The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in an area where it is not allowed, depart. Though not observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.
EvanBradley33@Yahoo.com
Chapter 35 New Life Lines
For Evan, the next day at school was a drag. He spent most of it in the library while his students conducted research for their term papers. Ordinarily, he welcomed this time of the year, for he enjoyed the shift of locale from the classroom and to the library. Even more, he grooved on leading students through the processes and details of research and the building and proving of arguments with evidence, watching transformations from indifference to interest, boredom to some level in engagement, and, with a few students, mild interest to excitement.
He wondered if his lack of enthusiasm had to do with an odd internal state he'd entered a few days ago. He realized that he'd been feeling on edge even before the hot scene with Ron in his sunroom. Something wasn't right, though he couldn't quite fathom what was bothering him. Every time his mind turned to Ron and him, he immediately pushed the line of thought away. Must mean their relationship was what was bothering him. He knew that if he were quiet, nudged his subconscious in the right direction, it would point him to the answer - when it was ready. As he glanced around his first-hour class to see that all were using their time well, he spotted Susan studying him a couple of times. 'I wonder if SHE knows what's bothering me,' Evan asked himself. 'Maybe you should ask her," his interior voice kindly suggested.
Evan's lack of excitement about teaching research caused him to wonder if he was losing his stride as a teacher. He had hoped to grade a lot of essays while in the library, but his students kept him busy giving them ideas about references to check for information, answering questions about how to cite a reference, leading them to talk through their arguments. Only in his last hour, when he was back in his classroom with his seniors working in groups, did he have time to think.
He hadn't connected with Jeremy last night, so he didn't know if the Walters dinner was a success. Evan didn't think the library was the place to ask Jeremy or Kenny about the dinner during their first-hour class. One hint to LaRonda that something was cooking, and she'd be on the trail of the story like a bloodhound. Jeremy and Kenny had filled Troy, Cody, and Susan in on the dinner and its purpose. Troy and he had had only the briefest conversation this morning since they didn't hit the kitchen for breakfast at the same time. In answer to Evan's inquiry, Troy had told him that Jeremy hadn't come home at all last night. They took that as a good sign for the guys, assuming that Jeremy had slept at Kenny's because Rachel had come round to accepting them as lovers.
When his last class was over, Evan didn't even wait for his students to leave the classroom before he shoved papers and his grade book into his attache, grabbed his lunch bag, hustled down the hall, and descended the stairs. Jim Belton was coming toward the stairs, so Evan paused. "Hey, Evan," Jim greeted him. "Wasn't that a powerful move Troy made at the pep rally?"
"Yes, it was. Class all the way! But it was all Troy. Right?"
"Yeah, he's developed into quite the leader. A year ago he was just a jock who was sort of fiddling time away at school. This year he's really turned on. Think Susan had anything to do with that?"
"Count on it. But Troy makes his own decisions. Not even Susan pushes him into something he doesn't want to do. Of course, she wouldn't push him anyway."
"Going to the game tonight?" Jim asked. "You and Ron could join Miles and me."
Evan paused. "Gosh, I haven't even thought that far ahead into the day. I'd better think about that. So you and Miles are going?"
It seemed to Jim that Evan was dodging a straight answer. Why? "Yeah, it's a good chance to be together, and we both enjoy the games. You know, this is the weekend Miles is coming out to the farm."
"Great," Evan beamed. "I can't wait to hear about it. Well, the parts that can be related publicly, that is." Jim laughed, ducking his head a little. A mischievous look moved onto Evan's face. "And I'll listen to those other parts if you want to share them." Jim snickered.
"Well, have a good weekend if I don't see you this evening at the ball game," Evan said as he waved, rolling out through the door to the north parking lot. Jim watched him walk across the parking lot with his head down, thinking Evan's leave-taking was a bit abrupt. He didn't seem as though his life was problem free at the moment. If Jeremy had been the problem, Jim thought Evan would have said something about it. Because he didn't, it probably had to do with Ron. Gosh, he hoped they weren't about to break up. Evan had gone through so much trouble with Tim. Now to have it repeat itself so soon afterward - it wasn't good for him. Besides, he liked the idea of Miles and his having a pair of gay buddies. They got along well together. He hadn't realized how affirming it was to have another gay couple as friends. Were he and Miles a couple? Well, maybe after this weekend they would be. He'd asked himself if they were a couple about the third time they were together, but he was afraid to push issues by asking.
When Evan reached home, he dropped his attache in the study, yelling greetings to Troy and Jeremy, who were chatting at the kitchen table, glasses of orange juice in front of them. Evan went to the refrigerator and poured a glass for himself and joined them at the table. "So how was the dinner last night?" he asked Jeremy hopefully.
"Great. It started out stiff as usual. But Kenny's mom got right down to the nitty-gritty, telling us that she knew we weren't meeting there much because we weren't comfortable. She admitted that that was her fault - the separate bedrooms at Thanksgiving. You know what? She thought that Kenny and I were just having sex, that we couldn't know what love is the way she and Joe do. Kenny and his mom got into this frank discussion about how their men made them feel. She realized that Kenny feels the same way about me that she feels about Joe, even while making love. Kenny led her to admit that, by busting in on us when we were together, Rachel was trying to buy time for him to change his mind about me. He helped her understand that that wasn't going to happen.
Kenny then told them about his break-up with Robert - oh, he didn't tell them who the guy was, but he described his behavior. He told them how Troy and I found him in a sleazy bar, how he'd gone there for instant sex. It was like a dash of cold water in their faces, I guess. They had no clue that their little, innocent Kenny had bitten such a big chunk out of life. I think it made them look at him differently.
Joe asked me to tell them how I felt about Kenny - more for Rachel's sake, I think, than his. They heard about how I went after Kenny because I had wanted him even when he was with Robert. To make a long story short, they indicated that the same conditions that Kenny and I have here also apply there - Kenny's room is his, Rachel won't barge in, I can stay anytime I want, and we can make love anytime we want. And they're going to have a party for our friends to introduce them to Kenny's home."
Troy and Jeremy high-fived. "That's great," Evan exclaimed.
"You started it. Rachel mentioned her visit with you at the reception here. She said your matter-of-fact acceptance of Kenny and me really started her thinking. Then Kenny and I tackled Joe about college. They're going to let Kenny and me go to State U together. And if we don't want to live in the dorm, Joe has a friend who owns rental property. Oh yeah, they are going to have a family dinner, including you, Evan, sometime in the coming weeks so that we can begin planning."
Troy and Evan had been smiling, but when Jeremy reached the college part of his account, the smile faded from Troy's face. "What's wrong, Troy. Your smile disappeared," Evan asked.
Troy shook his head a little. "I just realized that our senior year is almost upon us and that it's time to start making plans. But I don't know where being kicked out on my butt leaves me." He looked at Jeremy. "I was counting on going to State U with Susan and you guys, but I suddenly realize that I may have to get a job here and take classes when I can afford them at the local college. Damn! I'm going to miss Susan. . . . I don't know what Cody will do."
"Don't be down, Troy," Jeremy reached over, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing. "Remember how low I was with only the 'radiator shop' as a future. Look how things turned around for me. It can happen that way for you too."
A slight smile appeared on Troy's face as he looked at Evan. "You going to adopt me too, Evan?"
