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. 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. Sojourn1950@yahoo.com
Wylie moved again.
This one, though more definite than the first, was still subtle.
John felt a swelling in his mouth.
Wylie thrust his engorged cock into John.
Fourth of July fireworks blinded John's vision. Partly because of the force of Wylie's sizable intruder and partly from relief.
He was stunned! Wylie's response was more than he had dared hope. He had considered the risks, even as he laid his head onto Wylie's crotch. Now, those risks all but vanished.
He opened up and took his first cock, Wylie's cock , fully into his mouth. He remembered what he had wanted from the few girls who took him orally; no teeth, wet, sucking, tongue action, deeper. He tried to do it all for Wylie; all, at the same time.
Then he remembered what he had wanted most. Fighting his gag reflex, he took Wylie further, to press against the tight beginning of his throat. He had seen enough internet porn to know; this could be done. Wylie was thicker and longer, but not of monstrous proportions. John was determined. Pressing harder, he swallowed. He marveled as he realized, his mouth and throat were separated by an opening, somewhat like a sphincter.
Wylie groaned his approval as his cockhead was accepted into John's throat. His foreskin was moved further away from the glans by the tight fit. His cock was in enfolded in warm, wet, velvet. He had to fight to keep from cumming.
Too soon, John moved back to let the intruder rest in his mouth. Wylie fought the temptation to demand reentry. His self-control was rewarded. John used his tongue to tease Wylie's foreskin, his lips pushed it back to expose the glans, there his tongue flicked across Wylie's sensitive frenum. John's mouth challenged Wylie's determination.
This was better than anything, girls (two) had ever grudgingly attempted. Wylie sensed that if he could control himself, the best was yet to cum. He concentrated on the sensations his friends mouth was giving. Already, John's mouth had raised the bar on sexually derived pleasure. Great sex, for Wylie, had a new standard: And he hadn't even cum yet!
Within him there began a small thought, which solidified into a singular desire, which grew into a demanding need. He wanted to suck John's cock! No! He had to suck that cock!
Taking a deep breath John pushed again. This time there was less resistance. As the head met his throat, he swallowed again. This time Wylie's cock seemed to be drawn into his throat, as a draft of water might be. Pressing farther forward, he could feel the fullness. He did not panic. Instead, he relaxed and welcomed the intruder.
Wylie's response was a steady moan.
From his own experience John knew, his friend was fighting to control his urge to force his cock deeper into the wet warmth. He knew Wylie wanted desperately to fuck his throat.
John choked; if sucking Wylie's cock killed him tonight, he'd die a happy man. He couldn't hold the massive throbbing member as it was, he had to breathe. Reluctantly, he pulled back. Working on the head with his tongue, John was surprised about how natural the whole experience felt. He envisioned his father walking in and calmly observing the action. John's imagination had his father react as if, his son sucking his friend's cock was a commonly witnessed activity. That's how normal John felt. That vision allowed John to dedicate himself to the task at hand, er, in mouth.
Wylie saw that John had risen to his hands and knees to gain better access and control. He reached out and tugged on John's left leg. At the same time he twisted to his right. John's head followed Wylie's cock, until they were both on their sides. John was still in an almost fetal position. He didn't resist the movements. He was focused on Wylie's cock. Wylie bent and slid himself around while pulling John into a more elongated position.
Finally; his prize was there for the taking. John's cock was hard and leaking. Wylie could smell the musky aroma of his friends essence. Opening as wide as possible, he took John inside. Not until he felt John's cock make contact at the back of his mouth did he allow himself to wetly, warmly envelope John's cock.
He sensed his friend's shock. In an instant Wylie felt John's moaning vibrate against his own cock. This brought moans of his own. He had never thought about how sucking cock would feel. Now it seemed the most natural, wondrous thing in the world.
Strange; he didn't expect this would feel almost as good as the pleasure, John was giving. He wondered why he had never done this before? He had the answer before the question had fully formed: He didn't have John in his life before.
He had never wanted anything like this.
