Country Cousins

[EasyRory]

Chapter Twenty-Six - Marlee


With the spring thaw in the weather came thaws in relationships. Fairfax and Tommy Lynn seemed to be back to normal, whatever that state of equilibrium IS for them. Whether the new 'normal' includes sex, I can't say – well, I COULD say, but I won't. Alright. Yes, of course they're doing whatever it is they get up to. Thank God. At last. Fairfax has stopped making me feel so guilty about denying him; and in the nick of time. I was about to relent.

And Willis and Roy seem to be friends again. I hope it didn't have anything to do with that special bit of nastiness in the pink dress. Remember her? That kind of nastiness had to be cured by a massive dose of penicillin. I tell you, the things a mother has to endure!

And it's not as if girls are any easier. As I was telling Luna just the other day, Emmalene is having adventures of her own. I just hope she is being careful. A baby would be the easy problem. Today there are all these exotic diseases! Willis's little problem wasn't that exotic, but after that little experience she had with … I can't say his name. Mike. There, I said it. Anyway, she has since been meeting all these 'interesting' men at school, some who aren't from Virginia or even from America, and having it off with most of them to hear her tell it. And just why does she have to TELL IT? In MY generation we did it, but we didn't talk about it. Not incessantly like these younger folk. And the DETAILS you get - at dinner even!

“I swear, Luna, the bee-sting pie I made for Easter dinner almost put her into an orgasm of recollection over some Ethiopian dish a strange man had prepared. A mother likes her cooking praised, but Luna, I tell you, she was absolutely squirming in her chair. Even Fairfax noticed and he never notices anything.”

“I'm so glad we're friends again,” Luna said. It sounded a little pathetic to me, but at least she seemed sincere. I am after all a friend worth having. In this case, however, the comment turned out to be prefatory to a pointed question. “So what about that physical therapist you hired? I hope your back isn't giving you trouble again.” Luna winked at the end of her sentence.

“Why, Luna … he's a tennis coach. And my game is getting much better.”

“Uh-huh, and where do you practice?”

She thought she had me. As if! “Why, in the barn, of course. Since we stopped the conversion, the open end is perfect for half-court.”

“And the tack room is perfect for …? 'Fess up, Marlee.” My silence betrayed me. “I knew it! Is he as good as Mike?”

“No … well, maybe … in a different way.” I felt the rush of heat to my face. “And he's very grateful for left over bee-sting pie. He's very hungry most times. Voracious, even.” I winked shamelessly at her. She can get me to tell her TERRIBLE things!

“You always did make a good pie, honey.” Luna coughed quietly. “Which brings me to a little problem of mine ...”

“Cooking?”

“No, Forrest.” She usually called him Smith; whenever she called her husband by his first name, it meant trouble. “I was alone in my room. Pretending to sew but doing nothing, to tell the truth. And he burst in WILD-EYED, with that blunderbuss he has hanging over the mantle in his room. Remember the one? I thought it was an antique! Left over from the revolution or something? 'Where is he?' he demanded and shot the curtains when a breeze moved them. His dementia is getting worse, I'm afraid.”

“Sad. What about the curtains?”

“Why, I had to take them down. There was no hiding a hole as big around as a barrel. And the fabric cannot be matched. I'll have to find something NEW. And that is such a trial ...”

“Has there been any reason for his suspicion?” I waited for her answer. “You can tell me you know. You're the only one I share these things with.”

“Nothing regular. Not like your tennis coach. There was a delivery man from that drug store in Warrenton. You know the one?”

“Indeed. He's a cutie.” I'm not one to flirt with store clerks, but this boy's blond hair was irresistible. You almost HAD to touch it.

“Cute, Marlee, but very reluctant. I practically had to block his way out the door. And he wasn't all that good at anything either. I mean, when they struggle with a single button ...” She sighed.

“Your aubergine peignoir? Such a pretty thing with your coloring; but as I recall it's a big button, Luna.”

“He wouldn't even have had to open it, if he'd been a REAL man.”

“You sound like Renee La Gerbille, thinking they're all gay.”

