Nocturnal Creaming

"Okaaaay, a slice of black forest cake for the gentleman," Chester says, carefully placing the plate in front of the man. "And for the youngster, a chocolate croissant."

"Thanks mate!" The young man exclaims while the boy of no more than five years grins at him; three of his bottom front teeth missing.

Today's a rather slow day in terms of customers as they were the only ones in the shop.

Man and boy sport the same ginger hair and similar facial features, so Chester safely presumes that it's a father and son duo. The man looks like he's in his early twenties.

"You're welcome!"

As Chester turns to head back behind the till, the lad grabs his chef's coat. "Hey, guess what," he whispers, the eagerness to share whatever information makes him squirm in his seat.

Chester casts a curious glance at the father and he smiles and shrugs.

"Hmmmmm, you tell me buddy."

"I just won my first dance competition!"

"What?! Oh wow, that's such an accomplishment. Congratulations! Give me a high five."

[The smacking noise of their palms connecting fills the shop]

That explains the outfit, thought Chester. He's wearing a pair of black leggings and a white v-neck top.

"Yeah, when he was younger he always danced around the house and we thought it was the funniest thing ever. Then his friend Jessica joined a ballet academy and he wanted to go too. It's a bit--- out there... you know how it is, what other people think of these things. But whatever he wants to do, I'll support him all the way."

"That's exactly how it should be. I'm Chester."

"I'm John. And this kiddo right here is Jefferson," he says, tickling the boy in his ribs, making him squeal...

*****

While cleaning up the kitchen later that afternoon, Chester couldn't help but feel jealous of little Jefferson. He didn't have that level of support from his own pops when growing up. He lived on a relatively large farm with his parents and his younger sister. His mom Bettina, grew a wide range of vegetables like tomatoes, cucumbers and sweet potatoes, amongst many others, while his dad Stewart was in charge of the livestock. Chickens and sheep. They both had their own stalls in the farmers market in town. So while Mom sold her veggies, pops sold meat.

But the thing is, his mom also sold some pastries that she would bake the night before. And he and his Sister Patricia were her little helpers. Unfortunately, one night when Chester was seven, he blurted: "I want to be a baker like you when I grow up Ma!"

Overhearing this outburst, Stewart came barging in the kitchen. He spotted Chester standing on a stool so he could reach the counter top and he towered over Chester. Staring down at him with those menacing green eyes. "What's all this talk about baking? Now you listen to me young man, I brought one son and one daughter into this world. Baking is a woman's job. Men who bake are sissies and punks, and I ain't got no place in my house for such. You're gonna do real man's work and look after the farm. Nothing less. Do you understand me boy?"

"STEWART!" Bettina grumbled.

"I ain't talking to you. Shut your mouth before I smack you!"

With his index finger touching Chester's nose, Stewart repeats "do you understand me?"

In a quivering voice Chester says "yes Sir."

He forced himself not to cry until he was in the comfort of his own room later that night.

So said, so done. During his teen years, Chester did what was expected of him. Everyday before school, he would feed the chickens, then walk in excess of 2 miles behind about 300 sheep; taking them down to the pastureland near the river so they could graze. Then after school, he walked them back home. Weekends were for cleaning the sheep pens and chicken coups. That was the worst part. Even when he took long showers afterwards, the scent of sheep shit and chicken crap would still linger.

When he reached his twenties, his dad's alcoholism caught up to him and he had his first heart attack. But the silly old man still couldn't leave the whisky alone. Two weeks later, he had another one. He died that time. And the grief of it all caused his mom to follow him not long after.

When they passed, Patricia ran off with some older man who's been sniffing around her since she turned 18.

So it's been Chester by himself since. He sold his Daddy's farm and estate and got a decent amount of money, and with that, he opened his own bakery. Like he always wanted.

But now that he's in his thirties, he's unable to keep up with the demands of the job and decides to post a "help wanted" sign in the window.

*****

The next day, Chester wakes at the usual 4:30 a.m. He heads straight to the bathroom and strips to take his morning dump, then right before he heads to the shower, he brushes his teeth. There's a large mirror right above the face basin and everyday, Chester examines his entire body. Still not coming to grips with his new appearance. Gone are the days of having an athletic, sculpted physique; Brought on by all the physically demanding tasks of farm labor. Now, as he eyes his reflection, a stout man stares back at him.

