"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter 41
by Griz
umgriz@protonmail.com
Hi, Farm Friends;
We're in the holiday season here on my farm in this December of 2024.. Everyone is supposed to be feeling happy and hopeful. I will commit to hopeful, but honestly, if my hopes are met, I'll be happy. I suspect, at least here in the States, the biggest items on their 'Santa Wish List' is for a Hopeful and Happy and Safe-From-Harm life. At least for most people, as we move into 2025.....and I won't deny I'm among 'em. Why we have to hope and not be afraid that we can be safe from harm in this day and age and nation is not the kind of thing I want any American to have to worry about, but we're gonna have to do that----if we're not already. Anyway.....
Thanks for your patience. I get to this as often as I am able, and truly: except for precious time spent with one man here, there's nothing I look forward to more than telling you Team Jozef's story.
&&&& This story is fiction. Erotic gay fiction about two consenting men in love. You know this upfront because it might be illegal where you live to even have access to fiction of this nature. Don't get yourself in the same kind of trouble that I think is on the horizon for us in the States, too.
Also: nifty.org is a non-profit organization. That means any revenue received goes toward expenses-----not for profits. Nifty operates very leanly, and sometimes has months far too lean than they deserve. We all can afford something. Please: each of you reading this, or any story: contribute. Thank you. &&&&
"BABE! STOP! IT'S.....TOO HARD!"
"Ummm.....I thought you wanted it hard!"
"Not THIS hard! I won't be able to walk tomorrow!"
"Really, this.....I know.....roll over onto your stomach. Maybe it'll feel better that way."
"Well.....oh, why not. Can't be any worse."
"'Worse' connotes it was bad to begin with, Marc. Are you sure you're not being just a wee bit dramatic....?"
"NO. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but now.....well, we're past the point of no return, I guess.....keep.....trying.....I'm the one who wanted this."
I sighed. I wanted it, too; but mostly, I wanted Marc to like it. I needed him to feel comfortable while we were in bed together. After all, he'd be spending more than a few years of his life doing this, and we were both young. There was a lot of Time ahead of us. Still.....it was his decision, not mine. 'His body, his choice'. We tried for another five or so minutes, but we just couldn't get it right. It was then that I discovered the problem was actually my fault. Maybe doing this in a dark room wasn't such a bright idea.
"Ummm.....Marc.....I was, uhhh, holding the remote wrong. Had it upside down. Of course this 'Number' mattress was getting firmer; I was inflating it when you wanted it deflated.....oh, geez.....Sorry, Boyfriend.....are you okay?"
"You're lucky I think you're beautiful, Jozef....."
"I'm lucky you thought you could go running in the dark, and yet here we are a couple months later, trying to make this bed comfortable for you, also in the dark, where you just so happen to think conveniently, I'm beautiful. How're you now?"
Marc just sighed.
"I'm sinking deeply into a marshmallow. Too soft. You know what? Fuck this. Grammy and Grampy can entertain themselves trying to 'find the right number', if they want to try this 'abomination of comfort' mattress. What was I thinking when I bought it??! Get dressed. We're going to the farm. That 'Stephen Foster-Katherine Hepburn' mattress knows what I want and what I need, and as long as you're in there with me, all three of you will have delivered on my expectations. My hopes and expectations. I only ever hoped for you, Jozef; and my expectation is that I will continue to deserve you. You and all of Team Jozef. But only YOU on any mattress with me."
And then like Marc, I just sighed. If I wanted to sink into a cloud of contentment, of ether and ecstasy, none better existed than the littlest kindnesses that he shared with me on the most surprising of occasions. Nothing, really, surprised me about Marc; but I was delighted endlessly. More Youthful Arrogance, as if I have attained anything in Age or Wisdom that would satisfy all my needs to be surprised. I tried to remind myself what Mom told the woman at Dad's wake: 'I was just getting to know him', in response to a well-intentioned platitude, that by the time he died, Mom must've known Dad inside and out. When I realized what I'd thought, I smiled at my own reminder: 'May Marc surprise, delight and inspire me, all the days we have together, and may I have the privilege to do the same for him, my man'.
I smiled at the suggestion of returning to the farm to sleep. Although Mom told me to just drive West from our house in town to Missoula, I also knew I'd be three days away from Sebastian. Time was not on our side, my beast and me. That two thousand pounds of sentient being who, from the very beginning, played Tag with me. I'd never heard of another bovine creature engaging with humans, but for whatever reason, he behaved like a dog. Ironic, really; Max behaved like a bull, active in the rearing of his dozen progeny. He, too, accepted me like Lola Cola did; my Little Guy was destined for a good home. No different from my Big Guy, nor my horse, nor my new rooster, nor my man. If I had anything to offer any of them, it was care, concern and compassion throughout the lives we shared. And other than that damned new banty rooster, I felt.....visible.....to the others. Well, of course Marc made me feel more than just that.
