Hot Tub Heat with the Rancher Next Door

The rental sat on a ridge outside Santa Fe, and the hot tub on the cedar deck was the only light still working. I had driven up from a stone job in Albuquerque with my shoulders cooked and my head empty. Steam lifted into the cold. Under the blue water a man rested his arms on the rim, thick through the neck and chest, the kind of size you get from cattle and fence posts. He watched me climb the steps in a towel and did not smile.

He looked me over from boots to hip.
- You gonna stand there freezing or get in.
- Name's Drew. Figured I'd ask if the tub was taken.
- Wade. It's taken. Water's good. You look like a man who knows what to do with a body.

I dropped the towel. Night air bit my ass and my cock, then the heat took me to the ribs. He looked, and I let him. Years of hauling flagstone had built my shoulders wide and kept my stomach cut, and his stare made me thicken before I sat. Under the jets his thighs were massive and spread. A line of dark hair ran down a gut solid all the way to nothing. He was naked. His cock rested heavy on one thigh, already waking.

His hand found my knee under the water and stayed, not asking.
- Rancher. South of town. You?
- Stone work. Patios and walls. Thirty-four. I don't usually do this.
- Thirty-eight. You do tonight. His palm slid up my thigh. I turned into him. Our mouths met over the steam, stubble rough, tongue slow, and his fingers closed around me under the jets. I groaned into his mouth. He stroked once, learning the weight, then stood. Water poured off a body that made the deck feel small. His cock rose thick against his belly. He jerked his chin at the door.
- Inside. I want you where I can see every inch.

That was the last either of us spoke. The cabin smelled like cedar and old coffee. He walked me back to the bed with a hand on my neck and put me down on the quilt, then came over me, all that weight braced on his arms. His chest dragged across mine, hair coarse, nipples hard. His mouth moved from my throat to my pec. He bit one nipple hard enough to make my hips jump, licked the sting, and took the other. I grabbed the thick slope of his back and pulled him down until our cocks dragged together, wet from the tub, hot and sliding.

He rocked, slow, the head of his cock catching under mine, and my thighs started to shake. Then he kissed down my stomach and shoved my legs apart with his shoulders. Breath on my balls. Then his tongue, a long wet stripe up the underside to the head. His mouth took me. He worked me with fist and throat, spit slicking his grip, the sound loud in the quiet room. I held the quilt and watched his back flex, his ass tighten every time he sank deeper. When I got close he pulled off, lips swollen, and my cock jumped against his cheek.

He reached to the nightstand and came back with a bottle. Cool slick on his fingers. He pressed one against me, circling until I opened. The first burned sweet and went deep. The second made me bear down and curse into the pillow. He fucked me with his hand until I pushed back onto it, greedy, cock leaking on my stomach. Then he knelt between my thighs and stroked lube over that thick shaft until it shone, veins up, head dark. He set himself at my hole. I felt the blunt pressure, the stretch, the moment I decided to take him.

He sank in slow, inch by inch, one hand on my chest, eyes on my face, and did not stop until his hips were flush and I was full enough to forget the highway. He held there. I felt him throb. Then he drew back and drove in deeper and found a rhythm that was all strength. Each stroke knocked a sound out of me. The bed hit the wall. His balls slapped my ass. Sweat gathered at his throat and dropped hot on my stomach. I locked my legs around his waist and met him, taking it harder, the angle lighting me up until I leaked across my gut with no hand on me.

He grabbed my cock and stroked with his hips, rough palm, thumb over the head every time he buried himself. I came clenching around him, spilling over his fist and my chest in thick pulses while he kept fucking me through it, using the grip. That pull broke his rhythm. He drove in to the root and came deep, a hot flood I felt low in my gut, his whole frame shaking, a rough sound caught in his teeth. He stayed inside until the shaking stopped.

He eased out and dropped beside me, one heavy arm across my ribs. We breathed like we had run the ridge. I ached in the good way. His come leaked warm down my thigh. Outside the tub still steamed under a full sky of stars. His hand spread over my stomach, lazy and sure, and I turned my face into the sweat on his shoulder.