I was almost floating as I followed Jay and Miles into the barn, the smells of feed, straw and dust mixed with the scent of cattle and horse was a potent combination; add to that the sweet smell of my boyfriend Greg, and I was nearly delirious. This barn was so different from the one at home—it was a vibrant thing, unlike ours, which hadn't seen a living creature other than mice or a stray cat in decades. My parents had no time for animals, so when Grandpa Watson died, the remaining ones were divided among his children, right down to the cat—that went to Uncle Rhys, along with the border collie. Grandma had died a couple years before from cancer, and everybody said that grandpa lost the will to carry on—though it was pneumonia that claimed him.
I ought to miss the old man, but I really didn't know him—I'd met him only a few times when I was little—I think I was about five years old—the only things I can remember about him were his piercing gray eyes and rich bass voice...everything else has faded over the years; still, that's more than I have of grandma—I only have a feeling of warmth and a scent which was like violets. In Grandpa's last year, we moved in with him in the big family house, and when he was gone, it was inherited by Dad; his two brothers and one sister got equal shares of money and stocks, and parcels of the farm; since they were all settled on their own places, Dad offered to buy them out, but every one of them gave the titles back, stipulating that the house and farm should be mine when the time came...
A caress to the middle of my back, and a softly-whispered 'Hey, Yank' brought me back to the present. I felt his hand on the small of my back as he pointed up the ladder where Jay had disappeared. "Ya okay? You're lookin' a little spaced-out all of a sudden." I noticed for the first time that when he was worried, his drawl got a little more obvious than in his everyday speech. I wondered if it was like that all the time, or just for me?
I took a quick look around, and seeing we were alone for the moment, I gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "I was just thinking about how different this barn is from the one we have at home...ours only has spiders and some mice living in it."
Greg's jaw dropped as he stared at me. "You didn't say you had a barn," he pouted, but I could tell his grin was lurking just beneath. "What other Yankee secrets you hidin' from me Den?" Before I could answer, he gave me a gentle shove toward the ladder, and I climbed up, with my Reb right behind me so close I could feel his hands against my calves as we ascended the vertical boards. When we got out into the loft, I just stood there, and Greg pushed up behind me since I hadn't stepped far enough away from the trap-door.
Jay and Mikey explained that they'd made this place up for us—Greg and I—so we could have somewhere to get better acquainted. I smiled at the way Mikey blushed as he said that, especially when Jay chose that moment to grab one of the bowls and disappear behind the little wall of straw bales. He explained about the radio providing more privacy from being overheard, and Greg nodded and shot me a wide grin. That made me nervous; all I'd done so far was kiss him, and while I wanted very badly to get to know all of him, what happened to me up in Maine had me worried. See, I knew Greg had a lot more experience than I did—I was really happy about that because I didn't think I could start anything on my own. Pictures in my head of me and Greg doing bjs—or more—got me hot and bothered, but I was so afraid I wouldn't be able to do it. I knew Greg would never hurt me or force me to do stuff I wasn't ready for...but the fear remained in the back of my head.
Then Mikey did some Zen thing, where he had us look into each other's eyes, letting our souls make their own connection without words getting in the way. When I did as he asked, all I saw in Greg's light-blues was love and deep concern. Then I saw the trust, not only in his eyes, but also in his entire attitude. I couldn't help but wonder if he saw the love I felt for him, or if the fear and anxiety hid it from him. My Reb took my hands in his and kissed them, never looking away from my storm-troubled eyes, and I began to relax—maybe not completely, but enough to let the trust from him begin to work its way into my body, cradling my spirit like a warm blanket, giving promise of a safe haven against the world. When Mikey brought the last bowl of water and wash-cloth over to us, I took it, and gave Reb a shy smile. The fear was still there, and it might hold me back temporarily, but I would do all I could to bolster the love and trust in my own heart so they were worthy of Greg's.
At the end of the blanket behind the hay bales, there was one set off by itself, obviously meant to be used as a table, so I set the bowl down on it. When I turned back toward Greg, I saw that the little wall was indeed too high to see over—on my tip[toes, I could only see the straw at the far end of the loft and the beams holding up the roof above us—nothing lower than about seven feet off the floor. The radio was playing oldies...on a bright mid-April day, what else would they play but Beach Boys and Jan & Dean? It was warm out, but too early to cruise with the top down on my car...the breeze would chill any thoughts of summer out of you pretty fast.