Hefty arms. Meaty thighs. And it's common knowledge that a baker must carry out taste tests to ensure that his products meet his standards. Well, a slight protrusion of his belly tells the tale of a man who sometimes gets carried away...

He keeps his hair cut close to the scalp and his face clean shaven. If he didn't, he'll be an exact replica of Stewart and he doesn't want that. He wants his own distinguished identity.

He arrives at the shop around six and gets to work. The night before, he prepped cinnamon rolls, croissants, danishes and pretzels and so, he started with the easiest task: He plops them into the oven first. Next, he makes the cake batter. While weighing the flour, he hears a distant knocking--

He sets the bag down and walks to the front of the shop. A bit surprised to see who's standing outside.

He unlocks the transparent glass door.

"Hey, John. I actually don't open until--"

"Oh I know. I just wanted to see if you still needed another set of hands. I just saw the sign and I saw your car so I figured you were here. I work four days a week and I'm pretty bored on the other three. So I figured why not."

Chester is wowed at the sight of John. It looks like he was jogging earlier judging by his attire. His white t-shirt is so saturated that it became slightly see-through, giving Chester a nice view of a hard, flat stomach, while mid-thigh blue shorts show off a pair of nicely toned legs.

With his eyes now back to John's face, he sees it's slightly flushed from the exertion. He has wind-tousled hair. Dense eyebrows. A pair of thick-lashed brown eyes. A strong pointed nose. A rigid, angular jaw. Pillowy pink lips.

"Uhhhh..." [Chester stammers]

"I like desserts so it's only right that I learn how to make 'em!"

"How soon can you start?"

"I'm off today. Let me just go home and take a shower and I'm all yours."

"I guess you're hired."

For the first couple of weeks, Chester kept John away from the ovens and the ingredients. With the inflation of everything, he couldn't afford botched batches of goods. He assigned him smaller tasks like cleaning and packing the display shelves.

But John would always stop what he's doing to watch Chester do his work. Like frosting a cake or kneading the dough. Being under his gaze made Chester edgy. Unfocused.

Having someone in his personal space was new for him. He's been a solitary man since moving away from the farm; he was so engrossed in his work that he simply couldn't find the time to go out and make friends.

But as time progressed, he and John got pretty close. Close enough that John relied on him for advice to workout relationship problems at home. Close enough that every now and then, they'd share a few drinks down at the pub and have the occasional dinner.

Eventually, Chester taught John how to bake cakes and a few straightforward pastries. He caught on pretty quickly and soon enough, his creations met the requisite criteria for selling to the public. And as John's knack for baking became more prominent, Chester became more aware of the romantic feelings he has for the younger man. Sometimes John would catch him staring longingly and he'd smile and say: "What?"

"Nothing," Chester would hastily reply. And whenever John had to work, he missed him so fucking much it hurts.

He almost made a fool of himself one morning. The previous night, he and John did some late night partying and they came to work the next day sleep deprived. He was so out of it that he touched a hot tray with his bare hands; a tray he took out of the oven less than five minutes prior.

"Fuck!" He yelled, and John rushed over.

"Shit are you okay? lemme see." John fussed over his hands, making sure to run them under cold water. After that, he had them sit at a table so he could bandage his palms. Something as simple as John touching his hands caused an electrifying zing to whoosh through him. While John was concerned with the intricacies of playing doctor, Chester surreptitiously eyed his face. He still could not get over how handsome John is. The voice in his head said "kiss him Chester, kiss him now." And he almost did but John's ringing cell phone saved him from making an irreparable mistake.

Then there are the days his girlfriend would drop by unexpectedly and they'd be all lovey-dovey. It made him want to throw up.

It's like having John in his life woke up something inside of him that's been dormant for so long. His repressed sexuality. He was so accustomed to hiding his true self from other people, especially his Pops. Even when he moved away, he still didn't acknowledge that part of his being. But with John, everything's coming to the surface. Like a pot that's about to boil over and make a mess on the stove. Some days he'd be on the cusp of confessing his love to John. And then when he doesn't follow through, he feels like he's in a sinking boat running out of time.

