All characters are over 18.
Outside a storm was raging, the dark night sky occasionally illuminated by lightning followed by ominous rumbling in the air. Rain washed down the windows, but inside the train compartment it was warm and dry.
Opposite me sat an older man who had boarded back in Amsterdam. Throughout the journey, he had spun tales of his recent adventures in Norway, his voice a constant murmur against the storm's fury. Yet, I could only catch fragments of his stories, my mind preoccupied with my own concerns.
The dark farmlands along the traintracs gave way to the dim glow of an approaching city.
"The next station is Assen Station," announced the conductor, her voice crackling through the intercom. A delay in Zwolle had left me with a race against time to catch the last bus home. Failure would mean being stranded at the station. As the train decelerated, I rose, offering the man a quick farewell.
The train slowly ground to a halt, doors opening with a mechanical sigh. I bolted down the platform steps, through the tunnel, and toward the bus stops. At the check-out post, I fumbled with my travel card, eyes darting to locate bus number 14. Bursting through the glass doors, I plunged into the downpour just in time to see the bus pulling away. Frantically, I waved, but the driver, a stern woman, pointed to her watch and shook her head.
Drenched and defeated, I sank onto a wooden bench, the rain seeping into my very bones.
"Missed the bus?" a voice inquired, cutting through the storm's roar. I looked up to see the man from the train, his eyes kind and sympathetic. "Yes, and it was the last one," I replied, my voice barely audible above the wind.
"You know," he said, "I live near the station. You can stay at my place tonight and catch the first bus home in the morning."
"Are you sure?" I asked, hesitant yet hopeful.
"Of course," he assured me with a warm smile. "No one should be left out in weather like this."
We walked through the storm together. After what felt like an eternity, but was merely seven minutes, we reached a modest apartment building. "This is where I live," the man announced, his cheer unwavering. "I hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch."
"Not at all," I said, relief washing over me despite the rain. "I'm just grateful to have a roof over my head."
As the man opened the door, a wave of warmth enveloped us, a stark contrast to the storm raging outside. The coziness of his home was immediate, with soft lighting and the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee creating an inviting atmosphere. His living room was a blend of eclectic artifacts from his travels and shelves overflowing with books. A large, dark bordeaux colored velvet couch dominated the space, and despite my exhaustion, I couldn't help but be drawn to its comforting presence.
The man hung up his drenched coat and handed me a towel. "Dry yourself off. I'll make us some tea," he said, his voice calm and steady. As I toweled off, I glanced around, noticing photos on the walls—snapshots of a life well-lived, filled with adventures and cherished moments. It was clear that the man had a rich tapestry of experiences, each one contributing to the warmth that filled his home.
I sank into the couch, the soft dark velvet conforming to my tired body. The man returned with two steaming mugs of tea, handing one to me before settling into a nearby armchair. The storm outside seemed to intensify, the wind howling and rain pounding against the windows, yet inside, I felt a growing sense of safety and comfort.
"Thank you" I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't offered me a place to stay."
He smiled gently, taking a sip of his tea. "No need to thank me. Sometimes, a bit of kindness can make all the difference. Besides, it seems fate wanted us to meet tonight."
Our eyes met, holding for a moment longer than necessary. There was something unspoken between us, a spark ignited by the shared intimacy of the evening. As the storm raged outside, the warmth of the man's home and his presence began to feel like more than just a temporary refuge. My heart beat a little faster, wondering if this unexpected encounter might lead to something more.
In silence, we continued drinking, the clock ticking softly in the background as midnight approached. The cold still clung to my body, my damp clothes sticking to my skin. I set my cup back on the table.
“If you want, you can take a shower. The bathroom is down the hall, past the kitchen, first door on the left,” the man broke the silence. “I don’t think I have any dry clothes that will fit you, but I can put your wet ones in the dryer. They’ll be dry by morning. I might have some sweatpants you can wear to sleep in if you’d like.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer, a warm shower sounds perfect right now,” I replied. “I’ll leave my clothes by the door if that’s okay, and some sweatpants would be great, thank you.”