Under the gray blanket, the hay was deep and soft, though you could still feel the old flooring underneath. I smiled again at Greg, and he walked over to me and pulled my arms around his waist, then bent his head to give me a tender kiss. Everything in him, from his eyes to his tender caresses, told me 'only as far as you want...' I kicked off my shoes and the blanket-covered hay felt great under my yellow socks. I sank down onto my knees and began to untie Reb's sneakers, removing them one at a time as I rubbed his feet. Since he had no gym class, underneath a faint aroma of boy-sweat and lunch, he still smelt of soap and...something. When I pulled him down beside me against one of the bales with our legs stretched out and tangled in front of us, the scent was stronger—it was his shampoo. He smiled as I sniffed at his hair and nuzzled my face into it.
"What is that, Reb?" I whispered in his ear.
He giggled. "You're kinky, gettin' off on the way I smell...it's some citrus thing—got lemons and oranges mixed together."
I let my lips travel down from the top of Greg's red wavy hair, down past his temple to come to rest at his ear. I kissed it and let my tongue probe its inner workings for a minute before sliding down his jaw line to his neck. Greg let out a moan and a sigh at the same time.
"I don't know much else to do, Reb...you know the only things I've done before. I mean, I know what we're supposed to do, but I don't know how...I don't want to look like an idiot."Greg put his fingers to my lips to hush my babbling, then tilted my head up to kiss me again. His lips made their journey up to my curls next, and I giggled when he gave several long sniffs—I thought he was mocking what I'd done just moments before, but his arms pulled me in tighter against him. His eyes locked on mine, and I relaxed against him after seeing the love there.
"Nothing you do will make me feel anything but love for you...what I've done before isn't important—you are. Whatever you want to try, go for it. Denny, I'm happy if you're happy, so whatever, however and whenever you're ready." He gave me a deep kiss, then rolled part-way to face me, one arm on my hip, the other twining our fingers together. "Pretend I'm your own life-size Ken doll—live out your fantasies..." With that, he began rubbing his feet on mine, and kissed my fingers. I gave him a little nervous laugh, but he had begun to ease my fears with his patient attentions. I must have been feeling better because I gave him one of the lamest jokes I'd ever made. "Damn, you know those things aren't anatomically correct—that's why Barbie is still a virgin!"
I heard his cute snicker, and I laughed for a moment before he put my hand on his crotch. I hissed as I drew in my breath—Greg was undoubtedly more than just anatomically correct—he was anatomically incorrect. None of the four boys from my old school had been this big—now I was scared for a whole different reason—what if he was too big—maybe I couldn't handle him where I wanted him to be the most? I felt his hand on my jeans, giving me a squeeze that caused me to buck up into his hand. He rubbed up and down my shaft a few times, and I heard him snicker again. "Nah—the bitch is a virgin because Ken has the hots for GI-Joe! Didn't they teach you anything up at that moose-farm?"
We both laughed at the old joke, but it got my mind turning to a different topic...I could remember there being only a couple types of GI-Joes when I was little, but now there seemed to be dozens, in all branches of the service...and the company had started making them look more macho with beards and stuff, probably to off-set the fact that a lot of boys still thought of them as dolls. I had to laugh inwardly when I thought about Ken too—Barbie's playboy heart-throb had changed with the times —he was now a brunette, and could have a moustache, beard or mutton-chop sideburns. I looked at Greg, trying to picture him with things like that, and I didn't like what I saw.
"Reb...I know we're just starting out, but if I ask you to do something for me, would you?" I was really nervous about this—a lot of guys our age could hardly wait to grow facial hair, and you saw men in commercials that looked like they were covered in shag carpeting, they were so hairy. Since my Greg came from a Southern background, I worried all that stuff was something he really wanted for himself. My hands had moved from his pants to work their way to his nipples, which I had teased to firm little cones under his gray sweatshirt. His eyes bored into mine, and the ends of his lips began to twitch into a smile. He leaned in to kiss me and that's when I noticed one of his hands had begun to tweak my own pec. He had completely undone my shirt as I worried, and his fingers were running over my torso from pec to pec, and sternum to navel.
"I'll always do whatever I can to please you, Yank. Just ask." Greg's hands had gently loosened my belt as he distracted me with his words...I wasn't sure why he thought he had to do that...but I thought it was cute, so I let him get away with it. There was a little 'pop' sound, and I felt his fingers sneaking behind my undone snap to touch the top of my briefs...little by little the questing fingers were moving lower, and I could feel my zipper easing downward from his actions. I put one of my hands over his, and pulled my pants open to give him better access. He looked surprised, and I thrust a little into his palm, which felt just right where it rubbed my growing shaft. I was sure that my red and yellow striped briefs were starting to get a little damp.
