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
Sunday evening saw them resuming their billiards competition.
They had spent the day lounging around. At first there was lots of accidental physical contact. There was no physical separation even when Wylie excused himself, shortly after breakfast, John left him only after they had entered the bedroom. When Wylie came out of the bathroom, he found John lying on the bed. John read Wylie's smile and jumped from the bed as if it had bitten him in the ass.
Likewise, When John went to the barn to deliver an envelope to one of the ranch hands Wylie insisted on tagging along. It wasn't until Mr. Grant compared them to "Siamese Twins" that they both blushed and went distinctly and obviously separate ways. That one remark made a real difference in their behaviors the rest of the day.
It wasn't as though they avoided each other; it was more that they resisted the desire to be in close physical proximity to one another.
Mr. Grant noticed the difference and chided himself for having made the boys aware and perhaps uncomfortable. Those two together brought back old memories and old feelings; treasured memories and warm feelings.
He took the boys to dinner in town. The togetherness he had commented on was still there just not as obvious. It warmed his heart. The conversation was pleasant, even though at times a little embarrassing for John. The food was very good. The company was more than convivial.
Mr. Grant had been more than tempted to break an old taboo and make a phone call. It was only a passing thought. Better to leave things as they were.
Back at the ranch, the three men clustered together in the den and watched football followed by an action packed, shoot-em-up movie.
Mr. Grant found it hard to separate himself from those two. He had tried to give them their time alone, yet remain watching them. Seeing them eyeball each other. Knowing they couldn't or wouldn't say how they felt, was sometimes just too much to resist.
To his credit, the few comments he made were never meant to challenge, or dismay them. He expected his words to be reassuring. He hoped they gave them at least a modicum of acceptance. God knows they wouldn't find it elsewhere.
What they did with their lives was hardly up to him. They were adults. Let them figure it out. He would help in any way possible. Awareness would be all that was required for J.R. Grant Sr. to act on either boy's behalf.
Evening wore and blended seamlessly into late night. The intimacy of a shared fire brought feelings drifting ever closer to the surface.
Conversation tilted and then surrendered completely to reminisces. Each shared memories of Christmas past. Stories shared were not limited to Christmas. Any tale, the teller chose, was warmly greeted. There were more than a few laughs. Each took his turn as teller or told upon. It was all warmhearted good fun.
Wylie was himself surprised when he shared his memories of Christmas and his Grandmother. The memories were recalled with clarity and related without hesitancy. He stood and stared into the fire as he talked. He freely gave them the tender memories of how they had shared the holidays. Of her sacrifices on his behalf. How he had hoped she would lived long enough for him to return, at least, a portion of what she gave.
His eyes teared, more than once without feeling shame. He knew, that even if he cried like a baby, it would be accepted. When he finished he was mildly surprised to find the Grants standing on either side of him.
Mr. Grant surprised both John and Wylie when stepped to Wylie, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and said, "You know, Son, it's tough to loose someone you love. It's a long, rough road between heartache and fond memories."
"Wylie, I can promise you, you'll get there. The roads especially rough when the journey first begins. It gets easier. It`s never going to be good. But, it does get easier."
"Strange, but you never realize when you arrive. It's always sometime afterwards, and almost always a surprise when you get there. I know, I been down that road, too many times."
Mr. Grant squeezed Wylie's shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile. He winked at his son's loving gaze. Taking his mug, he drained the last of the rum laced beverage. "Well boys, I think I'll call it a night. You two have fun." With that his eyes shifted between the two faces. Satisfied with what he saw, he took his mug and headed for the kitchen.
Both the young men stood respectfully silent until the man disappeared into the hallway.
Wylie was the first to break the silence. First, coughing to clear his throat, "Well, you ready to get your ass kicked, cowpoke?"
Once the hot chocolate was finished whisky was poured into the mugs. The first sips caused each to shudder at the taste. The second and subsequent rounds tasted only of whisky.
After the fourth game in the series, they were evenly matched in eight-ball, so they switched to nine-ball.
Wylie won. As his last shot settled into the pocket he turned to and proclaimed, "I own YOU!"
