I always thought that my home village out in the countryside was a rather dry place to meet men. And yet, while home for a week, I had one of the most incredible sexual encounters of my life.

Thank god for apps, right?

Sneaking out of the house early in the morning, I walked to the next village over to his house. Once inside, I could hardly believe how handsome he was. He looked like Rob Stark from Game of Thrones; tall, brawny, bearded with a thick Scottish accent. In a word, heaven.

He lay down bare-chested on the bed, and I massaged oil into his delightfully broad, muscular back. I was almost breathless with lust. The heat from his body seemed to burn my hands, making me giddy. He turned over and, taking me in his arms, I felt the rough kisses from his beard, which only served to stoke my desire further.

The jewel in the crown, so to speak, was when I took off his shorts and boxers. I’d never seen one so long, so thick, which I so utterly wanted. He was so well-endowed, in fact, that I couldn’t actually deep-throat him. Man member gold. It was utterly, utterly delicious. This was a real King in the North, to my mind.

I surrendered completely to the moment, enjoying the physical touch as I could feel he was just as enthralled by my body as I was with his. We flung one another around his bed, both cumming until we lay panting side by side.

As he had just come off night-shift he needed to sleep, and I had no desire to be out the house long enough for my absence to be properly noted beyond a morning walk. As we got to the door to say goodbye, I told him I’d be back around Christmas. Half joking, of course, we’d probably never see each other again. “I’ll stay hard for you until then,” was his roguish response, with a wink. I nearly had to have him in the doorway all over again, just for that.

I walked back along the quiet country road, drinking in the beautiful rural scenery and half-drunk with pleasure. I knew it was only no-strings home holiday fun, but somehow that just made it all the better. Somehow, it made it all the more forbidden too, which made it all the more delicious. The romantic, imaginative part of my brain said I was like the fallen child of a Regency Era novel, scampering about the countryside having discreet sex with men. The logical part purred contentedly, because I had just gotten laid. And it had been fantastic.

The adventure wasn’t over, of course: I was still covered in him, and probably reeking of sweat and shame. I had to get into the house and, at the very least, wash my hands without being seen. The pleasurable guilt was probably written all over my face, not to mention I was still flushed with the satisfaction of morning lust, though I hoped I could just pass it off as exercise.

Thankfully, I managed to get myself showered, dressed and re-assembled with nobody the wiser. That was, until later, when my brother cornered me.

“Where were you this morning?” He asked.

“Oh, just out for a walk,” I replied.

“A walk.”


“You went for a walk.”


“OK…You met up with someone, didn’t you?”

I’m not sure how he knew, perhaps he just knows me too well. No regret. Not for a second. All I can say is that they certainly do make them bigger up north. King size, in fact.


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