This story contains graphic descriptions of adult gay male sex. If it is illegal for you to access this site, you are under age, or you find the content offensive, please leave.
The Mailman Delivers
By Oregon Bear
The heavy rain continued to pour down outside, and the power had just gone out. I'd put the kettle on the woodstove to make myself a cup of tea when the lights started to flicker, and threw in another stick of firewood.
I'd just finished a big project for work, and needed a break.
It was about time for the mail, and the only visitor I'd see on most days. I was the last house on the road, and the timber company kept the gate locked just a hundred yards farther up.
"I'd sure hate to be out driving in this," I thought.
In a few minutes, I saw the mailman's jeep coming up the road. He pulled into the driveway and got out, a package in his hand.
I opened the door, and said a hearty hello to Matt.
"Nasty day, huh?" I said.
"Yeah, and the road's closed," he said. "Just as I drove past the last corner, a tree and a power pole came down behind me."
"I called it in on my cell phone, but the power company said they're tied up with some other outages and they might not get to it til the end of the day," he said. "Guess I'm trapped for a while."
"Come on in," I said. "Kettle's on and you're always welcome here."
Water dripped off his hat and his coat, even dripping from his thick, curly reddish beard. I found room for his gear on one of the coat hooks by the door and led him into the kitchen.
"Looks like even your boots are soaked. Take 'em off and we'll get 'em drying by the stove," I said.
Matt sat down in one of the two big rocking chairs in front of the stove, and began to unlace his boots, his muscular shoulders tight against his thick plaid shirt.
I'd remembered his shoulders from that day in July, when I was building fence down by the mailbox, rearranging the rails of the split rail fence and digging holes for new posts. It was a hot day and I'd stripped off my shirt and was working up a good sweat.
Matt had pulled up with the mail, and we got to talking. He started helping me lift and move the heavy rails. I was the last box on his route and he said he didn't mind giving me a hand, and getting some exercise.
Soon, he pulled off his shirt, filling my eyes with the view of his thick, muscular chest and arms, the thick curls of hair covering his big chest, and the trail of fur that led down to his hard belly and his big silver belt buckle.
We'd worked hard for most of an hour, fixing the fence, and catching up on our lives. The scent of his clean, manly sweat on a hot summer's day, glistening on his chest and shoulders was something I'd thought about ever since.
I took another mug down from the shelf and poured the water, the smell of the herbal tea I'd dried last summer filling the kitchen.
I kept thinking of that day Matt and I rebuilt the fence, and the half naked mailman grunting as he hefted the heavy rails, sweat shining on his hard chest. My cock swelled even now at the thought of him.
We sat by the stove in the living room, looking over the river, almost at flood stage, listening to the crackle of the fire and the heavy rain still pounding down on the roof.
Matt and I caught up on the news from the neighborhood, and our lives. We hadn't had a good talk since that hot summer's day.
I'd remembered that Matt had a wife, but they divorced a couple of years ago. We'd run into each other down at the tavern on the edge of town when there was an open mic. We both played guitar and sang. One time, last spring, there was a fund raiser at the fairgrounds, and we were both in an impromptu country western band.
We'd talked about getting together, the two of us, just to jam and teach each other the songs we'd been working on. But, life happens and we both got busy. So it never happened.
My stomach grumbled, and soon I was busy fixing us some sandwiches and refilling our mugs with tea. The stove was putting out quite a bit of heat. Wood heat goes right to the bones and felt good on this nasty day.
Matt was settling in, and unbuttoned a couple of shirt buttons. The wood stove was doing its job. I unzipped my fleece vest and hung it next to Matt's wet coat.
A thick tuft of chest hair poked out of his shirt, the reddish tint matching his beard. I caught a whiff of his clean, manly scent, mixing nicely with a little wood smoke and the tea.
"What have you been working on lately, with your guitar?" I asked.
"Not much," he said. "I've just been really lonely, and frustrated, you know," he said.
I got up and picked up my guitar off its hook on the wall, and handed it to him.
"Let me hear it," I said. "Looks like we got all afternoon, anyway."
His long fingers quickly made themselves at home on the fret board, and he finger picked a sweet ballad, of love lost and long, dark nights, and tears.
We passed the guitar back and forth, each of us playing songs we'd written, and old favorites. Our deep voices filled the house with the melodies, and we harmonized on the choruses.
