Gay Erotic Stories

A few of the other guys on the crew were constant bitchers, moaning about anything and everything. A couple more tended to be defensive and grouchy. I found my day passed more pleasantly in company with Ralph. He didn’t seem to mind me following him around, hell; he didn’t even seem to notice.

We were working the hills south of town, cutting back undergrowth along the power line right of way. Ralph took up a pair of heavy loppers and started off ahead of the gang not waiting to talk about who would do which job. I grabbed a handsaw and stayed on his heels. We worked the larger stuff, him clipping back and me sawing down any thick growth or young trees. We left the others to decide who would sling a grass blade and who would pick up and carry trash.

It was August and eighty degrees by eight o’clock. My shirt was soaked through by nine. I looked around for Ralph and saw he’d already stripped off his tee shirt and tucked it in his back pocket. His arms bulged with ropey muscles as he worked the long handled clippers. He paused, leaned back with a hand on his hip and the size of the ridge running down his inside thigh was awesome. I moved closer, picked up the plastic thermos of Gatorade I carried along with my pack and held it up for him to see. He never carried a canteen or water bottle. He grinned, waved me on down the slope where he waited, leaning back on the stump of an old pole cut off about the height of a bar stool. It looked like a big black dick sticking up out of the ground. Hey, my mind was on dick, okay? “Thanks, man”, he took the jug and turned it up for a long swallow. A trickle missed his mouth and ran down his neck, beaded over his chest and disappeared into the matt of brown hair connecting his nipples in a wide swath. His skin was shined with perspiration, he was wet all over. His thin pants stuck to his skin, clinging around his thighs and sculpting the massive shaft into a prominent and obvious feature. I stared. He wasn’t circumcised; there was no clear ridge at the head, just a slight swell and flare at the long tip. He was holding the jug out to me ... with a little grin. I drank and thought about my lips sucking at the same place his lips had been. It was a nice thought. He was still watching me, as though noticing me the first time. “Your name’s Donnie, right?” “Yeah. Donnie Bellew. I’ve been working here a week. Pretty great job, huh? I mean, I really like working outside, beats hell out of being cooped up in an office somewhere. You been doing this a long time?” He squinted up his forehead like it was a difficult question, “Uh, yeah. You want to share a joint?” “Sure! I guess we could go back in the trees over there, huh? Get out of the sun a few minutes.” He was already pulling out a tin box and about to light up right out there in the open with the crew in sight. Not that any of them would care, just that I’m kinda shy, right? “Okay, yeah.” He followed me into the stand of young pines that ran along side the right of way. I found a small clearing and paused, looked around, turned back to Ralph and he had his dick out, pissing on the ground. I’d seen him piss before, but always from behind or from a few yards away. It was the first time he’d done it right in front of me. He wasn’t watching me; he was staring down at his dick and seemed lost to all but his relief. His face mirrored the effort and the relaxation of the dribbled finish. Sure, I watched. I couldn’t help myself. Ralph opened his tin box and pulled out a twisted joint. He lit it while his dick was still hanging there, dripping. Only when he’d taken a long and deep drag did he glance up at me and offer the joint. “You want some of this? ...or some of this?” He shook his dick with the other hand. He grinned. “Can I have both?” I laughed. “Sure.” he shrugged. I took the butt first, pulled in a great cloud and held it while I reached down to hold his dick. He was soft and limp. I gave him back the joint and kneeled down, kissed it. He toked when I sucked it in my mouth and I felt it swell up quickly. It filled me with a powerful sense of excitement, to feel it bone up like that right in my mouth. He bucked forward to my face; put his hand on my head. He grunted, low, “Uuu--h, feels good!” It was amazingly fast, in just a few deep thrusts he spewed a load and sighed quietly, “Yeah.” Then he was passing me the toke, again, while I was still on my knees. I took another drag and tripped on the close up sight of his spent dick, slowly going soft and letting a bead of jism drip to the ground in a long silver streamer. He took the joint and put it in his mouth, not at all reluctant to follow my lips, still wet with his juice. I shivered with a little ripple of pleasure. He put his dick back inside his pants and zipped up, then helped me to my feet. “Thanks, man. I needed that. I been sleeping alone, you know.” He started back out to the clear cut. I followed. We were almost out of the trees when he turned back to me, “I’m sorry, dude... what about you? Did you want to get off?” He reached down and put his palm over my dick. “Uh, actually, I did! Right after you, you know.” His sleepy grin came back, “Cool!” And that was it. We went back to work and hardly spoke again until lunch, and then he took a nap in the shade while I sat beside him and watched. Over our sandwiches, he told me his girlfriend had moved back to Arkansas or somewhere. He wasn’t complaining, just telling me. Then I asked him. “That wasn’t your first time with a guy, was it? I mean, you was cool about it.” “Naw, you kidding?” Like it was just a normal thing, then his eyes drifted shut and he was snoring. One taste of dick and I was in love, right? Story of my life. I studied Ralph’s face while he slept. It meant nothing to him, I kept telling myself, no more than taking a leak when his bladder got full. He was not a complex guy! Eat when you’re hungry; grab any relief available when you’re horny. Simple. What fascinated me was how indifferently he looked at sex with a man. It obviously made no difference to him, just a lucky convenience as far as he was concerned. It didn’t take any kind of genius to know why I was staring at his cock all the time. Hell, I stared a week before he noticed. For most guys, it made a difference, that’s what was strange. Men usually noticed if I looked at them in that way. They either got hostile and brushed me off or they got a sort of power trip out of it, preened with vanity and got turned on. But it didn’t mean shit to Ralph until he was horny... and what was that about getting me off, too? Was he about to blow me if I wanted it? Maybe just a hand job to pay me back? He was a decent guy, had to give him that. Not many guys even thought about you getting relief, too. I sat and watched him sleep. His face relaxed, open and vulnerable. Don’t fall in love, dumbass, just don’t do it! Think of him as a natural resource, just a pleasant part of the scenery. Build emotional luggage and he ain’t gonna carry it for you! I leaned back against a tree and shut my eyes, sleep came fast. I spent the afternoon doing my “who cares?” act. I put a little distance between us and worked with a concentrated attention. Our little episode was just a pleasant diversion, nothing important. He didn’t have me in his pocket and I was just as free as him! I don’t think he noticed. Whenever I looked around, Ralph was chopping and hacking away. If he glanced my way, no trace of communication passed between us. I was forgotten already, a tree he pissed on yesterday, a pile of leaves where he once napped. Okay. Got it. Live it, learn it. I passed where he was working late in the day, “Hey, Donnie!”, he called, “Got anymore Gatorade?” I was surprised he remembered my name. “Uh, yeah.” He waited, I took the jug over to him and he drank greedily. “Thanks, man.” He passed it back but he was looking behind me, along the trail. “What time is it? We must be a mile from the truck!” Like he just woke up or something. “Doby went back to move it up. We’re headed in when he gets here.” “Oh, cool! Day went pretty fast. I love sweating! Feels great, huh?” “Yeah”, I had to agree, “Feels like a work out, muscles all tired and aching real good!” “Hmmph”, he chuckled, rubbed his crotch, “All my muscles tired!” He slapped my shoulder, put his sweaty arm around me and pulled me towards the guys waiting back along the path. Okay, so maybe he didn’t forget our little episode.