Until, he had taken John's hand that first day. Even then, he had not known why; that handshake had stirred him, those deeply intelligent, warm brown eyes had called him, and why the experience had been momentarily frightening. He hadn't understood. Now, he knew, he wanted nothing more than to consume and be consumed by this man!
This was new for both of them, yet neither hesitated. Each was thinking, it may be the only time this ever happened. Humping, deep kisses, even jerking each other off, could be, perhaps, explained as "experimentation". Combine all of those activities with sucking cock and you have a horse of a different color. Each would give this; their all.
They bobbed their heads and swathed their tongues around each others cocks. Tasting, testing, trying to find what would bring the other more pleasure. Moans acknowledged each favored effort.
Wylie's deep throating' John, was less challenging than John's. John was less thick, yet still of impressive dimensions. Wylie's determination resulted in his nostrils being blocked by John's ballsack. He would have laughed as he envisioned himself being smothered to death, by a BALLSACK! He felt the hairs tickle inside his nose. He didn't laugh. Instead; he took John's balls in hand. This drew yet another muffled moan from his lover. He learned to flex his throat and move his head to stroke John's cock. He mused, between moans, so this is why they call it `giving head'.
As each man reasoned, accepted and adjusted, the sensations enflamed their passion. Sooner than desired, their bodies demanded release.
John felt Wylie's cock swell and surge in his throat. He could not taste Wylie's cum. He only felt it pump deeply inside him. He withdrew until he felt the second blast choking him. He coughed and cum spit from his nose. He breathed around Wylie's cock and for the second time tonight he tasted his friend. He fed on Wylie's cum. As an infant finds nourishment at his mother's breast.
Even as he had choked on Wylie's cum, he felt an intense twinge in his perineum. His ballsack spasmed so as to bring his balls in closer. This brought a sliver of pain as his balls responded to the increased pressure. Pain was the furthest thing from his mind as his body tensed in preparation to experience his greatest orgasm yet! As his cock swelled to expel the first shot, he pushed deeper into his lover. Nothing existed but the here and now demand, of his own ecstasy!
When he felt John's cock swell and pump in his throat. He knew his throat felt like a velvet glove to John's cock and the swallowing motion was incredibly stimulating. John's cock spurted deep into his throat. Swallowing was only for John's benefit. John's cock was deep enough that the flood of cum required no action on Wylie's part.
John, sucked Wylie's foreskin until he was sure he had consumed all his friend had offered. He then used his tongue to search for any traces he might have expelled with his cough. Once he realized there was no more, he let his head rest on Wylie's powerful thigh.
Wylie had let John's cock slip from his throat to his mouth. Only then had he tasted John. The bitter sweet liquid drops he coaxed from John's cock made him almost regret not taking that nectar into his mouth. He savored the taste. Rolling his tongue to capture and remember the flavors. With regrets he released John's softening manhood. Like his lover, he kept his head near the source of pleasure. He felt sated, warm and loved.
He relaxed as he lay his head onto John's thigh.
Before dawn John stirred and awakened. The first thing he saw was Wylie's morning wood. There in the predawn light it stood; hard, tall and tempting. Guilt and fear are great motivators.
John slid silently out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Yesterday, he was a college kid who played around with his roommate. Today, even as he shaved, he knew he was looking at the face; of a cocksucker. The face looked the same, as yesterday. He didn't feel any different. He recalled how minutes ago he was eager to do it again. He relaxed as he realized, given the chance, he would do it again; and again. Fuck labels!
He was John Rutledge Grant. Not, "cocksucker". Just the same old John Grant. Even as his brain sought and found a level of self-acceptance, he was wondering how Wylie would cope?
Last night, Wylie had shown his own eagerness. He had done better than any girl who had ever agreed to try. He didn't have to beg or tease or cajole; Wylie was eager to suck John's cock. In fact; John realized that last night was his first real blow job. The others had been mere facsimiles.
He hoped that Wylie would see it as John did; a damn fine experience, he would gladly repeat.