Much as I was enjoying our little game of Don't Scare The Yank, he was being over-cautious—and we only had two hours. All that we'd done so far was just a more erotic version of the locker-room where I changed every day for gym. All I was really afraid of was that he might rush me into giving him a blow-job—that would trigger bad memories, but those bastards had shown no interest in my body other than how they could use my mouth, so what we were doing now was fine with me.
"Reb, I know it's popular now, but I don't like the feel of beards or moustaches, and I think those stupid sideburns went out with Martin Van Buren...can I ask you not to grow any of that stuff? I like the feel of your skin on mine...all I need to show that you're my man is right here." I gave his jeans-covered dick a firm squeeze, and stroked it a few times. Greg got this very evil grin on his face, then he pushed my lavender shirt off my shoulders to fall next to us on the blanket. "I guess I don't need to say anything about it either since you don't like them, so I doubt you'll grow any, right?" His fingers were now free to trace the contours of my lightly-defined musculature, and he grinned when he didn't feel any hairs on my chest. I had waited and waited for them to come in, but other than one or two, they never did, so I pulled them out until they stopped coming back. "I love how I can see all your muscles move—it's like water in a stream, all ripply and flowing in turns..." I giggled when his fingers found my armpits, thinking he was going to tickle me like he had when we were in that boy-pile at his house the other night, but he didn't. "Take off my shirt, Den...I think you'll have your answer then."
I pulled his Wildcats sweatshirt up, slowly exposing his chest until it was over his head, and he raised his arms so I could toss it onto the blanket next to my own shirt. His skin was pale where it was covered most often, and that made the scattering of freckles stand out, though they didn't stick out like little beacons begging for attention like his nipples did. They were stiff and red, and I didn't see a single hair anywhere around them...only at his under-arms. I leaned in closer to get a better look, and my breath raised goose-bumps on his skin; he didn't even have that faint trail which all guys had leading down into their pants! The hair under his arms was slightly darker than that on his head—more like autumn leaves than sunset-red...and they were trimmed to less than a quarter-inch in length. My right hand reached out and touched the silken patch, then across his chest, bringing a little moan to his lips.
"On a good day, there's only about ten hairs there, so I shave 'em off, or use hair remover, which is easier." Greg took my hands in his and looked into my eyes before he went on. "I'd like to show you all of me, but I don't want to scare you—I'll only take off my pants, and just pull the shorts down for a second—I won't try to do anything other than that, I promise!"
I was right, he was worried about bringing up bad thoughts in my head...I had no problem feeling him up through his clothes, and I trusted him, but I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't react badly if I actually saw it up close. My brain was churning in my head, trying to find a solution because I was very eager to see him in all his glory...and my eyes teared up a little when all he did was wait patiently for me to come to a decision. Finally, I think I had one—all the times I'd been forced to give those four guys head, they'd been standing over me, their hands forcing me to kneel and forcing my mouth onto their nasty cocks. Maybe it was just that position which scared me? I certainly wasn't afraid of his dick while it was covered by his underwear...so I tried to explain this to him. "You want to stand over me, is that it?"
"Sort of, Reb..." I took his hand and guided him down onto the blanket, so he was stretched out, leaning back on his elbows to watch what I would do. I knelt between his legs, and he moved them a little further apart to give me room. I undid his belt, and rubbed his bulge through his jeans until I felt good about undoing his pants and sliding down his zip. All this time, I was staring into his eyes, letting my fingers do their task by feel. My mouth was dry as the zipper reached bottom, and I saw cream-colored fabric being stretched tighter and tighter from the monster underneath. My hands were rubbing his thighs as I leaned down to give him a kiss. I felt a twitch in his shorts, and my thumb found a patch of warm wetness right where the head was fighting to escape. When I paused, I heard Greg's soft whisper.
