This story is fiction.
The characters are adults in adult situations.
Warnings: The only person you can ever hope to truly know is yourself. Trust no one; use condoms. As my friend BearPup says, "dying for sex" should only be an expression... not a reality."
If you are not of legal age or in a jurisdiction in which this document is illegal, go way.
This is my story. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy it, let me know.
Please donate to Nifty. Nifty Stories Archive Donation http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
If you are still reading this let me know.
Jim Ford
sojourn1950@yahoo.com
Author's Note:I received an introductory email from "Carter". ( I gleaned that name from his email address.) I thought I might share that email with you all."You keep mentioning the number of emails you get so often that I just have to ask, are you writing for the praise or the story?"That was the complete email. It did not say, "Jim, I, 'love, hate, tolerate or experienced projectile vomiting after having read your story'. That within the quotation marks compromised the email in it's entirety.My response was as follows..."Dear Carter, In response to your inquisitive and insightful email I can honestly say, I write for neither the praise nor the story. I, like so many other authors, do it for the money. I assume your check is in the mail.What drives you to do it?Warmest Regards,Jim Ford"
I sent him the above to let him know I intended to post it here. His respnse was, "Love and praise for the story was implied." That too, between the exclamation points, was the complete email.
Our exchange caused me to question my motivations. I came up with the following...I write. I don't get paid to do it. I choose to do it. Sometimes I force myself to do it. Sometimes, when I think I have done an exceptionally good job, I even enjoy it. I have read some of my stories years after they were first posted and have felt a very strong sense of satisfaction at having written them. The truth is, I do enjoy the comments and emails much more than actually writing this story. I enjoy hearing from people who make reading my story a small part of their everyday lives. I love it when they tell me it moves them. I love it when they applaud or disapprove of or are even appalled by a character's behavior. I love the very real interactions that my "fiction" creates. I am amazed and flattered and encouraged that my stories do this. That is why I write. I do it for the emails! Not only those that "praise" but also those that condemn. I have, occasionally, edited my story based on negative, but insightful comments.I have been fortunate to meet some incredibly interesting people through those emails and I hope to hear from those who have yet to comment.To all of you, I say, "Thank you for the music".
Chapter thirty
Getting Maria comfortably settled in at "Grandma" Millie's after the ride, took more time and effort than Jeff had anticipated. Parenting was definitely a learned skill that required patience, understanding and love, even on the best of days. The anxiety surrounding his possibly tenuous relationship with Paul challenged his need to reassure their daughter that all was well and that her Daddy was at work again, just like before the holidays. By the time he could leave Maria behind without a guilty conscious it was moving onto lunchtime.
Unsure of a response from Paul he texted Dave. Dave informed him that Paul wasn't talking except to give directions. That and that Paul had made inquiries regarding renting a two bedroom apartment. As he read that, Jeff felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. When Jeff asked where they were. Dave responded they were enroute to the diner. Then Paul was to look at an apartment in town shortly after lunch.
Jeff and Sam headed to the diner.
Paul refused to examine his life beyond leaving Jeff's home. Neither was he willing to examine his role in their breakup, other than to accept full responsibility. The fact that he had violated the trust his lover had so willingly placed in him, was simply too painful to consider. It would be some time before he was willing to clinically examine what he had done wrong. How he had destroyed what was surely the love of his life. Despite his calm, rigid demeanor, tears gently rolled down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away with his handkerchief and blew his nose, mumbling something about, "damned allergies". Dave was not oblivious to Paul's pain nor his tears, but he offered no comment.
Paul focused on the fact that he didn't deserve the love Jeff offered. Not anymore. It felt as if he had committed adultery on their honeymoon. He locked all that into the back of his mind. Now, he had to somehow separate their so newly intertwined lives. He thought about spending his days focused on his practice. His next few nights would be spent in Jeff's old room. A heavy sigh punctuated the notion that he would be sleeping alone again. His stomach rumbled, but this time he felt slightly nauseated. Maybe he should eat sooner rather than later.