“No need to be so formal,” the man chuckled. “My name is Patrick, and don’t worry, I’ll leave a dry pair of pants by the door and put your clothes in the dryer.”
Patrick led me to the bathroom, which was surprisingly spacious for an apartment. The bathroom had a luxurious feel with a full bathtub and a separate shower stall. I quickly stripped off my wet shirt, pants, and socks, placing them as instructed by the bathroom door. My underwear was still relatively dry.
I turned on the shower, and the warm water began to cascade over me, washing away the chill and the tension of the evening.
The bathroom was a sanctuary, its tiles gleaming under the soft, ambient light. Steam rose around me as the hot water hit my skin, creating a cocoon of warmth. The showerhead was large, enveloping me in a comforting downpour. I leaned against the cool tile, letting the water soothe my tired muscles and wash away the remnants of the storm.
True to his word, when I finally turned off the water and stepped out, there was a pair of soft, dry sweatpants waiting for me. I slipped them on, feeling a sense of comfort and gratitude. As I opened the bathroom door, the warmth of the apartment enveloped me once more, and I found Patrick waiting with a gentle smile dressed in nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Much better, thank you,” I said, returning his smile.
“Come on, let’s get you settled in. You can rest on the couch. I’ve got an extra blanket and pillow ready for you,” Patrick said, his voice filled with genuine care.
As we moved back into the living room, the storm outside continued to rage, but inside, a different kind of storm was brewing—a mix of emotions and possibilities that I hadn’t anticipated. The night had taken a turn I never expected, and as I settled onto the couch, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something significant.
I felt Patrick's eyes inspecting my body from top to bottom, his gaze lingering as he let out soft, approving sounds under his breath. For the first time, I took a closer look at him as well. He was remarkably good-looking for his age, with a well-maintained physique that hinted at regular exercise. In his underwear, a noticeable bulge swayed gently as he moved across the room to close the curtains.
He came to stand beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I hope you sleep well. If you need anything, my bedroom is opposite the bathroom. Don't hesitate to ask."
Patrick stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating toward me. Almost instinctively, I leaned in and kissed him on the lips. The kiss was electric, a surge of emotion and unspoken desire passing between us. Patrick's hand slid from my shoulder to the back of my neck, pulling me in closer as he deepened the kiss. His touch was firm yet gentle, his lips warm and inviting.
As we broke apart, breathless and with hearts pounding, I looked into his eyes and saw a reflection of the same longing and curiosity that I felt. The room seemed to shrink around us, the storm outside a distant memory compared to the intensity of the moment we were sharing.
"Im sorry," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. "I didn't expect this, but… it feels right."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Sometimes, the unexpected can lead to the most meaningful moments. Let's just see where this takes us."
He kissed me again, his other hand closing around my waist, pulling me in even closer. I could feel the bulge in his underwear growing larger and harder as his hand began to massage my buttocks. Not quite sure what to do with my own hands, I decided to mirror his actions. The soft cotton of his boxer briefs felt smooth against his firm, almost perfectly rounded buttocks. Despite not being overly muscular, it was clear that Patrick frequented the gym regularly.
With one finger, he traced under the elastic band of my sweatpants, soon followed by the rest of his hand, exploring cautiously. He broke the kiss, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "I hope you don't mind, but I believe I might have gone too far."
"For me, it's no problem at all," I sighed in relief. "I'm glad I met you today." Playfully, I squeezed the bulge at the front of his boxers and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
Patrick's eyes darkened with desire as he responded to my touch. He guided me down onto the couch, his hands roaming over my body with a mix of tenderness and urgency. I could feel the tension in the air thickening, While all the boundaries between us faded, the storm outside seemed to fade into oblivion as we continued to explore each other. With my back on the couch and my head resting on the armrest, Patrick leaned over me. His left hand was planted just above my right shoulder, and his left knee pressed lightly against my crotch. Patrick kissed me with a deep, longing passion, as if he hadn’t done this in a very long time. Yet, he kissed better than any of my previous experiences. Between his thumb and forefinger, he massaged one of my nipples, sending a pleasant electric energy through my body.