John had to check himself. He was about to wholeheartedly agree.
Wylie continued. His finger poking John's chest to emphasize word, "You.. Are.. My.. Slave.." He dropped the finger poking when he read the irritation on John's face. "For the rest of the night." You will do what I want, when I want and where I want. You will address me as Master and you will be "Slave"."
Only after merciless berating, teasing and arguments; logical and otherwise, did John surrender. He obediently removed his "Masters" boots and socks, while Wylie sprawled in an easy chair. John was there more in gratitude for the night before, than any argument Wylie currently proffered.
Wylie could have simply asked (anything) and John would have complied with a will.
John sat cross-legged, on the floor, and took Wylie's left foot in his strong hands. He didn't loose his frown until Wylie became effusive in his praise. John was more than pleased to be touching Wylie, caressing his lover, to be able to gaze at him without hesitation. The frown belied a happy man.
As John sensuously massaged his foot, Wylie laid his head back and closed his eyes. occasionally sipping whisky from his mug. "Does Master like having his slave massage his tired feet?"
Without deigning to look at his slave Wylie purred, "Less talk more action, slave." John considered the verb. Definitions: Motion, movie genre, synonym for sex.
Sex!
John scooted his ass forward and gently laid Wylie's happy foot in his lap. The ball and toes rested against John's already hardening cock.
Wylie's head jerked as if to verify what he thought his foot was feeling. Without even looking, he relaxed into the chair, closed his eyes and rubbed his foot against John's cock. If he didn't look, it was like being drunk.
They were drunk. Weren't they? Close enough! Even if they weren't?
John couldn't believe it! They weren't in the dark and they weren't drunk
WYLIE... WAS... STROKING... HIS... COCK
It had been a daring move, almost a blatant declaration. Wylie had taken it in stride.
In spite of a direct order to maintain silence, John spoke as he lifted the now happy right foot to his face. "Does Master like his slave taking care of his tired feet? Does Master want his slave to massage any other part of Master's body?" This last was said as suggestively, as he dared; and he dared!
Wylie shuddered. His cock throbbed, with the thought.
Curious as to why John was lifting his foot Wylie deigned to finally gaze at his, now, compliant slave. His eyes widened as he watched and felt a wet tongue crawl from heel to toes.
Glazed eyes watched as Wylie's big cock struggled for freedom from denim. John breathed heavier as he took three middle toes into his mouth.
Wylie moaned. He threw his head back and blatantly rubbed his foot along the length of John's manhood.
Wylie's ministrations toward John's cock, had ceased while he was watching john, resumed with a vengeance.
John sucked and licked between the toes. Each toe received intimate individual attention. Each toe was licked, sucked and worshiped.
Wylie's cock pulsed with each heartbeat. Precum spotted and spread. Wylie's cockhead beat a rhythm against denim. His eyes glazed as he viewed this most sensuous act. The teasing tongue, the sucking mouth were HOT!
Seeing as well as feeling, moved the experience way beyond sexy. It was luxurious, surreal and erotic".
John singled out his big toe for attention. Lasciviously, he pursed his lips and forced the toe between. He began sucking it as if it were Wylie's cock. His exaggerated movements took his lips up and down the length of the toe. He held it up so Master could see his slave make love to the wet digit.
Wylie's breath was strained. He watched John's tongue wrap around each side and then the top.
Wylie was flagrantly running his fingers and thumb up and down the length of his cock as it lay trapped along left leg. His cock jumped and his balls tingled when he stroked his denim encased cock with his short fingernails. The vibration was maddening. His efforts produced a sound almost like a zipper.
Zipper!
While his free foot moved the length of John's cock. Wylie unfastened his belt.
John froze.
Could he let this happen? Could he suck Wylie's cock?
He wanted this.
Wylie wanted this.
They could!
Right here.
Right now.
This is what he had hoped for only this morning. Why hadn't it happened already? John's mind worked at a furious pace. He envisioned coming nights at the dorm. Nights filled with passion. Declarations of love shared ALOUD!
Wylie would be HIS! NOW!
Wylie unbuttoned his jeans.
