Unleashed by Barringer

I've always found wild stormy nights so erotic. You know the wind whipping at your windowpane and the rain lashing down outside. They invariably remind me of "Wuthering Heights" and Cathy and Heathcliffe and all that unleashed passion. My dictionary defines 'unleashed' as "the releasing of something powerful and destructive." That just about sums it up. I'd had the hots for Stephen ever since my daughter introduced him to us as her 'latest catch' and, tempting and powerful as the thought might be, I couldn't think of anything more destructive than humping my future son-in-law although I used to wonder several times if my darling daughter really appreciated the fine specimen of manhood she had entwined in her female net. She was pretty lukewarm when she talked about him and kept putting off the wedding. I was convinced she didn't love him even half as much as I did. Besides, they seemed more like brother and sister whenever I saw them together although I was soon to see more of Stephen as after he'd finished studying for his business degree he joined the company I work for. He's originally from South Carolina but has developed a Boston accent and he looks great when he's dressed for the office but even greater when he's undressed for swimming.

The first time I laid eyes on him -- and refrained from laying my hands on him -- was when he came over on one of his first dates with Susan and they went swimming in our family pool. I don't have to describe him to you; although it turns me on to do so, because he has the classic swimmer's body with strong shoulders and even stronger legs. I immediately had fantasies about his nutcracker thighs cracking my nuts as we made 'unleashed love'. He seemed as straight as an arrow but arrows make a lovely twang when they leave the bow string and hit a lot of different targets. And I so wanted him to score a bull's eye in mine. Although I would never have admitted it to anyone. Not even to myself.

Ok, so I'm a middle-aged man in denial, a closet case who doesn't have the strength of his convictions. But I had a conventional upbringing, a conventional job, a conventional wife and family and didn't play 'ball' much at school or college - or even business conventions. And I managed to suppress my gay urgings until I was confronted by Stephen's thick chestnut-brown hair, warm brown eyes, his browner than brown body and his flashing white smile. And of course I wanted to nibble his nifty nipples and turn them to stone the first time I set eyes on them. I also wanted to slide my head and mouth down the long smooth pec-chute from his chest to his love nest. But, of course, I didn't do anything except fantasize about him and jerk off till my cum hit the ceiling. Sometimes I didn't even have to jerk off. Just the idea of him had me cumin in my pants.

I immediately dismissed any thought of approaching him or doing anything physical because of my daughter, because of my wife and, naturally, because of convention. I convinced myself he was too young for me and that no man in his right senses would pursue his daughter's boyfriend. So I played it cool even if I broke into a hot sweat whenever we shook hands or were sitting thigh to thigh on the living room sofa. Many a time I longed to lunge especially once when we were alone in the den looking at a ball game together. Adrenalin can get pretty racy during ball games especially with some of those raunchy guys grappling for the ball. But I knew - or thought I knew - that if I grappled for Stephen's balls or made sexual overtures of any kind I'd end up with a broken nose or something worse. A ruined reputation. A wrecked marriage.

So I nursed my lovesick dick until I thought it would never recover from the beating I gave it night and day. Last month, Lesley my wife left me and, as they say in conventional society, went off with another. I don't really blame her. I hadn't exercised my marital rights for a long time. And when I had it was usually with Stephen in mind so the sex hadn't been very satisfying for either of us. To make matters worse the weekend before she walked out on me, I had blundered into the bathroom and found Stephen stark naked drying his hair with Susan's hairdryer. I got a look at his perfect ass before he turned round. His half-erect dick seemed slippery and sloppy after the shower. I noticed how thick it was and how succulent it looked for sucking.

He didn't seem at all embarrassed and did nothing to cover his ample endowments. I stood transfixed for a moment, drinking in each drip that fell from his body. As I did so I thought of something I'd just read in a magazine: "The movie is part of a tacky, trilogy of terror." Funny the things that come into your head at such times. There was nothing tacky about the unexpected peepshow that was awaiting me in my own bathroom and the sight of his dick and balls held no terror but only the promise of a terrific trilogy lying in store for me if I played my sexual cards right. One which included the double feature of his fine, firm buns.

"Sorry there never seem to be enough towels in here," I said breaking my own silence and handing him a bathrobe. "That's ok," he said wrapping it around him and using it to dry his no longer private parts. He may have been wet but my mouth was bone dry and the steamy proximity of him gave me quite a boner. Lesley was downstairs having breakfast so I went back to the bedroom and jerked off. Yet again.