When we climbed on the truck, he sat beside me and put his arm back around me, pulled me over to lean against him. I ducked my head, wondered if he thought about the picture we made. Nobody made any smartass comments, everybody was exhausted. Road noise soon engulfed us and the air whipping in felt good. The normally grouchy Doby nodded while young Miller lay down, put his head in Doby’s lap. Two black guys leaned together, one’s nappy head fell to the other’s slick chest. It could have been some gay dream setting, all the macho men relaxed and at ease with the touch of other men. I felt a sudden warmth for straight men, not a familiar emotion to me. They all seemed so human, so vulnerable in their worn-out bodies and tired minds. Like a team after a big game, I thought. There’s a camaraderie, a closeness of shared effort. That’s the ingredient always missing from gay relationships. We get too focused on our own needs, get competitive and use each other. These guys are touching for comfort, not for lust. They feel better sharing their pain and weariness. They want to know they’re not alone. Isn’t that what I really want? That sharing? That brotherhood? I wondered, vaguely, if another gay man could ever give me what I craved, that companionship of maleness. Ralph didn’t sleep, he watched the scenery slide past and his eyes didn’t focus on anything. He was tuned to a static station, off the air. He must have felt me looking up at his face, he didn’t look at mine but he squeezed my shoulder, rocked me gently. My hand lay on his knee, I gave it a quickly gripped response, acknowledging his presence beside me. The soft sting of tears tried to well up under my eyes, I blinked them back. Too good, it just felt too damn good to avoid fantasies of love and affection. Fuck it, quick sand panic clutched at me. I stirred, moved away from him, closed my eyes and buried my chin on my chest.