There was still lots of Sun in the sky as Marc and I walked from the house into the garage. He had grabbed the keys from the kitchen counter, and beeped the lock open on the Mustang.
"Marc, you're gonna follow me out in that?"
"No, you're gonna follow me out in that, Jozef. Please take this to Missoula with you. It's really an amazing machine, and I know you'll enjoy the experience."
"Wow.....really? That's.....okay, yes! Wait.....I'm not on the insurance, right? What insurer in its right mind would allow some teenager to drive a 650 horsepower car?"
"The insurance company that already agreed to add you to the policy. Surprise! Heh.....just enjoy it. Trust me: you don't have to take it to the 165 miles-per-hour limit its capable of. It'll get you to 70 in five seconds, and you can set the cruise control, crank whatever it is you Cool Kids listen to these days, and probably smile the entire distance. Also.....and I don't think I'm wrong here.....when college students see you roll up on campus in this, they'll all wonder who the stud fuck hot guy is behind the wheel."
"Marc.....are you sure? Grammy and Grampy are gonna want this car back in the same condition they left it in."
"Then make sure that's how you return it. I can almost bet they'll spend the rest of their driving days in that old '57 pickup. Buying this was just something Grampy had always wanted to do, and now he has done it. But we might lend it to them for Date Night, of course....."
I smiled and put my arms around Marc's neck, and engulfed his mouth with my own. I've only ever thought of driving my old '64 truck, because.....well, it's all I've ever driven, on the farm at twelve and off the farm at fourteen. This.....well, sure; I knew how to put fuel in the tank, shift the gears, I knew where the powered top switch was, and I knew how to connect my phone to the stereo. Checking the oil might be a bigger challenge; I'd looked under the hood only once, and then nearly cowered in a corner of the garage afterward. Still.....a brand-new Mustang convertible.....for an entire weekend, cruising 630 round-trip miles with my big head up in the Big Sky. It sounded almost perfect, but.....
"Marc. Come with me. Two nights in Missoula, together."
"Babe, I thought about it, but please understand something about me. I have never lived with people who cared anything about me. I grew up a solitary person, more than content with other lives lived in the past. When I taught, I had a class of a couple of hundred students, and then I assisted the Dean enough that I was actually 'on the clock' at least eight hours a day, throughout the week. Then I'd go to my little home and spend the rest of the time in solitude, which essentially recharged me for being among thousands of people each and every day.
It's not that I don't want to be with you, Jozef; I love being with you as much as we have been, and I'm already excited about how much we can be together. There's just this.....thing.....about me. I mentioned it to you early after we met. I need time alone. It's how I think. And write. It's how I got published three times. It's better if I collapse into myself when I'm alone, rather than do it around you and the rest of the family."
Marc had told me that. He told me he needed some time alone. I guess considering my family, I could not've conceived growing up invisible, and by my reckoning, unloved. Alone time for me was going out on my horse for an afternoon, or a drive like the one I took at 4:30 in the morning only a few weeks ago, really. In a way, Marc interrupted that drive, and I interrupted his run. We interrupted our lives, and it seemed like we would never be returned to our previously scheduled program.
Our challenge, or at least my challenge, was taking theory into practice. Our trip to Billings revealed a side of my personality I didn't know existed. There was a moment of insecurity when Marc was being measured and fitted for those incredible suits. Other men, strangers, were seeing my man undressed and on display. My rational mind struggled to override the jealousy, but Marc assured me and reassured me that his really nice Self was mine, not theirs. All of him was for me only. It was actually buying furniture together that pulled me completely out of that very surprising, shocking and disturbing mindset. It was also Marc's tender kisses, and his assertive kisses, and his aggressive kisses that drove the point home. And then a few times, he drove himself home, and my insecure teenaged farmboy ass was that home. A home in town, a home on Farm W, and a home in Jozef. Make yourself at home, Marc.