“He spent a LOT of time on his hair when we were done. More time than he spent on the other business and that's a fact. I thought he got that tousled look naturally. It turns out he puts a lot into it. He used some of my Estee Lauder mousse and then COMPLAINED that it made his hair look darker. Is that maybe a LITTLE gay?”

“Well … How much did you tip him?”

“An amount appropriate for the delivery. That's all.” A smug look appeared on Luna's face. She does like a bargain.

“You know I saw that Yolanda Hamilton woman at Neiman's the other day.” It was a way to get the subject back to Mike.

“Is she still messing around with our favorite carpenter?” Luna asked.

“I don't know. I was going to ask you.” That fact that Luna didn't know was astonishing; Luna knew everything. Could she be keeping quiet deliberately?

“You know what? I think I'll invite Mizz Yolanda to the next Goose Creek Preservation Committee meeting. I understand her husband has enough money to rebuild the Panama Canal. And there's the occasion to ask her.”

“Luna, you wouldn't!”

“Ask her? Or invite her? She'll come, she'll talk, and she'll never return. Goose Creek is not her sort of thing.”

“You make her sound calculating ...” I smiled and then laughed.

“And we're not? … Marlee ... My dear … By the way, could I have your tennis coach's number?”

Luna is one of a kind, when she's not drinking. I'm so glad we're friends again.

 

[DonQuixote]

Ah, lust settles back in rural Virginia as Winter's cold starts to thaw.

Gotta get ready for the Cotillions and other social AFFAIRS, so to speak.

A fun read - but most of yours are.

Thanks.

 

[Craiger]

High school never ends for some people. I'm surprised they don't have slumber parties, but being a bit older.... they have their social hours. One up-man-ship abounds with these ladies. I'm astounded that they aren't aware of Mike and Roy. They seem to know everything else. A fun, catty chapter, Rory

Craiger

 

[Autolycus]

Yet another fine chapter!

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Mike


“I miss him. That's the fact of it.”

“But Roy will be back at the end of May,” Refo consoled. “Which is only … mmm … seven weeks away.” Refo had that expression he gets when he tries to make something bad sound good.

Funny how one long weekend seems like lots of time when you see it coming on Thursday and then it's gone with the wind on Tuesday. I hated seeing Roy drive back to Williamsburg. He's he best thing in my life.

The trouble is temptation is everywhere. No, I don't mean my lady customers. I mean guys like the one in that drugstore in Warrenton. He's nice looking. Pretty spectacular, actually, if he'd keep his mouth shut and do something about a haircut.

I went in for some athlete's foot powder because Frank and I had been working on some swampy land and my feet were wet all the time, which is always trouble. Foot powder. A simple enough thing, huh, and I asked a simple question about it. “How fast does this work?”

The guy's eyes lit up and instead of a straight answer, like saying “a week”, he asked me a question. “Are you sure you know what's wrong? My name's Vince, by the way.”

“Yes, it says that on your shirt.” Well, it did! And he looks at me like he's shocked I can read or something. Then he does a head flip to get a wad of blond hair out of his eyes. White guys with dreadlocks … Why?

“And your shirt says Pierce Construction, but I bet Construction isn't your last name.”

“I have athlete's foot,” I told him, leaving names out of it.

“But are you sure?” Another head toss.

“I've been getting it since I was a kid. Whenever my feet get wet.”

“So maybe it's never been athlete's foot. Let me have a look.”

“You a doctor?”

“Well, no. But I can tell if it's something bad. Like maybe you NEED a doctor, dude.” I hate being called 'dude' by somebody who isn't smoking. He glanced around the store and then said, “Sit there and take your socks off.”

He pointed to a chair near the pharmacy waiting area. What the hell, I thought and did what he said. He turned the next chair to face me like he was a shoe salesman. Then he grabbed my ankle and put my foot in his lap. I could feel my heel squishin' down on his dick. He looked at my foot, spreading my toes to look between them. He made hmmm noises while he was looking. His dreadlocks fell covering his face. He shifted in his chair and kind of pressed himself against my foot. This is all looking innocent if another customer came by but I could feel a firmness in his lap that wasn't there when we started. The hand that was holding my ankle slid up my leg a little. Not a lot; just a little. But he didn't need to do that.