Ralph and Doby were putting tools in the shed, I punched off and headed out to the parking lot. The two black guys were beside an old Buick, sharing a bottle inside a brown paper bag, laughing softly. “Got a light?” one asked me. “Sure, right here.” I held it for him and he cupped his hands around mine, his yellow eyes brushed my gaze. Menthol scented smoke drifted up. “Thanks. Have a drink with us?” “I could use it, yeah!” I took the bottle and turned it up; warm and sweet gin almost gagged me. “Ahhch!”, I grimaced, “That’s terrible stuff!” They laughed. “But tastes like good medicine! Thanks.” I passed it back. The smoker touched my arm, and then waved as I walked away. I showered a long time, letting the blast of water massage my back. Good feelings and danger signs crowded into the stall with me. I wouldn’t think about Ralph, not at all. When I collapsed on the bed, his sleepy grin was the last thing I remembered. But I dreamed of Alex, of waiting for him to come home when I knew he wouldn’t, of making excuses why he wasn’t there, of crying while he smiled.

Friday morning I climbed up in the truck next to Miller and we swapped jokes and talked while everybody loaded up. Ralph took the last place near the tailgate. He nodded at me, over the others; just a social nod, nothing personal. When the truck took a hard turn, I put my hand on Miller’s thigh, to keep from sliding on top of him. He widened his eyes and grinned at me, we laughed just below the noise of the road. When I could, I backed off him. He leaned over and bumped me with his shoulder, laughed again. Then, when we were climbing out, he goosed my ribs, made me jump off the truck. He was a tolerable clown. A goofy kind of kid brother guy.

Doby began handing out tools and Ralph picked up the hand saw I’d been using, took off up the trail. Just like him to go off on his own, ignoring everybody else. “Come on”, Miller punched me, “help me load the big stuff. We’ll drag the small limbs to the side.” So I worked with Miller most of the morning, laughing to his endless stream of jokes and stories. He liked to hear himself talk, that was clear! He was one of those regular, white trash blondes, wheat colored hair, thin and stringy ... his face burned dark so his pale eyes looked out of place, startling. He had a long nose and a couple of crooked teeth; otherwise, he was a cute kid, maybe twenty-two at most. He talked enough to keep my head busy, I didn’t think too much, just lifted and carried limbs and scratched at the insect bites... tried to rub off the pine resin, sticky on my hands.