"I believe your mother might object to that," Evan responded. "But Jeremy's correct, Troy. You're way off from having to cross that bridge yet. There's a lot of time for decisions about college to turn out in your favor, especially when you have friends working on your behalf."
"Yeah, but how do I make plans?"
Jeremy turned to Evan, his eyes sending Evan a message that Troy needed some hope. "You create Plan A and Plan B," Evan replied.
"Meaning . . . ?" Troy asked.
Plan A will be attending State U with your friends. Plan B will be attending classes here. It's entirely possible that you may receive a basketball scholarship, given the way the team has been going this year with the promise of doing the same next year, especially since most of our players are juniors. You know that all the sports sections in the major dailies in the state carried an account of your winning shot. That will continue because it put your name out there. And if Kenny and Jeremy get an apartment when they matriculate, maybe there will be room for you and Cody too. Who knows - maybe Susan too, depending on how you all relate."
"Yeah, a cooperative house for all of us," Jeremy responded enthusiastically, "like the friends in 'The Big Chill,' who all roomed together when they were undergraduates at the University of Michigan."
Troy launched into a belly laugh. "What's so funny?" Jeremy asked.
"I can see all of us and Clifton and LaRonda, Jarod and Valerie, Beth and Paul, Tony and Angela, maybe Greg rooming together."
"What about LeKeisha and Roland?" Evan asked.
"I think they may be going to the college here first," Troy said.
"Hm-m-m-m," Evan's brow creased. "That sounds like Party Central to me, not a house of study."
Troy and Jeremy roared. "Aren't you glad parents don't go to college with us?" Troy asked Jeremy.
Evan raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I'll return to study for another degree. Haven't you ever seen that movie "When Mother Was a Freshman?" Loretta Young, I think, the star was."
"Aw, Dad. That's old," Jeremy exclaimed. "It'd be like that movie where Rodney Dangerfield goes to college at the same time his son does. His son makes me horny every time I see that movie - all that black hair and that hot intensity. I can't remember that star's name. He reminds me of Kenny."
"Maybe you all should consider that possibility," Evan spoke. "I'm not saying that I approve of what you just suggested, but you're just the folks who might make it work. If you really intend to live that way, you should be sounding the others out now, because you'll have to give parents time to think about that before they agree. I can guarantee you that if you spring it on them too near the time to leave for college, they'll not support it."
Troy was grinning. "Hey, you guys made me feel better. I thought I was looking at a bleak future. But this issue raises another."
"What?" Jeremy inquired, looking a little worried.
"How long do I stay here with you guys? I can't stay here until we go to college."
"Why can't you?" Evan asked.
"I can't mooch like that. I'll have to get a job to pay my way," Troy stated with determination.
"Whoa," Evan said. "No one's going to tell you what to do, but let's think about this a bit. We just said you should work for a basketball scholarship. That mean's you need to work on your studies too. You know that if the National Collegiate Athletic Association loves scholar jocks, so do the basketball coaches at universities. I think with focus and effort, you could bump your GPA up to a very respectable level, making you an even more attractive scholarship prospect. But if you're doing basketball and a job, that rise in your GPA may not happen. You could get a part-time job after basketball season, but you need to concentrate on your studies until then. Jeremy can tell you how a job can interfere with studies."
"He's right, Bro," Jeremy said. "When my mom had me slaving away, I learned that if you are working hard at a job, all the other important stuff goes by the way. You only have so much time in a day, and school and job consume all of it most of the time."
"Evan, I can't eat your food for free. I have to pay something."
"You can help out around here if you are worried about that. I may have adopted a slob who needs lots of cleaning up after."
Jeremy popped Evan's shoulder with his fist. "Oh yeah? My bedroom looks better than yours most of the time."
"I dispute that!" Evan said with some heat. "Besides," Evan whispered archly as though Troy couldn't hear them, "I'm trying to talk him into the wiser course of action, but you aren't helping. Be a slob for a few seconds for your friend's benefit."
Light dawned in Jeremy's eyes. He picked up a napkin from the holder and threw it over his shoulder. "I just can't seem to get my act together." He pulled off a tennis shoe, tossing it back over his shoulder. "I can't even seem to get myself together. I need help. I leave a mess behind me wherever I am."
Troy was cracking up. "See - I'm already causing trouble," Troy charged.
"Hey!" Evan exclaimed, delight written on his face. Troy and Jeremy looked at him. "Hey! Oh . . . this is terrific! Why don't we make the spare room in the basement into a room for you, Troy? It's a large room. You're right by the exercise equipment. There's a bathroom with a shower down there. You'll have quiet to study."
"And a place for an overnight guest," Jeremy wagged his eyebrows at Troy.
Troy laughed. "Are you sure?"
"If you and Jeremy are both going to be working on your grades, then you need to have your own study areas. Besides, you can't sleep in the family room forever. You need your own space if you are going to feel that you really belong here." Evan paused, his brow creasing. "There's no phone or TV down there."
"I have my cell phone," Troy said. "And I can come upstairs to use the phone. I don't need a TV if I'm going to be studying. Jeremy doesn't have one in his room."
"It's a great idea, Dad. Why don't we do it now?" Jeremy exclaimed. In an hour we could have it in shape for Troy." They all looked at each other, shaking their heads and arising as one.
"I'll run a vacuum over the carpet while you guys put all the boxes we've dumped in there in the storage room," Evan directed. "Let's go." They moved as one to the basement.
In no time Evan had vacuumed the carpet and the guys had carted the boxes away. Jeremy and Troy brought a spare desk and extra office chair out of the storage room. They had also brought in a desk lamp from storage. Evan grabbed a dust cloth, running it over the desk. "I bought this desk when I was in graduate school. Boy did I spend hours studying here." He attacked the desk chair and desk lamp with the dust cloth.
"I'll give Troy a disk for his work so he can use the computer in the study. Is that okay?" Jeremy asked.
"Of course. We may need to keep each other apprised of our need for computer time, but we can make it work. Jeremy, show Troy where the towels are and put some up for him in the bathroom down here."
Evan studied the large room. "Guys, let's go up to the family room and bring down that blue and grey easy chair, end table, and lamp over next to the bookcase. Then Troy will have a place to read."
"Oh, you don't need to go to all that trouble. I can sit on the bed and lean back on the headboard if I want to sit and read." Evan stood there, staring at them, his mouth compressed into a tight line, his eyebrows raised, saying nothing.
Jeremy snickered. "It's 'The Stare,' Troy. Get used to it and then avoid calling it forth. 'The Stare' means nothing you said registered and why are we standing here and talking when the chair and stuff are waiting for us? Come on."
Troy laughed. "Is that the way it always is?" he asked Jeremy.
"Always," Jeremy answered, leaving the room with Troy and Evan following.
When they reached the family room, Evan unplugged and grabbed the lamp, Jeremy the table, Troy hoisted the chair and they ambled back to the basement. Once the reading furniture was in place, Evan visited the storeroom for a footstool to place in front of the chair. As he placed it on the floor, he said, "You see, Troy, Susan sent you here for us to take care of. She'll check it out too. You don't want us coming up short with Susan, do you?" He grinned.
Evan checked the closet. "You've got plenty of hangers. We'll bring down an extra blanket from the linen closet in case you need it."
"I showed Troy where the washer and drier are, Dad, and the detergent and stuff," Jeremy added.