"I don't have to be home until 10:30...I'll wait as long as you need—we have years ahead of us, my lovely Yank." I got a bit of courage from those words, and my fingers snaked into his belt loops, pulling tentatively down his legs and slightly up—he took the hint and raised his hips so the jeans began moving down his thighs. I could see he was wearing a pair of fly-less Jockey briefs...and their creamy color was getting a bit transparent around the tip of his cock from all the rubbing I'd done to him as I fought for control over my fears. I scooted back a little to give me room to raise his legs, one at a time, and slip his jeans off. I ran my hands up and down his legs and calves as I moved each in turn, leaving him in just his briefs and white tube socks. This pair didn't have the usual three stripes at the top, they were just white all the way to his knees. I let out a shaky breath—doing pretty good so far—until I put my hands at the waist-band of his shorts. I could run my fingers over his rigid pole, caress his thighs and hips, but I couldn't get them to pull down that piece of elastic that kept him hidden.
"Let me," Greg put his hands between mine and his waist, so that it was he who was clutching the elastic, while my hands just lay on top of his. "My hands are yours...they'll do what yours can't right now; I'll go slow, you pretend it's you doing it, and if you want me to stop, just grip my hands tighter, or say 'Stop'...and I'll wait for you to be ready for the next step, or I can just hold you safely in my arms." He raised my hands to his lips before putting both sets back at his waist. It was another five minutes before we had his undies down to his mid-thigh, and I got my first look at his private parts. I had to admit they were nice—and thankfully, he was cut—one of my tormentors hadn't been, and I shuddered when I thought about the bastard's poor hygiene. I never wanted to see an uncircumcised dick again!
Greg's dick was pale like the rest of him, but he glistened in the barn-light from the amount of pre-cum he'd leaked while we 'got acquainted'. His pubic hair was the same autumn shade as the hair under his arms, and trimmed just as short, about a quarter of an inch. I couldn't see any hair at all on his balls. From past experiments, I knew I was 7½ inches long, but Greg looked like he had almost another half-inch on me...and I was really happy that he seemed to be the same thickness as me. I could tell that the difference in our apparent sizes wasn't just due to his trimmed bush...it was an actual fact of life. He twitched as I knelt between his legs; I wanted to touch it, feel it for myself, but it was too soon. I watched as Greg's hands fondled his equipment, then he stopped dead. "Sorry...I got carried away. Do you want me to cover it up again?"
I almost said yes, but stopped myself in time. It was a beautiful piece of boy-flesh, and I wanted to touch it—but my hand came to a halt about six inches away from making contact. I was so frustrated with myself that I almost screamed. I knelt there between my lover's legs, wanting, and yet unable, to reach the object of my desire. I tried extending my hand closer, putting all my willpower into it, and my hand started to tremble as sweat broke out on my forehead. The world faded out for a bit, then I was brought back by the feel of warm arms around me, pulling me down to the blanket...Greg was on his back, cradling me close to his chest as I lay on top of him. Our underwear and jeans had been removed at some point, and I could feel the strength and warmth of his body all along my own...and soft kisses peppered my face and neck. I could feel two happy organs between our bodies—Greg had begun a slow rhythm of thrusts up into my groin, and our dicks were contentedly sliding against one another as our pre-orgasmic juices provided a slick medium for our dance.
We were enjoying this intimate contact for a while when my Southern sweetheart whispered into my ear. "I been thinkin'—the best way to drive out bad memories is to put nice ones in their place, right?" I nodded and felt him thrust into me a little harder, and I felt more jizz leak out of my dick, sliding next to his between our bellies. "Well, I'm gonna give you a good one to get rid of the ones those pricks gave you up in Maine...so, close your eyes and think of fireworks."
"What?" I blurted out in surprise. Before I could ask what he was doing, he was already moving. He turned on his side, effectively rolling me off him so we were face to face, and he kissed my eyes as I closed them. He kissed me then, taking his time to reach my chest, and then my navel. I was sighing and moaning a little, everything he was doing felt really good. His hands had rubbed my back as he moved lower, providing an electric tingle to go with what his lips were doing to my front.
My eyes shot open when I felt warmth and wetness encircle my dick, then I felt his tongue beginning to tease the head of my dick. All I could see was his red locks bobbing up and down in my lap...but I could feel so much more—and it wasn't long before I was wracked by a shattering orgasm that my love took in with no hesitation or spillage. He moved back up and held me in his arms, bringing me back to Earth with soft whispers and gentle caresses. "That's the first of my therapy sessions, Mr. Watson—I see a long program ahead of us until you are cured. Many sessions, young man—but you will be my only patient." His awful German accent had me laughing, and I lost it when he rolled his eyes like he was looking at me over a pair of non-existent glasses. "See the receptionist to schedule your next visit."
I broke down into helpless giggles, and smacked his arm. "So when's my next visit, Herr Doktor?" I watched him leaf through an imaginary calendar, then he licked his lips. "It seems there's been a cancellation. Can you come again in fifteen minutes?"
