He works in the barn with no shirt on because it's hot. The horses need fresh hay and he's in the loft, slinging some down to the stalls below. You just happen to climb up to see the view from the loft window and the afternoon sun is casting its warm, golden glow through the floating hay chaff and you see him in the glittering haze.
The heat has cast him in a warm sheen ...his skin glistening and making you burn with the need to touch the tiny rivulets as they run down his chest to the wonderful spot below his navel - where the hair peeks out from his low cut jeans. The spot you remember all too well and have tried to forget...
Your hands itch to pull the stray bits of straw off his back--jealous that they can touch him so intimately and you dare not. He looks up at you, his wayward lock wet with sweat and melted to his brow...the sun catches his eyes and you sit down on a handy bale, your knees too weak to sustain you.
He grins that little boy grin, delighted you changed your mind and decided it wasn't too dirty to visit after all. He stops and stands still, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, and you can only sit - lost in the ache of wanting to touch those muscles that ripple. He seems oblivious to what he is doing to you, but you know better, you know he does it just to drive you wild.
He reaches down and picks up a water bottle, taking a big swig of the cool nourishment and offering it to you, making you come to him if you want any.... You are on your feet and moving before you realize what it is he's offered. You reach out for the tantalizing bottle as he drops the prize and pulls you backward with him into the fresh bedding.
You find yourself in the hay, his warm lips on yours, teasing and tickling places you had forgotten, but he remembered. His hands roam your body, caressing it like a temple. You pray for salvation and kiss him back like a pilgrim in holy rapture. You stroke his slick body, touching the sweet spots that still call to you in your dreams.
Your hands move to his fly, working to free him from the tight jeans that have driven you crazy all day. You are not gentle; you are past that and he laughs against your mouth - delighted in your aggressiveness. Freed from his jeans, he decides to reciprocate. You find your shirt unbuttoned and sliding off your shoulders as you leverage yourself up, working on your own shorts. Your bra quickly follows; and you vaguely see it go flying across the loft....
Finally unrestrained, you push him back into the hay, straddling him in eagerness. His eyes are afire with just as much desire as you feel. Gone is the need for foreplay. You want him, need him inside you, just as much as you ever did on Potakai. You ravage his mouth and impale yourself on him. It is exquisite - the feeling of completion he gives you.
You move together - it will not last long - the mutual need is too great. You arch in ecstasy, his hips slamming hard into you, meeting your own driving rhythm. He pulls you down hard against his chest, crushing you to him and consuming you in a kiss as he comes. You hold on, accepting his passion like the desert devours rain. You lay across him, totally exhausted and contented at the same time.
He nuzzles your ear and whispers, " I missed you"....