Chapter One: Heat in the Grove

The Pineville Fall Family Festival at Kees Park thrummed with life—kids hollerin’, country music twangin’ through the muggy Louisiana air, and the smell of fried dough and smoky barbecue hangin’ thick. Eric Landry, 28, stood 6’0” with a stocky, athletic build, broad shoulders, and wavy brown hair fallin’ just past his ears. His hazel eyes roamed the crowd, restless, until they landed on a man in his sixties by a food stall. The man wore a white Panama hat with a black band, a green short-sleeved button-up shirt with a patch on the chest, blue jeans, and a brown belt with a big ol’ buckle. His shiny bald scalp gleamed under the hat’s brim, and his fair skin, tanned from years workin’ cattle, bore wrinkles and age spots. A round face with full cheeks, a strong jaw, and bright blue eyes gave him a friendly, approachable look, though his broad neck and thick arms spoke of a life spent wranglin’ livestock. A gold ring with a stone sat heavy on his left hand, a thinner band on his right, and a dark-faced watch hugged his left wrist. A woman—likely his wife, Susan—stood nearby, but Eric’s gaze didn’t stray from the man’s sturdy, veined hands and that thick, weathered neck that screamed rugged charm.

Later, as the sun dipped low, paintin’ the sky orange, Eric spotted the man alone on a park bench, his wife nowhere in sight. Heart poundin’, Eric sauntered over, his leather boots kickin’ up dust. He plopped down close, their thighs brushin’ through denim. The man tipped his hat back, revealin’ those twinklin’ blue eyes.

“Well, howdy there, son. Name’s Michael—Mike Strain,” he said, his voice deep and warm, thick with a Louisiana drawl that rolled like molasses. “What’s yours?”

Eric’s pulse raced. Mike Strain, Louisiana’s Commissioner of Agriculture and Forestry, a veterinarian and Covington boy known for his steady hand and open mind. “Eric Landry,” he replied, keepin’ his voice smooth despite the heat stirrin’ in his gut. “Pleasure, Commissioner.”

They got to talkin’—Mike spinnin’ yarns about doctorin’ livestock and runnin’ his family’s cattle farm, Eric tossin’ in playful jabs. But Eric’s eyes kept wanderin’. Mike’s green shirt, damp from the humid night, clung to his soft, heavy pecs, a faint shadow of gray chest hair peekin’ through. Sweat beaded on Mike’s broad neck, tricklin’ into his collar. Eric leaned closer, catchin’ the scent of Mike’s woodsy cologne mixed with the day’s heat.

“You’re a fine-lookin’ man, Mike,” Eric murmured, voice low and husky. “That smile, that big ol’ presence… I’m bettin’ you’d feel mighty fine in the sheets.”

Mike’s cheeks flushed redder’n a ripe peach, but his eyes sparkled with somethin’ like mischief. “Boy, I’m a married man,” he chuckled, glancin’ at the gold ring on his left hand. “Old enough to be your daddy, too. Been with my Susan since vet school.” His voice hitched, though, a crack in that good-ol’-boy armor.

Eric’s hand grazed Mike’s thigh, the denim warm under his fingers. “Don’t matter to me,” he said, hazel eyes locked on Mike’s full lips. “I want you, Mike. Right now.”

Mike’s breath caught, and for a moment, Eric thought he’d bolt. But then Mike nodded toward a grove of pines behind the park, where the festival’s racket faded to a soft hum. “C’mon, son,” he muttered, voice low. “Let’s take a walk.”

In the dappled shade, hidden by thick trunks, Eric’s heart hammered as he dropped to his knees on the soft grass. His fingers worked quick, undoin’ Mike’s big belt buckle with a clink. He tugged down the blue jeans, revealin’ Mike’s 6-inch cut cock, moderate girth with a smooth, pink head already slick with precum. Eric’s mouth watered somethin’ fierce. He leaned in, lips brushin’ the tip, tastin’ that salty tang before takin’ the head into his mouth, suckin’ slow and deliberate. Mike gasped, his chubby, weathered fingers tanglin’ in Eric’s wavy hair, grippin’ tight.

“Lord have mercy, Eric,” Mike groaned, his drawl thicker now, voice rough as gravel. “Ain’t nobody done me like this since… hell, ever.”