He considered Wylie's possible reactions. (Yes, he did it again. Are you really surprised?) He could move to another room. He could ask to go back to the dorm. He might simply "cold shoulder" John. The more John thought the less likely he believed Wylie would be OK, with last night. He began to worry.
The most likely option; Wylie would cold shoulder him. This would be the worst.
If Wylie left today, John would have to deal with it. He could and probably would change schools.
If Wylie stayed; he could earn money, he could earn his father's respect, he could ask to be given another room. John tried not to be morose. Time would tell.
John, awakened Wylie and went out to the kitchen. His father and Conchatta were already having breakfast. Platters of food were on the table. John grabbed coffee and filled a plate. Conversation was light and easy. Banter with Conchatta had become a practiced art. His father seldom engaged either of them when they "went at it".
Wylie was only a few minutes behind John. He greeted everyone warmly. To John's dad he said, "Mr. Grant, I believe your son mislead you yesterday." Everyone attended Wylie's serious expression.
John's father's face questioned Wylie.
John, in mid-sip almost choked on his coffee.
Conchatta just smiled, like she was expecting fun.
"Well Wylie, sad to say, it wouldn't have been the first time. Would you care to enlighten us?"
"Well, as you recall, sir. John told you, my snoring kept him awake. Well, I can tell you now, without fear of contradiction." Glancing at John, with a grin, "Well, Mr. Grant. I hardly slept at all. He", nodding toward John, "snored like a bull elephant with sinus problems. I'm not really complaining. It's just that, yesterday was the first time I have been accused of keeping anyone awake, ah, with my snoring. I figure I would let you kind folks know the whole truth."
John's father replied with equal sincerity, "Well son, what would you have me do? John is not too old to be taken out to the wood shed. But, I'm not sure this calls for such serious action." Then lifting an eyebrow, he added, "We could have your things moved to one of the other bedrooms. Would that suit you?"
"Oh, no sir!" Wylie continued hastily. " I figure if he can put up with my snoring, I can learn to put up with his. It's just I would like the record set straight. Besides, I learned that if I nudge him, hard enough, he stops."
John's Dad muttered, "Hmm. noted and amended." Then to himself, 'thought not.".
John's relief now surged toward elation. Moments ago, he feared being outted. Then he feared he was loosing Wylie. Now, all his fears had vanished. Wylie had adjusted! He wanted to jump across the table and give Wylie a big ole, sloppy, kiss. John was happy! Wylie had winked at him. That was not a cold-shouldered approach. John was elated!
John and Wylie finished breakfast and headed to the larger and closer of the two barns. A group of fifteen men were already gathered in front of what Wylie would learn was Louis' office. There were coffee and doughnuts available. Most men had already helped themselves.
Most all had something to rag John about. A lot of it had to do with, 'school was a poor excuse for missing work', or a couple said they had, 'trained John so well they figured he had started his own spread and was competing with his father'.
Each time John had an exchange he introduced Wylie. Each shook his hand and welcomed him to the ranch. Some warned him about, 'the company he kept'. Wylie had the feeling he would get along well with these guys. Their ages ranged anywhere from twenty to fifty.
Most all hands lived in one of a number, of houses on the ranch. Some shared the house with their families. Others, roomed with up to four cowhands, In any case the 'head of the house' reported on and was responsible for a specific area as well as cattle, equipment and out buildings.
Some houses stood empty, until the seasonal hands returned. Even those seasonal workers had, for the most part, worked the ranch for years. Between the two barns stood a bunkhouse that would accommodate fifty men. That would be crowded when the work was at it's peak. Beside the farther barn were camper pads and hookups, for those who brought their own accommodations.
Promptly at six, Louis stepped from his office. He was a short, wiry guy. Wylie could tell he was well respected. The chatter that had permeated the group, died as the men became aware of his presence. The first order of business was a report from each area of the ranch. Various hands reported on head count, feed conditions and availability, fences, equipment status, etc. Then Louis, taking those reports into account, made the days assignments.
Since Wylie had little experience on horseback, Louis had them start from the ground up. The normal stable hands had been reassigned for the day, in honor of Wylie's presence. When the crowd heard this, they whooped and hollered. The cowhand closest to Wylie, leaned in a muttered, "better you than me."