Right then I should have put my shoes and socks back on and left. But … you know how it is, right? I'm kind of interested in seeing where how far this is going. By the time he got to my other foot he had a raging hardon that was obvious to anybody. Except there wasn't anybody around. Finally, he said, “Yes, it's athlete's foot. We've got some new stuff you might want to try.”

He stood up and didn't even try to hide the bulge in his pants. He stretched to reach a high shelf and his shirt rode up. His pants were riding low, showing me the top of his ass, with a little crack showing. No underwear, which I guess explained how his dick was making a bulge that showed a lot of detail. You could tell he was cut.

Like I said, Roy was gone and wasn't coming back for weeks and weeks and this guy is throwing himself at me. I thought he was gonna say, “Let's go in the back room,” and I was all set to say yes, but but he didn't. He spotted another customer and got real straight real fast.

“So, uh, we have this delivery service … if you're not going right home,” he said. His voice was shaky. I like that, it turns me on when I can see I'm turnin' on other people. “Just write your address down and your phone number … in case the driver gets lost.”

“Who's the driver?” I asked.

I wasn't surprised when he said, “Me.”

“I live in Rockingham County.”

“Maybe you'll move closer someday. This is just to try the service. See if you like it.”

I agreed and left the store feeling like a little adventure was going on. It was like the way I felt when I knew a customer was desperate for sex but didn't know how to arrange it. The odd thing was I had the foot powder with me and I hadn't bought anything else. I wondered just what the hell he was gonna deliver. Condoms might be good. The store closed at nine and at nine forty-five I heard somebody pull up to the house.

“See?” he said. “You'd have your delivery the same night. Did you use the foot powder?” He had a small bag; it was the right size for a box of condoms.

“No, not yet.”

“You shouldn't wait. Let me help you.”

I let him maneuver me onto the sofa and take my shoes and socks off. He dried each foot with my socks and then checked them again, even looking between my toes. His dreadlocks fell across his face and I couldn't see exactly what he was doing, other than getting really close to my feet. Then I felt it. I wasn't sure at first what was going on, the feeling was that surprising. It was his tongue, swirling around my toes. He was sucking my toes! And licking between them! This went on for a while and then he pulled away.

“Won't you get athlete's foot of the mouth?” I asked him.

He pulled a bottle out of the back and took a swig. Then he poured some of whatever it was on my toes and went back to licking for a while.

“It's alcohol,” he said when he took another break. “Kills the germs for a while; tastes pretty good, too. Want some?” He offered me the bottle and shrugged when I shook my head no. “You mind If I take my trou' off. I like the feel of feet on my cock.”

I was surprised he kept his shirt on. He had a nice body, I wouldn't have minded seeing all of it. But he kept it on and went back to sucking my toes while kind of fuckin' my other foot with his cock, rubbing along the sole and dragging his balls over it. It actually felt nice. He switched feet every now and again and took more swigs out of his bottle. His hands explored my calves a bit, sneaking up my pant legs. It was weird alright, but kind of hot. He had me liking it, actually, and he figured out what I liked pretty accurately.

“So ...” he looked at me and moved his face close to mine, close enough I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You can fuck me if you want.”

“Yeah! I want!” You bet I did. I jumped off the sofa and started stripping while he unbuttoned his shirt. He did have a nice body. I was not quite ready and tugged at my cock to limber it up a little. It was only half hard. He watched with a hungry gaze that changed its intensity as I got harder.

“Jeez, dude!”

“Mike,” I told him.

“You're not fuckin' me with THAT thing! I … I … Sorry … I don't think I could handle it.” He looked from my cock to my face and back again. Once he concluded that I wasn't about to rape him anyway, he softened. “Let me try suckin' it.” He tried, but he wasn't too great at suckin' it either. “You're just so … IMMENSE!” He just stared at my dick.

“Ok, we might as well ...” I said and started to get up.

“No,” he pulled at me. “We'll figure something out. Don't quit.”

So eventually, with my feet wrapped around his cock, he nob-nibbled and hand-stroked me enough to get me off. I'll say he swallowed my load well enough, but his cum all over my feet wasn't the best outcome you could think up.