Something told me I should have stayed in the bathroom and jerked off in front of him. Or taken the bull by the horns and reached out and touched him. There had been that pregnant hiatus of masculine intimacy between us which I knew we'd both been aware of but I hadn't been 'man enough' to take advantage of it.

Stephen and Susan didn't get married exactly but she moved in with him. Very unconventional for a very conventional girl from a conventional family but she said she wanted to 'make up her mind, didn't want to make a mistake.' And this was pretty soon after Lesley had left me so I felt mighty lonesome. I found myself listening to melancholy music and torch songs with lyrics like: "Once again my love I'm still dreaming of you. There you are my love like a ghost in the light." And I wasn't missing Lesley. Quite the contrary. I had the house to myself and could jerk off whenever and wherever I liked. But there were no weekend visits from Stephen. Nevertheless my nights and days were full of wet dreams of him. One was particularly vivid. I'd invited him over to work on a project. I was his boss and he'd just joined the company. He was happily married and I asked him to phone his wife and tell her he was out of town and would be staying in a motel. I handed him the phone but he protested especially when I grabbed him between the legs and told him if he wanted that promotion he'd better play ball. I got such a thrill feeling his dick get hard and huge between my fingers as he called his little wife to give her the news. Listening to him talking to the disappointed girl, while I was slowly unzipping him and sliding my fingers over his hot yielding flesh, was a real turn on. And I wasn't disappointed at all. Just thrilled by the size and girth of his dick. Just as I had been when I saw him in the bathroom and was too afraid to take the matter in hand so to speak.

Another turn on was ripping his shirt open till his tie dangled from the collar and I grabbed hold of it, almost choking him as I did what I had always wanted to do: make erect stones out of his nipples as I licked him to a frenzy and slid my tongue down to his frothing dick. In between times, whenever I came up gasping for air, our tongues tangoed in each other's mouths. I grabbed his butt while we kissed and spread it open so I could slip a finger inside. The slip became a shove as he moaned and sat down on my other fingers urging me to fist fuck him. I couldn't believe it. The guy who ten minutes ago had been protesting, "I don't do that kind of thing" was almost swallowing my hand whole with that beautiful butt of his. Then I woke up. The phone was ringing and it was Susan crying saying Stephen had left her. He'd left me too. At least he'd left my dream. For one sleepy confused moment I thought he'd run off with my wife. Everything was so real and surreal.

I told Susan to come right on over but she didn't want to, said he might come home. I went back to sleep but had no more erotic dreams. Very disappointing. Of course I saw Stephen at work almost every day but that didn't help much. Only made me hornier. The way those nipples of his speared his immaculate whiter- than-white shirt was a constant reminder of my unrealised dream and the whiteness that smeared my sheets or made my stomach and chest look like a cotton field. I took to drinking lots of coffee while at work and lots of whisky while at home. I also watched a lot of adult movies. Gay movies. But that didn't help much either. One guy reminded me too much of Stephen. He was running through the woods in beige semi-transparent spandex and he was wearing no underwear so you could see his dangling dick and balls very clearly through the material. I found myself thinking what if he should run into an old lady out walking her dog.

He didn't run into an old lady exactly but into a muddy stream and got splattered and splashed which made his dick and balls look even more pronounced. They were too much like Steve's to be true. I couldn't stand the frustration so turned the video off but my mind was already turned on. Somewhere between drunken stupor and sleep I envisaged the guy in spandex knocking on my door begging for shelter as he stood outside in the pouring rain. I brought him inside and helped him shed his skin tight covering. It was sticking to him like glue so it was like skinning a rabbit. I hosed him down in the yard, which was weird, as it no longer seemed to be raining. I laid him out on Sue's inflatable rubber mattress and lathered his body real good, concentrating on that extra generous piece of meat between his legs. The one which had been bouncing to and fro in the spandex and which reminded me so much of Steve's dick. You will no doubt have noticed that I now refer to Stephen as Steve as we enter into the intimacy of my fantasies and I enter his ass.

The long hosepipe had turned into my own dick, which was now sheathed in rubber as I slowly but surely penetrated his throbbing hole. He gasped and tensed and a low growl came from his throat as I sank into him. Soon he was shouting and screaming as I pounded away at him pinching those fabulous nipples of his as I did so. Pound, pound, pound. Then I woke up again. Somebody was pounding at the front door and it was still raining. It took me a little while to gather my whisky-drowned senses together and open up. It was Steve drenched to the skin and very drunk himself. He'd gotten home, found that Sue was no longer waiting for him and had drunk a bottle of Jack Daniels. He'd come to the only other place he expected to find her. He broke down crying when I told him I had no idea where she was. In between sobs he told me about the end of their relationship. It was almost a day-by-day, play-by-play re-run of the last weeks of my marriage. "I was never at home and when I was my mind was somewhere else. I didn't make love to her any more."