Matt's cell phone chirped, and he answered it. His face turned into a frown, and he talked quietly, then said thanks and good bye.
"That was the power company," he said. "The main line also went out, and they won't get to this road until tomorrow."
"Well, you'll have to spend the night, then, my friend," I said. "I'll get out my twelve string and we can have a party."
He smiled, then broke out into a grin.
"I'd like that," he said. "I've been really lonely lately, and I'd enjoy a night with a good friend."
I got an elk roast out of the freezer and put it in the cast iron dutch oven on top of the stove, adding some potatoes and carrots, and a cup of wine.
"At long as I got the wine open, we might as well have a glass," I said. "After all, you won't be driving."
Matt laughed, his eyes sparkling.
"And, I'd like to get to know my friend," I said.
It wasn't much of a secret that I was gay. I'd never dated women and I'd had a brief fling with one of the state forestry guys a couple of years ago. It didn't go anywhere. I'm pretty much a loner, and around here, people respect each other's privacy, though there's always enough gossip at the coffee shop and the tavern.
I didn't go to town much, anyway, preferring to stay at my house, do my work on line, and be out with nature. Most people drove me nuts anyway.
People had mentioned they didn't think Matt was dating either, after the divorce. I'd thought about asking him for dinner or to go fishing, but I didn't want to intrude. I thought he still needed some space after the divorce, and I wasn't really sure if he'd be interested in me, or any other guy.
Still, he was in my thoughts a lot, and was the number one star in my fantasy dreams.
I looked over at Matt, saw him looking down at the floor, looking like he was about to cry.
I moved over to him, taking him in my arms, and gave him a hug.
Matt hugged me back, hard, his thick arms clutching on to me, drawing me closer, tight against his chest.
"I'm .... I'm just really lonely," he said, his voice thickening, breaking into a sob.
He held me tight, his chest wracked by deep sobs, his cheeks hot against my face, his whiskers pushed against my beard. I felt wet on my face, tears flowing down Matt's face.
"You're a good man, Matt," I said. "And a good friend."
New sobs filled my ears, as he cried even harder. I held him tight, pulling him even closer.
There was a thickness against my groin, a thickness that kept swelling, pushing against my jeans as I kept holding Matt close. I decided to get a little more personal, and take our conversation to a new level.
"You're a good man, Matt," I whispered. "And we've got all night to get to know each other better."
I held one hand against his face, his whiskers soft against my skin, and kissed him. Our moustaches meshed together, and we held that kiss for a long, sweet time. He smelled of wood smoke and red wine, and salty tears. My own tears joined his, running into my beard, tears of happiness, pleasure.
My own cock swelled, feeling tight against my jeans, my balls tingling with lust, and pleasures yet to come as the day turned slowly into night.
My hand moved down, against his shirt, feeling his muscular back, and then his butt.
He sighed, whispering my name, letting out a big breath.
I ran my hand across his ass, then around, until I could feel his swollen cock, tight and damp against his jeans.
"You're a big man," I whispered. "I've wanted you for a long time."
"And I'll take care of you, Matt."
He nodded, sniffling. A fresh tear flowed down his cheek into his beard.
"And I've wanted you for a long time, too," he said.
"Last summer, building fence with you, I knew then I wanted you," he said. "I just didn't know how to say it."
We kissed again, holding each other tight, my hand feeling his hardness, eager to free him and let his balls swing free in the air, while my tongue tasted his cock. My cock swelled even larger, as my mind's eye remembered that summer's day, when he'd stripped off his shirt, and the smell of his manly sweat filled my nostrils with desire.
My fingers shook as I unbuttoned his shirt, slowly working my way down the chest of my lover. The thick curls of his chest hair and the soft thick cotton of his shirt electrified my fingers and the back of my hands.
I pulled his shirt out of his pants, my lips nuzzling his fur, and finding a ripe, hardening nipple in the midst of the reddish jungle of fur.
With both hands, I pulled his shirt free of his hard, muscular shoulders, and down his arms, until he stood there, in the kitchen, half naked, ready for our loving.
I took in the smell of the rich manly funk of his armpits, damp now with lusty sweat. I ran my fingers through that thick forest of fur, exposed now to the warm air, mingling with the smells of the wood smoke and the elk roast, cooking to perfection on the wood stove.