So I should have known better. It was a mistake. At best, the sex was so-so and I can still see traces of his cum-stain on the sofa when I look at it. I don't think Roy will notice, but maybe he's just being polite. He never complains about anything. And there's lots to complain about in this old house.

Roy IS very polite and fun and sexy and there's no bull shit about him. Plus I'm pretty sure he likes my cock. There's none of that whining about me being too big or IT HURTS, TAKE IT OUT! How many times have I heard that! Roy Eustis is the best fuck I've ever known.

Now I need to figure out how to tell him that because we never talk about that stuff and we might could need to do that talkin'. He's coming in a few days and I can feel myself smiling already.

 

[Kyanimal]

Not that I, of all people, might have a little "thing" about feet ...

"Kewl" chapter! And, the awkwardness of expectations running head long into reality was a nice "true" touch!

Keep it UP, Buddy!

And, yeah! ... No Matter What ...

Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,

We miss Roy, too.

Mike is such a loveable guy.

An interesting fetish, indeed.

While I might enjoy giving people massages, including feet, they would have to be fungal free for me to consider sucking on them.
Sorry. It was somewhat erotic, though, lol.

 

[Craiger]

My goodness! The clerks at that drugstore seem to get around. However I don't remember if Luna's boy had dreadlocks. We should investigate that place in Warrenton to see if they're running a house of ill repute. Too much of a coincidence...and sex coming from there. I do hope Roy gets back before Mike has another relapse.

Craiger

 

[EasyRory]

My goodness! The clerks at that drugstore seem to get around.

Same clerk. I wonder if we'll see more of him.

 

[DonQuixote]

You cheeky devil.

 

[EasyRory]

He's potentially too good to do just a one-chapter walk-on.

 

[DonQuixote]

You know we enjoy variety - it is the spice of life, afterall.

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Vince


Blond hair and a great ass. What more does any dude need really? Ok, a few things come to mind. Like a better job, a more reliable weed supply, and maybe a bigger town. I'm starting to think I've already had sex with every available possibility including this really old chick who gave me a lousy tip and out of this the number I want to fuck again is really small. Like that Mike dude. He's a hot one. Maybe if we'd mellowed out on something smoother than high-proof mouthwash … Oh well, maybe I'll give him another chance.

He's so close to perfect. See, I like country boys. They're honest and open and when you find a good one, you've got something real special. Unlike the Washington suburban types, who are so into themselves instead of into me. I mean, I'm the blond with the great ass! They're flabby, tired, get-me-off jerks. Now and then you think you found the exception, but then right before your eyes, he turns into a flabby, tired … You get the idea. And lawyers, jeez, they're the worst. That last one bitched about the quality of my weed, but did he offer to pay for it? Fuck, no. And then he wanted me to fuck him all the time. Sometimes he couldn't even get it up. He should have settled for a massage. I wouldn't have messed with him at all except he sort of promised me a job in DC.

I figure a job in DC will open doors for me. Get me more exposure. Yeah, there's always a price to pay; but I know I'm a better cocksucker than Monica Lewinsky or Chandra Levy for God sake. Sex isn't much of a price to pay, as long as you get the payoff quick. Get the payoff and then come home to some sweet country boy. Like that Mike dude. He could get it up!

What I'm hoping is that I can find an outlet for my hair styling line. Right now it's only one product, but it will be a line someday. Right now it's a styling moose that contains a secret ingredient. Not so secret, actually. It's half Gold Bond moisturizer and half peroxide. The components cost about twelve dollars and I sell it for sixty-five. I figure if I price it right at the start, then I can sell out to Clinique, take home a wad of cash, and fuck a cute country boy. Like that Mike dude.

Meanwhile, I'm stuck in Warrenton working in a drug store that's on the wrong side of town in a bad location for a big chain store and business is slow. The rumor is they're going to close the store. The manager drinks because they're going to close the store – or maybe they're going to close the store because the manager drinks. Either way, every afternoon he says don't disturb me – I'm going over the books – and then dozes off in his office with the door locked until five when the serious drinking begins.

