This story is fiction. Any resemblance to real persons is coincidental. This story contains graphic sex between males, plus guns, violence, fire, alcohol, drugs, prayer and many other cautionary things. Don't read if you're under age where you live or are offended by this type of material. Don't post this anywhere without asking my permission.
Comments very welcome! Email me at: email@example.com or join my Yahoo group for free at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/DesertMac_Forum/ to keep up with this and my other stories, like Tutoring Jerry. For those familiar with Tutoring Jerry, this story is nothing like it. While it is ultimately a love story, it's not exactly a romantic fling, more like drunken Friday night redneck mud wrestling :-) Enjoy!
Wal Mart arrived in our town several years ago with American flags waving, apple pie, and much fanfare. With all his money, good ol' Sam Walton-- who was still alive then-- wasn't even generous enough to provide the requisite commercial coffins for all the old family owned businesses he killed in downtown Angel Hills, and every other small town in the midwest. He hasn't killed everything else in our already shriveling town yet; there are several defiant soldiers still writhing in their death throes. There's still Hansen's Lumber and Hardware, because Wal Mart doesn't sell lumber, still Kimisky's Winn Dixie Food Store across the street-- with a new chain super food warehouse out on the interstate killing them softly with profits-- Sassy's Style Shop, Zoella's Antiques and the bank and post office.
And of course, Janny's Country Kitchen, with the best food in the county. The pots and pans rattle like a warm ghost among the boarded up shells lining Main Street, echoing like a Hank Williams song, hearing that lonesome whistle blowing the funeral dirge for a vanishing anachronism of character and independence.
The first time I saw him was a blistering hot Friday morning, 89 degrees at 9:30, high predicted to be in the mid ten thousands. Apparently his new boss, Varnell, ran out of things to show him inside the nearly defunct store and was giving him a tour of the parking lot. I was loading chicken wire in the back of somebody else's pickup for old man Van Tusen, and I thought, 'New, not from around here, gotta be related to someone-- everyone else is.'
Every move he made kept his back to me, pissing me off and piquing my curiosity. All I could tell was that he had wavy brown hair just tickling his crisp recycled Winn Dixie uniform collar, and that he was thin, and about 5'9" standing next to Varnell.
I stood with my hand on the roll of wire, pelvis tilted up to keep my tight jeans from riding any further down my sweaty hips, other hand wiping the sweat from my brow, mentally slapping Varnell upside the head to make the idiot turn him this way. Carl called me a slacker and told me to go back to the yard and help load some plywood. Oh well, I'd find out who he was soon enough, before the day was through most likely-- news travels fast here.
"Allie Mae is still pissed off at you, Buck. I heard what you did last night at Bebe's. Sooner or later, Dan's gonna blow your head off, and take yer huevos with it," Velma scowled at me as she turned my cup up and filled it. "You dance backwards real well? Better learn, bubba, cuz you won't be leadin' with that high pitched voice and nothin' down there t' keep yer balance," she smirked.
"Oooohhh, Velma!" I reached down and covered my crotch protectively, "Don't be talkin' like that in front of Buck Jr.! Have some compassion!" I looked down at my lap and spread my hands just enough to talk to him though my bluejeans, "She didn't mean it! I swear, she's only kidding!"
"I done told you before what I think of men who have pet names for their brains and talk to them," she tried to feign contempt, but grinned in spite of herself.
She put my order in without asking if I wanted anything different than my usual chicken fried steak. While I waited for my food, I thought about putting that sheepskin steering wheel wrap on after work, about if I could swing by and tease Jenny Anderson without her sister catching me, about if I should bend Darla Danforth over the kitchen table like last time or make it to the bed, if she could sneak over around ten. I thought of how she'd do that real deep growl that got louder and louder and higher pitched as I pounded my footlong (ok, nine and a half very thick inches of grain fed dick, I just call him footlong cuz he likes it) in her tight-for-having-had-two-kids pussy.
About the time I got my food, I looked up and saw Johnny Ray Benson walking by the cafe, that little swagger in his hips, his four inch diameter rodeo belt buckle spraying reflected sunlight onto the glass, drawing my eyes to his tasty bulge, which naturally drew them around in short order to his best asset.
I don't think God made his ass. I think it was sculpted by the old Dutch masters and God said, "Hey, that's better than I could've done it." --- Yeah, I knew there were Dutch masters. Couldn't tell ya who they were, except Van Gogh, but I knew about 'em. There was after all, a lot of Dutch and Danish heritage in our region.
He looked in through the window from under his pointy brimmed tan cowboy hat and nodded 'hi' to several of the lunch crowd, giving me a slightly slower nod and a slightly more impish grin. I wondered if he'd be at Bebe's tonight. I needed to cool it with Allie Mae, cuz it was getting out of hand and a little too openly acknowledged-- and I'd rather have Johnny's tight ass again tonight anyway. I thought, 'Any fucking day of the week! That boy is gettin' to me. I better watch it.'
I watched him turn his head as someone approached. He said 'hi' to Varnell and was introduced to the new boy. After the pleasantries, Johnny ambled on his way and Varnell led the boy into the cafe. I unconsciously put my hat back on, took it off, and put it back on again. I was trying to get him to look my way, knowing he would at some point, but that just wasn't fast enough.
My heartbeat sped up and my mouth watered. His ass was perfection in form-- forget Johnny Ray Benson-- his body was tight, compact, and perfect. I could see that, even with his bulky Winn Dixie smock and baggy blue work slacks doing their best to camouflage it. His face was radiance. His cute little ears were made for whispering nasty things into.
I projected my thoughts loudly at him: 'There! Yes!' He finally looked me in the eye. I tried to not let him go. 'No! Don't look away, don't look down! Back up, back up, back up, yeah! Who are you? I want you! You'll like me! No, don't look away again! Fuck! Varnell, you fucking shit-for-brains! Don't seat him facing away from me! Goddammit!'
I scarfed down my chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes all smothered in the best cream gravy in the world in world record time-- which means faster than my usual world record time-- gulped down the third refill of coffee and paid Velma, leaving her usual good tip that made sure she would put up with me no matter what I did. I adjusted Buck Jr. and his two buddies, put my pointy white hat on at that sexy angle women like, and swaggered casually over to their table.
"'S'up, Varnell? How'd you manage to hire someone new and I hadn't heard about it?" I looked at the boy and watched his eyes start at the top of my boots and take the long way to my eyes, blushing slightly and looking away when he saw the look in mine.