Paul shifted his focus to the tasks at hand. He knew it would take a few days to furnish an apartment and set up the utilities, gather pots, pans, groceries along with the minutia that was required to start life from scratch. His days would be occupied with the same drudgery that had enveloped him upon his arrival in town, years ago. He could never think of those days without remembering how helpful Miss Julie had been. Just as her image swept through his mind, his stomach loudly growled. No doubt Dave had heard it, but Paul had made it clear early on that conversation would be kept to a minimum.
He grimaced at how curt he had been to a man that was more friend than employee. A man who had risked his life and had, in fact, taken a life in order to save Paul's. Before he could formulate an apology, it occurred to Paul that Dave was Jeff's employee, not his. And as such it was unlikely that he would see the man once he moved out of Jeff's house. That thought led to the realization that in leaving Jeff behind he would be leaving the entire Adams family behind. That caused him to wrap his arms around his middle, seeking comfort he knew he would not find. In a voice meant to be less tense than he had used all morning he directed Dave to the next ranch visit. Adding they would then get lunch at the diner and afterwards he had to look at an apartment. He scanned the bland winter landscape. He wasn't feeling hungry despite the objecting gastrointestinal noises. Maybe some of Miss Julie's comfort food would fill the massive void that seemed to just keep building in his chest and belly. He suddenly missed his baby girl tremendously.
Paul was surprised when Miss Julie greeted them in her usual affable manner. Somehow he had expected her to be worried and, hopefully, conciliatory. But, how would she know. Besides, she would most likely agree that Paul was undeserving of Jeff's love.
Julie explained that she was expecting a group of people from one of the motels shortly and would be seating Paul and Dave in one of the normally closed off sections. Paul was too drained to question why she wasn't seating the larger group in the closed off section. He and Dave followed without comment.
Once seated, Miss Julie asked if they would mind being taste testers for a couple of new potential menu items. Paul expressed some hesitation, stating he was not at his best at the moment. Miss Julie, without missing a beat opined, "If you try this, lunch will be on me." She continued with, "I can certainly concur with that self assessment. You remind me a lot of Bruno, my Great Dane. Darn fool will swallow anything that fits into his mouth. Then he gets a look in his eyes that just cries, "Poor, poor, pitiful me." He will be in pain to the point of abject misery, all of his own doing. Damn fool has never learned he does it to himself. How about you"?
Paul tried hard to surface from his miasma of confusion regarding his need for food and the likelihood of regurgitating said food. His response was simply, "Huh"?
"You willing to let me feed you without question or complaint"?
Something within Miss Julie's patter told him he had been insulted. He was too numb to really care. Besides, he trusted her. Paul simply nodded his acquiescence to whatever Julie had said or planned on serving them.
She came back with iced tea. It seemed excessively bitter and overly sweet at the same time. He considered asking for water, but figured the tea would taste better when consumed with food. At least he hoped so.
Shortly Julie came by with a basket of dinner rolls and butter. She explained that Jeff and Sam were up front and had asked that Dave join them. Paul was glad he was already seated, otherwise he would have collapsed at the realization that he had been purposely excluded from the invitation. Upon seeing Dave's regret at having to desert his charge. Paul quickly insisted that Dave go have lunch with his boss and partner. Paul almost asked for the keys to "his" new Tahoe. Then realized that would be returned in the next couple of days anyway. `Damn! Now I need to add car shopping to the list.'
He tried unsuccessfully to break open a dinner roll. He was stabbing it with his butter knife when he sensed a familiarly delightful aroma. Jeff was at his side.
"Paul we have to talk"! Uninvited, he took a seat across from Paul. "I'm not quite sure what I have done to drive this wedge between us, but I can't let you go without some kind of explanation. It's driving me nuts. I've been racking my brain all morning trying to understand where I went wrong."
Jeff was interrupted by Julie bringing him some tea. She took her time explaining the taste test she was conducting. Jeff, like Paul half listened and agreed without even thinking. He took a sip of his tea and immediately called to a departing Julie. "Oh, Miss Julie"! When she again approached the table Jeff explained, "This tea is a little off. Can I get some ice water with lemon instead"?
Paul had been oblivious to everything except the fact that he would have to revisit his lack of concern, his callous disregard, his willingness to visit pain upon the man who was the "love of his life." He would have to see the blossom of their love wilt and die before his eyes. A heavy sigh and he began, "Jeff, it's not you, it's me."