"Troy, if there is anything we've forgotten that you need, please let us know," Evan offered.
"Will do," Troy smiled. "This makes me feel so welcome." Troy cleared his throat, looking at Evan. "Having someone stay all night was mentioned. Were you serious?"
"Yes, but I hope we aren't talking about the basketball team."
"Naw. I don't like to sleep in a crowd."
"Hey, I'd love to have most of the basketball team here for the night. It makes me break out in a sweat just to think about it."
"Kenny might have different ideas," Evan observed.
"That little horn dawg! He'd be right in there with us!" Jeremy laughed.
Evan continued, "Troy, I'd like to know beforehand when you're having an overnight guest, if it's possible. If not, leave a note in the kitchen so Jeremy and I don't blunder into something. Like walking around in our briefs." Evan raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Troy and Jeremy grinned. "I believe Susan's seen you in your altogether, Dad," Jeremy teased.
"How do you know that?" Evan asked Jeremy.
Troy blushed, clearing his throat. "I couldn't help it, Evan. It was such a defining moment for Susan, you, and me. I never heard a complaint either," Troy teased.
Evan just "harrumphed," making the boys laugh even more.
"Say," Evan realized, "shouldn't we be feeding you so that you don't have to eat and run to the gym?"
"How about soup and a salad?" Troy asked.
"We can manage that," Jeremy responded.
Evan looked back over the room, frowning. "What's wrong?" Jeremy asked.
"It looks awfully spartan, not at all homey."
Troy grabbed Evan, pulling him back against him, leaning around and kissing him on his cheek. "It's perfect. I'm with my teacher and friend and my bro, whom I love. I have a home where I want to be and where I'm loved and accepted."
"Well . . .," Evan said doubtfully, "you can add your own touches as you see fit."
"How about that supper?" Troy asked.
They trooped up to the kitchen.
Ron wandered into the gymnasium, feeling "on tilt." Now why was that? Was it because Evan wasn't with him? Or was it that Evan had turned him down for the first time ever? He'd called just a little over an hour ago to ask Evan to accompany him to the game. He winced, realizing that it made his invitation seem last minute. Like he was taking Evan for granted. Was he? He pushed the thought away. Evan could have called too, but he didn't. He felt uneasy. He'd thought they had settled their differences at Evan's house when he'd made passionate love to him. So why didn't Evan want to be with him this evening when there was every chance that they would make hot love again? It couldn't still be that apartment thing? . . . So why hadn't he invited Evan to his apartment? He didn't find it difficult to invite others. . . . Well, to be fair to him, some people just showed up. So why couldn't Evan just show up if it was so important to him? He was startled to realize that whenever he pictured Evan in his mind's eye, Evan's home was always in the background. Now why was that? Evan was something powerful in himself, but he guessed Evan's home was too. Why? Ron didn't think he had ever gotten hung up on something like that before. He suddenly perceived that, if he were going to make love to Evan, he wanted it to be in Evan's home, not his own apartment. Strange. With a quiet snort, he rejected the idea that he'd be interested in somebody just because he liked that person's home.
Ron was standing in line at the ticket window, nodding to students and faculty members who hailed him. Damn! He felt a little lost without Evan. He hadn't realized that he'd come to depend so much on his company, especially at ballgames. He loved the way the excitement of the game mixed with his excitement in being near Evan. He grinned, remembering how Evan was Evan even at a ball game, all analytical, quietly observant, pointing out something unique, only occasionally asking him about strategy in a game. He felt a shiver. He loved it when Evan asked him questions. Why? He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, pondering. Well, it was like Evan was placing himself under Ron's power and in his care . . . It put him in a superior stance. It immediately hit him that Evan's company turned him on even more because it removed the evening from the realm of a beer and buddies event. He paid for his ticket and entered the gym, feeling lonely.
Ron immediately spied Miles Forbisher and Jim Belton in the same spot in the bleachers where they'd sat with Evan and Ron. He grinned, noticing how closely they sat beside each other. Each had a side plastered up against the other. Oh yeah, Evan had mentioned that a weekend visit at the farm was looming for them. They were the way he wanted Evan and him to be, he thought morosely. Miles and Jim waved him over, so he climbed up to sit beside them.
"Hey, Ron, good to see you," Miles greeted him, holding out one of his fine, big hands. They shook. Jim just smiled at him, shaking his hand as well.
Ron plopped down beside Jim. "Where's Evan?" Jim asked.
"Oh, he had to beg off. He has a set of essays he's got to finish so that he can hand them back tomorrow." Jim just stared at Ron, looking deep within him, making him squirm a bit. On his part, Jim remembered Evan's abrupt departure during their conversation at school.
"So you couldn't persuade Evan to leave his paper-grading?
"No. Jeremy, Troy and Evan took an hour to make a bedroom for Troy in Evan's basement. So Evan was feeling a little behind in his work."
"Oh, so the rumor is true," Jim commented. "Troy's dad kicked him out."
Ron frowned. "If justice prevailed, it would be Mr. Morgan who was kicked out."
"What was his problem with Troy?" Miles asked.
Ron looked around to be certain they would not be overheard. "He called Troy a fag after he heard Troy talking about doing some things with another guy," Ron replied.
Miles whistled softly in surprise. "I thought Troy had a girlfriend I met at Jeremy's reception. Yes, Susan, a damned fine woman!"
"She is his girl friend," Ron mentioned. "Just among us, I guess you could say they have sort of an usual arrangement."
"I can tell there's a story there I hope to hear sometime. But Evan took Troy in? Do Troy's parents know where he is?"
"I couldn't tell you," Ron responded. "I assume Troy may have talked to his mother. I doubt his father cared. After all, he kicked Troy out. You can bet Troy will not talk to his father."
Silence prevailed. "It's too bad Evan isn't here," Miles sighed. "It would have been nice to have our foursome. Say, I thought we were all going out to dinner sometime?"
"Oh . . . oh yeah," Ron fumbled in reply. "We were. Let me correct myself - we are. Things just got kind of busy for us, I guess. A couple of things came up."
Jim snickered. "Yeah, knowing you two rabbits, I'll bet that happens a lot." Miles grinned at Jim's teasing.
"Well . . no . . . not quite that," Ron replied weakly. To end the line of conversation, Ron asked Jim to tell him about the opposing team while they watched the home team warm up. Miles and Jim traded glances before Jim reached deep into his data banks, relating statistics about the opposing team, Wayland High School in a neighboring city. Ron listened carefully while watching Troy and Cody.
"Look how alert the entire team is, even in warm-up mode," Ron pointed out. "That's because of Troy's remarkable speech at the spirit rally. Look at them: they're attending closely to each other, picking up cues. This is beautiful to watch."
"Troy's speech at the spirit rally?" Miles asked. While Jim related the event to Miles, Ron observed Dave Hernandez watching the players closely, trying to cover a smile that kept creeping out. Had to be because he knew the team was so in sync that the game was going to be a blowout. Ron regretted that Evan was going to miss it. He also regretted that Evan wouldn't be with him to share the victory. He noticed that Dave Hernandez was staring at him from time to time. 'Watch your team, Man,' Ron thought.