Varnell was feeling important today, with the only thing new to talk about in his care, "Billy Ragland, this is Buck Tennyson." I swallowed his small but strong hand with mine and held it, shook it, held it. He had to look me in the eyes-- it's illegal to shake hands and not. 'Don't you look back down. Uh-uh, don't look back down, back up, back up, theeere you go. Do you know what you're doing to me? It's your eyes that should be illegal, like felony entrapment or something. If my cousin wasn't sheriff, I could get arrested in this state for what I'm thinking about you right now.'
"Pleased t' meet you, Billy Ragland." I wouldn't let his hand go. Even thick-headed Varnell eyed my grip nervously as I held onto it.
"Billy is Bob Kamisky's grand nephew, from over in Chickasaw County. Gonna be stayin' the summer here, and mebbe his senior year in school too."
"That so, Billy Ragland?" I finally let go his hand and he blushed some more and looked down at his mashed potatoes. I waited for an answer he didn't give.
Ahhhhh, a shy one.
"I hear you started some more trouble at Bebe's last night," Varnell said sarcastically, then cast a dire warning look at Billy and scowled, "Stay as far away from Buck Tennyson as you can, Billy. He's nothin' but trouble an' he'll get you in trouble if you associate with him-- and you don't need any more trouble."
I stood back and spread my arms wide, jutting my pelvis forward, "Why Varnell Denburk! How dare you cast perversions on my character! Don't listen to him, Billy, he ain't been laid in twenty years. It warps yer mind, ya know. We overlook it cuz he's Varnell, an' Winn Dixie would fall apart at the seams if it wasn't for his capable management and spiritual guidance."
I tried to wrap my arms around Varnell's chunky shoulders and he vigorously fought me off as I warbled at him, "I love you, man! I really love you, man!" Getting a chuckle from Velma and the old men at the next table.
"Get away from me, you pervert!" Varnell's round pale face was red with irritation and embarrassment. He had not one iota of humor in him, which made teasing him fun as hell.
I looked at Billy and he was smiling the cutest fucking smile I'd ever seen in my life, and my cock twitched as I caught his eye and smiled my biggest 'I wanna eat you' smile. He had sharp canines that sparkled iridescent white behind voluptuous pouty lips that I wanted to bite. His silvery gray eyes sparkled with a humor that just barely obscured something heavy, sad. It made my heart catch for a second and I studied his tiny sharply pointed nose and rich brown eyebrows, lashes below threatening to stretch up and get more attention, so long and lush were they.
I was suddenly tongue-tied. I, Wayne Arter Tennyson, who had never in his life been short of a word, poet as a child-- `til I realized that made you a sissy-- wannabe singer/songwriter like Garth, ladies man and Casanova to the county, the twenty-four year old stud who men hid their wives and daughters and sons from--even if they didn't consciously know why they were hiding their sons from me-- the man with the golden tongue------ tied. Blank. Lost in his beauty. Aware I was starting to get a woodie right there in Janny's. I gathered myself and tore my eyes from him.
"Uh... I gotta get back t' work." I recovered enough to give him a mildly lascivious smile, "Nice t' meet you Billy Ragland. See you around." I tipped my hat. "Varnell." I strutted out, a little shaken, but strutting, wondering if he was looking at my hard as rock ass in my tight jeans like the ladies were always talking about.
Good thing you don't need much brain power or focus to do stocking in the hardware department, which Carl put me on for the afternoon, and which I always did slowly so he'd feel like there had been enough sales to need time to restock. I couldn't stop thinking about Billy Ragland. I could only see his smile and those troubled eyes of quicksilver, fluid but barricaded. They hadn't let me in even for a second. What I saw, the sadness, was just what he accidentally let slip to the front. He wasn't letting anybody inside.
I started writing a bad song about his eyes, singing it to the tune of another bad song in my head. I had to constantly keep adjusting myself through the afternoon, constantly mentally slapping myself to focus on what I was doing.
When I pulled up in front of my little house after work, I chugged my brown bag sheathed beer and fumbled with the sheepskin wheel wrap forever, finally giving up, muttering about how directions should be in plain fucking English how the fuck do they expect you to figure this shit out who makes this fuckin' crap anyway?
I went in and showered, getting Buck Jr. hard and talking nice to him, telling him he's gonna get some tonight and forget about Billy Ragland-- for now. He wanted to cum while thinking about Billy, but I wouldn't let him.
"Save it for Darla, or maybe even Johnny Ray. Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't ya? Johnny's talented tongue and you are real close friends already, huh?"
My voice echoed around the bathroom tiles as I stroked, "And his ass makes ya sit up and beg, huh? Well get yer drippin' over with now; don't be doin' it in yer jeans later. It's commando again tonight, Buck m'boy. Yeah, you can stretch on down my leg and reel 'em in for daddy."
As I finished drying off, I looked in the mirror and posed, looking down at my pride and joy, then my entire six foot two, hundred and seventy-four pound hardbody, my devilishly handsome face, hawk nose and blue eyes under wild dark blonde hair. "Goddamn, you're the hottest fucking man in Chocktaw County! No one can resist you. Everyone wants you." I looked at my cock, "Everyone wants you!"
I always let the phone ring three times before answering it, the land phone that is, and since I had made it to where no one ever called for anything other than sexual liaisons, I answered, "Buck's pussy palace. Talk nasty and tell me what yer wearin'."
"You think you're just God's gift t' the women of the fuckin' world, don't ya?" Darla drawled scornfully.
"I am the light and the way, darlin'. Wassup?" Here it comes, here it comes, I wanna hear that whine, wanna hear that pretty please, here it comes...
"I was just wonderin' if maybe you'd be home around ten, not like it matters, but I might be in the neighborhood about then, so..."
Oh, definitely not good enough! You'll have to do much better than that baby. "Oh, I'm goin' to Bebe's for a while, play some pool, don't know if I'm gonna be around here... 'specially if I don't know for sure anyone's comin' by, you know..."
Long pause. "Well, if I knew for sure I was gonna be over that way at ten... Would you be there?"
"Well, if I knew you was sittin' in your car out front waitin', with the first three fingers of your left hand in Buck Tennyson's private twat, waitin' for me, I might consider comin' home." I was grinning so big I could hardly talk straight, having pushed her button on purpose.
"First of all, I got a husband, so it ain't yours private. And second of all, Ewww! You know I hate it when you call it a twat!"
"Better than the "C" word." I suppressed a chuckle.
"You damn sure know better than to use that one, Buck Tennyson!"
"Ok, in your sweet pussy. I mean, if ya got it all wet an' juicy, I might be tempted t' go downtown, and you know what all the ladies think of my oral skills, seein' as how my tongue's longer than most dicks."
"I don't care what the others think-- I know you're the best at that, daddy."
"So... Tell me what you're gonna do to make me wanna come home."
"I'm gonna be sittin' there with three fingers in my pussy and a joint in the other hand, and Garth Brooks on cd, my lips all puckered and ready t' kiss Buck jr."
