"It's wrong, what you and I are doing." I say this even as I hold him close.

He lifts his head from my shoulder to regard me with those large, guileless blue eyes. "How can love ever be wrong?"

For weeks now, he's used that word—love—to describe the way we feel about each other. Not once have I uttered it, but I've never disputed it, either. Still, I'm consumed by uncertainty. The young man sitting in the back of my car, nestled in my embrace, is only twenty, and I'm old enough to be his father. More than the age difference, it's the sneaking around that frays my nerves. If we're ever caught—

"Stop worrying," he whispers. His hand returns to my cock, which is still semi-erect from his earlier attention. We'd started out in the woods, but a rainstorm drove us to the shelter of my vehicle. His is parked nearby. A stand of massive oak trees provides a buffer between us and the narrow two-lane road we traveled to reach this isolated spot outside of town. 

"I probably do worry too much," I sigh. Looking down, I watch him rub me through my pants. "Mmm, that feels good..."

"You know how much I like making you feel good." He kisses my jaw and chin, inching closer to my lips until I have no choice but to offer him my mouth.

I worry for him more than for myself. His father is a brute of a man, quick with his fists, and there are plenty of other men in the town exactly like him. I've long drawn suspicion, being middle-aged and never married. It would take only one misstep for my lover to be covered by the same shadow of distrust. While I'd most likely face unpleasant consequences from the discovery of our relationship, I fear the repercussions for him would be far more dire.

And it's not only the provincial, narrow-minded townspeople that pose a risk. More than once, I've urged him, Don't go into the city. It's easy to imagine a man his age growing bored with his quiet surroundings, and eventually with me. But I'm terrified he'll meet up with someone full of hate and anger, someone who will not only break his body, but also his spirit.

Why would I go to the city? he always asks in reply just before flashing that smile I crave. I have everything I want right here.  

As he now takes out my cock, so hard in his hand, my gaze drifts to the window. The rivulets cascading down the glass blur the trees around the car; their leaves are reduced to verdant smudges, and I have no hope of spotting an approaching vehicle.

When he leans down and takes me in his mouth, I release a loud moan, easily heard over the rain drumming on the car's roof. Directing my entire focus on him and the pleasure he gives, I stroke his hair. The strands are long and silky beneath my fingers. My cock isn't all that large, and he effortlessly slides his lips down to its base. Ah, his throat is so warm and tight around me! All the while, he fondles my balls, giving them the faintest squeeze.

Breathing in, I can smell the rain still dampening our clothes. Along with the woodsy notes of his cologne, I think I can also detect the scent of my own excitement, carried on my sweat. His mouth is a natural wonder, glorious in its ability to bring me to the verge of climax.

Somehow, I last even as he begins sucking my tip. Then, his head bobs up and down, so fast and relentless that I can barely catch my breath. "I'm almost there!" I manage to choke out.

He always goes down on me with a kind of urgent need, as if he's desperate for my cum. I've never before been with anyone who showed his eagerness for a mouthful of semen. Now, he's moaning and stroking, his spit covering every inch of my erection.

I come with a helpless cry, and he greedily swallows my load. Instead of pulling off, he tenderly sucks my cockhead, drawing a whimper from my throat. I'm exquisitely sensitive, but I don't deny him this final pleasure. 

When he sits up, I draw him to me. We share a wet, tongue-filled kiss, sharp with the taste of my seed. In the moments before I remove my pants and underwear so I can offer him my tight, needy hole, I hold him in a fervent embrace. With the rain chasing away every other sound except our breathing, and with the trees maintaining a constant sentry, I allow myself to imagine he and I are the only people in the entire world.

It's then that my fears ease, and I finally grow brave enough to speak the word that falls so readily from his lips.