When Jim had finished his recitation of stats, the team returned to its bench, where they started pulling off their warm-ups. Miles suddenly asked, "Is Evan really okay?" He gave Ron a probing look, a lawyerly look, making Ron blush a bit, signaling to Miles, who was experienced in interrogation, that he'd hit a sore point. It was his forte, finding a weak place in a witness's account and probing. He knew Evan, knew how starved for affection he was, how much he wanted the relationship with Ron to work out. His suspicions were confirmed when he received a clipped "Yeah" from Ron, who immediately dodged Miles's scrutiny by asking Jim a question about the opposing team's defense. After Jim answered Ron's question and Ron looked over at the home bench, Jim cast a glance at Miles, causing Miles to raise one eyebrow, indicating that he doubted they were getting the real skinny on Evan. Surreptitiously, Jim shook his head in agreement.
'Cool,' thought Miles. 'Jim's reached the same deduction I have. I wonder what tipped him.'
The game was a beauty to watch. Troy and Cody were twins in their play again, but the team followed them closely. Troy wasn't passing off every opportunity to shoot a basket, but Cody and he were also setting the other team members up for shots of their own. They were all hot under the basket. It was a blowout, ending with third-stringers playing a good part of the final quarter. 'Good for Dave,' Ron thought. 'He's not going to rack up a killer score just to rub Wayland's nose in our victory or impress the pollsters. Makes enemies. Reveals a lack of character.'
As they rose at the closing buzzer, Miles invited Ron to accompany them to a nearby diner for coffee. Ron didn't want to face the rest of the evening alone with the inevitable soul-searching all that empty time would present, so he agreed.
When they were seated in the diner and were served their coffee, they made the usual acknowledgements about what a great game it was. They rehearsed the strengths of the team and its prospects for the rest of the season. Miles suddenly popped off, "So what's the trouble between you and Evan? I'm asking only because we care about you guys. We know something about each of you, so maybe we can help."
Ron choked down a mouthful of hot coffee, launching a coughing fit. Jim was mildly amused; Miles was apologetic. "You don't hold your punches, do you, Lawyer Miles?" Ron asked.
"Ron," Miles answered softly, "we care about you and Evan. We want and need you to be our friends. We want you to realize your potential as a couple. No need for defensive postures."
Ron studied them a bit, frowned and tossed his head in frustration. "Something's wrong. I must have done something wrong, but I don't know what it is. I have realized that Evan's and my relationship is being affected by his relationship with Tim. But that can't explain our present . . . hell! I don't even know what to call it! I just know something's not right."
"Perhaps you thought you landed Evan when you only hooked him. Sounds to me as though you have yet to win him," Miles observed.
Ron looked at Miles, confused. "We have the hottest sex. We are so linked when we are having sex. It's powerful. Before climax, we begin to merge with each other. I've never felt anything like it with anyone ever."
"You having sex now?" Jim asked.
Ron looked at him impatiently. "Of course not!"
"That's the point," Jim continued. "It's got to be as good when you're not making love as when you are. The emotions have to be the same or it's not real. That's what this guy over here has taught me," he gestured toward Miles, who smiled warmly at Jim.
Ron looked back and forth between the two. "You can't tell me you feel for Miles now exactly what you do when you are making love! You two haven't been together long enough for that to happen," Ron announced with more than a little finality.
"I feel as much for Miles now as when we make love," Jim replied. "In regard to your second charge, we've already realized that we are THE ONE for each other. That's why I'm hard, even a little wet." Ron wished he could see through the table so he could look down at Jim's crotch.
"Is that they way it is with you too?" Ron asked Miles. Miles shook his head in the affirmative.
"You guys are putting me on, right?" Ron pressed.
"No," Miles said gently. "We wouldn't give our buddies a bum steer. You're too important to us."
Ron started to edge away from the table, a sly grin on his face. "Hey, guys, let's go visit the facilities."
Jim and Miles grinned at each other, turning back to Ron. "You go ahead. We'll follow along in a little bit."
"Well, then let's stand up and stretch if we're not going now."
"Go ahead," Miles prompted. "We're fine."
"You guys are boned; that's why you won't get up," Ron snickered. Jim punched him playfully on his shoulder.
The playful moment passed. "Don't you this very moment feel exactly the way about Evan that you did the last time you made love," Miles inquired. Ron squirmed. "Well, I love him then and now if that's what you mean."
"We aren't discussing whether you love Evan," Miles observed. "We're discussing the degree of love you feel for Evan. It seems it's not constant over time. It's at its best when you're having sex, but it should be like that all the time. Sex is physical love. Making love surpasses the physical when it moves your emotions for Evan into a constant state, day in and day out, whether you're out of sorts with him or not.
Ron fell silent, feeling reproached. Oh, he knew Miles and Jim weren't knocking him to make him feel bad, but if their love was constant, no matter what the situation, then why didn't his love for Evan remain constant across the day? Why was it at its most intense only when they were having sex? For the first time ever, he wondered if Evan's love for him was constant too.
"Okay," Ron capitulated. "Let's say for argument's sake that you're correct. What can Evan and I do to have what you two have?"
Miles and Jim pondered Ron's challenge, "Maybe . . . ," Jim began, leading both Ron and Miles to turn to him, "maybe you have to go back to 'Go.' Did you guys jump in the sack right off?"
"Yeah," Ron replied. "We both wanted it."
"Maybe you need to go back and court, get to know each other before you make love again."
"Won't that just amount to delaying sex?" Ron asked.
"Did you hear the implicit value judgment in your question, Ron?" Miles asked.
"Huh?"
"What's the implication in your last statement about delaying sex?"
Ron stared at Miles, then Jim. "Oh-h-h-h-h-h," Ron groaned. "I'm still saying sex is most important."
"And it's not merely delaying sex," Jim added. "As you learn more about each other, it will change you."
"Change us?"
"It will change the way you see each other, which will change your expectations and then your behavior. You'll draw closer together, which will add depth to your relationship." Ron just stared back, thinking. "I know you haven't known me long," Jim added, "but you can see a change in me, can't you? I'm more open, talk more freely. I don't hide." Jim turned to Miles. "It's all because of him." He turned back to Ron. "It can happen that way with you and Evan too." Ron sat quietly, thinking.
"Come on, Man," Miles expostulated to Ron. "You've had sex with a guy, got your rocks off, in fact, got them off damned well," he said. "But an hour or two later or the next morning, you're feeling empty. You realize it was just lust, just sex. It left you with nothing to hang onto. The realm of love is the heart and mind, not the crotch and ass."
Ron squirmed. "Yeah, okay. . . . Yeah, it's happened." Pause. "So you think if Evan and I go back to, say, courting, this problem will resolve itself? 'Courting'? Where'd that term come from? Sounds so old fashioned."
"Sometimes old-fashioned is still best," Miles replied.
Again, Ron pondered all that had been said. "Spoken like a true Southern Gentleman! But how do I go about this? Evan will think I'm nuts." Ron objected.
"How would you go about it if you were pursuing a woman?" Jim asked.
Ron thought a bit. "So we go back and start, and there's no sex until when?"
"You're still a little hung up on sex," Miles observed, "but it will be different if you are intent on winning Evan and he on winning you before you move into sex."
Ron groaned. "It's going to take a lot of self-control. It'll be torture! If you knew how I feel when I have that little body in my arms, under me, all that energy directed toward me, how I feel when I'm plunging into that cute, hairy ass. How long do I have to wait?"
