Page 21 of The Christmas Mittens
Hell yes, I would! I turned on my stool not to see that white box with the carb kit resting inside of it. I’d had dreams last night, all night, about the man who was inviting me to lunch. Hot, spicy, naughty images had reeled through my brain all night. I’d woken up with such a stiff dick I could barely roll to my side for fear of snapping the damn thing in two. A quick cold shower with Gilda banging about outside the door telling me to hurry erased the arousal pretty damn quick.
Hello back! Soup and bread sounds wonderful. What time?—M
It is on low and ready, as is the bread, so whenever you get here?—A
I’ll be there in twenty!—M
And with that, I grabbed my coat, stoked the stove, and did something I had never done in all my years of running Grouse Falls Small Engine Repairs shop. I closed and locked the doorsin the middle of the day. Once outside, with the cold on my overheated face, I felt a twinge of guilt. I glanced across the road but saw nothing of Franny, so I jumped into my cold Subaru and headed to the campgrounds. The heater started blowing warm air about the time I pulled up to the Mercedes camper sitting under a snowy pine. Being a good and responsible business owner, I set the alarm on my phone to go off in one hour. Which was about forty-five minutes longer than my usual lunch break.
Anders threw open the sliding door, allowing Della to charge out. I bent down to pet her, then straightened to smile and wave at Anders. The dog made a quick piddle and streaked back to the van. I met him at the door, awkwardly unsure of what to do with my hands or any other body part.
“Come in, the soup is ready.” He gave me a quick hug and climbed inside. I followed, the door closing behind me, and I inhaled the rich aroma of onions, beef, and pepper as well as bread warming in the microwave. Anders had removed the countertop that had held his beads to reveal a small cooktop underneath. Two burners, nothing large, but more than enough to create a fine meal.
“That smells amazing. What is it?” I asked as I removed my coat, the top of my head just missing the high roof option that Anders must have special ordered. Della dove into a thick, furry dog bed on the floor right by what looked to be a vent, probably one that also served as AC in the summer. She made a few circles before curling up for a nap, her nose tucked under her stubby tail.
“Ah well, it’s a bit of a mish-mosh since I didn’t have veal for the meatballs as our cooks use, but I improvised and found some venison I bought from a butcher in New York State as I was driving through. This soup is very much Danish. My father has some Dane roots way back, and this is one of his favorites even though it’s not an Östermon original dish.” He motioned for meto sit on the neatly made bed as he began ladling soup into deep green bowls. I toed off my snowy boots and left them on a small rubber mat by the sliding door before taking a seat. “It’s called Kød og melboller suppe, or meatball and dumpling soup.”
I had so many questions to ask the man about himself, his nation, his heritage but that would all wait. I didn’t want to swamp him with a thousand queries when he’d been kind enough to invite me into his home to eat.
He turned from the smooth electric cooktop, smiling broadly, steaming bowls in each hand, and our gazes locked. Something passed between us, something vibrant, that made my empty belly take a back seat to the flare of want.
“You look so good sitting there on my bed,” he said, his voice suddenly rough with desire.
I wasn’t sure how to reply other than to leap on him, and since he was holding hot soup, that seemed dangerous.
“I’d love to share your bed with you.” That felt better than pouncing.
Anders nodded, placed the soup on the counter, and took the few steps needed to get him within reach of my greedy hands. I grabbed his hips and yanked him toward me. He tumbled atop me, flattening me back into the incredibly soft mattress as his mouth claimed mine in a kiss that wiped soup and bread out of my head like a dustmop on a dirty floor. That was a terrible comparison.
Somehow, in the matter of a few seconds, I’d managed to wrestle Anders to his side, and we lay facing each other, kissing and petting, his shirt rucked up so I could touch his pink nipples as he began a slow, torturous massage of my cock that soon had me huffing and sweaty. He opened my shirt, loosening a few buttons on the warm, old flannel shirt as he bared my chest.
“Can I touch your dick?”
“Only if I can touch yours,” I countered and smashed my lips to his. Zippers came down, pricks came out, and I fisted his as he began to stroke mine. “You have a pretty cock,” I stammered as he began to unravel me stroke by stroke. “I love your foreskin.” I’d not had many encounters with men, and none of them were uncut, so this was truly a first for me. I gently slid it down over the head, his shuddering breaths telling me he liked that. “Is that too much?”
“No, no, I love it,” he replied, giving my dick a tug that made me whimper with pleasure. “Tell me what you like,” he whispered, sliding a leg over my thigh as he rubbed his thumb over my slit to gather some precum.
“Everything you do. I love everything you do,” I confessed, giving his fat dick a squeeze that he arched into. I vowed that if we ever got to that stage, I would suck and lick around his foreskin just to hear him groan as he did when it slid back to expose his glans. “Oh, that’s nice. Make it tighter…”
He did, and my eyes rolled back into my head. Words tended to fall by the wayside as we took turns licking each other’s mouths and palms, the hand jobs growing frantic, our grunts filling the van. He stiffened, his lips on my throat, and coated my hand with spunk. I rubbed it down over his shaft to give him all the slick he needed. He fucked my fist like a man possessed, his grip on my dick so tight it bordered on painful. I loved the friction, though. I pumped wildly as he nipped at my exposed shoulder, my open flannel shirt giving him access to the collarbones he seemed so infatuated with. I came hard, cum flowing out of me, and he used it much as I had his spend. My ass left the bed as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over me until the last tremor eased. He milked the last dollop free and rubbed his thumb through it. I let my head roll to the left to stare at him. Dark hooded eyes found mine.
He lifted his hand from my prick, fingers thick with cum, and licked his thumb clean. A shiver ran through me. I grabbed his wrist, fed him his index finger, and then brought his middle finger into my mouth. A soft moan floated from him as I sucked that digit clean followed by the two others.
“I can’t seem to keep my senses when you’re around.” He sighed out as his now spit-cleaned hand fell to my bare chest.
“Same. I’m totally senseless when you’re near.” I touched his chest with my tacky fingertips, tracing a damp nipple that pebbled instantly. A few dark hairs curled around the nip, then thickened slightly, covering his chest nicely and growing more plentiful as my hand went lower. His dick lay flaccid now, slick with cum, and I rubbed it with the back of my fingers, happy to see it twitch. “You’re so pretty. I know I keep saying that, and that men aren’t supposed to be called pretty, but…”
“I like being called pretty. And I find you very pretty too.” He kissed me softly before attempting to re-button my shirt. “Hmm, this is hard with one hand.”
That made me snicker. “I honestly didn’t come out here to get off. Truly, I just wanted to enjoy a meal with you.”
“Well, then we got doubly lucky as we did get off and will have a nice lunch as soon as I can get my legs working.” His mouth settled over mine for a long, tender exploration before he slowly drew back, pulled my shirt together as best he could, and sat up. His curls were wrecked, so he pulled his fingers through them. “Come. Let’s wash up and then eat. We can possibly get some soup and bread into us before the next uncontrollable urge to touch you comes over me.”
“I think I like your urges,” I teased and sat up, righted my clothes and tucked my spent dick back into my shorts. “It’s been forever since I felt this kind of pull to anyone.”
He glanced my way as he zipped his pants. “I’m lucky to be one of the few that you care for. I care for you as well, Mitchell, alot. I know it is obvious that I desire you, but I also like you as a person. You’re so kind. And such a good father. I hope I can get to know Gilda better as she seems so much a part of you.”
“She’s my everything,” I admitted and stood to get my shirt tucked back into my jeans.