I understood rationally what Marc had just told me, and I knew he was right about needing his own space-time continuum on occasion. I also knew that for as long as could be, we'd live in one place or another, together. Sure, that converted attic would make a heck of an office for both of us, and I think building him a wall to define his own space would make sense. Build huge bookcases with a door between 'em. Not a wall as much as it would be a home to Marc's best and most reliable life-long friends, living on shelves and watching him write more titles to join them. On my side of the wall? Heck, I didn't know. What was on the wall wasn't at all as important to me as the man on the other side of it, and him getting everything he needed to continue being a successful historian and author. Silence, space and a Thermos of iced tea. Greatness is inspired by a good Earl Grey blend. Extra bergamot for Marc. Extra Marc for me when the door between our offices would open and he'd walk through where I'd be ready for him to rejoin the Living after writing about the Dead. Until then.....Marc was right.
"Of course, Marc. Yeah, I remember you telling me that before. Is it okay to tell you I'll miss you, and the first night separated will be agony?"
"It's okay to tell me that, but candidly, understand that I think your focus of the trip needs to be Marie's health and your own academic pursuits. Both of those are more important to me than I think I can convey to you, and I'm fairly competent at arranging twenty-six letters of the Latin alphabet to convey some heavy shit. At least Harvard Press and my agent think so."
"I'll miss you, Marc."
"I certainly hope so! But not agonizingly, please. Jozef, take this for what it's worth, but please: be a kid. Drive a Mustang, flash that perfect smile on campus, get those awards applied to distance learning, and glean all you can from the leading minds on the subject of Lewy Bodies Dementia. This is the first of only a few good moments in our life together when it truly can be All About You, and for all the right reasons."
"Yeah, I get it. I do, Boyfriend. If I can't have you in the car with me, though.....can I have the next best thing?"
"Uh-oh.....dare I guess....?"
"Go ahead....."
"You want maybe some of my.....shall we say.....DNA to take with you? Carried safely and discreetly until at least the first rest stop on the highway?"
"You win the prize for the correct guess!"
"That was no guess, Babe. I might write about the Past, but I'm fairly decent at prognosticatin' an immediate Future. So: get back in the house and get on your back. You're gonna take so much of Me with you that you'll have to relax the seatbelt a little."
"Ohhh.....that was nice! It was almost like...."
"WHAT PART OF 'GET YOUR TEEN FARMBOY ASS IN THE HOUSE' DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?? WE HAVE LIMITED TIME TO GET THREE LOADS OF MARC IN YOUR HOLE TO MARK YOU FOR YOUR ROAD TRIP!!!"
Yeah, my man wanted to sound all dominant and Navy SEAL Officer-like, but beneath it all, he was a man who wanted his man as much as his man wanted him, and in whatever way he could get him. I laughed and grabbed the already-tight crotch in my Levis, and turned and ran into the house. I could not get out of the clothes and get on that ridiculous 'Slumber Number' variable inflation mattress fast enough. Marc was offering me a consolation prize for attempting to play a game, a very adult game, of understanding the nuances of Priority. Marc didn't love me any less; he didn't want me any less. He just wanted some time alone with his thoughts, and it was a lifetime of getting exactly that which got him precisely where he was that day. He also got a teenaged farmboy who adored that furry professor and author, and who was his most devoted, dedicated and loyal---and loving, too---fan.
I heard the door open that joined the garage with the rest of the house. I already had the little bottle of Gun Oil in my hand, drizzling some of that naughty nectar into my other hand so I could apply it where it was going to do the most good. Once my slightly-furred trench and hole were lubed up, I slowly got my middle finger inside me. My ass was on full display for Marc as soon as he walked through the bedroom door, but if my ears were not deceiving me, I heard that old Frigidaire's door open. Ahhh.....speaking of Earl Grey.....my man was pulling out the pitcher to fill two glasses (also refrigerated, because we spoil ourselves) of iced tea.
That gave me time to get another finger as deeply inside me as I could. Marc was the first and if I had my way last man to get inside All This Jeffy. Yeah, 'Jeffy'. Sounds slightly porn star-ish.....my mind can run that way sometimes (most of the times). I worked more Gun Oil in my hole (Marc's hole) as I could. Fucker is thick. You have no idea. You know that small can of tomato paste? Yeah, that thick. And two of 'em, end to end. In sheer length, I win; but who wants a contest with an absolute hyper-educated, multi-degreed, heavily-fur-pelted stud fuck? Not I. The mere fact that he rode home with me after getting lost on state highway 87 in Fergus County was me winning the prize.
Marc can be aggressive when.....well, when we're not eating dinner or talking with Father Tim. He can flip me around from one end of a bed to the other, and if he has more room---like in a barn hayloft---he kinda just launches me from bale to bale. No resistance or argument, ever. If anything.....well, I encourage said launching. It's when I land and Marc lands on top of me that I see the very same stars that are in the sky above the roof of the barn. Morning, Night or Noon, I see stars.