So tonight, after an exhausting day at work, he wanted to fall asleep as soon as possible. And to achieve that, he took 3 shots of whisky. The same brand his daddy always bought. How ironic.

Clad in a pair of blue briefs, he gets under his blanket and closes his eyes. He enters into a dreamless sleep for a few hours, but as morning approaches, his vivid imagination comes alive...

[Chester's cell phone rings]

"Hello?" [Chester answers groggily]

"Good morning! Would you like to come on a morning jog with me before we start work?"

Why does he sound so chirpy at four o'clock in the morning?

"John, I'm still in bed." [Chester yawns]

"Come on, please."

Chester sighs. "Okay."

"I'll be there in 15 minutes."

Chester gets dressed in a pair of navy blue sweatpants and a black t-shirt and waits on the curb for his buddy.

"Ready to go?"

"Shit man, you startled me."

They trot side by side to the joggers trail in Capstone Park. When they got to the entrance, they did a few stretches and began their exercise. But three minutes into the run, Chester starts to slow down and John stops too.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just catching my breath for a sec," he pants, holding over with his hands on his knees. "You go ahead, don't let me ruin your workout."

"You're not ruining anything."

They walk for a while so that Chester can cool off for a bit, then they begin again. But every now and then Chester would stop running. He can't believe how unfit he is. He feels so embarrassed. He's here fighting for his life, drenched in sweat, while John looks as cool as a cucumber.

They walk the rest of the way to the end of the trail. A comfortable silence between them.

They sit on a tree log directly in front of a creek, watching as the water swishes between the boulders while the sun's rays begin to peek through the trees that encompass them.

"We should head back," Chester reasons. "Gotta get started on those cupcakes for that lady."

"I gotta take a piss."

"I'll join ya."

With only a few steps to get to the water's edge, both men take their slumbering penises out and Chester starts to relieve himself. But it turns out that John has a bit of stage fright, so half a minute passes before a stream of yellow fluid finally comes out. Chester looks over and notices that John is gazing at him. And it's not a curious glance men sometimes have when they're at the urinals. It seems to Chester that there's some kind of yearning in his eyes; and he doesn't miss the way his flaccid member starts to lengthen before he hastily shoves it back inside those blue shorts that he loves so much. A blush painting his cheeks.

Well that's...interesting.

They reach the shop at seven and go about their tasks.

Chester is currently guiding him on how to frost the cupcakes. "loosen your wrist a little bit."

"Okay. Ahhh dammit. Something's in my eye."

"Hold still." Chester takes the younger man's face into his hands and searches. Being this close to him is causing his heart rate to increase. "Oh it's an eyelash. Hold on." He uses his thumb to carefully extract it. "It's out."

"Thanks," John mutters, but both men find themselves unable to step away from each other. Green eyes are still locked into brown eyes, and it's Chester that finally makes a move. He pecks John's lips then goes to move away.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I--"

John pulls him back and their lips lock. They kiss one another hungrily, their hands slipping into each other's hair. Chester backs John up against the counter and they continue to kiss and kiss and kiss, stopping after a while to catch their breath, then resuming.

Chester then slurps at his neck, and the tickling sensation makes John shudder.

"I've been wanting to do this for so long," Chester murmurs against his collarbone, using his hands to hurriedly unbutton the man's white coat. He steps back to examine his fuzzy torso, wetting his lips before leaning in to lap at his nipples that're buried under the fuzz. He swirls his tongue around the erect beads before kissing his way down to his belly button; then stands back up to cover John's mouth with his once more, their tongues colliding.

Chester takes John's coat completely off and spins him around to dry hump his behind in a series of frantic thrusts. Then he slowly rolls his hips, his hands snaking around John to tweak his nipples.

John can't help but moan at the feel of Chester's hardness against him, his eyes closed in bliss.

Facing each other again, John whispers "I want to see you too," and so, Chester takes his coat off. John playfully rubs his belly, making him chuckle.

Chester steps away to grab a tube of condensed milk and he squirts some onto his middle finger.

"Open."

John obeys, and he sucks on Chester's fat digit, his eyes never leaving him the whole time. Chester takes back his finger then squeezes the liquid onto John's nipples. He licks the left one then takes it into his mouth, making sure to do the same with the right one.

He sets the tube down then gets a bottle of honey and John can't help but smile, anxious to see what he's gonna do next.