"Sounds ok, but I guess I need t' know for sure it's worth comin' home to, like how bad ya need it, cuz I don't want it if it ain't all wet and juicy and needin' me real bad like."
"Oh, it needs you real bad like, daddy, you know how bad it needs you. It's wet right now just thinkin' about Buck jr.-- and I know you love it when I call him that."
"What's it thinkin' about?"
"About your tongue wrapped around my clit, about your big dick inside it."
"Who's your daddy?"
"You already know you are, every time you slap my ass and I tell you so."
"Just don't forget it."
"Yeah." Click. "Oh yeah!" I said to the empty room. I lounged naked for awhile, then took a nap so I could stay up all night if I wanted. I woke up and started getting dressed, wondering if Johnny was ready again for my dick yet. It was hard for him to accept needing it, and hard for him to take, but when we got going...
Well, if he was ready again, maybe he'd wait at Bebe's until I was done with Darla. She only needed one good eating and fuck, so I'd have at least one more load to give Johnny.
Well, maybe one in his mouth first, and one in his sweet ass, too. I gave myself a once over in the mirror and headed for Bebe's.
"What the hell are you doin' here?! Get yer ass outta here, Buck! You know after last night, Dan's liable to come in here lookin' for ya!"
"Nah, Bebe, no one said anything to Dan, an' Allie Mae won't be out tonight. It's all good."
"Bullshit, boy! I ain't havin' no more trouble cuz a you! You 'n Jake broke a pool cue and knocked the dartboard off the wall last night. You're payin' for that cue too, y'know. But you stay away from here for a week, or at least until I know Dan don't know nothin' or he's done shot ya, then you can come back. I told Jake to stay out too."
"Awww, Beeeebeeee!" I whined like a child.
She snorted, "Don't aw Bebe me, dick for brains, ya'll are gonna get me shut down or shot!"
"Man, what'll I fuckin' do? They won't let me in the Cattlemen's and I can't stand the Powder Keg."
"Try stayin' home one fucking night in yer life, sweetie; give that thang a rest," she nodded toward my crotch and smiled her lifetime of honky tonks smile, shaking her big red Dolly Parton hair.
"Ok. Two minutes t' talk to my friends? Two minutes, an' I'll be like greased lightning."
She looked at her watch, mentally gauging what time Dan might come looking for me if he came tonight, "Ok, two minutes."
I wasn't into sitting around and waiting all evening by myself for Darla, so I figured I'd see if I could get Johnny Ray Benson to come over now. I zeroed in on Johnny by way of his buddy Chad Langer over by the second pool table, watching Mike and Jimbo play, beers in their hands-- even though Johnny was only nineteen.
I spoke to Chad but kept looking Johnny in the eye as I told them my predicament, asking if anyone wanted to party at my house tonight-- meaning Johnny Ray. Had to do that little dance around the issue in the company of others.
"Should be able to round up some snatch..." I tossed out for good measure, giving Johnny a sly wink. The others all knew I would never share a woman with them, nor go to the trouble to get women for them, so they had no interest in coming to my house, and that's how I liked it: one at a time, whether it's a girl or a guy.
"Nah, I'm in the pool tournament tonight; fifty bucks," Chad dismissed the thought, bouncing his pool cue on the nasty old cigarette burned carpet to the Toby Keith song blaring from the jukebox.
Perfect, 'cause I knew he wouldn't come anyway. While Chad turned his attention to the game, I looked down and tried to see around Johnny to his butt, conspicuous only to him. He blushed in the neon beersign lights and played nervously with his longneck Bud bottle. I'd only fucked him three times now-- or well, three nights, with multiple fuckings the last two times-- but he was hooked on Buck Jr. and I was sure he would come with me or meet me at my place.
"So what you doin' tonight?" I towered possessively over him, brushing my arm against his with a little static zap. "I got a fifth of Velvet and some Columbian fresh from some evil cartel at home," I said seductively to him.
He looked up with his puppy dog brown eyes and smiled nervously, "Uh... Well, uh..." he looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention to us. I could see the farmboy's wheels turning in his head as he debated if he needed to get fucked like a bitch again with a dick that was bigger than he thought humans could have. He stole a glance at my crotch, tapped Chad's arm to get his attention and handed his cue to him, "I don't stand a chance in the tournament anyway."
I spoke in a conspiratorial whisper to him, "Wait ten minutes to leave so Bebe don't think I'm stealin' her business, ok?" He nodded, understanding the rules of the game. He still had half a beer anyway.
I stopped and got another fifth of Black Velvet and a two liter Coke, went home and changed into some light blue silky gym shorts that showed off my dick to the extreme and made sure there was lube stationed on the end table by the couch and on the night stand by the bed. I debated putting some in the kitchen just in case, but there was a knock at the door.
He was so fucking cute, standing there all nervous and fidgeting. "Come on in `n get comfortable; take yer boots off," I ordered as I motioned to the couch, lifting his hat off his short brown hair as he passed and setting it on the TV beside mine.
He walked a little unsteadily to the couch and sat, taking his boots off slowly, keeping his eyes studiously trained on his task. I stepped over in front of him and just stood there for a moment, asserting my dominance, letting him take in my muscular body with his chocolate brown eyes. My cock twitched and started growing, immediately stretching down below the hem of my shorts. Johnny Ray's eyes grew wider and more nervous as they focused on the head of my cock. I made it jerk and he gasped. I smiled smugly and sat down next to him. I watched him out the corner of my eye as he finished taking his boots and socks off while I rolled a fat joint. He looked over at my long tongue licking the paper and folded his hands in his lap like a good boy in church, eyes darting around nervously. We went through this the last time, too.
But the first time was in my pickup out behind Bebe's on a slow night. I'd really had to work him into it, joints and shots and just the right amount of pussy talk, sprinkled with horny guy cock talk, then the ol' arm around his shoulders and the 'I like you a lot' and `we could be good buddies' lines, while feeding him shots directly from the bottle, finally putting his hand on Buck Jr. and romancing him a little.
Of course, I had spotted his dick-hunger almost a month before, catching him looking at my bulging advertisement and getting boners. I could tell he was afraid to try it, but needed to real bad, so I had worked on him subtly but steadily up to that night, with lots of little inuendo, lustful gazes and the sly brushing of his ass with my hands or `accidentally' rubbing my crotch against him and stuff. By the time I got him into my pickup truck, there was no doubt he knew what I wanted.
