Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

Penned Up

Indulging himself had made it worse. A lot worse. Where before he'd only had his imagination to go on, he now knew exactly how it felt to have those delicate hips in his hands. He knew how light Richard was when he lifted him down from the fence, and how it felt to have him flush against his chest. Having snuck up behind to tease him, he even knew what it felt like to have that pert little ass nestled snug against his crotch. Richard was a lot shorter, so he had to bend his knees, but by leaning over his back, he could hold him at the perfect angle to thoroughly plough that tight little hole. His cock hardened just thinking about it. It was hard to believe Richard had let him get away with that one. Did that mean something? Had he cottoned on to what he was doing? Was bending over like a good little bitch his way of flirting? He didn't push back or grind, but that could have been nerves or uncertainty.

Hank was now grabbing his cock on an almost nightly basis, shamelessly working his hips as he imagined all the ways he could make Richard squeal. Having watched him at every given opportunity, he now knew he was pretty flexible. Fuck, it would be nice to get him on his knees. Gripping his forearms from behind, he'd use them like reins as he fucked him, making him ride his cock like he rode those pretty horses. His ass would bounce so hard he'd fall face first into the mattress if not for the bruising grip on his wrists. He'd hold him just far enough away that his cock pulled out to the tip with each hard snap, every clap of flesh bringing forth a mewling plea for more.

Sometimes, he wondered if Richard did the same thing on these long nights. Were they both lying awake in their own beds thinking similar thoughts? Did their hands travel similar paths across their bodies as they imagined all the things they might do? Did Richard want to choke on his cock as badly as he wanted to force it down his throat? It was hard to tell when he seemed so put together in the mornings. Waking up early to see him leave his house was a common occurrence these days. He'd startle himself out of a dream of tangled limbs to grab his own cock and finish on the sheets before crossing to the window to get some air. The universe seemed to be playing a cruel joke on him, because it always seemed to coincide with Richard leaving the house.

It was like being a teenager again, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was one of those mid-life crises people always talked about. If he suffered one of those, he'd expected it to come in the form of an expensive new car, or maybe a fancy boat. At a push, he might have believed he'd fall for a sexy woman half his age and lose everything buying her expensive gifts, but this? Jerking himself off over a guy? Richard wasn't even that much younger. Barely ten years. He also wasn't that good looking. There was just something about that little fucker that got him going. He had a great figure from all that riding, and his lack of height added to the appeal. At first, he'd thought his face quite rat-like, but as time wore on he decided he was actually a lot more like a ferret. Cuter, with eyes that were more soft than beady.

Affected as he was, there was really no choice but to do something about it. He couldn't keep jerking off over his neighbour when he was right there. At fifty-four years old, Hank Anderson was more than mature enough to make a move. They were both adults. He'd ask the question, and Richard would give him a polite answer. It didn't have to make things weird or awkward. It'll be a lot more awkward if I spontaneously spring a boner on him. That had happened more than once at this point, but his overalls were mercifully thick, and Richard's attention was usually on the chickens or Connor. If he didn't get a hold of himself and do something about this soon, he'd have to rethink their regular meetings at the chicken coop.

They'd met almost every day for the past two weeks. It was a wonder Richard wasn't getting suspicious. Connor had certainly noticed the growing routine. Every day, at almost ten o'clock, sometimes eleven if he'd been busy on the track, Richard would turn up at the coop to feed his chickens. By then, Hank had completed his morning rounds and returned in just enough time to tidy up and have a cup of tea before heading across to meet him. Having noticed that chicken time now lined up with Richard time, Connor had taken to sitting at the window or out on the porch waiting for him to appear. Seeing the distant figure entering his pen, Connor would hop to his paws and bark, tail wagging excitedly as he padded in circles waiting for Hank to join him.