When we broke for lunch, Ralph came back to the truck, joined me and Miller at the tailgate. He didn’t nap. He swapped grinning taunts with the kid and drank from my thermos, sat beside me and kept a proprietary hand on my arm, my knee. I was touched emotionally, too. He made an effort to meet my eyes, keep me in the conversation. He was gently reminding me we had a private bond, one I seemed to have forgotten. Maybe I could trust a little, more than I had been doing, huh? So, when he cocked his head after lunch, I followed him up the trail, up to where he’d been laying down small trees ahead of the gang. He pulled out his tin box and flashed it at me, tugged my arm toward the brush. I followed. He went into deep shade, a low hollow beneath a dense cedar tree. “Come on down”, he sat and pulled me after him. He lit a joint and pulled in a big bite, passed it and lay his head in my lap. He held it in a long time, watching my face, then slowly let it trickle out his nose. His eyelids drifted down in a soft fan of thick lashes, he sighed. We finished the joint and he crushed the roach, put it back in his tin. I lay back, feeling the creep of pleasant numbness steal through my skin. Ralph pulled my hand over to cover his cock. It was a big soft mound under his pants, between his warm legs. He turned his face against my lap, found my dick and lay his cheek on it. He looked up at me. “Come home with me tonight.” “Yeah. Okay.” “Good deal.” We may have stayed there ten, fifteen minutes, quiet. Neither of us got hard, not a sex thing, just a touch, you know? Connected? Then we cut hell out of them trees! Laid a pile of lumber on the trail. You could see all the way through to town, on the next hill. Ralph’s mood was more alert, more alive than I’d ever seen him before. He cut jokes, listened when I talked, asked questions. He seemed to be waking from a deep trance. Amazing to see him so animated, so plugged in. He was telling me something about his brother, going hunting when they were kids ... Doby came up and shouted. “Goddamn, Ralph! You guys want to go home or you gonna stay out here all weekend? It’s payday and we want to go! Shake you ass!” We ran half the way, laughing and falling over stumps in the grass. Then, give out, we walked, panting heavily. Everybody was on the truck, calling us names and braying like a bunch of donkeys! Who cared? We laughed and climbed on as the truck slowly began rolling home. Miller gave me a hand, pulled me in and Ralph pushed from behind, a palm on my ass. We pulled him in, too, and fell in a heap on legs and muddy boots and musky smelling workmen. It was a good feeling. We were all on the same team and the game was over at last. Smokes passed around, hands pat shoulders, tired smiles bounced off and rebounded. Friday’s joy soothed aching backs, expectations of pleasure rippled through grimed skin and all was good.

We made our own crowd in the bank, with other people backing off our smell and our sweat. We agreed to meet at The Fuzzy Mule later on, even Doby said he’d show if his wife was in the mood. I wondered if anybody noticed my car following Ralph’s truck as we left. Just my usual paranoia. He had a room in a resident motel, out on the freeway. The room looked like you’d expect, a dump with a week’s trash and dirty work clothes. Ralph didn’t bother to apologize, it was nothing to him. I tried not to notice. We looked funny naked, all blackened from the waist up, and pale beneath our pants. His eyes looked like a raccoon, dirt circled his lids, skin somewhat cleaner where he wiped it off his cheeks and forehead. Guess I looked the same. He filled the big, old fashion tub with hot soapy water and we got in facing each other, a little cautious, a little shy. He began to look more human as pink tinged his skin and his face brightened up. I liked the way his hair lay wet, close to his head. He leaned back, the heat of the water cooling down, and reached a joint behind him on the commode. We shared it, relaxed, grinned with dopey pleasure. His feet came over to find my lap, tickle at my dick. I leaned towards him, wiped soap from his cheek. He whispered something as my face neared his. “Huh?” “A nap. I said, let’s get a nap. I’m exhausted.” “Yeah, I’m for it.”

His bed was a tumble of sheets, white and pale blue. We didn’t try to straighten them out, just piled on top and I pulled a loose corner until it covered our hips. He rolled his wet head against my arm and was asleep immediately. I squirmed, turned until I could lay my arm across his chest and move my thigh over his, straddle his hip. Then the relaxation melted me, drew me under. Some guys move away in sleep, clear a space to build their own world. Ralph was a snuggler. Whenever I shifted, he moved, nestled closer. Even his elbows and knees seemed to soften, to become gentle forms, and smooth. But he dreamed in violent spurts, in rapid breathing gasps. He muttered low and guttural, the sounds of pain and fear. I rubbed his back and told him all was well, “It’s just a dream”, I whispered. His lips moved against my chest, wet.

