The Older Man (BoyxBoy)

Twentynine

OLIVER

            When I got home Ian wasn’t home. Even though I didn’t expect him to be I was disappointed because I missed him and I wanted to see him. For the past week he was always home when I got home. I got spoiled being greeted by his warm embrace and his tender lips every evening.

            I sighed and trotted up to our bedroom, undoing the buttons on my jacket and dress shirt. If Ian was home he would have been stripping me out of it. Any other day I would’ve waited for him but my body was aching for a shower.

            After my shower I ended up downstairs on the couch with the TV on and a half empty bottle of iced tea on the floor close to my hand. If Ian should walk through the door and see that he would tell me not to leave it there. He’s adorable when his OCD kicks.

            I was home for thirty minutes before I decided to text my husband. I wanted him to come home and see me, not expecting me to be here. Anticipation is good too, I guess.

            Baby, hurry up and get home.

            I don’t know if he answered. Someway, somehow I fell asleep. The reason I know that was because Ian’s lips on mine was the sweetest wakeup call ever. Not to mention the feel of his hand, flat and rough against my stomach as he moved further down until he was at the waist of my sweat pants. He grabbed a handful of cock and balls. I pulled away from his lips as a chocked moaned escaped me and the upper part of my body flew in the air a bit.

            “No fair,” I gasped. “I was supposed to be doing this to you.”

            From his kneeling position next to the couch, Ian moved a little closer to my head and began placing wet hot kisses on my neck. I titled my head back and away from him to eagerly give him better access, moaning when he nipped gently.

            “Take your shirt off,” he said as he moved his hand to get a better grasp at my now hardened manhood. I complied. Ian bit at my chest and nipples and collarbone and every fucking thing. His hand had such a tight grip on me. It was like nothing I’ve ever felt from him before.

            Before I knew it, my body was tightening to prolong my release because it felt so good and I didn’t want it to end. “Let it go,” my husband whispered against my lips. He commanded it out of me and I let it go. I let it go hard.

            “Hmm,” Ian hummed. He had a smile on his face as he watched me become undone. I couldn’t watch him watch me forever. That was the hardest I ever came by hand.

            Ian wiped his hand in my shirt before fixing me back in my pants. He chuckled as I reached a shaky hand to ran through his hair. He got up and moved my head so it was in his lap. I really wanted to return the favor but that’ll have to wait until I got some strength back into my limbs. Ian knew what he did. He knew exactly how he made me feel and the effect it had on my body. I could see it in that half smile of his.

            The second I felt ready enough I sat up and straddled his lap and kissed him. He gently held the back of my neck, kissing me back deeply. I just had to look at him and when he opened his eyes I realized something was bothering him.

            “What’s wrong?” I asked him. His response was an arched brow. “How was your day?”

            “It doesn’t matter now that I’m home with you.”

            “Well it mattered before and if it mattered or matters to you then it matters to me.”

            “Come on, love, it’s nothing.”