Eric’s tongue swirled ‘round the head, teasin’ the slit, then slid down the shaft, takin’ Mike deep ‘til his nose pressed into the coarse gray hair at the base. Mike’s belly jiggled as he thrust gentle-like, his moans growin’ louder. Eric’s hands gripped Mike’s thick thighs, feelin’ the heat through the denim bunched at his knees. He bobbed faster, lips tight, tongue flickin’ along the underside, savorin’ every shudder. He pulled back just enough to drag his tongue slow along the vein, then sucked hard on the head, poppin’ it in and out of his mouth with wet, sloppy sounds.

“Sweet Jesus, boy,” Mike panted, his bald scalp shinin’ as he glanced ‘round for passersby. “You’re gonna kill this old man with that mouth.”

Eric grinned, spit glistenin’ on his lips. “Your wife ever suck you this good, Commissioner?” he teased, strokin’ Mike’s cock with one hand, the other cuppin’ his heavy balls, rollin’ ‘em gentle.

Mike shook his head, breathless. “Susan’s a good woman, but… hell, son, nothin’ like this. Keep goin’.”

Eric dove back in, relaxin’ his throat to take Mike deeper, his lips stretched tight ‘round the shaft. He hummed low, the vibration makin’ Mike curse under his breath. Mike’s grip tightened, hips buckin’ as he groaned, “Eric, I’m fixin’ to—Goddamn, I’m gonna blow!”

Mike’s hips jerked, and Eric felt the pulse, the sudden heat. He didn’t pull back, swallowin’ as Mike’s cock throbbed, spurtin’ thick, hot cum into his mouth. The load was heavy, like Mike hadn’t cut loose in months, and Eric took it all, tongue circlin’ the head to milk every drop. Mike’s legs quivered, his breath comin’ in short, ragged grunts as Eric kept suckin’ ‘til the older man’s cock softened, slippin’ from his lips with a final, wet pop. A stray drop of cum glistened on Eric’s chin, and Mike’s flushed face looked like he’d seen the pearly gates.

“Boy, you done ruined me,” Mike said, half-laughin’, his voice shaky as he tucked himself back in. But before he could catch his breath, a rustle nearby made ‘em freeze, holdin’ their breath ‘til the footsteps faded.

Eric leaned close, whisperin’ hot against Mike’s ear. “I ain’t done with you, Commissioner. I wanna fuck that sweet ass of yours.”

Mike’s eyes widened, but a grin tugged at his lips. “You’re a bold one, son,” he murmured, then winked, pullin’ Eric into a kiss that was all heat and hunger, tongues tanglin’ like they’d been at it for years. Eric tasted the salt of Mike’s cum on his own lips, and Mike moaned into the kiss, his hands grippin’ Eric’s shoulders.

Mike sank to his knees, his green shirt rumpled, face still flushed. Eric unzipped his fitted jeans, freein’ his 7-inch cut cock, smooth with a slight upward curve, the head shiny with precum. Mike’s eyes lit up, nervous but eager. “I ain’t never…” he started, voice low, “but I reckon I’ll give it a try.”

He leaned in, tongue dartin’ out to lick the shaft, tastin’ the precum beadin’ at the tip. His lips closed ‘round the head, suckin’ tentative at first, then bolder, his tongue swirlin’ in messy, eager circles. Eric groaned, hands restin’ on Mike’s broad shoulders, the sight of the Commissioner—Panama hat askew, bald head bobbin’—pushin’ him to the edge. Mike’s chubby fingers worked his own cock, already hard again, as he sucked, focusin’ on the tip, slobberin’ a bit as he found his rhythm.

“Fuck, Mike, that mouth’s a damn treasure,” Eric moaned, hips twitchin’ as Mike’s tongue flicked the sensitive underside. Mike’s inexperience only made it hotter, his enthusiasm drivin’ Eric wild.

Eric pulled Mike to his feet, crushin’ their lips together in a fierce kiss, tongues wrestlin’ like they were teenagers sneakin’ off behind the barn. Breakin’ the kiss, Eric leaned in, breath hot against Mike’s ear. “I’m gonna fuck you now, Commissioner. Gonna fuck you like you fuck your Susan.”