Miles and Jim were enjoying Ron's distress. "It won't be 'I'; it'll be 'we.' You'll both know when the time is right. Everything you are imagining now will be different. But 'better' different. You'll both move into it naturally - together," Miles promised.
On Saturday morning, as Miles Forbisher turned his silver Ford Explorer into the lane leading to Jim Belton's white, two-story clapboard farmhouse, he was feeling thankful that he and Jim had already introduced themselves to each other sexually. First they had that gentle 69 in the hayloft. But they'd traded blowjobs a couple of times since when they'd met after work for dinner and then ended up at Miles's home. There would be enough new to experience about this visit - their spending the night together, living together for two days, working side-by- side. They didn't need the added pressure of wondering if they would meet the other's expectations for a sexual partner.
And Miles knew they had met each other's expectations. Nothing he had ever experienced compared to those trysts with Jim, starting with the 69. It was so sweet and innocent, it being Jim's first time with a man. It was made even better by Jim's initiating the sex, for he saw Miles holding back because Jim was his client.
Miles thoughts suddenly stopped as the lawyerly, analytical side of his mind kicked in. That lack of anyone to compare Miles against could be a problem later down the road for Jim. Miles would have to be sensitive to that. Damn! It would kill him to give Jim permission to experiment with other guys. He could lose him - that was unthinkable because Jim was the best man he'd ever had. Even though he tried to hold back and control himself, he was falling in love with Jim. According to personal and professional perspectives in the legal community, Miles Forbisher was a prudent man and lawyer. Falling in love was stupid because Jim was vulnerable after his separation from his wife. Jim hadn't overtly given any indication that he was interested in a serious relationship at all. A sexual encounter didn't mean love was in the air.
Miles hadn't actually ever played the field - not the way people probably expected, given his good looks and great body. He couldn't because of his profession. The local legal community was rife with heterosexual infidelity, swapping, and all that. He heard plenty about it, doubted little of it, and was determined not to get caught up in it. It wasn't easy to dodge the bored, spoiled wives and desperate single women lawyers and still remain untainted by rumors of homosexuality. So he kept a low profile socially and sexually. He snorted derisively. "Low profile" meant going for long stretches without getting any. If he was off at a convention or on a vacation, which was rare, he might fall into a quick hand or blow job, occasionally a night in bed with a nice, hungry guy, usually a young husband with two kids. Most of the time they'd both had too much to drink.
Back to the issue. What if he encouraged Jim to get it on with buddies like Ron and Evan? That would reduce the risk that Jim might find someone better but maybe satisfy his urge to comparison-shop. When Miles thought Jim might find someone better, he felt a gnawing in his gut. No. Getting it on with buddies really wasn't experimenting. He'd just have to face it - if there were someone out there who would appeal to Jim more than himself, he couldn't stop them from being together.
He'd heard about that Tim guy taking up with a younger stud, a knock- out college student, dropping Evan but setting up others to spill it to him, the ultimate put-down. Oh, Evan didn't know Miles knew about Tim. He'd almost said something but decided Evan would freak out over the story being out there "in the community," the gay community, that is. Evan was hung up on his privacy. When he shared a confidence with Miles beyond those necessary for legal dealings, Miles felt privileged. No, if Evan knew the story about Tim was discussed in the gay community, he'd probably dig an emotional foxhole and crawl in it. Actually, Miles had heard just a few details from a friend of Tim's who really didn't know Evan. Miles had played dumb when Evan's name was mentioned. There was a message there for him too. He couldn't stop Jim and someone else from acting on a mutual attraction. He WOULDN'T stop Jim and someone else. It never worked - the relationship still fell apart but left guys feeling resentment toward each other, at the least, hating each other, at the most.
Miles glanced up through the windshield at the clear blue sky. Even though there was a slight chill in the morning air, it was going to be a killer day - golden, warm, teasing belief that an early spring was on the way. The Explorer had been creeping up the lane. As he rolled up beside the farmhouse in an open graveled area, he saw Jim step out on the back porch. 'Ah, he's been looking for me to arrive,' Miles thought. A smile erupted on his face. He couldn't help it. "That hunk makes my soul dance with delight," he whispered aloud. He wondered where that line came from.
Jim was standing on the porch in navy bib overalls a couple of sizes too large, work boots, shirtless, his honey-colored hair tousled by the slightly chilly breeze, a shy grin on his face, hands stuffed in his pockets like a self-conscious kid, his mustache lending him a dashing air. As Miles pocketed his keys and pulled an overnight bag from the back seat, he waved at Jim, who just stood there, his white teeth shining even from that distance. Miles noted Jim's sculpted shoulders featuring just enough muscle development to announce that this man labored on a farm. He looked at the developed biceps, not gym-fashioned but work-fashioned. He felt his hard dick in his jeans, amused at how quickly the sight of Jim could horn him up. He didn't think Jim had a clue about how powerful an effect he exerted over him. Miles would have to let him know.
As Miles strolled to the porch, Jim pulled one of his hands out of its pocket and held it out to him. When Miles climbed the steps and reached him, he dropped the overnight bag on the porch floor, reached out for Jim, grabbed his proffered hand and pulled him into a hot embrace and even hotter kiss with enough tongue to let Jim know he expected satisfaction. He caught Jim off-guard, but there was no protesting as Jim fell into the embrace and kiss, fully participating.
When they pulled apart, Jim eyes were shining like the sun. "You don't waste time, Lawyer Forbisher."
"Not when I see what I want, Farmer Belton." The smile on Jim's face lessened as he looked deeply into Miles's eyes, questioning. Miles wondered what had prompted that change in demeanor.
The silence persisted. As though daunted by it, Jim laughed a little self- consciously, muttering, "Let me show you where to put your stuff." He led Miles into a modernized farm kitchen, gleaming with white everywhere except for sunny yellow curtains in windows looking out on a pasture. It bespoke a woman's influence. Must have been Brenda's, Jim's soon-to-be-ex-wife's, touch. Like most farm homes Miles had ever visited, everybody entered through the back door. They passed through the kitchen to a comfortable carpeted family room with an entertainment center, three recliners taking up most of the area, with a round games table and chairs under a picture window. The family room led to a long foyer and the front door and front porch. He could glimpse a living room on one side of the foyer and a dining room on the other. Everything looked warm and comfortable, again Brenda's work, he thought. He was certain she wasn't going to miss it. They climbed stairs to the second floor, entering what had to be the master bedroom, surrounded by two other bedrooms, one of which served as a study.
Here, it was obvious Jim had removed Brenda's touch. The white wallpaper with small blue flowers still indicated her influence, but the flounces and frills were gone, leaving a plain, quilted navy blue bedspread with a muted abstract design spread across the queen-size bed. There were no curtains on the windows. A pair of bib overalls lay on the side of the bed along with a steel gray sweatshirt, work gloves, and work boots on the floor just beneath them. "Put your bag on that chair over there," Jim directed. "I got these work overalls, sweatshirt, gloves, and boots for you. If you want, you can leave them so they'll always be here for you when you get out to the farm."
"You mean you're inviting me back? Shouldn't you wait to see if I work out?" Miles grinned mischievously.