He moaned as I suckled a now exposed nipple, my moustache and beard snagged by his chest hair, a hand finding again his hard cock pushing against his jeans. I rubbed him, finding the tip of his manhood, feeling the damp of his precum that had soaked through his pants.
He gripped my shoulders, pushing me down, my hungry tongue leaving a wet trail down his fur, to his belt, and then the large lump in his jeans.
I smelled his funk, the scent of his seed faint in my nose, mixed with that manly odor of a man in lust, the heat from his balls hot against my face.
With trembling, eager fingers, I tugged on his belt, then unbuttoning him, unzipping him, and tugged his jeans to the floor. His large, uncut cock thrust out of the flap of his boxers, flying proud and hard.
My lips took him in, my tongue feeling his heat, his hardness, and tasting a large gob of his precum. The pulse of his blood filling his cock telegraphed his lust to my tongue and lips, and I took him in deeper, his manly smell strong in my nose.
I moaned with lust and desire, as I tasted and explored him, beginning the dance that would lead to him exploding deep in my throat.
I yanked his boxers down, letting loose of my prey for the moment it took to free his cock from the last of his clothes. His balls, heavy in their hairy sack, swung free, as I cupped them, feeling their heaviness. My mouth watered at the thought of tasting them, sucking on them, as my hands stroked Matt's cock, and toyed with his nipples and furry chest.
His hands grabbed my shirt, pulling it up over my arms, his eager fingers pulling and tugging at my nipples, pulling on my chest hair, stroking my beard.
Clumsily, I pulled his jeans and socks off of his feet, until he stood before me naked, open for whatever I wanted to do to him.
And there was plenty I wanted to do to him.
We pulled each other down, onto the rug next to the wood stove, hands and bare skin, and, for maybe a minute, my jeans and shorts, until Matt's shaking hands had stripped me of the last of my clothes. His hands explored me, finding my own now throbbing cock and sweaty balls, as our lips again joined, saliva wet and slippery, wetting our moustaches and chin whiskers.
My nostrils filled again with the odor of his now pungent, lusty sweat rising out of his thickly forested armpits. I moved down to again suckle one of his ripe, erect nipples and then tasting his sweat drenched armpit.
Matt moaned again, hoarsely whispering "Yes, yes."
I moved up, as we lay side by side next to the stove, and thrust my tongue into his mouth, our bodies shining with sweat, in the fading light of the afternoon. The noise of the heavy rain and crackling fire now just background for the new sounds of the moans and sighs of men making love, finding pleasure and completion in each other's arms.
The yeasty good stench of Matt's sweat wafted into my nose, mixed with the smells of the wood smoke and the elk steak simmering on the stove, and the red wine we had opened, and barely tasted.
That first time, we did not slow, we did not stop to savor the delights of each other. That would come later, as the evening and night, even at the next day's dawn, moved on. Pure lust drove us to quickly take each other in our mouths, sucking hard and fast, fingers stroking and fondling, hips thrusting hard against bearded faces, hands groping and caressing, until long ropes of cum spurted out of long neglected, abandoned cocks, as we filled the house with our orgasmic cries of delight and discovery.
Later, after that first time, we wrapped ourselves in blankets, and sat on the couch by the wood stove. Hungrily, we devoured the elk steak and vegetables, quenching our thirst with the rest of that first bottle of wine. Our lips and beards glistened with the juices of the stew, and bits of the jism we had sucked out of each other's cocks and exploded into our faces, only minutes before.
It was almost dark, and I lit an oil lamp. The golden light filled the room with a soft, warm light.
"That was a great meal," Matt said.
He shrugged the blanket off his shoulders and put an arm around me, a big smile on his face.
I could see a glob of drying cum in the middle of his chest, glimmering in the lamplight, caught in the thick pelt of fur that covered his muscular pecs. The curly fur had been my playground, as my fingers and tongue had sought after his nipples.
My mind's ear heard Matt moan again, as I loved him sweet and tender.
Even now, his body was stirring up my lust, my cock starting to again harden at the thought of him so close to me.
My mouth watered, my mind seeing again his hard, thrusting cock, spurting his seed into my mouth and across my beard, as he cried out my name.
"What's for dessert?" he asked, laughing.
"You."
March 10, 2017