John's heart pounded in his chest and against his ears. Sweat broke out on his brow. Here on the edge of his dreams, his mouth dried up.
Wylie's toe rested on his tongue.
Fixated on Wylie's actions, his vision blurred.
His heart began to beat it's way out of his chest.
Wylie's glazed eyes held John's.
Wylie began to lower his zipper.
He was only half aware that John had stopped sucking his toe and even less aware that John's gaping mouth, again, closed around it. His sex crazed brain intent on his tangled zipper.
His brain registered a FLASH! of intense PAIN!
John had bitten down; HARD!
Wylie's brain fought for comprehension at this sudden reversal. He glanced down at his toe in disbelief. The tooth marks were all to real.
In the time it took sit up and grasp the situation, John was already running out of the room.
Wyle sprang to his feet in chase. Hot on John's tail, he hoped John would run down the hall and fall onto their bed, while his imagination considered several acts of retribution.
Instead John had run into the kitchen and headed out the back door. Fuck! It was freezing! Snow still on the ground and he was barefooted. Wylie processed this in full stride but he didn't hesitate. He dashed after John ignoring the patches of snow that burned his bare feet.
Sprinting; he closed the distance before John had cleared half the backyard.
The cold night air made John ask himself why was he running? This wasn't what he wanted.
The cold air burned his lungs.
Wylie... love... Hurt... him?
Maybe Wylie was ready for this.
Love shouldn't hurt.
His heart surged!
He slowed his pace.
Oomph!
The air was forced from his lungs.
He felt himself being pushed and twisted as he feel. Wylie laying on top of him. On the frozen lawn, amid patches of snow and dead grass, they lay. Their faces inches apart; eyes searching. John closed his eyes praying for a kiss.
It was familiar.
It was welcomed.
Wylie must be ready!
The longed for kiss didn't come. Instead, Wylie humped his crotch into John's, emphasizing each word.
"You... Know... We... Castrate... Bad... Slaves... And... Make... Them... eunuchs!"
It was only a game.
Wylie wasn't... wasn't... ready.
John let his irritation and disappointment show in his voice. "I am not a slave! I am a free citizen of Texas! Take me to my embassy." With that he rolled, taking Wylie with him. John was now looking down at Wylie.
For a moment the vision of what could have happened in the inside washed through his mind. He felt his cock throb against Wylie's groin. Lowering his face to Wylie's, their breath mixed; frosted by the cold night air.
A shiver ran up John's spine. His tongue moistened his dry lips. Closer now their lips almost touching. Each inhaling what the other exhaled.
Wylie rolled them once again so that John was beneath him.
There are times in life when the simplest of acts or words can reshape one's life; a look, a touch. Words like; faggot, I love you, I don't love you, you've won, you loose, Not Guilty!, Guilty!
None of these accosted John or Wylie. Yet, within the time it took to roll over; the moment, the mood, the overriding emotion, all had slipped away. That simple action changed them both.
Now, instead of a passion filled gaze, their eyes furtively searched the other's face. Eye contact was avoided.
Wylie jumped up!
Standing over John he extended his hand. John accepted and was pulled to his feet. Their bodies connected by the momentum, immediately separated.
Looking down Wylie realized he was still holding John's hand. He dropped it.
Turning toward the house, he lay a hand on John's shoulder. A simple act of camaraderie.
Together they entered the Kitchen.
They removed their muddy clothes.
Shivering, clad in boxers and tees. They made their way to John's room and a hot shower.
An understanding silence carried them into the house.
Neither clearly knew what was understood. Only what had almost happened. Words would not be a sacrilege tonight; only awkward. Communication was accomplished by nods and single, simple gestures.
In the shower, neither showed signs of passion.
John knelt at Wylie's feet to examine the bit mark. Only then was the silence broken. "Well, there are no teeth marks. I guess my bite isn't much compared to that of a horse."
"You know, I think in some cultures, they not only castrate bad slaves, they also pull their teeth."
A weak, grateful laugh, and John commented, "Good thing we're in Texas. I don't think a lifetime of gumming food would be something I would look forward to."