He was really the best boy I'd ever had-- out of nine I'd had over the years. He was all nervous and hard to get going, but when he did, he was like an animal and couldn't get enough dick in his mouth or ass. And most of the others, and more of the women for that matter, had a hard time taking my cock down their throat if they could at all-- not Johnny. He took it all the way to the bone, after I shoved his head down on it the first time so he knew he could. And I figured: you gotta really want dick bad to work that hard and take such a big one down your throat. I mean, there must be somethin' in their heads that makes them want it that bad, so I was down right obliged to give it to them.
I already had his very strong drink sitting there for him and passed him the joint. "Anything the matter?"
He took a big hit and held it for a few seconds before replying in that squeaky voice you get talking around a hit, "Uh, just a little nervous, I guess..."
I looked at his brown eyes contrasting his fair skin, several pimples dotting his cheeks. He was cute, but Billy Ragland was beauty incarnate. 'Where did that come from? I'm here with Johnny of the sweet ass and mouth and big brown eyes. Don't be thinkin' about some boy you don't even know you can have...'
"Here, why don't you get those clothes off." I took his drink out of his hand and prodded him to stand up and strip. He hesitated, then slowly stood up, his pecker bursting against his Levi's. I could even see it throbbing through the cloth. "Take yer time," I said around my hit on the joint.
He looked down at me, all guilty like, eyeing my mildly hairy chest and six pack, my navel covered by the top quarter of my cock proudly stretching well past the elastic waistband of my shorts. He undid his shirt buttons, moving in slow motion-- which I so got off to-- revealing his beautiful hairless chest and his tight abs then his strong young shoulders to my hungry eyes.
Yeah, working the farm makes boys like him some fine young specimens of manhood. People in the city pay big money to go to gyms for what he gets naturally from his way of life.
Me too, I mean, I've never 'worked out', but I worked all my young life on my family's farm until Mom and Dad died when a bus slammed into them coming back from Christmas at Grandma's when I was eighteen-- the first year us kids didn't go. So my sister and I sold the farm and she married Butthead and moved off with him to St. Louis. With my share of the insurance settlement and the farm sale, I had way more money than I ever thought I'd need and bought my secluded little house out past the edge of town and went to work at Hansen's Lumber for something to do-- devoting my life to the pursuit of tail. All I needed was sex, and lots of it.
Funny how I just fell into getting tail from boys. I'd never had much thought or desire besides playing around as a teen here and there, getting my dick sucked a couple of times by kids my age; until that boy who came to lay carpet in my house came on to me. He was so fucking hot, and he knew what he was doing. After that, I found I really liked the whole game of manipulating boys into it, and once I'd had boy butt, well...
Johnny's pants were coming down. I smiled as he bent over and turned his ass to me to hide his throbbing stiffy, giving me a sumptuous view of his sweet sweet ass. I was about to lean forward and lick it when he stood up and scraped his jeans off each ankle with alternating feet. He nervously eyed my erection stretching the shimmering material and blushed, looking down at the floor. I lifted my ass and shucked my shorts down, put my hands up and motioned for him to step over to me. He moved warily between my feet as I reached out and turned him around. I stared at his flawless ass and blew on it. He got goose bumps all over and trembled.
Goddamn, that turned me on! I loved his nervousness. I especially loved it knowing how out of control he'd be in just minutes. I loved knowing I did this to him, that he wanted me so badly and was so scared-- even for the fourth time-- and knowing that he couldn't fight his need for me, that he would give himself to me, and he would re-live having my cock in his ass and throat every time he beat off at night in his bed while his good Lutheran folks lay in the other room and thought their boy was just shy around girls.
I nuzzled my face in his crack and sighed warm moist whiskey breath into it. I flicked my tongue on the tight starfish and he jumped and moaned, arching back against my face as his little brown pucker spasmed. He spread his iron cheeks for me by twisting his knees in a little. 'Here we go, baby...'
I licked and probed his rosebud for a minute or five, fucking him with my tongue and loving how his chute flexed and spasmed around it, how he moaned and trembled and pushed back against my face. I pulled him down on my lap. He was surprised and awkward as I pulled him off balance, but relaxed a little when he was sat on my hard dick.
All his farmboy I-shouldn't-be-doing-this body posture evaporated and he arched his stomach and chest out, leaned his head back on my shoulder and started riding my rod like he wanted me to stick it in without even sucking on it first this time. He started kissing and licking at my jaw and cheek, trying to get me to kiss him. Most of the boys I'd had didn't get into kissing all that much, but Johnny really loved swapping spit.
I growled at him, "You like sitting in my lap, on top of my big dick?"
"Yeah, yeah it feels so big to sit on like this," he groaned into my ear while I gripped his hips and slid him back and forth on my cock, my precum and spit on his ass making it hot and slippery. He knew from before that I really got off to talking dirty and he had better answer me when I asked a question.
I swiped my tongue across his lips and he snatched at it like a snapping turtle. "What you want Johnny? Tell me what you need."
"I... I want you. I want you in my mouth and..." he gasped and headrushed visibly, his eyes glazing over for a moment there.
"And what Johnny?"
"And... in my butt," he moaned again, writhing around on my lap, reaching for the back of my head to pull my face toward his to kiss. I held back from the kiss just to frustrate him, but reached around, grabbed his dick with one hand and pushed my other down between his thighs, squeezing his perineum and balls, my middle finger probing between his clenched little pucker and the underside of my shaft.
"What you want me to do to your butt, Johnny, just rub my dick around on it?" I teased.
He was loving this, but also impatient, "Fuck me! Fuck my butt like last time!"
"Ahhh, how did it feel last time, baby? Did it hurt?"
"Yeah. It's so fucking big." He squirmed around on it, trying to slide up and catch the head on his entrance.
"Do you like that it's so big?" I had to let go of his prick, because he was about to cum.
"Yeah, god yeah. It's hard to take it all, and hurts like hell at first, but when I get used to it..."
"But you're here cuz you need it bad, don't ya?"
"Yeah." He was flushed and hardly even trying to control his breathing now.
I reached over and got the lube, raised him up by one hand under his armpit, pointed my cock between his thighs and sat him back down, with it pushing his tightened ballsack out of the way, sticking up majestically from between his legs.
"There's your saddle horn, boy, lube it up and get ready to ride."
He dug his fingers into the Elbow Grease (which the carpet-laying boy, Howie, I think his name was, had turned me onto) and applied it to as much of my shaft as he could get to, smearing it all over his tightly drawn, nearly hairless balls and inner thighs in the process.
"How does it feel between your legs and in your hand?"
"Big. Huge," he gasped. I could hear and feel his heart pounding in his chest as I reached around and caressed his tight stomach and teased his nipples. "But good."
"You ready to sit on my big daddy dick and ride it?"
"Y-yeah, I think s-so..." He was trembling and breathing like he'd run to town and back already.
