Hitching a Ride

It looked fantastic. A one bedroomed cottage, sitting in mature gardens all covered in snow. The trees looked majestic in the snow.

We opened up and started to unpack the car. The hall was covered in snow from our feet and had started to melt. There was a big log fire and......central heating. This was great. We got the fire going and switched on the pump for the heating. It took fully an hour before the cottage heated up. We sat close to each other, keeping ourselves warm. Ian went to make something to eat while I unpacked. I was sure I saw a mouse when I opened the bedroom door. I finished unpacking when Ian called me through for something to eat.

'We can be free here,' he said. 'There is nobody for miles. We can walk hand in hand through the snow and we can laugh hand in hand. There is nobody here to judge us or disapprove.'

He held my hand and smiled at me. He was right. We could be ourselves here. We washed up and sat in front of the fire. He lit a couple of candles he found in a kitchen cupboard.

He had an idea. 'A really wild idea,' he told me. 'Let's strip off naked and build a snowman in the garden,' he said.

Naked in the snow. Why not? We have lashings of hot water now and the central heating is full up. I grinned at him, stood up and took my clothes off. I draped them over a chair to warm them from the fire. Ian did the same and stood there looking at me. He stroked my cheek and kissed me. He loves being held so I held him tight.

Outside it was freezing. Within seconds our teeth were chattering. I threw a snowball at him and he threw one back. We ran around the garden, chasing each other. Then we made our snowman, a stick for a mouth and two stones for eyes. I thought he looked lonely so we built another one beside it and we gave it more sticks for hands. They were holding hands just as we were and we laughed at what we had made.

I dragged Ian back into the cottage, straight to the bathroom and ran the bath. He held me tightly as we shivered and waited for the bath to fill. It was big enough for two. I sat beside the taps, Ian's legs on either side of me. The water just about reached the top of the bath. It was lovely. Ian looked so peaceful. He smiled when he noticed I was looking at him.

I fondled his cock as he lay there. Slowly, he got firmer in my hands as I wanked him. I got on my knees and knelt in front of him, telling him to lie back and enjoy it. It took ages until I felt him coming and he moaned loudly as he filled my mouth. For an old guy, he could still shoot his cum. I enjoyed the taste, slowly swallowing it. He lay there, with a dreamy look on his face.

I had fallen for Ian. He was just perfect. I met his needs and he met my needs. We were both happy. And I loved coming in his mouth. I loved the excited sounds he makes when I cum in his mouth.

We got out of the bath and dried off. No need for clothes, we just walked around naked. We spent the evening with a nice brandy, in front of the fire, our arms around each other, the candles casting warm shadows over the room.

We went to sleep, together, just after we had made love. I still had the taste of his cum in my mouth. He held me tight, I was so happy,as I drifted off.

Next morning, I immediately knew something was wrong. He still had his arms around me but he was cold. My God, I was fearing the worst. I tried to take his pulse, to rouse him but I couldn't. He didn't seem to be breathing at all. Slowly, I was filled with horror. He was dead. Ian was dead. I burst into tears and clung on to him, willing him to breathe. I told him everything would be alright, I was here for him. But it was too late.

I got dressed and quickly drove his car to the estate building we had got the cottage keys from. They let me use the phone to call the police and ambulance. I had to get directions as I didn't know where we were, I passed the phone over to the estate manager who was listening to what I was saying to the police. He gave them directions.

Ian was dead. God, that was terrible, utterly terrible. I went back to the cottage, checking to see if Ian had started breathing again. It was all too late, he was dead and looked like he had been dead for a few hours. The police arrived and I showed them in, taking them through to the bedroom. Ian was obviously naked because we went to bed that way last night. The police looked at me as if I had done something wrong. One bedroom, one naked dead man, it didn't take long for the police to start asking awkward questions and they were letting their imagination run wild. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't tell them we were having a sexual relationship.

I told them the truth, that we were on holiday together. More questions followed and I was really obliged to tell the whole story. So I told them; Ian and I were lovers. Well, they looked at me with disgust. Utter contempt, I could see it in their face and body language. I felt dreadful.

The ambulance came and took Ian's body away. He never spoke much about his family, I only knew of two sons. They would need to be told but I didn't know their names or where they lived. I gave all my details to the police and asked them what to do. 'Do I stay or do I go home?' I asked them. They had all they needed for now and said I was free to go, for the moment. 'Don't leave the country either,' he said with a sneer on his face.

The best I could think of was to pack the car, drive Ian's car back home and leave the keys in his letterbox and then go home. God, what a terrible thing to happen.

I had not long arrived home before there was a knock at the door. I rarely got visitors to the bothy. Stood on my doorstep were two people, a man and a woman. The man pointed a camera at me, taking my picture. I was slow to react. They were news reporters. The woman asked the questions, wanting a statement from me. I shut the door, terrified. God, I was shaking.

Two days later, there it was, in the middle of the Sun newspaper. Picture of me staring at the camera and a long article about the sordid goings in the Grampian hills. Two men, Sixty-five year old and a twenty-one year old. Man found dead in suspicious circumstances. It was a shocking read. My God. They had made it sound scandalous, most of what they reported was completely wrong anyway, they made half of it up. I was horrified. What would my parents say? These reporters could only have got the story from the police, and my address too.

My mum and dad were furious, absolutely raging at the shame of it. Nobody seemed to consider my feelings. The man I fell in love with was dead and so what if he was sixty-five. He was the nicest man I had ever met. Off all things, one of his sons was a policemen, down in England. He was trying to get charges pressed against me, as if I had done something wrong. His family were shocked to hear their Dad was having sex with a twenty-one year old man. I got terrible letters from them, threatening all sorts.

A few days after that, they had the results of the post-mortem. He had died of a heart attack and there was evidence of substantial heart disease. Death would have been instant. His heart could have given out any time. I couldn't help thinking running round the garden naked in the snow and having sex was what prompted it.

I went to Ian's funeral. I got the time and place from the obituaries column of the Courier. I couldn't not go. I sat at the back, once everyone else had been seated. It was a moving service. The family had so many good things to say about him. He was a lovely guy. I saw a side of him nobody else had seen, that nobody else knew about.

I tried to leave immediately the service ended but the family exited first. I saw a man looking at me, my God, that must be the son. He must have recognised my face from the newspaper. I pushed my way past as many people as I could, trying to get out. He shouted at me. I started to run. People were holding him back. Why was this happening? I was his dad's lover. I brought him some happiness. He could have died alone and miserable. He was likely to have a heart attack soon anyway with the heart disease he had. What did I do wrong? Yet, I understood the anger of the family. He was dead and in very embarrassing circumstances.

The dust finally settled and I heard no more from the family. I thought I would lose my job on the farm but the farmer just brushed it off and didn't really say anything about it at all. 'I was a good worker and good workers are hard to find,' he said. A compliment indeed.

My parents didn't speak to me for ages, they were so ashamed of me. They still haven't got over it. They had no idea I was gay, it came as a terrible shock to them. And the age difference; my mother cried every time she thought about it.

I think back to the few months I spent with Ian. For once, just once in my life, I was actually happy with another guy. And now, once again, I had nobody. I wondered, what would life have in store for me next? Did I want to stay on a farm, alone and on the wages I was getting? Maybe it was time for a change...