Later, dressed in jeans and tee shirts. They headed to the kitchen where they steamed and ravaged some of Conchatta's tamales. They drank several beers and tried hard to keep the conversation light.
Night was slinking into early morning when they staggered to the bedroom. Underneath the light alcohol glaze and the nervous tension was a need to reassure each other that the physical expression of what they shared was enough. For now.
Neither was sure the other was horny.
Each wondered if they would do anything.
There had been no "foreplay" during or after the shower.
If they did, would it be a repeat or reversed roles?
Wylie held back in the bathroom. He would let John decide. When he entered the bedroom, he found John in the position he had occupied. Was it only last night?
Tonight there was a small jar of Vaseline beside John's right knee. Wylie's pulse quickened and his cock throbbed to full hardness. He gorged his brain on the sight before him. John's mounds shone white in the weak moonlight.
Horny! Super Horny killed Hesitation.
Wylie knew what he liked from John's efforts and wasted no time. It was so good last night. Wylie wanted to know how it felt for John.
He wanted to be inside his lover.
Gently he spread John's cheeks. He saw John's pucker spasm in anticipation. He closed on his target and inhaled the fragrance. It was John. A tinge of soap had lingered.
He resented the smell of Irish Spring. It muted John's scent. His tongue went out toward its target. Timidly at first, but John's moans encouraged him.
He licked... he sucked... he nibbled.
Everything seemed to elevate John's passion.
His tongue teased the hole. It pulsed an invitation.
His tongue pushed. John ass pushed back.
He was inside his lover! He licked and probed.
He sucked while pushing his tongue in further.
John was writhing already.
His tongued moved in and out. His drool lubricated John's asshole and cheeks. Wylie pushed in and felt the wetness connect him to his lover. Unaware his hands reached out to caress John's body.
They rubbed. They stroked. They caressed. Wylie's tongue concentrated on the rosebud. He directed his hands to John's nipples.
John went onto his elbows to grant access.
Sensations exploded when electricity flashed from his nipples to his ass. John came up on all fours.
Wylie's tongue and finger tips followed.
John's head revolved in a slow moan filled circle.
Moans began to fill the room. John began humping that magical tongue.
Wylie withdrew.
John's ass swiveled and humped the empty air, searching for Wylie's tongue, when a lubed finger circled and caressed his pucker.
When that finger penetrated, John's body trembled.
Slowly Wylie worked John's ass. He had paid attention last night. He felt the nut.
John gasped!
He raised his ass and pushed back, demanding more.
Wylie gave him what he needed. In short order three fingers were reducing John to a quivering lump.
Fingers pushed. Pulled.
Fingers twisted and withdrew.
John bit his lower lip. Breathing came hard and fast.
His head on the bed, hands clasped; as in prayer. Wylie touched something!
SHOCK!
John's entire upper body came off the bed.
His heart stopped! His whole body became one rigid muscle. No air in or out.
His mind blanked!
There was only... only...that...SHOCK!
John's brain shifted from pleasure to...passion...To
LUST!!!!!!
To Madness. MADNESS!!! The touch inside was on..off..on..off..on.
His brain screamed "OHHH GAAAWWDDD!
His body thrashed. Moans became fierce growls.
Growls became SNARLS! SNARLING!
SNARLING FOR MORE!!!
John's teeth clinched as he fought back the snarls but still they came fighting to be heard! Fighting to express animal lust and need and hunger!
SNARLS!
LOUDER SNARLS!
GASPING SNARLS!
URGING SNARLS!
PLEADING SNARLS!
WANTING SNARLS!
MORE! MORE! MORE!
His ass took control, searching for MORE!
Wylie got into position and removed his fingers. His cock head went inside.
John's reaction was instantaneous.
John's ass DEVOURED WYLIE'S COCK!
Silence.
Gasps stopped in mid-breath
MORE! Too much. WAY! TOO!! MUCH!!!
John FROZE!
Even as his ass took in Wylie's massive girth and length, even as it slide in as he pushed back, his brain, his body, his ass, his whole being realized!
IT! WAS!! TOO!!! MUCH!!!!