There are some decent places in Warrenton, but he goes to Applebee's for their happy hour and orders Fireball lemonades two at a time. I went with him once, when I was new at the store and didn't know any better. After four Fireballs I probably could have fucked him and he wouldn't have noticed. I considered it since every now and then you could see in him the remains of a once hot young man; but after 'accidentally' groping him and finding not much to grab onto, I gave up that idea. I think he knew what I was doing, but he pretended not to. So now we have this little 'thing' between us: he doesn't complain about me and I don't complain about him. The other employees can't figure it out; because all they do is bitch. Once he caught me selling some of my product to a customer and never said a thing.

Which reminds me of poor Mr. Hoskins, my history teacher. School was never really my thing and history had so little to offer that near the end of my senior year I discovered I was flunking current events, which was what they were calling history that year. The most current event in my life was highlighting, which I had discovered in chemistry class the year before; but that didn't mean much on the quarterly exam.

I mentioned my blond hair? (And cute ass?) So highlighting was important. My once almost white hair was darkening, which I read was the fault of testosterone. That a downer, but the Big T does so much good for guys in other ways it's hard to complain about hair color. The reason this has anything to do with Mr. Hoskins is because I was sitting in detention – over some trivial thing in the locker room that involved a hazing incident – where Mr. Hoskins was supervising. I chose a seat in the afternoon sun where I figured I would look my best and Hoskins kept looking at me. It was a strange look. Gave me a hard on, if you want to know about that part. People were dismissed from detention sequentially according to some method I never figured out – I think it had to do with work done while in detention as well as the severity of the offense.

Now, I want you to know I COULD have figured it out, but I have a hard time staying on task. Especially when my dick gets hard, which was like every other minute that year. So eventually the room got down to just me amd a girl. What she did must have been MAJOR, because the girls almost always got out first.

“Liza!” I whispered. “How did you get detention?”

“No talking,” Hoskins interrupted.

“Dissed Mizz Lezballs.” She meant Miss Lestrange, the Assistant Principal, who always wore pants suits and as far as anyone knew did not actually have balls, although her pants did bulge in a couple places in an oddly round way. Even before I knew about lesbians, I did find Mizz Lezballs more than a little Lestrange.

“You may leave,” Hoskins said to Liza. I thought he wanted to cut off our conversation, but he really wanted to talk to me. Once she left he focused on me. “You know you're flunking my course, right?”

He walked over to where I was sitting and sat not in a seat but on the top of a desk in the next row. He glanced at a nervous mannerism of mine and said, “Stop fiddling with yourself.” I took my hands away which was worse, because they were covering up my hard on. Seeing that made him jittery and he stood up in the aisle so that my condition was out of view. A shifted in my seat, putting myself on display again and I noticed he could take his eyes off me.

“How old are you Vincent?” he asked.

“Nineteen,” I answered. He looked surprised and I explained that I had repeated kindergarten because of late personality development. He didn't seem to care about that; he just kept looking at the bulge in my shorts.

“Stand up,” he whispered hoarsely.

It was instinctual. I stood up, which made my erection even more obvious. He just stared. Without thinking I pushed my cock up against his hand.

“Mr. Hoskins!” Wouldn't you know! It was Lezballs herself.

Things happened fast after that. I was told to leave and Mr. Hoskins never showed up at school again. My grade for the course was C+ and I graduated with my class.

I felt bad about Hoskins, but really good about the feel of his hand on my cock. I wondered if I could fix things. A little I felt sorry for Hoskins but mostly my cock just ached. So a week after graduation, I went to see him. We had a semi-serious talk about what I was doing (nothing) and what he was doing (teaching in an adult rehab program). And then I told him I was sorry. He said it wasn't my fault and then kind of broke down. First he cried. That was embarrassing! Then he got mad! That was a little frightening. And then he fucked me. That was HORRIBLE! Unexpected, painful, and uncomfortable the way he had me bent over.

I probably shouldn't have worn those satin basketball shorts and the wife-beater again. Maybe they reminded him of the detention room. And I probably should have worn underwear. Then my dick wouldn't have showed so clearly. It would have been better not to tell him I was hard again. But my dick just ached and ached. I couldn't help it.

It was probably my fault the whole thing happened. That night while I was thinking about it and jacking off, I decided I should go over and apologize again. It was late when I knocked on his door. He didn't talk much – just fucked me. And it wasn't so horrible that time. And the next time, it was actually pretty nice.