Shoveling was first on the agenda, that was followed by grooming and feeding. Wylie had spent summers at camp and had spent most of his time at the stables.
John's father helped sponsor a camp for underprivileged kids, so he asked no obvious questions.
Gentle stable horses were a walk in the park compared to independently thinking quarter horses. Wylie had turned his back on a dappled mare, who promptly tried to take a chunk out of his ass.
John heard the yelp and knew what had happened. Wylie was backing away, cussing the mare and rubbing his left cheek.
"I forgot to warn you she bites." John was straining to keep from smiling.
Wylie, rubbing the injured cheek and staring daggers at the guilty mare, now innocently munching a mouthful of hay, said, "She damn sure does!" John couldn't hold it. He didn't "start" laughing. Laughter burst forth like a tidal wave. He leaned on his pitchfork for support. His hat fell off and he had to hold his sides. Tears streamed down his face. Each time he looked at Wylie's 'highly indignant expression, a new flood of laughter burst forth.
Finally, the fit passed and John picked up his hat, walked over and put a consoling arm across Wylie's shoulders. "Wylie, I'm sorry. I should have remembered she likes to bite. She is choosey though. She only bites young guys and always on the ass." Then with a more serious tone, "I wish I had remembered her. Then I could have watched." After a short pause, "Hey, would you go in there again and this time let me watch?"
Wylie fumed and roughly pushed John away. "You sorry asshole. You knew she bit. You could've told me. I'm probably bleeding in my drawers and you stand there laughing your ass off."
"Fuck You! John Grant."
John stumbled. Then with an apologetic look and a sincere voice, he said, "Wylie, drop your drawers and let me see. You might need stitches or at least a tetanus shot."
Wylie still glaring at John, tried to stick his hand down the back of his jeans to check the wound. Failing that, he undid his belt, unfastened and lowered his jeans. Now, sticking his hand inside his boxers he checked. John saw that when he touched the damaged area, he grimaced.
John was concerned now. Playtime was over, his friend was in pain. He looked Wylie in the eye and said, "Turn around, let me see."
Wylie could see the concern in his eyes. Slowly, holding his jeans he shuffled around so John could inspect the bite. John knelt and carefully lowered Wylie's boxers. The welt was almost three inches long and vivid pink. Thanks to brother Levi's hip pocket, there was no lasting damage. John let Wylie know the skin was not broken.
Wylie asked, "Are you sure?"
Just as he was about to stand Wylie's question had him carefully reexamine the injury.
Suddenly Wylie's butt checks clinched and John heard a high pitched sptttt! In the same instant his olfactory network was bombarded with a fried egg fart!
Wylie hitched up his boxers and jeans and turned to John with an innocent look on his face. "John I'm so embarrassed. I really didn't mean to do that. I wish I could have remembered I had fried eggs for breakfast, then I could have warned you." Truly a fine example of friendly concern.
For his part, John wondered if the fart was an improvisation or had Wylie set him up? He would be more wary, Wylie could play dirty. His respect for Wylie grew, just a little.
By the end of the first day Wylie had mastered the do's and don't of equestrian care. He learned to communicate his whereabouts as well as his intentions. He had used his shoulders, his elbows and the flat of his hand, more than once or twice.
When the job was done, (Ok, I know. When they decided to quit, is more like it.) They saddled up John's horse and a gentle (non-biting) mare for Wylie, and went for a leisurely ride.
When Wylie's ass greeted the saddle, John made sure he was watching.
Wylie, having forgotten the injury; immediately posted and grimaced. John suppressed a grin. Wylie jerked his head toward John and caught him. "Very funny, asshole! Want to check it again?"
"I'll pass. You just better hope she don't get spooked by a rattler and throw your sorry ass. You'll do a hellavu lot of begging before I get close to that hazardous chemical leak again."
In response Wylie nudged his mount and headed off.
John watched to see how Wylie sat a saddle and finding no real fault, caught up. "Wylie, are you still pissed? You got more than even, you know. I think I would've tried to kick anyone else's ass."
