Monday, August 10, 2009

Rain and Metal, and Meteors: A Gay Erotic Story

We drove up the winding road into the orchard and parked on the hilltop. The air was August warm and damp. We lay on the hood of the big Pontiac looking at the sky. His hairy arm pressed against mine as we searched for meteor showers up above.

“You know, there’s an old saying that someone dies every time you see a shooting star,” he said.

“Well, it seems to me there aren’t enough shooting stars to go around in that case,” I replied.

“At least you can’t spoil wishing on them!”

“No, I don’t intend to and you can even have the first one, I already got my wish today.”

I wasn’t looking at his face but if grinning made a noise, I’m sure I would have heard it then. We didn’t see any shooting stars as predicted, cloudy skies blocked out the meteors that night. Or maybe we just weren’t paying close enough attention.

We kept looking even as the first drops of rain began falling. It felt delicious, cleared the dust and sweat right off you. There’s something about that hot and dry meets cool and wet kind of smell that’s kind of wonderful, too.

He said, “Well this isn’t goin' to work tonight!” as he sat up and slid off the car hood.

“Well, maybe we can watch lightning instead?” I countered. “Anyway, there’s a few more days left of the Perseids, maybe tomorrow night’ll be dry and clear.”

We got in the car and watch the rain streaking down the windshield. As we got a little chilly he started up the old car for the heat. The lightning was a disappointment, too, but by that time we’d stopped looking. He awkwardly reached over and took my hand and held it for a minute. He swallowed noisily and cleared his throat. I wondered if my breath was bad or not. I pulled his hand with mine up under my shirt, brushing it against my belly. With my right hand, I unbuttoned my pants. He gasped as I pulled our still clasped hands under the elastic of my underwear.

The back of his warm, damp hand pressed against my cock which felt pretty much like it would explode. He leaned into me and our mouths met. Bristly mustache brushed my shaved upper lip and my thighs started trembling. Our tongues tasted, darted, and explored teeth and lips.

I’m not sure how my pants got off but we were wrassling around in the front seat with that gearshift in the way for some time. It was a big car, but not big enough for some things. He turned off the engine and we stripped down to our socks. God only knows why we left our socks on to go out in the mud but we did. We got out of the car and looked around at the unlikely orchard hill. I wondered first of all what we could actually do together and where in this soggy, lumpy place we could do it. Then he grabbed my hand and drew me to the still toasty warm car hood. We climbed on up and sat, the warm metal pressed against our bare asses. It was a little too warm and I laid back and wiggled around to get a bit of rain under my cheeks. He took this as an invitation (and maybe it was!) and more or less crawled on top of me. It was as clumsy as a box of puppies but his weight felt good on top of me and his hand even better on my cock. We slipped around on the wet metal and though he’d been propping himself up a bit he fell down the rest of the way on me and his crotch slid up against mine. OK, so THAT’S what we could do.

We wriggled against each other then, not sure how to go about it when I reached down and cupped his buttocks in my hands natural as can be. He began to thrust, slipping his penis across mine and I felt my own hips bucking up towards him. We kissed, the cool rain hitting hot flesh and metal, mingling with dust and sweat. All at once I just took off and came all over his belly. He kept rubbing his cock, now very slick with my cum, against my belly until he groaned and bucked and released his load.

We both lay on the car looking up into the rain for a while. The car cooled down and so did we. Shivering, we got back in the Pontiac and dressed in a hurry. I’m not sure why, there was no one anywhere around. My muddy socks squelched unpleasantly inside my shoes but I didn’t mind one bit.

Next morning my Ma asked me if we’d seen any meteors before the rain or if at least the lightning put on a good show. She didn’t understand for a few more years yet but what I told her was this, “there weren’t no shooting stars and the lightning wasn’t too exciting but the fireworks sure were nice!”

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