Daddy waiting

It was late afternoon, the humidity was rising. He took a shower then laid on his bed, idly thumbing through one of his porn mags, enjoying the familiar bitter-sweet escapism. He was fucking in his mind, eyes fixed on back of his boy's neck. One day he'd be out there riding his bike again. One day. He could just picture taking the lad out for a spin somewhere in the hills. Wild desolate country, just the two of em, no-one else for miles around. Yeahhh. Good times. He grinned, something almost resembling happiness flickering into his head. One day... He'd take him to an isolated place and fuck him in the open skies, both of them naked in the wildness, as nature intended. He paused for a moment, stock still but for a few deep slow breaths, then quickly turned the pages and glared at the words of the random ads, with forced concentration. Where the fuck was his boy?

The lad was late back. Very late. Strange. He downed a half empty glass of scotch and shoved the magazine away with the rest. He stood up and walked towards the window, looking through the glass expectantly, waiting for his boy to come back. His cock was hardening, in expectation of things to come, they'd been separated for a while, he had to go abroad on business, the boy was working on the rigs in the North sea, and only came back to him once in a while. Tonight would be their first night together for months, daddy's balls were full, he had taken care of not wanking for days, and he was ready, patiently waiting for the boy to arrive.