When I woke he was up, wearing jeans open at the fly, drinking a beer. “Want one?” He held it up. “Yeah. Please!” I muttered. He brought me one and sat on side of the bed. Watched me while I drank. “I’m not gay, you know? You must think ...”, his hand sketched an airy figure. “I never thought it”, I told him. “I like straight men, especially straight men who can do what they want without worrying about it. You’re not going to have some kind of identity crisis, are you?” He grinned, “I doubt it! Not exactly a virgin at this stuff. Guys are all right, I just like women better.” “You spent time inside? Prison?” It was just a hunch. “Yeah, you?” “Just county jail. A couple of times.” I pushed the sheet aside, sat up beside him. “You learn to take what you can get, you know? You don’t come out judging folks so much.” He finished his beer. “Was that your first time? with a guy? Inside?” He thought about it, hesitated, looked at me, “Not really.” His brows drew down, “Not something I wanna talk about though.” “I’m glad, whatever the reason!”, and I reached over to hold his cock through his jeans. He looked down, watched my hand. He began to grow under my touch. Then he stood and let my hand slide off. “You want to go get a hamburger? or what? Think you can wear my jeans and a shirt?” “I got some clothes, out in the car.” “I’ll get ‘em.” He pushed me back to the bed. “Is it locked?”

You think you know how straight guys are going to act; they’re in it for the ego, right? How they’ll keep their distance in public and make disparaging remarks. How they’ll lord it over you when you’re alone and tease you with their scepter of power? Ralph didn’t seem to know the drill. He was building a different kind of relationship, much closer to a straight friendship, a partnership. I never had straight guys do stuff for me, or treat me with respect. This guy was incredible, they way he related to me, the way sex didn’t even seem important to him. Not one sneer, not a single sly glance or vain pose gave away any internal sense of superiority. The quick relief in the woods was just that, relief. Beyond that moment, he’d been much more concerned with playful and affectionate touch than sex. It occurred to me he might, in fact, be gay. Maybe all the rest was self-delusion. But a gay man turning down sex? No, that don’t rhyme!

We sat across from each other in the booth and ordered spaghetti and meatballs. Ralph poured me a glass of beer from the frosted pitcher. “So, your brother? Where is he, now?” I asked. “Over in Franklin. He’s married, got a couple of kids. I go see them at Christmas.” “He don’t give you a hard time, about taking the fall?” “Well, not really. He don’t mention it or nothing. But it ain’t the same. We’re not close like we used to be. He keeps his distance. Guess I scared him. He was always a little scared, a little shy. He took after Mom while I got all Dad’s bad habits. Dennis is probably scared I’ll go off mean like Dad, kill somebody. He don’t want it to be him or his family. Can’t blame him.” “Both of then gone? Your folks?” “Yeah, years ago. We got nobody else, just Dennis and me. Mom took off when we was kids, couldn’t live with the old man, who could? He was crazy as a loon. She died with the cancer the next year. We got a letter from the hospital. Dad didn’t take us to the funeral or anything. He hated her for leaving him, always held it against her. He just got worse after that, finally got in a fight with the guy next door, blowed him away with a shotgun. He died in prison. I figure somebody kilt him, mean as he was.” “How old were you guys?” “I was maybe fourteen, Dennis a year younger. We stayed at a county ranch until eighteen, I got out first and got a job, set up an apartment so Dennis would have a place to come live but he joined the Navy and I began my life of crime.” His smile flashed quick and blinked out. “Without Dennis around, nothing seemed to matter, you know? When you got nobody you don’t care what happens...” The waitress brought over our order, chatted cheerfully, flashed her lashes at Ralph. He didn’t respond and she went away sullen. “That’s when you were growing the stuff and selling it?” “Yeah.” “How long did you get away with it?” “About two years... got picked up with a trunk full of good buds, caught a pair of dimes, got paroled out after eight. Two years of parole, just finished up last winter. Now I’m a free man, again. Free falling, huh? Like the song? Ever heard that line from “Me and Bobby McGee?”, says, freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose ... ? Sonofabitch knew what he’s talking about!” He shook his head, shook off the grin. Changed the subject. “What about you? You got folks left?” “Oh, yeah. They’re around somewhere. My dad died years ago, bad heart. Mom remarried, a nice guy. I got a couple of sisters and a brother all married and fat and working on becoming grandparents fast as possible. Nice people, just a little boring.” “Boring is okay. Boring is pretty damn good!” He pulled my eyes to his. “Do you see them? ever visit?” “Like you said, at Christmas, you know ... They never got used to having a queer in the family album, they kind of ashamed of me. They try to be understanding, maybe try too hard. They get patronizing if I let them. I can’t ask them to understand, not if they don’t.” The food was cardboard, tasteless. I never liked swapping life stories in a public place, it was a subject for bed and darkness, afterwards. “We a couple of outcasts, huh?” He grinned, the first real humor I’d seen in his face since we arrived. “Like, what did they call them? Lepers?” “Yeah, I’ve felt that a time or two. Left on my own in the desert, make your own way or die?” Strange image to find funny, but we laughed. The waitress shot us a glance, looked like she’d rather shoot bullets. “She thinks we’re lovers, you know it? It pissed her off when you wouldn’t flirt with her. She’s cute.” “Yeah, and she knows it, too.” He glanced around, poured us another beer. “She’s one of them girls thinks her pussy is solid gold, makes a man beg for it. I’m done with begging. When I sat down and begged Verna to stay with me I hated myself. Didn’t do no good, anyway. She still left. Good thing. If she’d stayed, I guess I’d have hated her anyway, for making me act like that. Be funny if she gets cancer, now, won’t it?” His eyes had a gleam that chilled me. “Ralph, don’t let it make you bitter! People change, maybe she just got homesick. Lots of other women around, plenty to keep you happy!” “You think?” He left it at that. The jukebox came on, loud. A crowd began to fill the place. We left. Walked along the sidewalk awhile, found a dingy old pool room and shot a few games of eight ball. Had a couple more beers. Nobody else in the place except a pair of old men, smoking stogies and arguing out loud about the World Series in 1957. I had a sadness I couldn’t shake, a mood I’d picked up from Ralph. I’d never thought of myself as sad, hell, I was the original good timing man, but he brought out something painful, from somewhere deeply buried, brought it out and focused my attention on it. I wanted music and flashing lights, I wanted laughter and shallow conversation. Another hour of this and I’d be balling my eyes out!