I swear he was drooling as he grinned at me, but I nodded. "I'll do my best, Doctor Newton." I don't know if it was the laughter or what, but I felt a little less anxious when I thought of him blowing me again. Maybe Reb was on to something...
* * * * * * * * * *
"I can't find my shorts..." I hoped I didn't sound as frantic as I thought...Callie's prints were hanging from a line over the sink, and he'd joined me again on the darkroom floor for a second round of making-out. The red light was still on, mainly because we were too pre-occupied exploring each other to turn on the regular light instead. I had to admit that he wasn't very good at his first blow-job, but the second was better—and the third he'd pulled out of my slightly sore dick was good—it probably would have been great if I hadn't had two others in the last hour...a guy can only do so much. I was impressed by the fact that Cal's second load had been as large as his first, and the third was not much smaller, though it took longer to get. "How long you saved up for, Callie?" I whispered after kissing him for about the thousandth time.
"Saved up? Oh—you mean since I last jacked off—Monday, why?" He sounded worried, like he'd done something wrong. He pulled away from me a bit, and sat up. I ran my hands over his back and into his hair so I could pull him in for another kiss. I had my tee-shirt back on, and my pants were by my feet, but the underwear I'd worn still eluded me.
I gave him a little grin and poked his stomach, which caused him to flinch a bit—it was one of his ticklish spots I'd just discovered. "Just wondered if you always come so much...I only have me and Greg to go by, but it sure seemed a lot to me. I'd say it's an unexpected bonus in my book." I gave him a shy smile as he stood up, then reached down to pull me up beside him. I was surprised when he pressed into me, forcing me against the wall, until I realized he was reaching for the light switch. I closed my eyes as the dim red glow was replaced by white incandescence.
Something was poking me between my thighs, rubbing the underside of my balls. Even before I opened my eyes, I had a good idea what it was, since Cal's front was pressing into me the entire length of our bodies. The four-inch height difference between us meant my balls fit just right resting on top of his shaft, and my head was poking at his belly-button as we moved together. His hands roamed my chest through my shirt before snaking around my neck, and he pulled down slightly and kissed my neck, then bit it gently before looking into my eyes. I just knew I'd have a hickey by the end of the day, and that nothing but a regular shirt would cover it. I put my fingers over it for a second, and grinned down at Cal, licking my lips in anticipation.
He tilted his head slightly, and I put my fingers on the same area of his neck, giving it a little rub, and he raised up into the touch...so I bent my head and kissed his neck, letting my lips form a perfect seal for my suctioning and my teeth got their first taste of his pulsing throat. His moan sent shivers into my deepest recesses, and I could feel moisture seep out of my dick and smear into his navel. Callie's cock jerked between my thighs, and the tingles that caused in me made me leak a little more between us. "Callie, I want you to make love to me..."
I was surprised when I felt him pull back from me. His green eyes were troubled, but I didn't see rejection in them like I thought I would—and I had no idea why he'd do that—but it was something I worried about anyway. As we stared into one anothers' eyes in the white light, clearly able to read each other now, I saw a blush creep up his cheeks. It made him even more breath-taking, seeing him naked under natural light for the first time. He wet his lips with a pink tongue. "I...don't know how—I was hoping you'd show me."
I pulled him tighter to me as we lay our heads together, letting our breaths mingle and our heartbeats slow and synchronize. My whispers explained how I'd never done it either...that Greg and I were saving that act for our Mr. Rights...and I assured him that he filled that role for me just fine. "I want you to be my first and only lover, Calvin Schuyler." When I said that last part, I was holding his face between my palms so that he could see the sincerity and longing in my eyes.
"I'd be honored, Benjamin Ross—if you will be mine too..." His kisses rained down on my lips as we moved closer, and I felt his shaft sliding next to mine—it had apparently come out from between my legs when he drew back, but now it was burrowing next to mine for a safe and warm retreat. By the way he was grinding into me, and the murmurs of what we'd both like to do for our first time, I knew images of us doing it were filling his head as much as mine, and I didn't know just how much that was turning us both on until I felt a surge of warm wetness between our stomachs. When he pulled back this time, stepping completely clear of me, we could see my shirt was wet from both our loads, nearly transparent from abdomen to nipples in a great irregular blotch. "Oh shit—now I really do need to find my shorts so I can wipe this stuff off!"