"Babe. Don't fuckin' move. Right there, like that. You'd have the pope and Jerry Falwell drooling at the mouth."
"And what are you doing?"
"Drooling at the dick. I'm losing significant weight and hydration as we speak. God, Babe; you are beautiful."
"It gets better as you get closer. Get close, Marc. Like minus-eight-inches close."
He didn't argue. As great as Gun Oil is, it compares absolutely not at all with precum, and Marc could've filled his own small bottle of his exceptional elixir by the time he crossed the bedroom floor. I already had myself positioned at the very end of the bed, and I arched my back as he got closer and raised my pelvis as high as I could without levitating. Without hesitation or pretense, Marc entered What Was His slowly and in full grip of my hips. There was nothing heard but Marc exhaling and me inhaling as we came as close as we could to Two Becoming One. I didn't ask for (or beg for) compliance from that ring of muscle. My man took his time while he took my ass, and all I felt was pleasure---and he wasn't yet anywhere my Love Nut. My Boy Button. My.....Chauffeur To Ecstasy. Okay, that last one was a stretch. But I digress.
Why anyone gave me a scholarship, I have no idea. If I come up with stuff like that, I shouldn't have received even a diploma, one year early or not.
Marc pulled my hips back as close to his own as humanly (and sodomizingly) possible. Yeah, gay erotica writers say all the time: 'I can feel your dick fur against my hole!', but in this case, I really could. I pressed back as far as I could, and wiggled until I felt positively itchy. God, that was wonderful. That was my man acting like a Brillo pad on my posterior. On the interior, Marc was bringing me pleasure I could not have imagined possible. Yeah, part of it (most of it) was because the man inside me was MY man. He was there because not only did we both want him there, but because when Marc would just take me like that, he was claiming me. The quiet, depressed and formerly abused addict commanded my very soul to offer pleasure to us both.
My time on my knees was only brief. Over the following thirty minutes, I'd been contorted like a hot, steamy Sex Pretzel, ready to be spread all over with Marc's Man Mustard.
Oh. I'm really sorry for that.....
I'll blame it on a lack of oxygen to my brain, because I'm not sure I ever began breathing again after Marc's big balls were clanging against my own. Somehow we survived a half hour of the hottest porn never filmed. Marc is insatiable. He gets what he wants, but what he offers in return transforms alley cat sex into some ballet by Nijinsky (a fellow Pole, doncha know). Whenever Marc moved me around on that bed, I got his eyes locked onto mine and his mouth bruising my lips, a most welcome (and slightly exaggerated) injury. With each and every thrust and cautious withdrawal, Marc spoke volumes with his eyes on mine. I knew an 'I love you, Jozef' when I saw it; just as I knew he was asking if I was all right. A dozen emotions my man conveyed to me, but he said not one word. I needed my man in my ass, and his soul in communion with mine.
By the time we were finished and I was pumped full of Marc's cum (oh, does he cum a lot.....), he collapsed on top of me, his chest to mine, his lips on my neck and my arms around his and all of him I could get.
"Babe....."
"Yeah?"
"The best yet."
"Agreed, Boyfriend. Was that my 'bon voyage' send-off?"
"And your 'welcome home', although you'll get a better one when you're.....well, home."
"We might've had casualties, Marc...."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. This mattress, when you pulled out and had not-so-great aim gettin' back in, and also my transverse colon, when you were in and your aim was oh-so-great. Might be perforations in both, if not outright holes you poked with wanton abandon."
"Oh, You. Always with the hyperbole."
"Not in your case. I speak hypobole. And you know it. I'm just too shy to scream to all the neighbors that you're dislocating and relocating my ribs to where my shoulders used to be."
"Babe, you have broad, muscular, studly farmboy shoulders. Nothing is going to move those around."
"Not true. Once your knees are parked over 'em, we can revisit that statement."
"HA! Whatever. Whenever. However. They 'whyever' has already been addressed: it's yours when you want it, Babe. I've wondered over the years if anyone would ever get inside me. Now I wonder when I'll finally find out it's you. It was always going to be you. You just had to meet me first so you could meat me second."
"Fuckin' roll over, Marc. On your back, goddamnit."