All I could say to console him was that Sue didn't always know what was best for her and that he should get out of his wet things and stay the night. Almost a re-run of my recent fantasy although I didn't peel them off him or hose him down like I had with the guy in the spandex. I just showed him to the guest room and told him to take a shower. I went to the bed I used to share with Lesley and tried not to think of him naked just one wall away from me. I tossed and turned for a while, then decided to go downstairs to make us both some hot milk. There was not a sound coming from the bathroom or his bedroom when I tiptoed upstairs later. I opened the door very quietly but Steve wasn't there. The room and the bed were empty. I went back to my room and was about to turn on the light when I heard his voice coming out of the darkness.

"Wait, Barringer. Keep it dark. I need to tell you something."

He'd never ever called me by my Christian name before and in all my wildest dreams I never imagined that the first time would be from the center of my bed so I was doubly surprised.

"I've sort of wanted to do this for a long time but never had the courage."

My mouth went dry like it had that fateful day in the bathroom.

But all I could stupidly say was "Do what?"

"Slip between your sheets." he said.

As simple as that and I'd never been able to find the words.

I didn't say anything and the silence between us in that dark room was terrible.

"I wasn't sobbing because I was missing Sue. I was missing you."

Still I didn't say anything.

"Oh God," he said. "I'm sorry. I thought you felt the same way."

He turned on the bedside light, grabbed his wet clothes and started to leave.

He was too ashamed even to look at me.

"Stephen, wait!"

I reached out quickly and grabbed his hand. "It's OK."

I pulled him back to the bed then took his other hand.

"It's all right. Listen, I know what you mean and it's OK."

He sighed as I pulled him towards me and the words came tumbling out.

Words and emotions that had been penned and pent up inside of me for years.

"I wish I'd had your guts so I could have told you the same thing. I couldn't because of Sue .... because of Lesley. I thought you were straight. I couldn't steal my own daughter's boyfriend."

"I was forcing myself to be straight. I didn't want to disappoint my mother. Since my father died she's been counting on me to carry on the family name."

I stopped him with a kiss. The sort of kiss I thought I would never be able to give him. And it wasn't a passionate kiss. It was a hesitant trembling-lip kiss. A love kiss. That's the only way I can describe it.

A kiss full of wonder and joy. Then I told him I had made the mistake he was about to make himself.

"What mistake was that?"

"Getting married," I said. Then I corrected myself.

"But I shouldn't call it a mistake. I have a beautiful daughter. And she brought me you."

"Gosh, I wish I'd known before," he said. "We could have been together all this time."

"We're together now," I said and kissed him again.

This time it was a passionate kiss. His tongue danced with mine just like in one of my fantasies only this was more fantastic. It was for real. My hands seem to run all over his body at the same time as if making up for the months, weeks, days, minutes we'd wasted. The song "Seasons of Love" floated into my head. "How do you measure the life of a woman or man? You measure in love." Those words took on new significance for me. I'd taken Sue to see "Rent" when she was a teenager and marvelled that I was enjoying it more than she was, as I was now enjoying her discarded boyfriend, and my new lover. I began kissing his neck and moved lower, laying kisses down his swimmer's chest and stomach while my hand cupped his balls and caressed them as I brought his dick level with my mouth.

"Suck my balls first," he whispered. He pronounced it with a 'w' which made it sound even more sexy and spread his legs apart, so I took each erotic nut into my mouth and rolled it around until I drove us both crazy. Then I let my tongue travel slowly up his trembling shaft. I heard him inhale deeply and then let out a sizzle and a hiss as my lips clamped down on his hot flesh. Once again I couldn't believe what was happening to me. I was in my bed as usual but this wasn't fantasy. Yet here I was licking the cock of the man of my dreams and suckling on it. And it felt wonderful. He let out little sighs of pleasure and stroked my head and spurred me on. I had absolutely no experience of giving head but my lips and my tongue seemed to know exactly what they were doing and of course, by then, I'd seen a lot of adult movies which had excited and aroused me but nothing compared with the sweet sensations we were both getting as my lips quivered and he shivered and then came in my mouth. And it tasted so good.

"Oh God, Barringer," he groaned. "That was fantastic!"

"Beginner's luck!" I said proudly. And I meant it.

I may have waited a long time but I'd waited for the right man.

He nestled up against me and my dick took flight. Naturally this didn't escape his notice.