He was cut off immediately. "If you don't want one of these hard as a rock rolls bounced off your head you will start again. This time admitting that this is all about the two of us." Looking around he saw Julie, not far away, talking to a server. He called out, "Miss Julie, can we get some rolls that have not yet petrified"?
"Paul, like I said, I don't know what I did wrong, but I want to make it right. Uncle Joe is, right now, drawing up a proposal to include my brother as an equal party in the trust. We are splitting up our assets. If the money is that much a problem I can be pretty much flat broke within a month. I mean, it can be started immediately, but it will take some time to reassign all my assets. If that's what's bothering you, it can be fixed easily enough."
Fresh, hot, steamy rolls arrived just as Jeff ended his plea. The old ones were taken away without comment. Soup arrived. It was not steaming. As a matter of fact it was quite cold and not in a Gazpacho or Vichyssoise kind of cold, this had gobs of congealed fat floating on the surface. Paul looking for any distraction used his spoon to push the fat aside and dip up a spoonful of the already questionable concoction. His instant reaction was to spit it out of his mouth, drop his spoon and try to wash the acrid and extremely salty taste from his mouth. Unfortunately, his assessment that the tea would taste better with food was proven wrong. If anything the sweet, bitter and acrid flavors seemed to be conducting a battle to see which could be most repulsive to his taste buds.
Again Jeff called Miss Julie over. "Miss Julie, I don't think this taste testing is working out for us. Can we just get some burgers and fries and maybe a couple of cokes. I don't think Paul likes the tea any better than he liked soup."
After listening to Jeff, Miss Julie nodded to the server she had been chatting with earlier. Then turning to Paul, "Well Bruno have you learned your lesson on self inflicted misery? Did you notice how an obviously unpleasant situation can be made right with a little effective communication? You said nothing about the tea that was unsatisfactory. The rolls that were nearly solid rock got no comment from you. The soup was three kinds of vinegar and lord knows what else. I just ask that it be disgusting enough to get a reaction. Which it did.
She laid her hand gently, almost maternally, on Paul's shoulder. "Honey, the only thing you did wrong was to get inside your own head instead of talking to your partner. Just a simple, effective discussion of what had happened and what was good and worth keeping and what is better off being discarded. Just talking, could have saved a lot of worry and heartache. That is a lesson you must learn if you want to be at peace in this life.
You're not going to like everything you encounter or experience in this world. And maybe you'll like some things you shouldn't like. You've got to continually adjust the shifting load to maintain your balance. That is especially true when you share your life with loved ones. To experience new things is part of the magic of being human. To experience new things together is part of the magic of love. You can't share the magic if you can't or won't discuss it. So yeah, a little silence can be tender, or maybe even an erotic thing, too much and love dies in quiet agony... separately and individually. If you two are to grow as a couple you have to learn to share self doubts and to challenge the silences." With a clap of her hands the spell was broken, and juicy burgers with hot french fries arrived.
Paul was pleased that a sip of Coke washed away the bad taste in his mouth. Looking around, he saw they were at last completely alone. "Jeff, I'm sorry about last night. I should never have treated you like that. When you reacted to my dominance with an erection, I took that as a license to abuse you. I am so sorry." He took a moment to wipe away an errant tear. "I think I lost control and all I could think about was how hot it was to be in complete control of your magnificent body. All I wanted was more and more of whatever was feeding the eroticism of the experience. It was like a drug and I wanted more. It got to the point where I was no longer thinking of you as my friend, my partner, my lover. You became an object, a, a, a thing that I was using to get off. I didn't care if it felt good to you or if it hurt you." This time the tears began to flow more freely. He used his napkin to mop away the tears and to hide his complete mortification.