My own voice, already south of Walter Cronkite's, took on new depths as I commanded Marc into place. Wisely, so eruditely, he complied immediately with what would've happened eventually. And yeah, 'eventually' for me can be about three seconds on a stopwatch. I grasped Marc's cock, positioned tightly against his abs. It's almost as if it needed to keep an eye on Marc's face, all the time. It's always aimed right there, and resistant to movement when I try to pry that dick perpendicular to the rest of him. Makes it a lot easier for me to get that fuckin' monster cock head in my mouth, where I can satisfy all my oral fixations at once.
Once I had engulfed half of him and Marc's breathing resumed, my hands were freed up to play. My left moved to Marc's sack, and he continued moaning in and with pleasure. My tongue licked the underside of that meat as my entire mouth worked its way further down. I would not be satisfied until my lips were abraded by the most wonderful dick fur I'd ever seen, smelled, licked, tasted and a few other action verbs not coming to my oxygen-deprived brain. Marc's hands found their way to my head, but he didn't pull it closer. He just ran his fingers through my blond locks, slowly and gently. The sensation on my scalp seemed to be felt all the way down to my own cock, because it jerked and burped a little (a lot) more precum on the sheets between Marc's knees.
While I was sucking, I was sucking. You know the difference. It's the reason women rarely give good blowjobs; they don't know how incredible it feels when someone is basically a Kirby vacuum cleaner, turned all the way up to 11. Having enjoyed more than my share of both oysters and escargots (and they enjoyed me, lemmetellya), I know my way around organs. I'm a veteran of both 'linguses. I'm known well for my ability to collapse entire uterii without even really trying all that hard. Same with almost---almost---distending a dick's urethra a couple of inches. I admit this all with humility. One doesn't like to brag too much about perhaps the one talent that didn't get one a scholarship.
It took a few moments, but I got my lips nestled in that luscious dark fur.
"Babe! How on Earth.....oh, my god."
I slowly disengaged, and rolled my eyes at Marc
"You act like this is the first time I've blown you."
"Not the first, but I think this is the best yet!"
"You're only saying that because you want to prolong this as long as you can so you're not blowing me from the opposite direction."
"What??! Oh. Yeah. Never mind. I think I'd actually kinda freak out if my ass and my mouth were experiencing your farmboy dick at the same time, but I've seen Paco, and I don't think you're exaggerating.....too much."
"'There's no exaggeration if there's evidence', Boyfriend."
Jonas Salk stated that, when a team of scientists read his lab studies and results which suggested Dr Salk was going after a vaccine for Polio with positive results thus far, and they came to two immediate conclusions: Dr Salk exaggerated his findings, or he found nothing in the first place, and was faking everything. He said, 'Science is all about trying to find mistakes, and if enough people don't find them, then a theoretical fact has been observed and documented'. After they got the same results as Dr Salk in a triple-blind study of their own, Dr Henk van Kollemaar from The Helsinki Institute For Scandinavian Sciences And Medicine called Dr Salk personally, and groveled appropriately. No one ever again suggested Dr Salk was exaggerating, and I never ceased to blush when Marc remarked at my (shall we say) skills.
Dr Salk, meet Dr Suck.
My man didn't have a lot to compare me with. He wasn't kidding when he told me he led a solitary life, all his life, before meeting me and my family, and merging his life with ours. That I got a Grammy and Grampy out of that? That's a 'value add' for me. For them? I hoped I could warrant the honor of calling them Grammy and Grampy.
Marc got something he didn't know was missing. I got something---and someone---I didn't know was even possible. How to explain my certainty, Marc's certainty, that we belonged together after only a few weeks together.....I can't, and I'm not obligated to do that. My obligation runs only to loyalty, care and love, and for all of Team Jozef. Yeah, Aleksy kinda got me used to saying that. He knows: I take care of my own. Marc brings no less to his own. Cases in point: publicly correcting Junior's horrific behavior toward Eva. Foregoing a furthered career in academia (even if it was just on a rural school board) to further his life with his family. 'Loyalty, Care and Love', indeed.
"Pull your knees up to your chest, Boyfriend. Aim that fuckin' beautiful hole at the ceiling, take a deep breath, Be Still And Know That I Am Pig. Fuck, yeah. Look at all that lovely forest surrounding and obfuscating a deep goldmine within."
Marc smiled at me, I think kinda delighted with my vulgar creativity, and I could not help but lean my face to his and share a passionate kiss that completely belied my assertion that I was a pig. I was an equally randy and loving teenaged farmboy that Autumn when Harvard Came To Montana. A few moments later, I moved my mouth and my smile and alllll my good (and piggish) intentions down his chest and stomach to his adulterating and sodomizing cock, the sack containing Duck Eggs Of Unusual Size, and finally, Marc's virgin hole. The prize he had kept locked and hidden all his life, to be shared with only one other person who would treat it well, respectfully, loved and in a condition that would invite---if not compel---my cock to feel welcome there, again and again.