But it all came to an end when I fucked him. He wouldn't let me unless we “made love” as he called it and he wanted me to kiss him a lot and spend the night. Eeeuw! It so creeped me right out and then he said he LOVED me and that was even worse, and he wanted me to call him Arthur, so even though I got to fuck him a lot, which was nice, I had to do all this other stuff which wasn't.

At all.

Plus I think he told Lezballs about it because she was really smirky when I saw her in the drugstore one day. Still Hoskins made a big difference in my life. After that summer I was horny all the time and didn't really know how to hook up. It seemed like every cool guy was straight and the gay ones were probably not anyone's first choice, if you know what I mean. So, I did what everybody does, I guess. I lowered my standards and upped my numbers. For a while there I had a lot of bad sex. Sex that made you feel dirty when it was over? You know the kind?

Which was why it was great meeting that Mike dude. Not creepy. Not dirty. He didn't seem to mind the thing with his feet. I really shouldn't have lost it over the size of his dick. I could probably take it, if we went slow and used a lot of lube. I mean it's a nice dick, pretty much all I think about now when I'm beating off. I think about his body too, but his dick … that's what's really getting to me. I think about it slowly slippin' into me, spreading me open, fillin' me up. I've started fingering myself while I think about it.

So Sunday, I decided fuck it and drove out to his place. It was early afternoon, but I didn't want to spend another Sunday beatin' off and waiting for Monday and the drugstore to open again. What the fuck, right? I'm blond and I have a cute ass and I brought my own lube. Knock, knock, huh?

So he answered the door and I almost lost it right there on his porch. “Uh, Mike?” He looked at me like he didn't know me and then figured it out.

“Oh ... Vince … Right! I didn't recognize your hair pulled back. Didn't you have dread locks?”

“I like to switch it up.” So he noticed my low and loose pony tail. That was promising. “Um, I was thinking … last time … you know … I maybe was a little hasty saying no? Do you remember? I was thinkin' if we took it real slow … maybe … you know? And use a lot of ...”

At that point a truck skidded to a stop and its horn honked. A familiar looking guy trotted up to the porch. He stood right next to Mike and said my name.

“Vince.”

“Roy, how you doin'?” We were in the same class in high school.

“You trying to fuck my boyfriend?” With that said he put his arm around Mike's waist like he owned him.

And Mike breaks into this huge smile and says, “Am I your boyfriend?”

“I don't know what else to call you,” Roy says and gives him a kiss! And with that, they're into each other like I'm not even there; all why didn't you tell me you were coming? and didn't Sarah Felsen? whoever the fuck she is and some shit about a cousin named Jack-off or something. Now there's a name!

“I'm gonna be going,” I said and Mike says bye and Roy gives me a little wave and another pickup arrives with, I guess, Sarah and Jack-off or somebody and they're all hello and stuff and so I left.

That night I went to a bar in Strasburg and picked up this old, fat truck driver and on the way out I see Lezballs and this other pseudo-chick and she says to me, “I knew it.”

 

[DonQuixote]

Vince, our Blond Pharmacy Clerk has a path in mind - I'm just not so sure it's a healthy path.
Probably a VERY good thing that Roy made an unexpected trip home for the weekend.

At least he knows when to exit stage right and not try to horn in.

 

[Kyanimal]

Vince, with the blond hair, and sweet ass, is obviously a "Gold Digger". Not necessarily for money, and such, but more for manipulative power, which can be far more dangerous.

Though I find him quite interesting, and do wish him well, until he learns better, that it's not all about him, as attractive as he might be, I'd still steer clear of him.

For himself, and those he encounters, I hope he will eventually realize that his current motives are not necessarily going to lead him to what he really wants, or truly needs.

Excellent portrayal, Buddy! Almost TOO True to those I've met like him.

All the more reasons to ... No Matter What ...

Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[Craiger]

Like Chaz, I've known a couple Vince personalities. Not too pretty of a sight and far to self-centered. Unfortunately by the time they realize there are other "people" in the world besides themselves, they are spent and have little to show for their past. However, it take all types to make this world and best luck to them. Certainly glad Roy was there to protect his "boyfriend."