Jeff sat his burger on his plate. He waited for Paul to continue. It soon became clear that it was his turn to either condemn or mitigate Paul's self abuse. He swallowed hard and took a sip of his Coke. "By now, Paul, Babe, you must surely know that just being with you gets me hard. Your touch doesn't just arouse me, it inflames me. When you touch my cock..." with this statement he glanced around. Relieved to see they were alone, he sent up a prayer of thanksgiving for Miss Julie's business to be such that they were put in here alone. "When you touch my cock... all I can think about is what do I have to do to get my cock inside of you or yours inside of me as soon as possible. We both know I love it when you play a bit rough with my nuts." Blushing at his own publicly blatant discussion sexual activities, he paused. Another sip and he continued. "I have played rough and role played with guys sometimes. When they find out I actually owned boots and a Stetson some guys got into all kinds of cowboy fantasies. Last night was like that. It was play. It wasn't a lifestyle commitment. I am not your everyday "love slave". What we did was sex play. It was the same as my wanting to fuck you against the porch railing outside our bedroom, just because I suspect past generations of Adams' have done it. It has little to do with my love for you or how I view you as a man. It would be fun and a little naughty. Just like last night. As for forgetting about my participation as a person and an equal participant, I never felt that at all. I was right there with you every slap and thrust of our playtime. When he gets really excited and close to cumming every man thinks only of himself. It might be the last of the short strokes, only an instant before cumming, but there is a time where nothing matters except getting your nutt. So you shouldn't feel guilty about that, you are my man but you're not Superman.
"The only thing I didn't like about last night was that I couldn't touch you as you were touching me. It forced me to focus completely on how your touch felt on my skin and how your cock felt inside me. And all of it felt pretty damn good. I came so hard I almost blacked out. I think you enjoyed it too.
"But, if you think it made you a Dom and me a Sub, you better think again. It might be years before we play at that again, but when we do it will be my turn to tie you up, blindfold you, gag you and fuck you senseless. The more I talk about it the more I like the idea. When we do it, it will be by mutual agreement, no intimidation, no coercion. It will be just like last night, two lovers in a completely trusting relationship trying something a little bit kinky. If people can't accept that, I say fuck em! We'll do what feels good to us and for us. Besides, how do we know what we like, until we try it or at least talk about trying it."
Paul had been grazing on his french fries as he listened to his man. His mental load shifted as he began to realize he had used his own ingrained Bible Belt perceptions to judge his actions without considering Jeff's viewpoint. He felt like a complete fool. Swallowing any bullshit he was offered even if it was totally wrong and would hurt him in the end. Maybe he should change his name to Bruno.
A few minutes pondering his situation and consuming his delicious bacon cheeseburger deluxe, had Paul building up strong feelings of gratitude toward an unknown Great Dane and a woman who had taught him a lesson on effective communication with bad tea, tough biscuits and disgusting soup. Without explanation he texted the property manager to cancel the apartment viewing.
It was decided that Sam and Dave would follow Paul and Jeff back to the ranch. Paul decided to drive his new Christmas present Tahoe. It seemed to take forever to get the memory settings for his preferences. Once that was accomplished he took off. He was surprised at how much bigger it felt than his old explorer. It was strange how much different it felt to be driving this behemoth instead of simply being a passenger. It was bigger, broader and more powerful than any vehicle he had ever driven... definitely a behemoth. Idly he mused how to get "behemoth" on a seven letter vanity license plate. Almost immediately he dismissed the idea as being frivolous and vane. No wonder they called them "vanity" plates. He chuckled out loud. Suddenly he felt a surge of adrenaline at the sound of his own stilted laughter. He felt a hundred pounds lighter.
He glanced at his lover in the passenger seat. It occurred to Paul that he wanted his partner to know how giddy he felt. How just in love with life he felt right now. "I love you Jeff. I hope you never have a single reason to doubt that again. I don't condone domestic violence. I don't ever want to be hit upside my head with one of Miss Julie's cement biscuits. That would be an invitation to brain damage. But, you certainly have my permission to get my attention with a titty twister or a sharp slap on my ass, if I get too much inside my head again. I saw today, my life doesn't hold much joy without you in it."
Paul reached over and pulled Jeff's hand to his lips to seal his seal his sincerity with a kiss. "Now, I have a couple of stops to make before we head home. Can you let Dave know they are to just follow us."
Jeff responded by pulling Paul's hand to his lips in turn. "Sure thing Babe, but where are we headed"?