There was hope. The intensity was no longer mind blinding pain. He could think beyond the pain. The burning was a blow torch stuck just within his asshole. It burned at the edge and inside.
He forced himself to breathe a slow shallow breath. A deep breath might fan the flames. Wylie was not moving; thank god.
The flames burned down. Still flames, just smaller.
He tried to concentrate on before... before the pain.
He felt something wet on his back, just below his shoulder blades. There was no touching? Wylie' hands were on John's hips? Why wet? His breathing came to near normal.
The flames were almost flickers.
The wetness spread and grew cool against his skin.
Wet? Water? Tears? TEARS? I'm not crying. Tears? Wylie? Wylie's tears?
WYLIE`S?
WYLIE'S TEARS? WYLIE'S CRYING? FOR ME?
Crying for me, my pain? He thinks he hurt me!
Wylie didn't hurt me. WYLIE WOULD NEVER HURT ME!
The knowledge began to grow; even as the pain diminished. The flames were extinguished. Wylie's tears did that.
John brain flashed to his penetration and separation; last night. He knew Wylie would let his cock soften and pull out. John knew that!
Flames were gone their was only a burning that felt like an itch; and intense itch.
With great trepidation. John moved his ass forward. Wylie immediately began to withdraw.
He knew he had hurt John. Knew that when John impaled himself. It was pain beyond imagining. In the instant John froze Wylie wanted to pull out. To make it better. To make it not hurt. To kiss away the pain for his Johnnie. He looked so small and vulnerable. He knew not to move.
The worst he could do would be to pull out. There were no options. He waited.
In a half lean where John's backward thrust had left him. He hands had gripped John's waist. They, like the rest of him remained still. He dared not move.
Any movement would hurt John! Last night; intense PAIN!
Tonight; OH GOD!
He was balls deep in John's sweet, wonderful, marvelous ass. John was in pain. Real pain!
Pain; ten time worse. A hundred times worse. A hundred times worse than anything he had felt last night.
JOHN WAS IN TERRIBLE PAIN!
There was nothing he could do but wait. Silently he wept. There could be no words of comfort. No words of love. No words to let John know that he knew it hurt. He Hurt John. He waited.
John moved! John moved away.
Wylie's cock was still hard. If John was moving away; maybe it was ok to pull out. He began to withdraw.
John moved again.
John moved back onto Wylie's cock. Again John moved away from Wylie.
Wylie waited.
John moved hard against Wylie!
Wylie pulled his cock out... just a little.
Wylie pushed in. John waited.
Pulled out... A little. Then, in... out...in
Slowly Wylie began a rhythm easing out a little more each time.
Wylie's cock slipped out.
John's ass was searching to fill the void. Humping against Wylie.. Demanding.
Wylie applied more Vaseline and reentered.
Passion again found John. His pulse quickened.
Wylie was caressing his body leaving tingle trails as his fingers moved.
John's cock surged as Wylie stroked it in time with his on movements. The burning was gone. There was an itch, deep inside.
Wylie's cock was scratching that itch to John' exaltation. His breath came in gasps. Short and desperate. John shuddered as Wylie's tongue snaked a wet trail up his spine.
He felt Wylie's hairy chest against back. His ass was on fire. Aflame with a new heat that made his balls catapult back. Tight.
Wylie licked his ear. John twisted wanting a kiss.
Wylie moved away.
John' ass was ravaged by the new fire that consumed his entire body.
The exquisite burning in his ass grew even more intense as Wylie stroked his cock in time with his own rhythmic pounding.
John was in lust. The wholly consuming raged beyond comprehension.
Wylie released John's cock and withdrew????.
John wanted him back. He wanted his lovers cock back inside him, where it belonged. He wanted his cock stroked in time with each thrust of his lover's cock. Wanted those strokes and that pounding to go on and on and on.
Why had he backed away from the kiss? Why had he pulled his cock out?
Before John could ever process those thoughts completely, Wylie had twisted his legs and flipped him onto his back.
For the first time since falling onto the bed John saw Wylie's face.
There was a fire in those eyes. He could see it even in the moonlight. They glowed like a predator. The color was almost gray. The fire was clear.