"Then they'll be a monument to your rotten work ethic," Jim teased. Miles chuckled. Jim stepped up to him, sliding his hands onto Miles's waist, squeezing his muscles and the rubbing his hands up Miles's ribs. "Maybe I'll keep you as my sex toy, chain you up in the barn, but make you dress up in these clothes to get us started. I already know how sexy you'll look in them." Jim gave Miles a peck, telling him to change clothes. Then they'd start to work.
Miles held up the overalls, realizing that they would fit him just as loosely as Jim's. A glance at the boots told him that they would fit well. "How did you know what sizes I need?"
"Your secretary, Rosamund," was his answer. "She knows all kinds of stuff about you. I'll leave you to get dressed. Oh, yeah, grab a pair of my work socks from that drawer over there. And NO underwear or shirt," he said forcefully. "We'll shed the sweatshirts before noon."
"You got plans for me, Stud Farmer?" Miles shot at Jim.
Jim laughed a little self-consciously. "Nothin' you can't handle," Jim muttered as he turned to go downstairs.
"Aren't you going to stay and help me?" Miles asked plaintively.
"If I did, we'd never get to work," Jim answered, grinning. "I'm going to get some ice water and snacks ready to take to the barn with us." Then he clomped down the stairs.
Miles was grinning. Jim certainly was directive today. He was opening up, talking sex in a way he had never before. He was giving him orders. That told Miles that Jim was feeling comfortable moving not just into male/male sex as a concept and behavior but also into sex with him. Maybe a serious relationship did lie in the future. Jim was getting over the "lawyer mystique" he'd formed when he first met Miles, clearly growing in a new direction. Miles wanted to be certain that they steered themselves free of Ron's and Evan's thinking ONLY in terms of sex. This was going to be a great weekend.
When Miles was dressed, leaving his black briefs behind, he found Jim in the kitchen twisting on the cap of a big two-gallon thermos jug. He grabbed it by the handle, causing ice cubes inside to clack softly against the liner. Jim gave a hand basket with apples and bananas to Miles, wordlessly gesturing to the door leading to the porch.
They walked in companionable silence across the back yard and through a gate, out into a large graveled open area with a chicken house on the far right and a large shed on the far left. Even though the overalls were new, Jim had laundered them. Still, their stiffness tickled Miles's ass, balls, and cock as they rubbed against the denim. They continued walking through the barnyard, past a huge stock tank full of water with cattle pens beyond that. The barn was a surprisingly large affair, built in an age when barns made statements, for it had two cupolas at the pitch of the steep roof, both of which were topped by weather vanes that also served as lightning rods. The high-pitched roof testified to the large hayloft on the upper story. Miles's lips spread in a wide grin when he remembered Jim's and his 69 up there. Yeah, if this farm had been in his family for generations, he'd hate to give it up too. Now he understood Jim's unspoken fear over being the Belton who lost it all. Jim slid one of the wide doors open on its track, which prompted Miles to do the same with the other door. Sunlight flooded the interior. They walked down a wide middle aisle, with stalls running down both sides. Miles watched dust dancing in the shafts of sunlight that shot through cracks in the wall.
"How many horses do you have?" Miles asked.
"Just two now," Jim answered quietly. "My dad had a lot more, but when I became the sole wage earner, I just couldn't afford to keep all of them. I kept two because I like to ride. I had hoped Brenda would as well, but she never took to the horses. I guess she was afraid of them. I let them out into the pasture this morning." He looked hopefully at Miles. "We can go riding sometime if you'd like."
Miles grinned. "I'd like," earning a smile from Jim. "So what's the game plan here? I'm ignorant about farms, Jim, so you'll have to teach me a lot. But I'm eager to learn. Much of my eagerness has to do with learning from you," he explained as he placed his big hand on the back of Jim's neck and squeezed affectionately. Miles leaned over, brushing his lips softly against Jim's. Jim ducked his head shyly, but Miles's hand noted a little tremor passing through Jim. He loved it that his attentions had that power over Jim. If his will held sway, Jim would be trembling much more before the day ended.
Jim explained how they'd remove the old straw and manure, placing it in a big wheelbarrow, which he would fetch in a moment. Then they'd dump it behind the barn where it would be available for scattering on fields. They would then spread clean straw in the stalls. He explained that they would clean the eight stalls, allowing him to move the horses to a clean stall when needed and extending time between the cleanings so that he could tend to the myriad chores a farm mandated.
Jim brought shovels in from a closed room at the end of the barn and left briefly to bring in the wheelbarrow. They entered the first stall. Jim would use a pitchfork to rake the straw in a pile, lifting it into the wheelbarrow. Miles would follow after him, scooping up the manure and dumping it on the straw in the wheelbarrow. They worked silently. By the time they reached the second stall, acting rapidly, Miles began pulling straw into a pile with the manure, dumping it in with the rest. He was working fast.
Jim kept glancing at Miles, a frown on his face. The more Miles worked, the more he seemed to speed up. Jim reached toward him, gently placing his hand on Miles's shoulder. "Hey, pace yourself, buddy. If you continue to work at that speed, you are going to feel it all next week. You could even pull a muscle. There are two of us, so we don't need to work like demons."
Miles smiled. "Okay. Thanks, bud. But I thought I was going to get a massage at the end of the day."
Jim laughed. "Oh, I intend on checking your parts, especially the moving ones." Miles smiled back.
After an hour, the barn was beginning to heat up. Jim pulled off his sweatshirt, hanging it over the edge of the stall. Miles followed suit, baring his broad shoulders and chest. Jim didn't hide his study of Miles's upper body. A light cover of hair, brown like that on his head, covered his pecs with a treasure trail leading below. For such a big man, his aureoles were dark but not large, but the nipples were erected, causing Jim's pupils to dilate as he spotted this sign. Miles was aroused. Jim knew his mere presence had given Miles a hard-on. Miles had nicely developed arms and shoulders from his workouts. A glance at Miles's face revealed Jim himself caught in a stare from Miles's auburn eyes, an amused look on his face, for he'd caught Jim checking him out. Jim tried to stifle a snicker, but he wasn't successful. He heard a faint reply in kind from Miles.
They returned to work, having moved to a third stall. Miles liked it that they didn't have to chatter to each other while they worked. His senses were fully alive, attuned to Jim. He felt fulfilled, satisfied, at peace. He didn't need talk to make him feel secure with Jim. Half an hour later, Jim called for a break. He walked over the thermos jug, poured some ice water in the cap and handed it to Miles, who thirstily gulped the ice water down. Jim poured another, drinking from the same cap, his eyes riveted on Miles's face. He held the basket toward Miles so that he could snag a piece of fruit. They sat side by side on a bale of hay as they consumed bananas.
"I'm so lucky to have met you, Miles. It's funny. I thought I had reached the worst moment of my life: my wife was divorcing me, and I was afraid I'd lose my farm, afraid that generations of Beltons, who invested blood, sweat, and tears in this place, would cry out in judgment against me. Then Evan told me about you. I'm not much of a shopper, so I didn't look for a lawyer elsewhere. If Evan Bradley was happy with you, you had to be good. When I walked into your office, it's like my eyes couldn't adjust to be large enough to take all of you in." Jim snickered self-consciously. "When you shook my hand, my dick jumped in my briefs. That's never happened before. Then I started to get iron hard. I was so relieved when you stood up with your hard-on showing. Before that, I was worrying about how I could get out of your office without someone's seeing how hard I was. If you saw it, I knew you would think I was a pervert. When I saw your hard-on, I knew you were glad I was a pervert." Miles laughed.