Chester stoops to the floor, making sure that his face is directly in line with John's protruding crotch.

"Is this okay?" [Chester asks, palming John's rigidness]

"Yes," John croaks.

Chester unclasps his belt and unbuttons his black trousers. He slowly pulls the zip down to reveal a lengthy erect cock that's straining against a pair of gray boxer-briefs; a wet spot at the front. Chester helps him out of the clothing and chucks them across the kitchen.

"Fuck, you're beautiful."

The head of John's member is completely bare; it has a nice, round, plump shape. It's pink, with a slight purple tinge and the slit is moist. The shaft has one big angry vein that stretches from the base to the ridge directly under the head, while a smattering of much smaller veins rest on the underside.

What's striking though, is the fact that John's pelvis and scrotum are as smooth as silk. He probably gets a wax every now and then because there's no way one can achieve that level of smoothness with just a shaver.

Chester gently strokes John, silently appreciating the heft of the organ. He uncaps the bottle of honey and squirts a glob of it onto the head, making it bob in anticipation. With just his lips on the head, he sucks the honey off, making sure to clamp his lips down as he does so.

"Ohhhh God."

He applies some more, but this time, he spurts a straight line from the cockhead straight to the base, making sure to apply a generous amount. He teases John by darting his tongue inside the slit but John's had enough and he forces his whole length inside of Chester's mouth. Chester nurses him, loving the way the sweetness of the honey overlaps the raw, musky taste of man cock.

Chester moves up and down John's length with ease, pausing every once in a while when the head is lodged in his throat, then he draws back.

John rests his hands behind his buddy's head and begins to thrust into his mouth, not liking Chester's current pace and because of this, his saggy balls slap against his chin repeatedly, and pretty darn soon, he was shooting his man milk down his throat.

Chester drinks it all from the nozzle, then stands and plants his lips on John's once more, before hoisting him onto the kitchen island.

Needing no instruction, John gets on all fours, arching his back so that his hole comes into view. Chester leans down and plants a smooch on the ring of muscle then darts his tongue inside of it.

"Shit, that tickles."

"Keep quiet."

Chester sucks John's ass like his life depends on it, making sure to get it nice and wet with his saliva before inserting a finger, the stinging sensation making him wince.

Chester spits more saliva onto the hole then adds a second finger, then a third, making sure to curl them upward to cover as much distance as possible.

Chester steps back to take his pants off, then motions for John to lie on his stomach. Chester moves to the top of the counter where John's face is, making his eyes widen. John is amazed at Chester's girth. But unlike John, Chester's pelvis is covered in an unsightly patch of dark bush, while his prick has an excess layer of foreskin. He reaches down to peel it back and watches as precum oozes from the opening. He opens his mouth and Chester fucks into it. And as John pleases him, Chester leans over his back and continues to finger his ass with just his middle finger.

After a while, John's jaws start to ache so he stops and moves away.

In the absence of lube, the only alternative is olive oil, and as Chester retrieves some from the cupboard, John leers at his fleshy backside.

Chester rubs some on his penis, then wills John to dismount the counter. With his feet now back on the floor, Chester stands behind him and childishly licks his left ear, then uses his front teeth to graze the back of his neck.

Without warning, Chester slowly inserts his shaft into John's lovin' oven, the heat surrounding him makes his eyes tear up a bit. Meanwhile, the intrusion causes John to groan. Chester moves in and out slowly at first so that John's asshole can familiarize itself with his bulk.

"Are you doing okay?"

"Sort of--aaawhhh"

"Want me to stop?"

"No, keep going."

Chester continues with his slow pace but he gradually increases his tempo as John's groans turn to throaty moans. Chester grabs his hips and plows away, and it's not long before John begins to rock back against him like a greedy whore.

"Being inside of you feels so fucking amazing, you're so fucking amazing. I could fuck you for hours."

Chester pulls out and lies on the floor and beckons John onto his lap. John rests his weight on his knees and he reaches behind him to reinsert his lover's cock into his hole once more. Chester looks into eyes, unable to come to grips with the fact that this is really happening. With his hands behind his head, he watches the way John's face contorts every time his penis makes contact with his prostate. John circles his hips and leans down for a kiss, moaning into Chester's mouth.