Craiger

 

[rocabar]

"Ok you're pretty, your face is a work of art
Your smile could light up New York City after dark,
But it's such a pity, a boy so pretty
With an ugly heart..."

Another interesting character thrown in to the mix. Like Chaz & Craiger, your portrayal rings true; A feature I've always found particularly engaging about your writing. Thanks again, Rory- Looking forward to the next instalment (as per usual).

-R

 

[EasyRory]

"styling moose" Damn that spellchecker!

 

[DonQuixote]

I wonder what kinds of tricks and treats our boys are exchanging tonight?

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Roy


“I thought they'd never leave,” Mike sighed.

“We got a lot done. Schedules, terms, timing,” I told him. He liked woodworking a lot more than business details.

“Come here,” he said in his time-to-fool-around way. “You should have told me you were coming. Sarah is never reliable about other people's stuff. She told me about herself and Yakov, not a word about you.”

“She apologized. She said talking about me was a distraction.”

“Your fuckin' clothes are the distraction. How does this belt work?” I showed him. “Don't ever wear that thing again.”

“Yes, sir,” I said in a grave tone, which totally changed his mood but didn't stop him disrobing me. An hour later, after an orgasm and a half, the half was when I almost came early in the fuck, we came up for air and a thought came to me.

“You know what?” I paused. “Now don't get pissed off, ok?” Mike waited for me to get to the point. “We should get tested.” He frowned slightly. “Because when you fuck me … tomorrow?” He frowned some more. “Tonight?” He laughed. “Whenever … you won't have to wear a condom. We can just do whatever we want without thinking about it.” The idea of ditching the condoms had instant appeal for both of us.

Condom-free fucking … the great reward of monogamy. I knew monogamy would be easy for me; except for Mike, there wasn't anybody I wanted. But what about Mike? I didn't even want to know how Vince had come into the picture. Were there other guys? Girls? I had no reason to think Mike was sitting home nights while I was in Williamsburg. In fact, based on history, I had lots of reasons to think he wasn't. It was something I preferred not to think about.

“But when you go back to school, we'd have to start all over again. We'll need to get tested every time you come home?” He assumed I was fucking around. A reasonable assumption, I guess. How do I tell him I'm not, without putting pressure on him?

“Uh, well, I'm only going back for exams and then it's summer break. I can keep it in my pants for the next ten days, I guess. It would work for a while.” I decided to keep HIS behavior out of it.

“You know ...” He looked amazingly handsome as he thought about it. “We might could do just that.” A ten-day fidelity pact had been reached.

Refo recommended an understanding doctor and we went the next day. We took the blood test together and then had physical exams privately. There was a wait while the doctor got a quick-read from the blood samples. He called us into his office together.

“Based on your stated histories and the results of the tests we took today, it's very unlikely either of you is positive for anything serious. We're doing more definitive tests and we'll let you know with more certainty in a week or so.”

Both of us let out our breaths, shared a reassuring glance, and relaxed, only to tense up again when the doctor's next sentence began with “However ...”

“However, there is a concern. It's more of a long-term situation, really. Mike, you ... you both know, I guess … you have a larger than average penis. There is substantial risk that you could cause permanent damage as a result of … sustained and vigorous anal intercourse. A weakened sphincter muscle is inevitably the result in time – not tomorrow, but in time; and that would lead to leakage and the possibility of infections. Acute injury is also possible, but less likely, unless you are very rough. Rough sex would be a grave risk. Tissue damage. Punctures. Tears. The risk wouldn't be just physical damage, but also it would include the possibility of infection. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

“I understand,” I said.

“You're saying I could hurt Roy seriously hurt him if I fuck him.” Mike looked horrified.

“Not immediately, not if you're careful. And maybe not ever if you're really careful. Try to keep it gentle. Use lots of lube. Be careful to wash well. Many people find activities other than anal intercourse to be fully satisfying.”

“You're kidding, right?” I didn't mean to sound cheeky, but it came out that way.

“Well, I can't speak from experience; but that is what others have said.” The doctor blushed slightly. It occurred to me that I had no idea whether he was gay or not.