The Fuzzy Mule was just what the doctor ordered! It was unbelievably loud! And it flashed from every corner, flushed thinking out of my head like a high-pressure pump. I didn’t know this many red necks could dance! The floor was crowded and skirts flared, denim hips pounded, boot toes gleamed. I loved the way pearl button glistened against western shirts, loved the way black jeans hugged muscular legs. I danced! I’d never met Doby’s wife but she looked sweet and I cut in, swept her off in a fast two-step. She was very good. When a fast swirl lost her to sight, a younger, prettier girl grabbed my hand and pushed her slim partner away. He laughed. It was Miller! I almost didn’t recognize him, he looked dashing and slick in his western gear, taller in his high heeled riding boots. He watched and clapped from the side as his girl took me around the floor. When we neared him, again, I pulled her towards him, gave him an obvious once over and winked. “Is that you? I can’t believe you’re the same ugly guy I carried the slack for all day!” “Yeah? Well, you look damn sharp, yourself! Is that suede?” He touched my shirt, “Dayam, Sam! This here is Lola, she’s Doby’s daughter. He’s my buddy, Donnie, from work!” Miller made the introductions. I looked around for Ralph, but he was out of range.

“I just danced with your mother, did you see?” She was nodding, laughing. “Get back out there!” Miller pushed me with a slap to my ass, “You good at that stuff!” We went around until the song ended. Lola had learned well from her mother. I was fast giving out! A young cowboy came over to claim her and I went looking for Miller. I found Ralph sitting with Miles, smoking one of his Kools. Ralph never bought cigarettes.

“Hey, hey! How you doing, man?” Miles tried to stand; I pushed down on his shoulder. “Sit with us and catch a breather! I seen you swinging Miss Lola around. Looked good together!” “Thanks, Miles”, I had to lean close to hear. Ralph wasn’t looking at me, his mood had hardly changed. “I’m going for a beer, can I bring you one? You, Ralph?” Miles nodded, Ralph ignored me.