"This time you can sit on it and take it at your own pace, at first, baby. Now show Buck Jr how good you can make him feel."
I leaned back against the cushions, which made my cock jut up to its full length. He raised up, steadied his trembling legs between my widely spread knees and aimed it at his hole. I felt the slick pressure and heat as he sat against it, the head suddenly slipping in.
"AAAAAAGGGHHH!" He cried at the top of his lungs and held still for a minute, breathing hard and whimpering.
I remembered the first time I fucked him. It took forever to get it all the way in, with him crying for awhile, but not wanting me to stop, even when I said I was going to because I didn't want to hurt him. And once he got used to it, he wanted me to ride him slow at first, and when I sped up, he came before I got really going and had to stop.
The second time, here at my house, I told him that if he wanted to do this again that I wouldn't be stopping fucking him this time until I came too, at least once, so he accepted that. I rode him all the way across the living room floor on his hands and knees and down on his stomach, with him begging me to stop but freaking out when I did, pulling me back on top of him and jamming himself on my cock like he couldn't live without it. He came four times that night. He was hungry. The third time was a repeat of the second, but in the bedroom and then in the bathroom over the sink, and then out on the back porch for a good blowjob to finish the night before I sent him home at 3:30 in the morning.
"Oooohhhh, you're so tight `n hot inside, baby," I sweet talked as I kissed and nibbled around on his neck. "Take yer time..."
"OH! Oh god it hurts! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh god!" he yelled and moaned as he slid slowly and steadily down my pole, stopping about halfway and holding for a long moment, breathing hard in loud gasps, sweat breaking out on his back and neck. He raised back up until it popped out and lowered himself back down a little further, then back up and out, keeping it aimed with his right hand. I watched him riding slowly up and a little more than halfway down, his taut back and butt muscles straining and flexing as he panted and whimpered. His legs trembled violently and it looked like they were having a hard time raising and lowering his torso with any semblance of control. It was such a beautiful sight.
He hunkered his back and tilted his head way down in front, cupping his balls with his left hand so he could see me going up inside his body-- and I was mesmerized by the sight of this boy impaling himself on my cock, accepting the pain at the beginning to get to the ecstasy at the end. I was intoxicated by the liquid heat of his muscles clamping tightly around my manhood.
The A/C was on full blast, but he was sweating profusely, inhaling and exhaling forcefully, his loud moans broken up by his rapid sharp pants of breath into a staccato of whimpering grunts.
"Yeah, ride it Johnny! Sit down on it all the way and ride it like ya mean it!"
"Oh, it's soooo fucking big! I can't hardly take it. Gotta breathe..." he whimpered as he sank it deeper and rode up and down a little faster at my urging.
"That's what you need, isn't it. You need my big dick spreading you wide and going too deep, don't you." I growled and slapped his ass cheek, the crisp retort echoing around the room.
"YES!" He yelled like he'd been forced to admit it.
I felt his muscles start spasming even tighter and knew he was about to cum. I grabbed his hips and pulled him all the rest of the way down on my staff in one lunge and sat up, peering over his shoulder just in time to see his first shot burst out and fly a good six feet through the air in a graceful arc to land on the TV screen.
The ensuing volleys made a white splatter trail between there and his hand on his nuts-- not even touching his prick-- as he screamed at the top of his lungs from the shock of the last couple of inches suddenly breaching the depths of his bowels and his powerful orgasm taking his breath away.
Before he was even done climaxing, I stood us up, bent him over and started plowing his ass hard and fast, as he grabbed at things that weren't there, trying to get away. I rode him hard, jolting him nearly off his feet with every thrust. He reached back and clutched frantically at my thighs.
"PLEASE! PLEASE STOP!" He begged even as he braced himself and backed up into my furiously pumping hips. I pushed him to his knees and crouched over him with my hand on the middle of his back, drilling down into his still spasming ass like I was breaking a mare as he yelled and moaned and grunted and cried and begged for more, "OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD, OH YES, DO IT!" he cried out.
He was quiet for a minute as I fed it down into his hole, then he grunted and began pleading, "No more! Please stop! I can't take-- OHHHHhhhh, OH GOD YEEESSS!" He just couldn't quite decide if he could take it or not, and I was loving it.
His shouts and moans were driving me inexorably to the brink as I watched his body curl into submission to my thrusting cock, offering his hungry ass up for my pleasure even as he begged me to stop. This was going to be too fast if I kept it up like this. His ass was just consuming my cock and flooding the rest of my body and brain with too much pleasure and adrenaline to hold off. I had to slow down.
I slowed to almost no movement, with my hand pressing down on his back, forcing his face into the carpet. My cock buried deep inside him, rotating my hips to churn his bowels, I whispered, "Do ya love it, baby?"
He grunted and gasped, almost crying, "Ungh! Y-y-yeah-- but it h-hurts, too."
"Is it the kinda hurt you need? You need my daddy dick this deep inside you, baby?"
"Oh God, it's so fucking intense!" he moaned and tied to pull away a little.
I held him in place and started a slow longdicking, backing almost all the way out, driving slowly, slowly back in all the way, all the way down.
"AaghOooogodohhhh, Oh, Oh, Oh, it's too much... too much..." he mumbled into his forearm and bit his own skin.
I pulled all the way out, my cock dangling over his raw, spasming hole that couldn't quite close back up.
"I'll stop then."
As soon as he realized it was completely out, he blindly reached back and grabbed for the cock he needed to shove back in his ass, "NO! Put it back in! Please! Don't stop! Please!" he pleaded.
"Please what?" I slapped his groping hand away.
"Please, Daddy!" He thrust his ass up toward my cock, catching the tip on his hole and trying to ride up on it.
"Please, Daddy what, boy?"
He twisted his head up to shout, "Please, Daddy FUCK ME!"
I pressed the head against his hole, "Hard? Is that how you want it?"
"Y-yesss, hard Daddy, do it hard, Daddy Buck!" he was sobbing with need and anticipation.
I shoved it all the way in and started plowing him again.
"AGHHHOHHhhhh, please!" He moved out on his hands and knees and I followed, jamming down into him as he crept forward. He kept moving till he butted up against the stereo cabinet and I slammed him harder, watching his shoulder and the side of his head impact the cabinet, sending an avalanche of cd's cascading down all over his sweaty back and the floor. I didn't miss a stroke.
"NO MORE! I CAN'T TAKE IT! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!" He screamed, then flexed his whole body and whimpered, "Oh God, no more, oh too much, too much-Oh GOD YE-EH-EH-AAGGGHHH!!!" He grabbed his cock and came again while I kept driving relentlessly in and out, and his spasms sent me over the edge.
