Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

Preening

Richard sighed, turning his face up into the spray to rinse off. He was thinking too much. Hank's offer was a simple act of politeness. It didn't mean anything. They were just going to dinner. It wasn't the first time he'd been out with an acquaintance to eat. Was Hank an acquaintance, or did he dare call him a friend? They'd seen each other a lot more recently, either by design or happy coincidence. Sometimes, he might almost think it was deliberate, the way he lingered. The way he lifted him down from the fence was even more suspect, though it would be a lie to say he didn't encourage it. Had Hank noticed the way he leaned into it when his hands strayed beyond the bounds of politeness? Probably not. He was likely too decent for that. Any stray touches were probably an accident.

He couldn't help thinking back to when he'd taught him to catch Nines. Those firm hands on his hips. How his ass had bumped his thighs. That growling voice in his ear. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Maybe it wasn't as salacious as he recalled. Richard sighed as his cock twitched, running a hand through his sodden hair as it slowly filled out. It had been a while since he'd indulged himself, but was this really the right time? He was meeting Hank in less than an hour to head into town. But I can hardly meet him like this. There was no way his smart trousers would hide the bulge.

Closing his eyes, Richard gripped his cock and started stroking back and forth. He didn't tighten his hand at first, barely running his palm over the soft outer skin. Water still cascaded over his head, spilling over his eyes and mouth until he leaned out of the spray with an arm on the wall. Was it weird to think of Hank at a time like this? Probably. The man was much older and larger. That just seemed to do it for him more. It was so easy for Hank to lift him, even with one arm. He seemed to weigh nothing at all. He'd be like a koala on a tree if he picked him up properly. What did that mean for his cock? Oh-fuck!

If his cock matched his body size, he didn't even think he'd be able to take it. He'd tried it before, sure. He went to an all boy's school. They'd all done their share of experimenting, some more than others. Some with less choice than others. Being small came with its own disadvantages. His thighs had been fair game for pretty much anyone back then, but only a privileged few had the knowhow or inclination to use his ass or mouth. A few who knew what they were doing and wouldn't let amateurs ruin the good thing they had going. The memories made him bite his lip and whimper. Would Hank be like that? Would he stretch him slowly while murmuring gentle assurances that it would get better?

Richard turned and leaned his shoulders on the tiles, freeing up his hand and reaching back to squeeze his ass. He didn't really do that sort of thing these days. Being so focused on work had killed his libido somewhat. He'd had lovers on occasion, but they were often quiet, fleeting affairs. Something to get out the pent up frustration. Discrete and away from the public eye. What would people think of him now as he teased his ass and jerked off to the thought of an older man? Maybe they wouldn't be too surprised, having never seen him with a woman. Luckily, being a jockey, he was considered a D list celebrity. Only people who were into racing knew him by name, and to the public at large he was a nameless face. They might know him from somewhere, but they rarely knew where.

Tightening the hand on his cock, Richard slowly teased a finger against the hidden ring of muscle. He didn't push inside. That wasn't really his thing, but it felt good to tease the outer muscles. A sharp hiss slipped out as he imagined how Hank's fingers might feel doing the same thing. His fingers were much larger than his own. The stretch would probably hurt if he pushed in more than one. It would burn, but maybe it would be a good burn. The pain always got better in the long run, though he didn't think anything could properly prepare him to sit on that cock.

His legs quivered as he parted his thighs a little further and lowered his hips. The tiles were cold on his back, but the new position gave him more room to press and circle the gradually softening ring. He hummed softly, dark eyes fluttering as he pumped and squeezed his cock and imagined it was Hank's hand. Steam billowed in the tight space, making his pants even more laboured. Water pattered across his body, gushing over his hand and cock to wash away the beading droplets at the tip. A moan caught in his throat as his entrance loosened further, soft muscles almost inviting the tip of his finger inside. He didn't push further, content to tug and tease the twitching ring.