Calvin shocked me when he gave my shirt a big tug, and I felt it rip from my shoulders—I hadn't thought he was that strong durng wrestling practice—then he used the torn shirt to wipe off his chest and dick before doing the same to me. I was still processing his actions, which were actually pretty arousing, when he held the shirt up to my face...I took a sniff and a tentative lick of the cum-soaked fabric, then watched him do the same thing. His kiss was ardent and deep when our lips met. "Now I have a souvenir of our first time..." he grinned at me, despite a soft rosy blush. "It wasn't like you could walk out of here with all that cum on it anyway."
I knew he was right, but as I picked up my jeans, I regretted not picking out sweats today. The jeans were particularly tight around my hips and thighs, which would make my dick stand out from a mile away. I had enough problems with getting hard just by them rubbing against my underwear—without those—and with Cal nearby, I was doomed to die of embarrassment. If I still had the shirt, I could have carried my jacket in front of me, but now I couldn't do that since I'd be naked from the waist up, and that was against school rules unless it was in gym class.
As Calvin turned to search for my shorts, my face lit up when I thought of gym...then fell again when I remembered that one of the morning announcements was that all practices were cancelled for tonight and tomorrow due to the Easter holiday. There would be no quick dash to the locker room to grab my spare clothes out of my locker...and only the Assistant Coach had a spare key. Calvin's cry of triumph had me by his side in a flash, but when I saw where they were, I felt like crying.
They had landed in the rinse sink and were soaked through by the cold water. Calvin held them under the other faucet so they were warmed by the hot water, and then wrung them out as much as he could before handing them to me. He could tell it wouldn't work, they'd only chill me and make my jeans wet too. I watched as he rolled them up in his fatigue shirt before handing me his own briefs. I could see they were the same olive as his tee-shirt. "I was around the middle of my 170 weight class, and you're at the lower end of the 195, so they should stretch enough to fit...I can do without since my pants are pretty baggy." He chuckled a bit and I looked at him trying to figure out why he was doing that. I pulled them up gingerly, they were a little tight, but the thought that they were his, and my dick would be where his had been an hour earlier made them even more snug as my dick started to fill out.
I felt Cal's hand cup my balls through the briefs, and he gave them a little squeeze that made me fully erect. "I was laughing because now you have a souvenir too..." His fingertips brushed the head of my cock where it tried to escape the waistband, then he picked up his fatigue pants. We giggled and kept glancing at each other as we covered up, finally holding each other upright as we tied our sneakers. That might have gone faster if we'd sat on the floor to do it, but I wasn't going to miss a chance to run my hands over his body as he twisted and raised one foot at a time to do it. His hands were equally free as he helped me, especially since I didn't have a shirt to wear.
With the darkroom tidied up, we left and I watched him lock the door, then we gathered up our books and headed out into the silent corridor. Once more, he used Mr. Philips' key to lock the classroom door, then led me out the western exit, which was closer to the end of the north lot where we'd parked after lunch. It was nearly 5 o'clock and we were the last ones in the lot, but I was still surprised when I felt Cal's hand reach up to my letter jacket and pull the snaps open down its front. His hand slipped inside to rub my abs and punch my nipples as we walked to our cars. Only then did he pull back.
"I have a couple chores to do, but you'll be over for dinner, right? Six o'clock?" He was worried I wouldn't show up, after what we'd just done? I leaned down to give him a quick re-assuring kiss.
"If someone hadn't ripped my shirt off, I could have followed him home..." I teased with a grin. "I don't think your grandma would like me sitting at the table half naked."
"She might not, but I definitely wood," he chirped emphasizing the word 'wood' as he cupped his swollen dick in his Army trousers. The camouflage pattern did little to hide his excitement, and I groaned at his terrible pun. I brushed his cheek with my palm, giving it a little slap to show what I thought of his joke, and got in my own car. I leaned out the window just before starting my engine.
"The sooner we leave, the sooner we can eat...and the sooner I can get a tour of the farm and the wild life on it..." I made sure he saw me lick my lips in anticipation as I let that thought sink into his brain...and I laughed as his tires dug in and sprayed gravel in twin fishtails as he roared toward the parking lot's exit. I didn't realize I'd done the same until I pulled onto the paved road and my tires squealed as I headed home for fresh clothes.
I wasn't sure if this day could get any weirder or better, but I was eager to find out.
Email comments to email@example.com
Original chapter with pictures is at GayAuthors.org/Jay & Miles
Please donate to Nifty.org so they can continue to support new authors.