I exploded into him like a firehose, yelling almost as loudly as he had screamed. I pumped my load furiously into his convulsing ass, going down on my hands and knees over him, my stomach coming to rest on his tailbone, still pistoning in and out when my load was drained.
He milked it and pulled on it and squeezed on it and milked it some more as I collapsed on him. We fell on our sides as he milked it some more, squeezing his muscles so tightly I thought he was going to pinch my cock off at the base.
We lay down for the count on a bed of cd covers, little Garth's and Shania's smiling seductively up at us. Johnny was still working my cock with his ass muscles, still panting for breath, but letting out little sighs of contentment, like he was exactly where he wanted to be. I caressed his chest and stomach tenderly, kissing his dripping wet neck and ear as he clutched at my hip, pulling me into him hard, not wanting to let my cock slip out as it gradually softened.
When it did slip out, because I had to stretch my left leg out to stop a cramp from happening, he rolled over to face me and wrapped his sweaty body into mine, kissing at my collar bone and mouthing my neck like a nursing kitten.
He mumbled into my neck, "Daaamn, Buck, I can't believe..." He trailed off.
"Can't believe what?"
"I can't believe how good you make me feel, what you do to me. I... " He caught himself. "No, I know you don't wanna hear that." He kissed my Adam's apple and snuggled in even more, sighing warmly into the cool dampness of my chest and neck.
I wasn't about to ask him what he didn't say. Of course I knew. I kinda felt it too. I'd come real close to feeling this way with Jeannie Van Diesen the year before. She'd gone off to college and I was just a little lost. Then there was Jamie. I had been so into him, and he was so fine, but he picked up on my feeling and blew it all out of proportion and almost fucked everything up-- and I came too close to going with it. I didn't like that feeling, and didn't want this feeling now, cuz it leads to that feeling. Not good.
I looked at the VCR clock and it was after nine. I pulled his head away from me and kissed him tenderly. He clung to me, grinding his sweaty naked body into mine and kissing back passionately, already hard again. After a minute or so, I extricated myself from his embrace and stood up with some effort. He rolled out on his back and looked up my body with that look, settling on my eyes. I looked down at his prone body and settled on his brown puppy dogs, feeling uncomfortable.
"Let's get cleaned up. You gotta be gone by nine-thirty or so."
"I do?" he looked surprised and very disappointed, kinda hurt. "Why?"
"Cuz I got company comin' over, and she don't wanna see--" I grunted defensively and snapped at him, "Aw man, don't fuckin' look at me like thaaaat! Shit!" I turned and went to the bathroom, mumbling under my breath on the way, "Tryin' to make me feel all guilty `n shit."
He called after me, "I'm sorry, Buck! I just thought you might want me to stay the ni-- for awhile, you know. I'm sorry," he whined.
I started the water and sat on the commode lid, suddenly bummed out. After a bit I stood up and got in the hot spray. I had just finished washing my hair and was starting to soap up my body when Johnny Ray climbed in, all shy smiles and repentant brown eyes.
"Here, let me do that. We'll get it done faster and I'll get outta here."
I let him take the soap out of my hand and he started reverently rubbing it around my chest and shoulders, slowly and sensually caressing my nipples with his other hand, eyes drawn alternately to my chest as he massaged it and up into my eyes, smiling tentatively and innocently.
He could smile all he wanted-- it couldn't cover up his longing. I saw that look in his eyes that I always ran from real fucking fast. 'It's over,' I thought. 'I'm twenty-four. I don't settle down with no one. And when I do someday, it ain't gonna be with no queer boy. We wouldn't last ten minutes in this town like that. Let him down gently. Not tonight, though, not time.'
When he got to my genitals, he worked the whole area over with the lather, sensuously squeezing and wringing my cock and balls in a way that would definitely have gotten me back up normally. I was too bummed. I really liked him. He was the hottest sex I'd had in a very long time, maybe the best ever, I had to admit. Something about the way he surrendered himself so completely to me, the way he showed his need and hunger, gave me some kind of warm feeling in my gut, and made me want to hold him tight and stick my dick inside him and just keep it there, just have him and like, possess him. But if he was going to fall in love, well, it's over.
We dried off in heavy silence. He felt my mood though I tried to put on a smile, but it was just a drag. I watched him toweling off his tight, sexy body and my cock twitched as I thought about how fantastic his ass felt when I fucked him. Why couldn't he just enjoy awesome sex and let it go at that?
But I knew it was partly my fault, the way I talked to him and treated him, the way I consciously tried to make him feel like he was my personal squeeze-- but that was my thing, ya know? I wanted them all to feel like they were mine, like I was their man, the only one who could fill their sexual needs-- but I didn't want to be their life partner `n shit.
Too bad about Johnny Ray. But damn, he was hot and it was hard to imagine just dropping him from my list.
He got dressed and was about to head out the door and I looked at him, all subdued and kinda sad, so fucking cute, and something made me backtrack, and dammit, I said, "Ummm... If ya wanna stay..." I wondered why I was doing this. "You can hide out in the spare room while she's here, if you're real quiet."
He brightened up for a moment, then an unsure look overtook him, "You want me to stay? I mean, I don't wanna, you know, distract you or anything."
I quickly thought, `I don't really want to sleep alone tonight. Maybe I can figure out a gentle way of explaining to him how it ain't a good idea to fall in love with me and we can get back to just enjoying the awesome sex.'
"Well you won't. I mean, if yer real quiet, she'll never know you were here." I hesitated to say more, but did, and I don't know why. "I'd kinda like you to stay the night. She won't be here long."
He absolutely glowed, looking up into my eyes with that look. It still made me uncomfortable, but I went ahead and gave him another kiss. When we pulled away from the kiss, he opened his eyes wide and said, "Oh! My pickup! What should I do about it?"
"Oh fuck! Umm... Oh, duh! Put it in the garage. I think there's room; I never use it."
He ran out and got in his truck while I opened the garage door. I had to move a couple of things, then he pulled far enough in so I could shut the door.
Moments after he'd settled into the spare room, Darla pulled up outside. I wasn't really in the mood for her now, but I wasn't one to pass up good pussy either, so I yelled, "Door's open!" from the couch when she knocked.
She sashayed her hips through the door with a lit joint in one hand and a bottle of bourbon in the other. "Well, how nice t' see you're already here, Daddy." She stood in front of me, straddling my knees, and bent down to give me a super-charge from the joint, letting her big tits almost fall out of her low cut blouse. I sucked in the smoke and pulled her down into my lap. She giggled and settled herself on my groin, tracing her fingers over my chest.