Wylie's face held beyond passion; It was almost rage. It wasn't frightening. It would have been simple rage, had it not been Wylie.
Only when Wylie looked away did John realizing they had staring at each other. He wondered, what had Wylie seen in his eyes.
Wylie had looked away to make this happen, face to face. Sizing up the situation he grabbed a pillow and folding it moved it toward John's ass. John hoisted his ass so quickly precum slammed from his cockhead to his chin. He didn't notice.
Wylie, satisfied with the angle re-lubed his cock. He applied more grease to John's ass and was rewarded with, "mmmmm."
Aligning his cock Wylie began to slowly reenter.
Slowly, in. out... In a little more... Out
Slowly... A little more.
John's delirium demanded satisfaction. NOW!! He hooked his feet behind Wylie and pulled. Wylie found himself in a pincher movement that left his cock again Balls Deep...
Wylie FROZE! John sighed, momentarily satisfied that his lovers cock was home again. Wylie's smile was just as dazzling in moonlit.
There love was comsummate again.
Wylie studied his lovers face. He had more than a few girls in this position. Most often he did not look at their face. Tonight it was impossible to look away. He studies his lovers face. He leaned down and kissed John's lips. Even as his tongue reached out, John was sucking it in.
Passions flame raged anew. The fire in John's ass made it spasm with a velvety grip upon Wylie's swollen cock. It swelled even larger as those sensations fueled his exploration of John's mouth. The hungry sucking and stroking of John's tongue feed the fire that was burning brilliantly through his body. A cycle; each feed off of and in turn fed the other. Their love was indeed consummate.
Wylie broke the kiss. In a fevered rush he slid the pillow further under John's back. He applied more lube. He slid in carefully ignoring Johns demanding legs and impatient ass.
UREKA!
John's throat popped as he gasped in surprise. Wylie's cock had found his love nut.
In..out Gasp! In...out
Passion heedlessly burned into wanton lust. Wylie became a cock... became a piston... in an over revved engine.
Gasp! Wylie pushed in balls deep! Gasp! Again and again and again.
His cock rubbed it's length against John' love nut.
OHHHH!!! GANNNNNNNNN!!!!
John's frenzied cry slicked Wylie's own slide toward insanity. He met Wylie's rhythm
In..out. With forced, unstoppable, blinding, raging LUST!
Wylie leaned in for a Kiss. John raised his head to feed his own hungry lips. The circle of their lovemaking was engulf a most ferocious firestorm.
Wylie pounded John's ass. John's velvet sleeve met each stroke of Wylie's hot piston. Wylie was a captive to John's legs, arms, mouth and ass.
Wylie had never felt so free and unfettered.
The slap of flesh on flesh was punctuated by moans and groans tasted and shared.
Wylie broke the kiss. The breath he drew from John and openmouthed around John's was not enough to feed his engine and his piston. Wylie kissed small kisses and love bites around John's neck and shoulders.
The new sensations drug John into an abyss of total, wanton madness.
He wrapped his arms around Wylie's torso and bit into the flesh above Wylie's collar bone. He sucked as he had on Wylie's cock. His teeth sank deeper into the tender flesh.
The pain sent Wylie beyond his own insanity.
Wylie used both elbows against John' shoulders forcing him further onto his cock. The fevered frenzy of flesh on flesh became a machine gun action. His body jack-hammered with impossible speed. Wylie's cock took control.
Wylie was humping, ramming, forcing his flesh into John.
Mindlessly driven. Beyond reason, beyond passion, into insanity. There was only this. This need This need to FUCK!
The frenzy... the fury... The... FUCK!!!
Perhaps it was the constant rubbing on his love nut. Perhaps it was a swelling of that already large cock, perhaps it was that his madness demanded release or death.
John spread his legs letting them hang in the air. Wylie slammed harder.
He raised his upper body up and placed his hands on John's chest. His thumbs rolling John's nipples. John reached up to pull Wylie to him. Wylie was lost in his own mindless drive to oblivion.