"Are you ready to further investigate me, baby?" he said lapsing into a slow Southern drawl.

"Every inch." I said as he stroked my dick as nobody had ever stroked it before.

"You'll have to go easy, 'cos I ain't never been fucked before," he said.

"I ain't fucked no loveboy before neither!" I said in an unconvincing hillbilly accent.

There was something so sexy and at the same time so comforting, so personal in the fact that he was laying off all the trappings of his Boston education and taking me to the deep south of his being. Such an intimate invitation into his own private world. It kind of rid me of all my ingrained inhibitions and opened me up to new experiences. That night he took charge of my body and led me to sexual freedom. Encouraged me to do things I had never done before. Helped me penetrate deeply into my repressed feelings and into his ass. Made everything feel so natural, so right, that I was completely uninhibited and unashamed.

"Lick my ass first," he said as I prepared to fuck him. "I'll definitely need a bit of lubrification."

I've never heard that word pronounced like that before or since and it had my tongue burrowing into his hole like a rabbit seeking safety. I know we're back to rabbits again like in my fantasy but it was a whole different thing. More scalding than skinning. It was also something I'd never thought I would do, rimming another man.

He moaned and did a kind of backward somersault to expose his ass further and help me get right on in there. He moaned some more as the tip of my tongue touched his sphincter. I didn't know much about love buttons and sphincters. My love making with Lesley had always been perfunctory and uninspiring and I was usually glad when it was over. This was a whole new road show and I wanted the show to go on and on.

"I need something bigger in there, Barringer," he said eventually. "Fuck me. Ram me with your thick cock."

I proceeded to do as he asked me but in my over enthusiasm must have given him too much too soon.

He screamed. I withdrew momentarily and reached out blindly for the jar of face cream Lesley always kept on the bedside table. Mercifully it was still there. I plunged my fingers into it and then into him. He gasped a bit but I felt his sphincter tighten around my fingers. I could have come right then shoving my fingers in his tight asshole. His legs were high in the air, his eyes were closed, his teeth were clenched and I knew he was suspended somewhere between pleasure and pain. My dick pulsed with my quickening heartbeat, as if to tell me it was time for it to take over. I grabbed Steve by the ankles and, leaning forward, let my throbbing pole slowly penetrate him. He gasped a bit more and tensed a little but a low growl came from his throat as his ass gave way and gave in and my nine-inches sank in right up to the hilt. I started to grind my hips slowly into him, my pelvis under the control of my cock. He seemed to savour every thrust and cried out for more.

"Fuck me, Barringer! Fuck me hard!" he growled.

I loved the sound of those throaty growls and the way he muttered and mumbled and moaned my name as I rammed into him. Sometimes he never quite arrived at the end of my name, just wheezed and hiccupped and sobbed Bar .... Bar .. Bar ... like a demented sheep but I was determined to bar him nothing. And as soon as my dick was jammed inside him there were no holds barred either. I let go of his legs and reached out for his head, which was banging against the bedrails. I grasped it and I clasped it bringing his face close to mine as I entered him further. I kissed him and I fucked him deeply. I plunged so far into him at both ends that, at one point, I thought my tongue and my dick would meet. I felt him spasm at the same time as I did and soon we were swimming in each other's cum. That's when I knew what a cotton field really looked like.

We lay entwined in my marital bed for a long time. It had become our marital bed and I felt no shame that I had fucked my future son-in-law with more energy and exhilaration than I had ever fucked my wife. Not that Steve was ever likely to marry Sue now. It did enter my head in that timeless moment of complete sexual satisfaction that the 'day of reckoning' was just around the corner and I would have to confront my wife, my daughter and convention but to stay in the vernacular of "Gone With The Wind" I didn't give a damn and would think of that tomorrow. And tomorrow was great as Steve took me on several sexual laps and I felt the sublime power of a swimmer's body riding me over Point Break waves of pleasure. Waves that crested in a way they had never crested with anyone before. And I found myself cumin like I'd never come before too. And I had no regrets whatsoever. I know "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" but I also know that whatever potentially destructive venom Lesley and Sue may unleash upon us will soon dissolve in the powerful nectar of our love.

The heavenly storm of unleashed passion that grew and surged between us brings me full circle back to where you and I came in. If you remember, or even care, I was telling you about "Wuthering Heights" and Cathy and Heathcliffe and my undeclared love for my daughter's handsome boyfriend. The initial image of wind whipping at window panes and rain lashing down outside has now magically morphed into my lover pounding on my door in the pouring rain and the pleasurable pounding we've been giving each other since I began this story. Hope you had a good morphing too while reading about it.