We eventually worked our way back to the bedroom and I fucked her. It wasn't satisfying though. Two things kept distracting me: One, was that I knew Johnny Ray was in the next room and could hear her grunts, moans and nasty talk-- which I wasn't into like usual. And two, I had never gone from a boy's ass right to a woman's pussy before in the same day, let alone in the space of an hour. It really brought home the difference-- and the difference was much more extreme than I'd ever thought-- though I had to keep in mind that she'd had two kids. One more thing to be bummed about.
I mean, I really liked fucking these queer boys, and introducing them to their queer selves in the couple of instances like Johnny Ray; but it IS queer sex, dammit! I didn't want to think of myself that way, whether I liked the sex or not. `I'm just horny, and will fuck any good-looking thing that walks!' I kept telling myself as I showered with Darla. She sensed things weren't like they usually were, but didn't pry. She had enough things going on in her life; she wasn't concerned about mine. I was a good lay, and that was enough for her-- and enough for me.
I slapped her ass and sent her on her way, back to her kids, to her husband who'd be getting home around 5am from work in the BF Goodrich plant over in Lebanon. Back to the normal, mini soap opera life she waded through every day. She was actually a really nice person and pretty smart. She deserved better than she had ended up with.
She got pregnant by Chris Danforth as soon as high school ended, so they married, and it wasn't a good match. I knew Chris pretty well, though he was two years younger than me. He'd been on the basketball team during my last year, and I'd seen his dick hard in the shower once. Between it being pretty small, and not knowing how to use it worth a shit-- according to Darla-- it was no wonder she looked elsewhere for satisfaction.
I had my pick of the womenfolk not just cuz I was good lookin' and well hung. It was more about how I made sex a "whole thing". I knew how to make them feel special, how to make love and ride them like bitches in heat at the same time. I knew what made their eyes cross and their toes curl. Seemed like most of the guys around the county hardly knew what the fuck they were doin' when it came to sex. They just knew how to hop on, hump `til they came and then fall asleep, totally unaware of the woman's needs-- or they just didn't care. But somewhere in their pointy little beer dazed heads, they knew there were guys like me out there who knew how to satisfy their women-- and were doing it-- but it didn't seem to make them want to try any harder. Oh well, their inadequacy was my good fortune; an endless supply.
Johnny Ray came out of the room, a little sullen, slightly ashen. "What?!" I barked. He jerked like I'd hit him, but recovered and tried unsuccessfully to smile.
"It..." he shook his head, looking down. "It was kinda strange, hearin' what y'all were doin'..." he ran his hand distractedly through his hair, watching me pour us a fresh drink.
"Well, you wanted t' stay."
Something was bothering him, and I wasn't in the mood to fish for it, and didn't really want to deal with his problems anyway. I handed him his drink and he sank heavily onto a barstool. I leaned back against the counter and chugged half of my drink.
"Buck, am I queer?" he asked with tears forming in his eyes.
I nearly spewed the drink I'd just taken all over him. I definitely wasn't ready for that one from out of the fucking blue.
I ran the back of my hand across my lips and chin and said, "Aw, shit, Johnny Ray, how the hell should I know?" I scowled and showed my irritation in my voice. But for some reason, I went ahead and played the hand, though, "You like getting fucked in the ass?" He blushed and weighed the question for a moment, then nodded his head in resignation, knowing he couldn't deny it to the man who had just fucked the shit out of him while he begged for it and said how good it made him feel. "You like sucking my dick?" Another nod as he avoided my eyes. "Then I guess you're queer."
Johnny Ray flinched and his face twisted up as tears rolled down his cheeks. He looked both scared and depressed as he drilled holes in his glass with blurry eyes while twisting it in his hands. "Fuck. Oh fuck," he mumbled.
I didn't need or want this. But I felt bad about sounding so annoyed, so I needed to say something, "Look, that's... Hey, it's not such a bad thing." I paused, trying to think. "Do you have, like, any desire for women? At all?"
He started sobbing, and I just couldn't handle it. "N-no, n-not really." he turned away so I wouldn't see him crying. "Oh God! I'm not supposed to be... I can't, Buck! What'll everyone say? My dad! Oh fuck!"
"Well you damn sure don't wanna tell anyone!" I pointed menacingly at him, trying to make my point crystal clear. "Don't you dare tell anyone, Johnny Ray Benson!"
Goddammit, I had already been through this same shit with Jamie! Goddammit! What was it with these queer boys that they all started thinkin' they just had to go and tell every-goddamn-one in town they liked dick? I couldn't understand what their problem was! How stupid could they be?!
I tried to reason with him, "Johnny Ray, goddammit, you just can't tell anyone about this! There's fuckers in this town that'd fuckin' kill you! You know that? I mean, they'd just love to take you outside of town and tie you to a truck and drag you down the road `til you're fuckin' dead, or they'd just beat you to death. Can't you understand that? Don Haarken and Sam Dukowski put some fag over in Lebanon in the fuckin' hospital about ten years ago and the guy almost died! I hear he has a speech impediment now; he can't work a job and lives with his mom over in Springfield. But you see, Johnny, it's fuckin' dangerous to be openly queer in Angel Hills!"
Then I softened my voice, "Look, if you're queer, that's ok, but I can tell ya right now, if you `come out' in Angel Hills, yer life won't be worth a plug nickel. An' I could never see you again, besides."
His head jerked up and there was panic in his eyes. "No! Oh man... If I couldn't see you... Oh man, I don't know what I'd do," he thought aloud.
"Don't tell anyone!" I thundered. He flinched again. I again softened my tone, "Real simple, baby. That way you can come over here and get what ya need. People've seen you `n me together, seen your pickup here. You go tellin' folks you're queer and they'll put two and two together. Just leave it lie, `kay baby?"
He hung his head and sniffled, thinking of all the implications. I felt my heart going out to him and fought it. I didn't want him to tell the world he was gay because that could cause me lots of very complicated problems, and I really didn't want to try and deal with his life's problems right now. That was something for `couples' to do, or really close friends-- and we were neither. I knew if we got very far into this conversation, he was going to tell me he was in love with me. I needed time to think of how to steer him away from that thinking.
"Hey, why don't we get outta here for a bit? Let's go for a ride."
"Huh?" he looked up at me through his tears.
"Let's go for a ride. The fresh air'll do ya good."
He was thrown off a little, but nodded his assent.
We took the bottle and a joint with us and ended up out on County Line Road, still well within the county, not far out of town, driving in front of Bob Kamisky's big old solitary house. He and Mrs. kamisky lived alone in the colonial style spread with four two storey columns supporting the front porch roof, with a little balcony in the middle as if they expected to stand and wave to crowds like the Pope or something. Their only daughter had long since moved away-- and never came back. They were cold people. They acted nice at social gatherings and church, and of course when they ran the Winn Dixie, but they were just cold, stolid, Pentecostal Bible thumpers. They weren't the kind to preach at you, but they were very rigid in their beliefs.