"It's a surprise for you. You have to wait in the car while I do a little shopping." The only thing Jeff knew for sure was that they had stopped at two western wear shops and a local store that sold feed, saddles and tack. Paul came out with bags, but refused to reveal or discuss their contents. Jeff contented himself with knowing Paul wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon. While they both had learned a lesson on the importance of better communicating their concerns, Jeff had learned that he might occasionally have to dig to get to know what Paul was really feeling. He didn't doubt Paul's love, but he now understood he had a tendency to feel unworthy of love. Those feelings of being less than others was something Jeff would gladly work to eliminate. No one! deserved to be loved more than Paul Wilson! And Jeffrey G. Adams loved him very, very much!
On the way home Jeff mentioned that with Rosarita going back to school, they needed to hire a nanny/ housekeeper/ cook. Grandma Mellie had already undertaken the task of lining up several candidates. It was just a matter of setting up interviews. They agreed that Friday would be fine, they could both be available all day if necessary. Thursday they would again go to Dallas for their clothing and Saturday they would fly up to Chicago. This would be Paul's first formal party that wasn't some school function or graduation celebration. For those he had worn rented clothes. Jeff assured him he would look hot and get everyone's attention, men and women. Paul opined that there was probably a secret handshake that he would be expected to know and everyone would laugh when he did some Three Stooges hand jive' instead. Jeff consoled Paul by saying, "look if anyone intentionally makes you nervous or out of place, just get his name and you can either buy the company he works for and personally fire him and give him poor references or just let Ilya pay him a visit. Hell, Sam and Dave will be there with us, just say, sic em boys'. Either way he'll learn not to mess with you again. Paul, you shouldn't feel like you "need" to fit in anywhere. You fit in by virtue of who you are. If it is of any significance, you will be one of the wealthiest people at the party." Before Paul could explore that last comment they had arrived at the ranch.
Paul grabbed the bags and led his lover into the house and directly to their bedroom. Laying out clothes and accouterments, Paul directed Jeff to get dressed up. By the time they were redressed, both wore spurred boots and jeans. Paul sported a four pocket leather vest over a collarless creamy brown shirt. A large red bandanna was tied jauntily around his neck. Jeff wore a tan colored, bib front shirt. The vee of the bib accented his broad shoulders and slim waist.The top two buttons on the right were unbuttoned and left on display his dark, curly chest hair. Both men wore galluses to hold up their jeans. Jeff's galluses were almost the same tan color as his shirt. Both men wore creased cowboy hats.
Once the Paul's carefully selected clothes were properly donned, Paul led Jeff over to stand in front of the fireplace. "Well, what do you think"?
"I guess, if you want to light a fire, that's fine. Personally, it's still a little too warm, for me. Besides, if we're dressed to go riding why light a fire."
With an impatient and exasperated sigh Paul protested, "You know for a brilliant young attorney, at times, you can be about as perceptive as a box of rocks. Look. at. the. paintings. Jeff"!
Paul used the remote control to open the drapes. "I figured you might want to dress up like our ancestors and fuck me over the porch railings, just like they most likely would have done on occasion. But, if you woul..oops!"
Jeff had pulled his lover into his arms and hushed him with a smothering kiss. Like some RomCom starlet, Paul melted into his lover's embrace. The one cogent thought he could manage reflected on the fact that one Cowboy could keep his hat on while smooching his buddy, but definitely not both at the same time. Thankfully both hats had chin straps, so they never hit the floor.
Later, Paul wasn't sure if he walked out onto the porch or if Jeff carried him out there. Hell, they may have waltzed onto the porch. All he knew for sure was that he was suddenly leaning back against an upright as some splendidly handsome, hairy chested cowboy ravaged his mouth. Paul mumbled confused prayers, asking that this kiss never end and at the same time begging his cowboy god for more. Both prayers were answered, because even as the kiss continued the Cowboy began to undress him. As he did so, he lovingly caressed each patch of newly exposed flesh.