Jim continued, "I expected that you'd ask yourself 'What kind of a guy is this?' None of your lawyer friends would be so uncouth as to display a hard-on in public," Jim confessed, looking at Miles questioningly. What Jim had stated really wasn't the question he wanted to ask, but it pointed to the question obliquely. Miles knew what the question was.
"I work with lawyers, I have friends who are lawyers, and I love my profession," Miles answered, "but I don't want my lover to come from my profession. I was glad you turned me on the way you did in the office. You weren't a lawyer, and I knew little about your world. In addition to those factors, you were a hunk. For me, you were perfect from the outset."
Jim's smile faded. He looked away. "I'm going to hate myself for asking this, but I can't help it. You'll learn that I usually hop right on something. What lies ahead for us?"
Miles smiled. "I like the 'hopping' image." Jim blushed slightly. "What's ahead is some months of getting to know each other better, experimenting with what we like in sex, growing closer, more ballgames and dinners, doing things together socially, working together here on the farm. And if Ron and Evan solve their issues, getting to know them better too. Evan, Ron, you and I will take trips together sometimes. I want more working together here on the farm. If we're both agreeable, then we'll start integrating into each other's lives, assuming we haven't already done that. Given our instant attraction to each other, I think we'll already be well on our way toward that."
Jim was grinning and shaking his head slowly.
"Understand, Jim, you can amend, veto, or extend any part of what I just laid out for us," Miles stated.
Jim giggled. "You just sound like a lawyer. Are we considering a contract?"
Miles laughed, and then took one of his big hands, pushing Jim down flat on the hay bale, his head following Jim's body as Miles pasted one, steamy kiss on Jim's lips. The kiss lasted for a long time, more energizing than the water and food they'd consumed. When they broke the kiss slowly, gently, Jim whispered, "Is that a marriage proposal?"
Miles whispered back, "Do you want it to be?"
"Someday," Jim replied.
He reached up, unbuckling one side of Miles's overalls. He slipped his hand down inside, sliding it across warm, sweaty skin down into Miles's pubes. "Oh," Jim exclaimed.
"What?" Miles asked.
"I've never told you that the forest around you cock turns me on. It's exciting. Let's me know I'm with a virile man."
Miles grinned, kissing Jim again, who had just discovered precum oozing from Miles's prodigious member. He ran his hand around the slick head of Miles's dick, taking its dimensions, making Miles suck in air. Like everything about the man, his cock was memorable. Jim managed a few pumps, squeezing low downon the tube but lightening his touch as his hand reached the cap, where it swirled around the head.
Balancing on one arm, Miles plunged his hand through the gap in Jim's coveralls and down Jim's sweaty skin, grabbing his cock. Now he knew why their coveralls were a couple of sizes too large. Jim's dick was a couple of inches shorter than Miles's eight, but it had a huge mushroom cap that Miles loved. He imitated Jim's movements. But he didn't want a quickie. He wanted to allow the sexual tension to build, so he sat up, pulling Jim with him.
"We'd better get back to work," Jim said with a slight gasp in his voice. "But don't you wander off anywhere. I've got plans for you later." They both chuckled.
"Ah, now I know your real motive. Invited me out here for some quick, cheap sex," Miles laughed.
"We'll see if you think it was quick or cheap later," Jim responded.
They worked another hour and a half, accomplishing even more because they fell into a natural rhythm. By noon, only two stalls remained. "Let's break for lunch," Jim suggested.
"Okay," Miles replied. "Man, I can't believe how hungry I am." They grabbed the thermos jug, basket, and sweatshirts and walked back across the farmyard to the kitchen, deliberately rubbing their bare arms against each other, prompting a ribald grin from Miles. Jim ducked his head shyly, but he was smiling too.
Once inside the farmhouse, Miles visited the downstairs bathroom while Jim started putting lunch on the table. When Miles returned, he saw a plate of sandwiches on the table, a bowl of macaroni salad, and iced tea. Jim left momentarily to visit the bathroom. When he returned, they sat down at the table and filled their plates. Miles was touched when he perceived all the details that Jim had handled in preparation for his visit. Shopping for the work clothes, the preparation of the lunch, the spotless house - Jim had been busy. He had a feeling that Jim loved every minute of it because it was preparing for their time together.
They made quick work of the meal, leaving every dish empty after having downed several glasses of iced tea. They took just a few minutes to restore order to the kitchen. Jim refilled the thermos with ice and water while Miles added a couple of bananas to the basket. Then they retraced their steps to the barn.
As they began working in the last two stalls, they continued the little game started when they crossed the barnyard to eat lunch. They would, with apparent innocence, bump their arms, sending charges through the nerves there. After a while it escalated to bumping asses as they bent over to scoop a load into the wheelbarrow. Finally, the last two stalls were completed and they'd cleaned the central aisle of any manure. Jim had wheeled out the last load of straw and manure while Miles finished spreading hay on the floor of the last stall.
As Miles stood up, Jim slid his arms around Miles's waist, allowing his hand to slide into the overalls and down to Miles's semi hard cock. "I'm hot as hell, but I'm not talking about the temperature," Jim whispered.
Miles threw his head back, a sigh escaping. "Tell me what you want, Lover."
"Come on," Jim said with some urgency as he pulled Miles over to the ladder up to the hayloft. He clambered up as rapidly as a monkey would. Miles wasn't far behind, trying to catch glimpses of the cheeks of Jim's hot ass. When Miles climbed onto the hayloft floor, Jim was waiting. He grasped Miles's hand, pulling him over to an opened sleeping bag spread out over a bed of straw. 'Ah, more planning,' Miles thought, squeezing Jim's hand.
"Miles, has our relationship progressed enough for you to fuck me?" Jim asked shyly.
"You sure?" Miles asked.
"No doubts," Jim whispered.
Miles turned to face Jim, widening his stance to lower his body closer to Jim. They were so close that they could feel the other's breath gliding softly over the other's skin. Miles reached over with both his hands cupping Jim's face. He slowly leaned into a kiss. Their reaction was electric. Jim sucked in air through his nose. Miles shivered as Jim slid his hands lightly up Miles's arms and into his damp armpits, slowly raking his fingertips through the damp hair. The kiss was slow and hot, with their tongues conducting a languid dance in one mouth and then the other. Miles broke the kiss several times only to move right back into another. Jim had started to tweak Miles's nipples with his wet fingertips, causing the nipples to harden. Their firmness felt so good against Jim's fingertips. The ministrations of Jim's fingers shot currents right down to Miles's hard cock, eliciting a moan from him.
As Miles leaned back from the kiss to look into Jim's eyes, he felt Jim slowly unbuckle the bib of Miles's overalls, which plummeted down around his knees. Jim ran a finger across Miles's sweaty chest, returning to Mile's nipples with his slick fingers. Miles drew in a breath loudly. Jim leaned in slowly, licking up Miles's stomach to his pecs and then his nipples, then back down across his abs. He ran his nose into the sweaty forest around Miles's hard cock, redolent of sweat and musk. It made Jim's cock leap.