Now Billy Ragland had to spend at least the summer with them. Poor kid. Probably seventeen, the time for getting wild, the time when you can do so much and not be held responsible for it. The next year, wham! But seventeen-- I know I had a good year then, and I cherished the memories even more now, because my folks were still alive then.
About a city block past the house, my headlights caught a lone figure walking toward us. It was Billy. He had on sneakers, gym shorts and a wife beater, displaying his softly muscled shoulders and delicate neck. He looked up and squinted into the headlights. I pulled up beside him on the wrong side of the road. I rolled my tinted window down, letting the cool air out and the mosquitoes in while I turned the stereo down.
"Hey. What you doin' out walkin' in the dark all alone, Billy Ragland?"
He smiled relief when he recognized me, "Oh, just walkin' and thinkin'. I told Pawpaw I was gonna jog up and down in front of the house. Why do you always call me by my first and last name?"
"Ummm, I think that's how I remember names when I meet someone. After awhile I'll just call you Billy, I'm sure-- but who knows? I kinda like Billy Ragland, like it just has a ring to it, y'know?"
"I guess, Buck Tennyson." He grinned. "So what's it like bein' named after a dead poet?"
"Well, It's our last name, so it's not like they were tryin' to name me after Alfred Lord Tennyson or anything. I'm told we're not related."
"Oh. What's your real first name? And where did Buck come from?"
"Wayne Arter. My granddad was Arter and my dad just liked Wayne. I dunno where Buck came from. I mean, I know it's short for buckaroo, which is a bastardization of vaquero, Spanish for cowboy, cuz the white guys couldn't pronounce it." My eyes had adjusted to the moonlight, and I could see his quicksilver eyes, looking at me with intense focus. My groin tingled. "I think someone called me Buck one day as a kid and it just stuck. So I'm stuck with Buck," I chuckled. He smiled his dazzling smile, lighting up a mile radius, making my cock start its trip down my thigh.
He leaned his head toward the pickup and squinted to see into the darkness, "Somebody with you?"
I leaned back, "Yeah, you met Johnny Ray Benson today out front of Janny's." They gave a little wave to each other, Johnny not being in a talkative mood.
"Cool. You on your way to Bebe's or somethin'?" He didn't know it was in the opposite direction.
"Nah, I'm eighty-sixed for a week from there. We were just cruisin' around, thinkin' about smokin' a joint, when I came across you, walkin' around in the dark like a spectre."
"You sure seem to have a better vocabulary than any other rednecks I know. What's up with that?"
"Me? Well, hell, I'm really just another dumb redneck, but I got into poetry big time when I was younger. I kinda had a natural knack for writing and stuff, so I learned a lot of big words I can't use cuz no one around here knows what they mean." I chuckled.
"Maybe you are related to Tennyson. So, what, you don't write any more?"
"Nah. You smoke weed?"
"Hell yeah, but I can't right now, cuz I gotta go back in soon and they make me kneel down and pray with them before bed." He rolled his eyes. "They smell the smoke on me and they'll crucify me-- even if it was just tobacco. I doubt they know what pot smells like, but it's smoke."
"But hey, it's good to know there are cool rednecks out here in Bumfuck. I'll be eighteen in a few months and then I can do whatever I want-- fuck them!"
"You go, Billy Ragland!" I raised my fist defiantly and laughed. He laughed and shuffled his feet.
"Well... I better git on back."
"Ya sure ya hafta go so soon?" I looked at his face and wanted to touch it.
"Yeah. I been out here awhile. See ya later, Buck Tennyson," he smiled shyly and looked into the darkness beyond me, "See ya, Johnny Ray."
Johnny said a weak, "Later."
Oh god, those eyes and that smile. I had an erection in my jeans and was so tempted to show it to him, to get him to look inside the window at it, to urge him to reach in and feel of it and watch his facial expressions while he did.
"See ya later, Billy Ragland." Neither of us moved. He looked over at the row of trees lining the road.
"See ya." He started walking. I put my truck in reverse and glided backward slowly, staying with him as he walked.
"See ya, Billy Ragland," I smiled.
He laughed and kept walking, glancing up at me every couple of seconds, smiling THAT shy smile, teeth glinting in the moonlight.
"Later," he said one last time as he started off into the grass at the corner of the huge flat yard with no trees, heading toward the house. I stopped and watched him until he stepped up on the porch. He paused, turned his head and looked back at me, then opened the door and disappeared.
I drove on.
After a bit, Johnny spoke up, "Hot for him, huh?"
"Ya got hard just talkin' to him."
I looked down at my now shrinking cock and realized the dashboard lights had lit it up well enough for him to see it-- besides the fact that I had unconsciously stroked on it a few times while I was talking to Billy.
"Well..." I got flustered. I didn't want to have to justify my actions to Johnny; but at the same time, I knew he was in a vulnerable state right then. I fumbled for something to say, "Ummm... He's a cute kid-- but he's just a kid. I don't need to be robbin' the cradle." I laughed nervously, because I was definitely prepared to do just that with Billy.
"So, maybe I ain't the only one who's queer around here? Maybe you're a little more queer than you like t' think?" He said in an almost challenging tone of voice.
"DO WHAT?!" I yelled. I could not believe he'd just said all that! "What the fuck you talkin' about, bitch?! You'd best be shuttin' your mouth, boy! I ain't no fuckin' queer like you! I don't take no dick up my ass! YOU GOT THAT?!" I boomed in my biggest voice as I pointed my finger and shook it at him threateningly in the glow of the dashlights. I almost ran off the road, corrected and sped up.
He didn't respond, except to shrink into the door away from me. Goddamn, he pissed me off! I wanted to yell at him and ask how he thought some little twerp like him thought he could get away with sayin' shit like that to ME?! I mean, he knew I could kick his little ass in my sleep, goddammit! Where the hell did he get the idea he could say shit like that and I wouldn't stomp his fuckin' ass into the ground? I was seein' red and havin' to keep myself from haulin' off and whackin' him across the seat, but the anger funnelled itself into determination to fuck him as hard as I could `til he cried when I got him home. I didn't consider how fucked up in thought that was. I was blinded with rage-- and stupidity.
I heard a tearful, "I'm sorry, Buck," from the far side of the cab.
I cranked up the stereo almost full blast to block out any further thoughts or conversation, and my Blaupunkt speakers rattled until they were nearly dead as we hit 92mph on the deserted country road. I zoned out, just thinking over and over, things like: `Little goddamn smart-ass mother fuckin' cock suckin' goddamn mother fuckin' little bitch! I'll fuckin' show him queer!'