Not satisfied with roaming his hands up under Paul's shirt, the demanding cowboy broke the kiss. With heated urgency he ripped the pullover collarless shirt down the front exposing Paul's well developed chest to his hungry gaze. Pleased with his work, the lust driven cowboy, again, claimed Paul's mouth for his own. His hands caressed Paul's chest until finally latching onto and teasing his nipples. Paul arched his back, presenting himself to his marauding cowboy. He could feel his cock being rubbed by an equally excited manroot. His own hands had been busy inciting his lover. Now they moved to loose the bull. Once the massive manhood was free, Paul dropped to his knees. At first he thought his lover had grown impossibly large and intimidating. Instead of hesitating he welcomed the intrusion with a mouthful of wetness and warmth. His cowboy groaned in delight at the embrace of his attentive mouth. When Paul looked up he saw a cowboy with his hat pushed back on his head and his thumbs hooked beneath his galluses in what could only be described as a "bull of the woods" pose. The cowboy met his gaze. "That's right get it all slicked up, Pardner. That there is soon going up your nether regions. I'm gonna breed you to get us a spring born calf." Paul just moaned. He then hurriedly extracted and began stroking his own engorged happy stick.
It wasn't long before the cowboy pulled him to his feet. He undid the front galluses and opened his jeans. He then spun him around and undid the rear suspenders, allowing the jeans to slide down Paul's thighs. He then gently directed Paul to rest his upper body on the sturdy porch rail. Paul felt it was a comfortable and almost familiar position.Chills followed along as the cowboy began mapping Paul's thighs and the curve of his ass. Too far gone to question the source of the warm lube that eased the invasion led by one, then two, then three fingers. While the invasion was escalating the cowboy's other hand was busy caressing and teasing Paul's nipples, balls and cock, enough to keep Paul's desire inflamed, but short of an all consuming inferno.
As the three fingers began to seriously toy with his love nut, Paul began to hunch his back and fuck his ass onto those greased up prostate prodders. He somehow realized that there were two distinct and both very pleasurable feelings coming from his ass. One; was a tiny series of electrical charges coming from the anal ring itself. This was a definitely gonna make you cum sooner or later sensation'. The second; was a lightening strike, centered on his prostate, that stripped away all other feelings and overwhelmed the senses. This was a cum that will blow your balls off is fast approaching sensation'. There wasn't a single second that one or the other was flooding his brain with endorphins or some other feel good shit. He just wanted more of everything.
The cowboy lined up behind him, and in a move that forced all the air from his lungs, rammed his prodigious cock, balls deep into Paul's eagerly awaiting sex chute. It was a combination of overwhelmed neurological receptors and just `feels soooo fucking good'! That sent Paul's baby makers out to paint the fence railing. His happy ass was trying hard to twist off the Cowboy's invading manroot in order to permanently store it in his root cellar, where it rightfully belonged.
But the cowboy would not be easily corralled. His massive manroot began to dance in and out of the gate. At first it was a maddeningly slow rhythm that had Paul begging, "fuck me cowboy! Do it harder, faster"! In frustration, he began shouting, "FUCK ME AT A GALLOP, YOU BASTARD! This, he was yelling even as the last drops of cum were still dangling from his still engorged manhood.
The cowboy knew this was his last round up. He would give it his all! He withdrew then slammed into his lover balls deep, like some "waddie" had touched a branding iron to his ass cheeks. "Take it cowboy! This is it! Just like old times, ain't it John! Take it cowboy, take it!"
The cowboy's rhythm built into a magnificent crescendo! Brilliantly colored fireworks exploded! Cannons boomed! While his balls tried desperately to end up corralled in Paul's lower paddock.
This Herculean effort was not wasted on Paul's ass. As the pace increased Paul could only pant like a hard worked cattle dog during roundup. The lightning strikes that had sent him into the throes of orgasmic delight earlier returned with a vengeance. His mind's eye was blinded by cacophonous flashes of brilliant colored lights. His brain exploded as he again painted the fence railing. His spasming ass milked the last of his cowboy's seed into his own infertile ground.
With him still partially supporting his lover's weight, a tiny niggling question wormed it's way into his consciousness. With great effort, eager for an answer, he chuffed out, "Jeff, who's John"?
Author's Note:I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope you continue to enjoy it as it unfolds. I hope you take some time to email me about my story. I also hope for world peace.
Thanks again to Nathan. He took time out to edit this chapter, after killing a three foot long copperhead on his front porch. In his defense, he lovingly extracted a similarly sized rat snake from beneath his sofa and released it in his front yard. (Read, he tossed the fucker front his front door. I bet he screamed like a little girl the whole time. And shivered for 15 minutes after the ordeal.) Just kidding Nathan. I know you're manly... must be, he owns three chain saws.