Mike’s eyes glazed with lust, like he was under a spell. “Alright, son,” he whispered, voice thick. “But you go easy on this old vet, hear?”

Eric guided Mike to a nearby pine, tellin’ him to lean over and grab the trunk. Mike dropped his jeans to his ankles, revealin’ a round, plump ass, pale but tanned at the edges from years in the sun. Eric knelt, spreadin’ Mike’s cheeks, and dragged his tongue slow across the tight, puckered hole, tastin’ the musky heat. Mike gasped, his whole body shuddin’ as Eric licked deeper, wettin’ the rim with spit, teasin’ the sensitive skin ‘til Mike was pushin’ back, desperate.

“Lord, boy, that’s… that’s somethin’ else,” Mike panted, voice shakin’ as Eric’s tongue swirled, loosenin’ him up.

Eric stood, spittin’ into his hand to slick his cock, the head glistenin’ as he pressed it against Mike’s hole. “Easy now, Commissioner,” Eric murmured, pushin’ slow. Mike’s rim was tight, clenchin’ at first, but Eric’s spit and the heat from the blowjob had him relaxed enough to take the head with a low groan. “Go easy, son,” Mike whispered, his own cock throbbin’ as he pushed back, wantin’ more.

Eric eased in, inch by inch, Mike’s ass hot and tight ‘round his shaft. “Goddamn, you’re tight as a virgin heifer,” Eric growled, startin’ a slow, steady rhythm. Mike’s hands gripped the tree, his breath comin’ in sharp gasps as Eric fucked him deeper, the wet sound of skin on skin fillin’ the grove. Mike’s ass took him easy now, the rim stretchin’ to hug Eric’s cock as he thrust harder, pinnin’ Mike to the tree.

“Harder, boy,” Mike grunted, surprisin’ Eric with the hunger in his voice. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Eric obliged, grabbin’ Mike’s plump cheeks and spreadin’ ‘em wide, rammin’ his cock deep and fast. Mike’s belly jiggled with each thrust, his moans muffled as he bit his lip to keep quiet. Eric reached ‘round, grippin’ Mike’s soft, heavy belly, feelin’ the heat of his skin as he pounded harder. Mike’s ass clenched, hot and greedy, suckin’ Eric’s cock like it was made for it. Eric’s balls slapped against Mike’s thighs, the rhythm frantic now, sweat drippin’ down both their backs.

“Fuck, Mike, your ass is fuckin’ perfect,” Eric growled, his cock swellin’ as he felt the edge comin’. He reached up, pinchin’ Mike’s hard nipples through his shirt, makin’ the older man whimper. Eric’s hips snapped, drivin’ deep as he came, his cock pulsin’ as he shot thick, creamy loads into Mike’s ass, fillin’ him ‘til cum dripped down Mike’s thighs. Mike’s own cock jerked, spillin’ a second load onto the grass in shudderin’ spurts, his rim clenchin’ tight ‘round Eric’s shaft as he rode out the orgasm.

Eric pulled out slow, Mike’s ass makin’ a soft, wet sound as cum leaked from his stretched hole. Mike turned, pullin’ up his jeans with a shaky grin, his face glowin’ like a man reborn. “Well, hell, son,” he panted, wipin’ sweat from his bald scalp. “You done fucked this old dog better’n a springtime rut.”

Eric laughed, pullin’ Mike into a sloppy, desperate kiss, their tongues tanglin’ as they savored the shared heat. Mike tasted himself on Eric’s lips, his hands grippin’ Eric’s ass through his jeans. After a long moment, Mike pulled back, adjustin’ his Panama hat with a wink. He scribbled his number on a book of matches, pressin’ it into Eric’s hand.

“Reckon we’ll be seein’ each other again, son,” Mike said, pattin’ Eric’s back. “Don’t go tellin’ the whole parish, now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Commissioner,” Eric replied, returnin’ the wink.

Mike slipped back into the festival crowd, his green shirt blendin’ into the throng. Eric lingered, the taste of Mike’s cock and the feel of his ass still burnin’ in his mind. He tucked the matches into his pocket, already plannin’ their next rendezvous.