John's hands found no purchase. Desperately he clawed to bring Wylie to him. His fingers brushed against Wylie's chest hair. Wanting. Needing. His fingers clutched at tugged at the hairs.
The sharp, emphatic pain pulled cum into Wylie's balls and his frenzy slowed until it was rapid fire, deliberate, forceful pounding.
John love nut was not touched, not stroked. It was POUNDED!
As John's love nut got POUNDED with the fiery poker, his ass tightened it's velvety grip around Wylie's cock. Blood surged to his own over stimulated organ. John was sent euphorically riding the flames of the fire. He became the fire!
His balls contracted agonizingly within their sack. Desperately ready to discharge their load and relieve the interminable pressure.
They snapped to attention! With mindless finality they fired their hot load. The first shot burned his check. The second splashed and ran down his neck. Subsequent shots splayed across his chest and stomach.
John's moans, in the midst of his own release, were loud beyond belief. Louder than the stinging slap of flesh. Even as the first volley lay still warm on his cheek. There came a louder, more primal declaration.
A sound came that shattered the darkness. It ruled over all other sounds. Majestically it declared it supremacy. A beastly roar that would have frightened jungle. Wylie told the world he was breeding his mate.
When the echo died. Wylie almost laughed at his own embarrassment. John had been oblivious to any sound.
Almost immediately they sought, found and held each others gaze. Deliberately Wylie lowered himself to John's embrace. Melding after love's most intimate act.
A small cramp reminded John his legs were still in the air. Cautiously he eased them down and entrapped Wylie. John could see Wylie's face drawing closer to his. He closed his eyes in anticipation.
A warm wetness touched his cheek. He realized that Wylie was licking up his cum. They shared it in a warm, wet kiss.
Once the kiss broke. Wylie rolled out of bed and extended his hand. John took it and cautiously stood. Together they washed each other under the warm and welcomed water.
Back in bed they lay on their sides. John dozed muted euphoria, His lover ensnared in his arms. The last notion Wylie remembered was his fingertips gently stroking the hair on John's arm.
Well before dawn`s early light. John awoke to find Wylie, playing with his chest hair. Teasing his nipples and sucking on his already hard cock.
John slid into the familiar sixty-nine position and engaged Wylie's cock with equal fervor. The kiss they shared in afterglow had more than remnants of their love offerings.
When the full light invaded and awoke John he was shocked to find that he had left a "love bit" on Wylie's collar bone. He didn't mention it; how could he. When Wylie saw it while shaving, he laughed. He was just glad it wasn't summertime.
Christmas was only days away. Wylie was reminded of that when he awoke to the sounds of holiday music softly echoing throughout the house. John let him know it was only played during the hours that Conchatta was present.
Conchatta was the driving force behind Christmas at the ranch. The two were drafted to assist. She was a taskmaster! It had to be just right.
Wylie made the mistake of questioning her regarding the "exact" placement of certain ornaments and decorations. Which, in his opinion, were to be taken down and stored away, in just a few days... and none too soon. That comment garnered him a smack to the back of his head. Even though Conchatta had tiptoed to land the blow.
John just grinned and said, "Welcome to the family."
Wylie grunted. His smile was inside.
After his not so gently reprimand, he became compliant and kept his opinions to himself.
There was a party for the dealership employees and their families. No alcohol. No one seemed surprised when Santa arrived larger than life, wearing a Super Bowl ring. He was a big hit with all the children; young and old.
Sally was cajoled into sitting on Santa's lap. She, however, did not appreciate the slap on her fanny when she stood to rejoin the audience. The look she gave Santa could have slain a reindeer. Only a few noted that her harsh glare was softened by a wink.
There was no party for the ranch hands. They received, just as those at the dealership, a handsome bonus. John explained that what cowboys considered a good time, involved too much alcohol and most likely a call for the sheriff or the ambulance.
The smells from the kitchen combined with the music brought bittersweet memories to Wylie. John sensed this. Often as not, when Wylie found himself succumbing to his sense of loss, he would feel John's hand clasp his shoulder or John divert his attention with some task or entertainment. Whatever the distraction it usually resulted in Wylie smiling and forgetting.
