull the foreskin forward over his tongue, to lick around inside, between the glans and foreskin where the masculine musk is strongest. "Um," he mumbles again.
"Uh," Neal grunts softly around Lance's cock. The tight rim of his ass tingles and contracts sharply each time a fingertip slips inside him. Doubtful, he pulls his ass sharply away from Lance's fingers, only to force his cock deep in Lance's throat. He pulls away from that sudden pleasure, yanking his hips back sharply, only to impale himself on Lance's driving finger. He almost loses himself in the conflicting whirl of pleasures, ass and cock, but recovers enough to redouble his efforts on Lance's dick. Intentionally, he begins to move his head sharply up and down, swallowing on the down stroke and licking and nibbling as he moves up to the bulbous head. Simultaneously he grips the base more tightly in his fist and pushes down on Lance's groin, putting pressure on his prostate.
More encouraged than ever, Lance, on the verge of cumming himself, slips his middle finger deep in Neal, flicking and twisting it against the prostate he can clearly feel.
Neal cries out loudly, spurting his seed in Lance's throat so forcibly some seeps out of Lance's nose, his gagging snorting reaction only increases Neal's stimulation. More cum spurts.
Now Lance loses it. It is Neal's turn to be surprised. Adjusting quickly he increases the downward pressure of his fist on Lance's groin, and simultaneously sucking hard, draws out Lance's cum in a long continuous flow.
The aging lovers both run quickly out of breath, panting and pulling their faces away. However, one highly sensitive penis remains tightly clasped in a fist; one finger remains deeply imbedded in a tender ass.
They lay like that for a time, panting and grinning. Lance moves first, turning to press his cum filled lips against Neal's. They kiss softly, tenderly, savoring the funky, bleachy flavor and aroma of each other.
"You know what?" Neal says into Lance's mouth.
"No, what?"
"I've done uh, other things," chuckling, "with a few men, but you are the first ever that I have kissed on the lips." Kissing him. Kissing him again. "It seems so much more intimate than all the rest.
"Me, too. Somehow I always thought kissing another guy was gross, even if I did do, 'other things' as you described them. But you are different, something is different. I like kissing you, Neal" He kisses him softly, then more deeply, tongues swapping cum.
They lie there a bit longer. Lance pushes up on the bed and rises.
"Where you going?"
"Back to my bed. I'll leave you alone now."
"The hell you say! Get back in here and sleep with me. What do you think I am, some cheap whore/ In that case you forgot to pay me."
"But I. . .It's your bed."
