Letting Go    Letting Go 

For the first time since all this started, Ray was starting to relax a
little. Today he felt that things were starting to come right between him
and Benny, at long last. He'd bought Benny an electric saw and told him
he'd pay for a proper john to go in the cabin... this last was more for
himself than for Benny, of course, but he knew Benny had appreciated it.
He'd nearly changed his mind about giving him the saw, it seemed such a
transparent and pathetic attempt to buy his way back into Benny's favour,
but in the end he was glad he'd done it... and it had been a good idea to
offer to help rebuild the cabin.  

He wriggled slightly, seeking a more comfortable position in the bath full
of hot water, a luxury he rarely had time or privacy to afford himself. It
had been so good see Benny out of that hospital bed, even if he was in a
wheelchair and it had obviously tired him. Benny had seemed much more
approachable, less distant somehow, and when Ray had asked if he should
leave, Benny had said no. He could still remember the warmth that had
spread through him at that simple response, could still feel the smile, in
fact he was smiling again at the memory of it.	

It had given him the courage to mention Victoria, the first time he'd
dared, even thought Benny had dropped the odd remark about her. Benny
hadn't objected or closed up, though the look of sadness on his face had
been heartbreaking. It had only lasted a moment and then they'd joked a
bit about cutting down trees with axes. Surely Benny had been joking...
not that it mattered, he would have chewed them down with his teeth to
keep that smile on Benny's face.  

Ray sighed and closed his eyes, sinking further into the hot water. God it
was great to be alone in the house. When the family was home the bathroom
was like Grand Central Station. Even having a shower could be an endurance
test... but tonight they were all out, and Ray was making the most of it. 


He began to soap himself luxuriously, stretching and massaging tired and
stiff muscles. Gradually he became aware that one particular muscle was
becoming stiffer under his ministrations. He smiled delightedly, trying to
remember the last time he'd felt that. It was a long time, far too long...
the smile slipped a little... certainly not since Victoria had arrived on
the scene. But even that memory couldn't spoil this for him and he slid
his hand casually up the inside of his thigh, and drew it lightly over the
sweetly aching balls, the turgid cock.	

Ray realised that he was humming softly under his breath as he continued
the lazy stroking. There was no hurry to complete this, he had all the
time in the world to give himself this pleasure and he lingered until the
water began to cool. Then he levered himself out of the bath and drained
it while he slowly dried himself with a warm thick towel.  

He patted himself affectionately. "Just you wait fella, till we're alone
together... someplace safe."  

Passing by the mirror, he stopped to examine himself. He looked tired,
relaxed. His eyes travelled over his reflected image. Fairly wide
shoulders considering his narrow frame, the bones clearly defined beneath
the skin. Where the sun had touched him, he was a warm olive hue, but
other places it was more like the colour of creamed honey.  

He brushed his fingers over the small patch of chest hair. It was fine,
almost silky in texture. Rather nice. Nut brown nipples bracketed the
hair, each with its own little ring of wiry hairs, he brushed against them
almost as if by accident. The large flat discs puckered at even that tiny
contact and he smiled, sensitive they were, always had been. It was one of
his pleasures to tease them...	

He watched his fingers trail down the centre line of his body, skipping
lightly over his navel and down the line of dark hair on his belly. He
could see the pulse beating against his skin on the left side and touched
it lightly with his fingertips. He began to stroke the sensitive skin,
feeling it contract sensually at his touch.  

Below his hand he could see the slow stirring of his cock. He'd always
liked the shape of his cock, long and slender, fitting the rest of his
body. For the first time in his life he wondered briefly what it would be
like to have a foreskin. He frowned slightly, dismissing the thought...
besides, he liked the rounded shape of the cockhead, the bareness of it,
the way the slit pulsed and flared when he stimulated it. As if to prove
it to himself, he rubbed it gently, feeling the instant response with a
little tremor down the inside of his thighs.  

He cupped his hand beneath the semi-erect cock and then slid it down the
shaft to his balls. Dark and low-slung, the curve of his balls very
distinct, he'd always thought they were sexy as hell. If he'd ever wanted
a man, it would have been a man with balls like this, he thought...
Lovingly he caressed them, and then lifted them to nestle against the dark
wiry curls at his groin. He smiled at himself in the mirror, a wicked,
conspiratorial smile, then turned away. He stooped to pull on his pyjama
bottoms, slung the top over his arm and headed for the bedroom, whistling.
The bed was warm and welcoming. He slid into its embrace gratefully and
let the covers settle over his body. There were so many ways to do this...
most often he simply satisfied his physical needs almost indifferently,
all that was required was a good wrist action and a little time. But
tonight he was in one of those rare moods when he wanted to indulge
himself.  

He lifted his hands to his chest and allowed them to drift lazily over the
surface, enjoying the various textures, teasing himself with the lightest
of touches. He let his mind wander, imagining it was someone else's hands
touching him and gently stroking his nipples to hardness. Still he
delayed, until the pleasure built to a peak, then he slipped the waistband
of his pyjamas loose and folded back the cloth.  

Now he was hard, his balls tight and needy, his cock rigid. He palmed the
shaft gently, still not ready to push himself to the point of no return.
The covers were tented over his raised knees leaving him plenty of
unconstricted space. He moved his other hand down over his belly, between
his thighs and cupped his balls. At first that was all the touch he could
bear, then carefully he began to stroke and squeeze them, pausing whenever
he seemed in danger of going too far.  

There was something rather wonderful about pleasuring himself this way.
Ray began to stroke his cock firmly, carefully varying the strength and
rhythm of his touch. Images flickered through his mind, most of them not
sexual at all, just pleasant memories... like the conversation he'd had
with Benny that afternoon.  

It had been a lot like putting one of his nephews or nieces to bed, Benny
had obviously been tired but he'd kept the talk going, reluctant to
surrender to sleep. In the end Ray had stayed until he was asleep and then
quietly left. He smiled at the memory. He'd never in his life felt closer
to Benny than he had today. The distant, somewhat prickly Benny of the
last few weeks had disappeared to be replaced, not by the calm, controlled
Mountie he'd known for over a year, but by someone new and altogether more
approachable.  

He realised he was smiling reminiscently and moved to the next plateau,
his hips working to push himself more firmly against his hand. Oh that
felt so good... He shifted onto his side to allow for greater movement and
began to thrust in earnest, his hand tightening around the shaft. Then he
brought his other hand to cover the juice-slick head letting it impact
firmly against his cupped palm at the peak of each thrust. He was close
now, his breath coming in soft moans, his body almost floating. Just one
more... just one... His hand clenched involuntarily as his cock spasmed,
sending waves of pure pleasure through him.