"John, I am willing to call it even. If, you agree to check for snake bites, if I ever need it." With that he gave John a grin that slid into that dazzling smile. John's insides warmed, every time he saw it.
"Deal." The matter was dropped.
Their ride followed the fence line. At one point John reined in and dismounted. He dropped the reins and walked up to the fence. Extracting a leatherman from his belt he reattached a strand of barb wire that had come undone. Without looking at Wylie, "Two of the many things a cowboy should never be without; a good pair of gloves and a leatherman." Remounting they rode on. Wylie had been unaware of the fence except as a point of reference. John was on the outside and still, he had seen the damage. Wylie was impressed and began to pay more attention to the fence. They found two more potential trouble spots and Wylie found one of those. John was impressed and told him so.
They didn't follow the fence line back. Instead they headed for the ranch house. At least Wylie hoped John knew where it was. It all looked like brown sea of undulating pasture to Wylie. Before long the barns and then the ranch house came into view.
John asked if Wylie wanted to pick up the pace. His response was to urge his mount into a gallop. John held back to see what kind of rider Wylie really was. He was satisfied. Wylie could handle a horse; maybe not a cutting horse. He spurred his horse and readily caught Wylie and the mare. He could see Wylie was enjoying himself.
Once inside and dismounted, they took care of the horses. In John' room they got naked, showered and dressed. They had showered together. (it saved time and water; they were environmentally motivated)
They found Mr. Grant in the library. Together, they moved to the kitchen to have supper. Wylie was impressed with the flavorful dishes, he noted there was enough to feed a large family.
John had begun telling his dad what great job Wylie had done. Even Louis was impressed. Wylie noted John did not bring up the biting mare incident. Wylie was sure it was because John would have had to tell the whole episode. Farting, especially farting in someone's face, was not appropriate dinner conversation; anywhere.
Wylie was pleased when Mr. Grant seemed interested. working as a ranch hand. Actually; Louis had already reported to Mr. Grant. John's dad related as much. Wylie's smile reached dazzling proportions.
Wylie was enthusiastic in his retelling of the days events. He surprised himself, when he told Mr. Grant about the biting mare. Mr. Grant chuckled and told him she had gotten John back in the summer. He couldn't sit a saddle for a week, without wincing. John was not amused; but Wylie sure was.
After dinner, they rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. (The meager leftovers did not warrant consideration.) Wylie was somehow surprised and touched that they would do something like that for Conchatta. It was the same thing he did for his grandmother. The more time he spent here, the more he liked it.
The mundane, familiar, task, of loading the dishwasher, while John rinsed, gave Wylie his first opportunity to work with John, in a domestic setting.
Silently, he mused, this is what couples do. Were, he and john a couple? The question was a backward approach to the more daunting issue. He couldn't directly address his feelings for John, especially to himself. Following this line of thought he considered the facts; he and john had a sexual relationship ( they never talked about), they had a strong emotional commitment, they lived together, they never shared endearments nor showed any obvious signs of affection. Yep, they were a couple.
Wylie was surprised at the feeling of warmth and well-being, this appraisal brought him. He had just been handed a dish, John had rinsed. Instead of adding it to the dishwasher, he stopped and watched John. It wasn't until John tried to hand him another that he broke from his reverie.
"Wylie, you skylarking? Try to keep up."
John's father came to Wylie's rescue. "Son, I think Wylie just found something more pleasant, to focus on, than doing dishes."
Wylie blushed, as he realized Mr. Grant had been watching him, watch his son.
"Daydreaming is fine, sometimes. I've seen you do it often enough. It's when your working with livestock, that it can bite you in the ass."
Even Wylie joined in the laughter.
The table cleared and dishes in the dishwasher, they headed for the library for whisky. As they entered; Wylie revisited the idea that he and John were a couple. If this were true, it followed that Mr. Grant, was now his father-in-law. Wylie thought the whole concept ludicrous, and comforting at the same time. Wylie felt, suddenly, even more at ease in this already hospitable environment.