I brought three, anyway, slid one in front of him. “Thanks”, he yelled in my ear. “Where’s Miller?” “I donno, left him by the dance floor”, but Ralph’s expression said he didn’t really care, just wanted me to know he saw us talking. What the fuck? He jealous or something? I caught his eye, made a grimace, he smiled, let up. A kid in white jeans passed our table too close, he put his hand on my shoulder and glanced down with a drunken grin. Ralph glared at him. Miles must be feeling the chill, he waved at a woman near us, a handsome black woman in a red jersey dress. She came over and rescued him. Then Doby and his wife were there, Mrs. Doby tugging at Ralph, taking no demure rejections! She got him to the dance floor and Doby sat with me, leaned close.

“Watch out for Ralph, kid, he’s a little touchy sometimes. I know you’re friends with him, just you don’t know him very well, be careful!” I smiled, swept my hands in air to indicate nothing. “No sweat!” Then Lola and Miller came over, Lola took her father away and left me Miller. He sat down. I looked for Ralph. He was talking to the kid in the white jeans, talking head down and serious. The kid looked to me, wide eyed, pulled loose from Ralph with a nod and moved away. Miller was talking about something, Lola was a fine looking lady or something, I tuned him out. This was no longer fun. Ralph, drinking and near drunk, did seem a bit dangerous, his eyes flashed hostility. Doby’s warning seemed suddenly sane and accurate. Miller leaned closer to get my attention, put his hand on my arm but I shook him off, standing up. “I’ve got to get Ralph out of here, I think he’s drunk.” Miller looked alarmed, followed my glance to the approaching glare of Ralph’s eyes. I met him a few yards from the table, “I can’t take this noise, man! I’m still beat from keeping up with you all day on that damn saw! I want to get out of here! Okay?” “Yeah, sure!” He pulled me around toward the door and we elbowed our way out of the madness. The night was cooler, and near silent when we left the parking lot. “Thought you was having a good time?” He drove. “Great for a few minutes, but I’m beat. Much rather go back to your place and get these damn boots off!” “Yeah, we was all right without all them people. We don’t need them.” He reached over and slapped my leg. I laughed, relieved he came away so easily. The hostile stare was gone, he relaxed. Guess he wasn’t a party kind of guy. He pulled his tin box out of a pocket, passed it over. “Light us up.” Well, just a few blocks to his place, why not? We sat in the truck and finished the joint. He turned sideways on the seat and pulled me closer, leaned down to press his face into my neck. It wasn’t late, cars were still pulling in and leaving around us. Made me nervous. I crushed out the roach, whispered in his ear, “Let’s go inside, I want to be alone with you.” His lips met my neck, almost a kiss. “Okay, buddy. Whatever you say.”