My hands roamed over his back and tight stomach, occasionally sneaking a touch over the rock-hard bulge in his boxers. His manhood felt warm and big beneath the thin fabric. I could tell from his halted breath that he enjoyed my touch. The bulge twitched in my hand as I squeezed it firmly but playfully.
Slipping my fingers through the leg opening of his boxers, I felt a patch of short hair surrounding a warm sack with two heavy balls. Patrick's breath hitched, and he moaned softly against my lips, his desire evident in every touch and movement.
Patrick's kisses grew more intense, his body pressing closer to mine, as if he wanted to merge our very beings.
Out of nowhere, Patrick broke the kiss, carefully sitting up as he looked at me with longing. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked, a hint of shyness in his voice.
"I'm very sure, Patrick," I whispered, reassuring him as I pulled down the waistband of his boxers. His erection sprang free, pointing invitingly in my direction. I wrapped my hand around the 7.5-inch length of his manhood and guided it toward my mouth. Gently, I planted a kiss on the tip, eliciting a soft sigh of relief from Patrick. His reaction spurred me on, the tension between us palpable as I explored him further. Patrick's hand rested on my head, his fingers weaving through my hair as he guided my movements with a mix of tenderness and urgency. Smoothly, I let my lips glide around the head of his dick and sucked him deep into my throat.
Patrick's soft moan echoed through the room, his body tensing in pleasure. The warmth and texture of him filled my mouth, and I moved with a deliberate rhythm, each motion eliciting a deeper response from him. His hand tightened in my hair, guiding me gently as I continued, the intimacy between us growing with each passing second. Carefully, Patrick increased the pace at which he moved his cock in my mouth, pushing it deeper into my throat. Occasionally, I almost gagged. With a swift thrust of his hips, he rammed his shaft so deep that his balls slapped against my lips and chin. He held it there for a few seconds, his warm tip nestled at the back of my throat. As I coughed and gasped for air, he pulled his cock out with a loud, vacuum-like pop. A thick, slimy strand of precum and my saliva hung between my lips and his glistening red tip. Longing for more, I stared at his penis for a moment. On the head, just above the slit, was a small mole, and further back, his foreskin circled the ridge of his glans. Two thick veins ran from his pink foreskin up to his lower abdomen.
"I think your pants are wet again," Patrick teased, his hand stroking the crotch of my sweatpants. I snapped out of my fixation on his tip as he gently but firmly squeezed my willy. "Let's see what you have to offer." He lifted the waistband of my pants and peeked inside.
"Just as I thought, no underwear," he teased, kissing my lips. "I think you deserve a bit of a punishment for that." He looked under the waistband again. "Actually, I'm sure of it." This time, he pulled the waistband down, freeing my 6-inch erection, which slapped lightly against my lower abdomen.
"I know just what to do with this," Patrick declared, firmly gripping my shaft and balls. His touch was both commanding and thrilling, sending a shiver of anticipation through me. With a swift movement, he took my erection deep into his throat with ease. His lips felt warm around my shaft, giving me the best blowjob I'd ever had. Moaning and writhing with pleasure, I moved my hips in sync with his motions. Before I knew it, I reached my first climax of the evening. A thick stream of semen shot from my tip just as Patrick released me from his mouth, the stream landing as a large blob on his lips. Another spurt hit his face, with the third and fourth landing on my chest, between my nipples, and down to my navel.
Patrick looked at me with longing. "I want to fuck you," he whispered. "Let's move to my bed; we'll have more space there." I nodded in agreement, still catching my breath, as a delightful wave of arousal surged through me again. Patrick grabbed my half-erect penis and led me toward his bedroom.