Some of the decorations were foreign to him. John explained the significance they held for himself, his father and Conchatta.
Wylie learned that Christmas Eve revolved around a buffet. The results of Conchatta's efforts were laid out on the massive dining room table.
Conchatta and Louis, along with their children and grandchildren were present throughout the day. One of the spare bedrooms became a haven for the teenagers and another a corral for the younger children.
Mr. Grant seemed to delight in his suddenly crowded home.
Wylie shared this observation with John.
"Yeah, dad loves kids."
Wylie sensed there was more.
"The first few years after Conchatta and Lois came we had a piñata. I think I was about thirteen, it was hung in the breezeway. Not sure why. Anyway, Dad got too close and one of the children swung and hit him in the nuts. Just like those videos on TV. I wish I had that on tape. He couldn't ride for a week and that was the last piñata."
"You are one sick individual. You wanted to see me get bit by a horse and now you're saying you would like to have a video of your dad getting his nuts crushed. John, you don't have a heart. You got a thumpin' gizzard."
At that he pushed John. Stood up and huffily walked away. Three paces away he turned and stuck out his tongue at John.
Wylie was awed by the sheer number of people who came by to share food, drink and time. More than a few dropped off or exchanged gifts, with the Grants. Most all left with something.
Most were people Wylie had not met. Most of those John introduced. Some John had not seen for years. A few he flat out did not know.
Joe Don and Sally seemed to be around almost as long as Conchatta's family. By the time they left Joe Don was indeed feeling the spirits of Christmas and good whisky.
It was almost midnight when John, Wylie and Mr. Grant were left to themselves. Conchatta had rallied her army, including John and Wylie, for clean up.
When John and Wylie finally climbed into bed they were both tired. There had been no real drinking. Still, it somehow seemed natural to fall asleep facing each other; arms draped over the other, while their lower limbs intertwined.
Wylie awakened before John. He was aware that something had pulled him from sleep. It took a moment to realize, John's hand was holding onto his ass, while he gently humped his hardened manhood against Wylie. Only their boxers separated the iron rods.
Fully awake, his first reaction was to mimic John's humping. He knew it wouldn't take much for him to cum, even if he just lay there.
Wylie recalled the night of the bitten toe. John would not react well, if he awakened while cumming into Wylie's crotch. Whether or not Wylie came too.
Gingerly, he extracted himself. John moaned his displeasure. Wylie placed a pillow against John's abdomen and the quiet humping resumed.
He was tempted to watch to see if his lover would cum.
Instead he moved to the en suite and quietly closed the door. He sat on the commode, with his face in his hands and thought about his John.
Wylie had never had thought about having sex with a man. Never figured he would love a man. Still, he wasn't sure he could love any woman more than he loved the man sleeping just feet away.
He admitted he loved John.
There were so many issues. Gay in Texas was an oxymoron. John was filthy rich and he was dirt poor. He had realized long ago, a bigger issue to him than to John.
Wylie knew John had feelings for him. More than just the "release" they both obviously enjoyed. Now. It was more than just a "release". Much more!
John avoided Wylie's swim team. The friendly banter and interactions that the teammates shared, seemed to leave a scowl on John's face. After the first couple of times, Wylie saw John's reaction. He teased John. That was the last time John came to any practice or meet. That was one of the things they never discussed.
Wylie made a decision. He wanted John to be a part of his life. He wanted them to have a real relationship. He wanted John Grant to be his BoyFriend! He shuddered at such a concept. At the same instant, a steadying calm washed over him. With that he embraced the "concept". He thought of himself, Wylie Keyes, having a Boyfriend, a lover. It felt good. It felt right.
He would confront John. After the holidays. Back at school. Alone in their room.
After sex!
When there would be no escape. Where there would be no denial. He even knew when and how! Not to the minute. Not even the day. But he would! He would say, "I love you John Grant."
His cock got his attention. Or rather his bladder did. He completed his ablutions and made his way to the kitchen. He didn't check to see if John had cum or was even awake. He feared, if he looked at John, he would not be able to wait until they returned to campus.
First: Thank you Stuat, you give more than I ask and are better than I deserve.
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