He was as relaxed as an old tomcat. I pulled off his boots and unbuttoned his shirt, he lay back on the bed and I opened his belt. “This is good, just us. We don’t need the others.” His voice was a quiet murmur. I slid his jeans down; he lifted his hips to help. When he was naked, he rolled over on his stomach and I took off my clothes, cut off the light and lay down with him. I thought he’d gone to sleep, but he pushed back against me, squirmed his ass into my spooned crotch. I kissed his back, the back of his neck. “Mmm, yeah, right there! Bite me, there.” He stretched his neck, flexed his shoulders. I teased at his neck with my teeth, then found a roll of skin and bit gently, kissed the spot. He squirmed even more, reached behind me and pulled my hip tighter against his ass. As my hands smoothed over his body, he crooned like a baby. I rubbed his back, down lower to squeeze his muscular ass cheek. His legs parted, I slid over on top of him. When my cock slipped down into his crack he gasped and quickly rolled me off, turned towards me and pulled my face to his chest, pushed me down. My hand went before me; he was hard and wet with leaking juice. A strong passion was building in him as his body shifted, impossible to hold it still. His legs opened wide and I pushed my hand down, below his hot balls, down into the moist tight heat near his ass hole. He clenched my hand between his thighs, shoved my face harder, down lower. I kissed his hairy navel while his cock pronged me under the chin. He pushed up with his hips. “Mmm uh, mmm, now, buddy, now!” I stopped teasing, grabbed his cock in my fist and pushed my mouth down over him, right up to the soft pallet tissue, deeper, pressing him into my throat, squeezing my fist around the base, massaging with the fingers caught tight in his thigh lock, his legs went soft, let my hand free and I pressed on his opening, while I pumped deep on his cock. He wrapped his arms around my head and whimpered, shoving his hips up into my face as I plunged down, then he was shooting his hot load, gasping for air and moaning a chest deep growl.... but his climax didn’t melt him, just as quickly he flipped me off him and leaned over to kiss me, tongue searching inside my lips for the flavor still strong and thick. His mouth sucked at me, eating my face, then down onto my throat and my chest. I jerked at my cock, wanting to get the release from exquisite tensions. He pushed my hand away, took me in a velvet grasp and worked his face down till he could flick out his hungry tongue and lap at my tender head, spread wet kisses down the shaft, then he swallowed me, whole. His lips went down to my nest of hair. My cock head plunged into the tight confines of his throat and I pushed deeper against him!

No sooner than my pulsing waves had stopped churning, he came back to my lips, dripping with my cum, and he kissed without end, plastered us together and moaned his pleasure, searched my skin with his open palm, touching me everywhere, spreading heat and joy. He hugged me, climbed on top of me, rolled off and lifted me to lay on him! He couldn’t get enough contact, enough touch, enough tactile proof I was right there with him. I felt his need, his hunger for body warmth, his craving for cohesive union. I felt his cock throb up between us, again, and I reached for him. Wet silk, smoothly encased ecstasy, the long foreskin slid over his tip in gliding ease. The ridges of his blood vessels grew thick and hard, snaked around the shaft in squirming frenzy, his legs parted wide, invited my hand to come back down and thrill him, deeper. I pushed a fingertip inside and he didn’t flinch away, pushed up, instead, to feel the penetration more. I knew what he wanted, even if he did not, but I think he did. I rolled him over, lifted his hips to get a fist beneath him, so he was fucking into my clenched palm, and with the other hand I spread spit down in his crack, drooled it there from my lips, rubbed it into the slick jointure and fought his weak resistance, pushed his legs wider. His moans were silent, now, but his breath was quick and wheezing. Tensions firmed his back as I crawled on top of him, pulled my fist from under him.

“Wait”, he croaked a whisper, and reached down to push his cock straight down, between his legs. His balls pressed up to catch the head of my cock as I slid up and down the hot wet crack. I paused when I felt the soft yielding pocket under my ready head. I shifted, pressed in, brought the straight shaft to bear on the tight fixed opening. He caught a breath and held it, like he’d held the smoke, holding almost too long. He went soft and I plunged in, felt the friction grow unbearable and then backed out to pick up more wet lubricant, back in, an inch, another, still he held the breath, shaking! I surged inside in a final push and he opened like a broken vessel, let out the breath with a sigh and was still as I pounded to a release, pounded while I felt his jism spread between our legs, pumped against his balls after they’d already exploded. My cum joined his, splattered between us, running and dripping into a puddled mess. He whimpered, sobbed, then he was crying into his folded arms. I climbed higher until I could kiss the back of his neck. “It’s okay. It’s all over. Sleep, now, it’s okay.” I kissed his place, the bite place. He turned his face to the side, whimpered, “Was it okay? Did it feel good?” “It was wonderful, Ralph. You’re the greatest, incredible. We’re really stuck together, now, aren’t we? We’re plastered together!” He chuckled. “Glued together?” “Yeah, glued together!” “Forever?” “Forever, buddy.” I kissed his neck, again, rubbed his back. I got off him and pulled him to me, just as a brother might, or a loving father. He let me hold him and he slept. Sometime in the night he wrapped his arms around me and locked me with tight clenched hands. Forever could be a long, long time.

.......... jackertoo@aol.com .........