With a gentle push, he seated me on the edge of his bed. His large erection, now at eye level, looked inviting. I grasped it with both hands, pulling back the foreskin. With long, deliberate strokes, I jerked him off a few times. Once his cock was fully hard again, I kissed the tip and took him deep into my throat.
Patrick's moans filled the room as I pleasured him, his hands gently guiding my head. The sensation of his thick shaft sliding in and out of my mouth was intoxicating, each movement bringing us closer. His taste lingered on my tongue, and the musky scent of his arousal filled my senses, creating an atmosphere of pure, unrestrained desire.
"You're amazing," he murmured, his voice husky with lust. "I can't wait to be inside you."
I pulled back, looking up at him with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. "Then take me, Patrick."
With a hunger in his eyes, Patrick gently pushed me back onto the bed, positioning himself between my legs. He reached for a bottle of lube on the nightstand, applying a generous amount to his fingers. Slowly, he prepared me, his touch both tender and electrifying. I moaned softly, my body responding eagerly to his skilled hands.
When I was ready, Patrick positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes locking onto mine. "Tell me if you need me to stop," he whispered, his voice filled with concern and desire.
"I will," I assured him, my voice trembling with anticipation.
He rubbed his dick between my cheeks like a hotdog between the buns. And then with a slow, deliberate push, Patrick entered me, his girth stretching me in the most delicious way. The sensation was intense, a mix of pleasure and a slight burn that quickly turned into overwhelming ecstasy. He moved with a steady rhythm, his hands gripping my hips as he filled me completely.
Our bodies moved in perfect harmony, each thrust driving us closer to the edge. The connection between us was electric, the passion palpable. Patrick's groans of pleasure echoed in the room, mingling with my own sounds of delight.
Patrick leaned over me, his shaft deeply anchored between my cheeks, and began kissing me. My hard cock was now trapped between our stomachs, massaged by his thrusting movements. I felt every inch of his dick fill me over and over, and I moaned softly into his mouth.
After a moment of kissing, Patrick pulled away. He licked my nipple, then withdrew his dick from between my cheeks. He knelt and began to kiss my hole, then licked my balls and the underside of my cock. He paused at the tip before taking it into his mouth.
"Just catching my breath," he whispered softly before sucking on my head again. "I don't want to finish too soon."
After briefly sucking me, he positioned his warm tip against my hole once more and started filling me again. As he approached his climax, he thrust deeply and held still for a moment. "Where do you want me to come?" he panted. "Inside you, on your belly, or in your mouth?"
"I'd love to feel your warm seed on my face and in my mouth," I replied, breathless. This prompted Patrick to deliver a few more rough thrusts before he pulled out, his cock pulsating with desire. He lifted me to my knees and, eager for his load, I opened my mouth wide. He slid his thick shaft between my lips, and I sucked on his head, massaging his balls. I tasted the warm, salty, yet sweet cum as he shot thick streams over my tongue and into my throat. I struggled a bit with the quantity but swallowed every drop, as my ex used to say, "like a good boy."
Patrick collapsed beside me, playing with his softening cock. He looked at my still-hard cock. "You're still rock hard," he noted, running his finger around the tip. "And very wet too." He leaned in toward my crotch, "May I finish you off?" he asked shyly. Before I could respond, I felt his lips firmly kissing and sucking my head. It didn't take long before I exploded into his throat, my own climax leaving me breathless.
In the aftermath, as we lay entwined on the bed, the first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains. Patrick's arms were wrapped around me, his breath steady and calm. I nestled into his embrace, feeling a deep sense of contentment and belonging.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "For everything."
Patrick kissed the top of my head. "No. Thank you. For trusting me, and for turning an ordinary night into something extraordinary
When we woke up it was well in the afternoon, I hurried to the station and took the bus home