Miles pulled Jim up, unbuckling his bib so that his overalls dropped to the floor and pulling Jim into another slow, hot, soulful kiss as Miles pulled their bodies tightly against each other. Then he slowly pushed Jim around so that he understood that he was to lie on his back on the sleeping bag. Miles sat beside him, pulling the legs of his overalls off over his work boots as Jim did the same. Jim lay back, spreading his sculpted legs, allowing Miles to crawl between them. It turned Miles on that they were both still wearing their workboots. He paused to nibble up Jim's inner thighs, causing Jim to moan and move his head a little from side to side. Miles began licking up to Jim's smooth balls, which were sweaty and musky. Every once in a while, he would make a monster swipe with his tongue up to the head of Jim's thick cock, twirling his head around the mushroom cap and then plunging back down.
Jim was deliriously happy. He'd enjoyed every sexual encounter he and Miles had had, but none of them matched what was happening now. Miles was turning him on in every nook and cranny of his being. He wanted Miles to want him. Maybe it was a way to balance Brenda's rejection of him. He knew Brenda and he were never really in love, but he felt rejected anyway. He wondered if she felt the same.
Of one mind, Jim began to pull his legs up as Miles began to push them towards Jim's chest. He moved into Jim's smooth crack, swiping his tongue over Jim's pucker. Immediately, the flavors in Jim's rancid sweat exploded across Miles's tongue, leaving bitter flavors. Miles didn't care - it was Jim he was tasting, eating. He began to bathe Jim's hole with his spit, licking slowly. The bitter taste passed in favor of the taste of Jim's musk.
"Oh Miles . . . Miles . . .," Jim uttered, so overwhelmed with pleasure that he couldn't finish his fleeting thought. Miles's lips spread in a slight smile even while he continued bathing Jim's ass. Then he began pushing his tongue into Jim, ratcheting up Jim's pleasure. He would pause to nip at Jim's asslips and the skin surrounding them. Miles was too busy pleasuring Jim to voice his reaction, but he couldn't ever remember being so turned on. Tingling permeated his cock, balls, and ass. His nipples were so sensitive that they were just short of hurting. His cock was so hard it did hurt a little, and the wet trails his cock left on his abs told him precum was flowing heavily.
Miles slid his fuck finger in beside his tongue, opening Jim sphincter for both to move inside. Jim responded with a long, loud "Ah-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h," sounding like a man who, upon nearing death because of thirst, was having his first taste of water. Jim's eyes were clinched shut from the intensse pleasure, his head rolling back and forth against the sleeping bag.
A second finger joined the first as Miles moved his tongue up to lave Jim's balls with spit. He nibbled around the ball sack, gently pulling the skin back out to make the bag looser. Jim's vocalizing grew louder. A third finger joined its brothers. Miles made certain that he occasionally brushed them over Jim's prostate. "Please . . . please . . . please, Miles," Jim opened his eyes, fixing Miles in a desperate look. "Please Lover, fuck me now. I need you in me. I need this to make us complete. Please . . . ."
Miles leaned up and kissed Jim. Damn! He loved this man. Their loving each other just had to last. Nothing with anyone else could be as good as it was with Jim. Jim raised his hands, gently cupping Miles's face, tracing his ears, his jaw, his neck.
Miles moved back. "Here," Jim said as he lifted one side of the sleeping bag, pulling out a tube of lube. Jim quickly popped the top, smearing his eight inches and pushing gobs into Jim's hole. "You ever been entered, Lover?"
"No," Jim said breathlessly. "You're the first." Jim's brows knit in worry. "I'll still make it good for you, Miles. I love you too much not too."
"You've already made it good for me. Do you realize that I'm taking your cherry?"
Miles saw a tremor move from Jim's ass up his body. "Yeah. You're the only man I've been with this way. I want you to do it. I want it to be you. I love you, Miles. I hope that's okay?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" Miles whispered, fucking Jim with two fingers and gently stroking his cock with the lube that remained on his fingers.
"I don't mean just love only while we have sex like Ron and Evan. I mean all the time. I love you all the time," he repeated.
"It's the same with me, Lover," Miles uttered softly, leaning up to trade a hot kiss. As he claimed Jim's lips, he used his hand to lower his cock so that the head immediately moved snug up against Jim's pucker. As Miles increased the heat of the kiss, he pushed slowly into Jim, whose breath caught briefly when he registered what was happening. As Miles breached Jim's muscled barrier, Jim threw himself into the kiss, breathing in rapid gasps. Miles used his fingertips to gently stroke and caress Jim's ass, legs, cock. He slowly moved deeper into Jim, stopping to allow Jim's chute to adjust to his big member. When he was entirely buried, his forest tickling Jim's ass, he took Jim's legs, moving them onto his shoulders.
As soon as his hands were freed, Jim caressed Miles's head, running his fingers through his brown hair, across his shoulders, and down to his biceps. When Miles broke the kiss, he started to slowly pull his cock back to Jim's asslips. He was fighting hard not to trigger a climax, but it was a struggle. Jim was TIGHT, hot, and smooth. Their hearts were thundering away. The least little movement sent tingles along his cock and into a spot deep inside his crotch area. Jim must be just as bad off because he was panting, whimpering, and gripping Miles's arms hard. Miles's balls were drawn up tight so that when Miles was plumbing the depths of Jim's chute, his balls were rubbing against Jim's sweaty ass.
Miles could feel Jim's hard six inches sliding up his abs. He slowly reduced the space between their stomachs, trapping Jim's cock between them, where it was easily massaged because of the heavy flow of precum. Jim started hunching his ass back on Miles's cock. He knew Jim couldn't help it, hungering as he was for the feelings being fed to an inner place behind his cock by Miles's member sliding in and out. As he began losing control, the muscles in Jim's ass would grip Miles's dick convulsively, causing Miles to shudder as pleasure from the fuck mounted. "Jim . . . I . . . can't hold back . . . anymore."
With that, Miles speeded up his thrusts. Jim speeded up his hunches back on Ron's dick. Jim was whining loudly now, joined by Miles. They were racing to cum. Miles was pounding Jim harder while Jim was gripping Miles's arms desperately, his eyes wild. As he turned his head to the side to try to refocus to make it last, beads of sweat flew off Jim's head and out into the hay. The smell of their combined sweat and musk was heady. Jim immediately fell back, arching his spine, which shoved his cock up to the middle of Miles's pecs as it spewed globs of cum. The muscles in Jim's ass gripped Miles's cock so hard that he could hardly move. When their spasms began, Miles released his load up Jim's ass. They were shuddering and crying out together. Miles couldn't see, so great was the pleasure he was feeling. It moved deep into his spirit. He felt rather than knew that he would never be able to give Jim up, ever!
When they had stopped cumming, Miles collapsed onto Jim, gripping him tightly in his arms. The barn was hot, their skin was hot - it felt as though they could melt down together, becoming one physically as they just had sexually. They were panting heavily. Jim's cum quickly liquified from the sweat of their bodies, running down their stomachs, tickling the nerves lightly.
"Thank . . . thank you," Jim gasped. "Oh Miles, I've never felt anything like this before. I never . . . never knew it could be this good." He sucked in a breath. "It . . . was you Miles, you. You're it . . . for me. I don't know how you feel, . . . but I'm giving myself to you forever if you want me."
"I want," Miles panted, gently kissing Jim, nudging his lips, slipping his tongue inside Jim's hot mouth. When he broke the kiss, he whispered, "I'm never letting you go, Jim. You're mine, . . . and I'm yours."
(To be continued.)