Mike, meanwhile, didn't say a thing. He shook hands with the doctor and thanked him when we left; but otherwise he looked numb.

“No more condoms,” I said emphasizing the good news as we drove back to Mike's.

“No,” Mike answered. He was preoccupied.

To fill the silence I jabbered about the deal we had struck with Sarah Felsen and Yakov. “By the way, is his name Felsen, too?”

“Katzoff,” Mike replied.

“Yakov Katzoff?”

“That's what he said,” Mike answered. We were quiet for the last few miles of the trip.

“I think we, the disease-free, deserve a reward.” I said coyly as we entered the house. I had to grab Mike to get his attention. “OK?” I kissed him.

“I need to water the chickens,” he answered.

“Can't they wait a little?” I really had to cajole him into bed. It took a while but finally he got into it. “Uh-uh,” I said, discouraging his suggestion. “I fucked you last night. It's your turn.” He seemed reluctant and it turned into a wrestling match. “Come on, fuck me,” I said.

“I don't want to hurt you. The doctor said ...”

“He said a lot of stuff. He didn't say no fucking! He said be careful.”

It almost became an argument. I ended up saying in a loud voice, “I don't care what he said. I'm not going through life unfucked by you!”

Not my finest moment. My English prof would probably call it contorted and trite. C+ at best. I looked at Mike and saw a tiny critical smile. “So, fuck me,” I repeated, chuckling at myself.

“I don't want to hurt you, Roy. I love you.”

“You love me? Fuck me. It's something I need, Mike.” I was firm; I wasn't negotiating.

He was gentle. He was careful. He used so much lube we could have slid out of bed if his motions hadn't been so restrained. But he got it done. And he was so sweet about it. I held him against me afterward. It wasn't our best sex to date, but it was our most important, to me anyway.

“You love me, huh? I love you, too.” I kissed the top of his head as he lay against me.

“I know,” he said.

“How do you know? Do you read minds?”

“No, you've told me before.”

“I haven't. Not ever.”

“Remember when I told you I probably kissed you in my sleep? Well, what really happened was you said – clear as a bell - “I love you, Mike,” and so I kissed you. I realized you were talking in your sleep and I woke you up. So then I pretended to be asleep.”

“So once a long time ago? That's all.”

“One time I wouldn't have thought much about; but you say it pretty much every time we're together. 'I love you, Mike,' is what you say. Pretty much every time. I decided you really mean it.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“I figured you'd tell me when you were ready.”

No, I mean why didn't YOU tell ME that you love me?”

“I didn't want to run you off … laying something on you you maybe weren't ready for.”

Suddenly my chest hurt and something like a sob came out. “We love each other?”

“I'm pretty sure we do,” Mike answered.

“I'm gonna kiss you a lot now.” I snuggled more into an embrace.

“That's ok.”

“By now, I mean like all the time.”

“That's ok, too.”

“I love you, Mike Pierce.”

“Are you just gonna talk about it?”

“One more thing. We're gonna fuck, right? A lot? But we'll be careful, right?”

“Are you just gonna talk about it?” He didn't need to ask a third time.

Sunday Mike drove me back to school. It was a terrible drive. A light drizzle never let up. I tried to give him a blowjob while he was driving but that didn't work very well. Mike had the answer. We only got a little wet climbing into the bed of the truck. Wrapped in blankets with a muddy tarp on top, he fucked me. He used lube but he was less gentle this time. From the minute he entered me there was no mistaking I was getting fucked. He didn't hold back the way he had the night before. I got every inch. I loved it and wanted it to go on forever. It didn't, of course; but for a beautiful half hour I was full of Mike. First his cock, then his cum and more, until at last it seemed like there was some part of Mike in every molecule of me.

At that moment, with rain on my face, hot under blankets, sloppy with cum, increasingly uncomfortable lying on the bed of a truck, I fully realized the meaning of the words: this sweet man loves me. He told me so, repeatedly; but I didn't need his words. I just needed him.

With the clap of thunder that sent us back into the cab of the truck, I knew my whole world changed and nothing about me would ever be the same again. Ok, I can hear the English prof groaning again; but I don't know how else to put it. Some things really are just that dramatic. Mike believed me and that's all I cared about.