Like the rest of Marc, I wanted only to become orally acquainted.....at first. The polite pleasantries were out of the way, and Polish plundering would be pursued posteriorally. YES, that's a word. I just invented it. You may offer me praise and laud later (as well you should, donchaknow). I was kinda busy right then, but I always appreciate acknowledgement of furtive alliteration in a moment of all-that-ass-fur-to-cum-in.
I whispered disgusting vulgarities in Marc's ear, which made him laugh and cringe at the same time. I won't repeat them, but suffice to say, I offered what would be termed in Polite Society a most nasty anal-ogy between the XX and XY receptive genitalia. I'm not sure what inspired me, but I know who did: Al Parker, Bob Blount and a few other vintage porn stars. Someday I'll admit how I even know about those guys and why they inspired me. For now, though.....only my man was in my mind, and I was about to blow his.
With instinct and some precocious, wunderkind oral talent, I did The Alphabet on Marc's hidden, buried treasure. He was so muscular everywhere, but it was his glutes, his ass, that required a lingual determination and dexterity which I attempted to master only a split-second after I learned it. I remembered Marc said I could enjoy the Mustang at 70 miles per hour as much as I could at its top speed of 165. Applying the same wisdom (and logic) to my task at hand and tongue at ass, I restrained myself and focused on technique, and I'll be danged if I didn't hear the same meaty, throaty, approving rumble from Marc's mouth as I knew was possible from beneath the Mustang's hood.
Now, I know going down on a man's hole isn't exactly palatable to many. Why I liked it was no real mystery to me. It was the same reason I was so good at cunnilingus that my nickname at school (and beyond) was 'Frogman'; I liked giving pleasure to the person I was with, and both holes had a nearly inordinate quantity of pleasure sensors available to my equally-pleased tongue. As for all that dark, lush, dense, soft hair.....sigh. I can compare it to nothing, because nothing compares to Marc, and Marc is not only his hole or his fur. I was compelled to lick, suck and please that hole as much as I could. As far as Marc was concerned: he was writhing around on the air-encasing memory foam, and I offered neither rest nor mercy. Marc offered me additional fiber for my diet in the form of all that ass fur. I couldn't help it, and I couldn't care less if my mouth created a couple of bald spots while the friction from that fur removed at least half of the taste buds from my tongue. Life is about give-and-take mutual sacrifice, or so some book should've concluded.
The big clock chimed, and I realized we'd been horizontally passionate two hours in duration, with no anticipated end. It was with that BFO (Blinding Flash of the Obvious) I realized we still had a lot of time before going to the farm for the end of the evening and eventual sleep on a good old, solid mattress with no remotes necessary for its function. Marc and I had all the right buttons for each other to push, and I was well on my way to pushin' the one just waitin' for me inside that (but not for very much longer) virgin professor.
"Boyfriend. Marc. My Love. It's time."
"You waited for the big clock? It's like a starting pistol at the Olympics? Where's the lube??"
"Right here. You and I are gonna do some serious kissin' while I supply this slippery silicone southward."
"You and your alliterations. Go for it. And don't hesitate to make use of this huge pool of precum gushing on my belly."
"Exceeded in quantity only by Paco's. We'll be using both of 'em. Yours is right where I'm gonna need it when my grip on your boy-banger gets us a mutual orgasm."
I could go into detail about all that happened next, but better descriptions about two guys together have been written than I could write. Also, and indulge me here, but I wanted Marc's First Time to be.....well, almost sacred to just the two of us. I will share this: I could not have thought possible all the sensations I felt all over. Maybe it's because two men were sharing a significant moment with their significant other. Could be for a number of reasons. It wasn't important why; all I cared about was our greatly expanded opportunities to make fuckin' awesome love with each other. I will say this, though: I had never felt more connected physically, mentally and emotionally than I had with Marc. We didn't race. We didn't rush anything at all. My focus was not at all on the act itself; I wanted only for Marc to feel, from start to finish for both of us, that he could trust me with his body and emotions while he experienced something for the first time ever with a man. The same man, if I had my way, who would also someday share Marc's last time with him, decades into the future. I just needed to be cautious about expressing that, having seen others say too much, too soon, and the too-fragile relationship didn't survive it. I was all about survival. It's our business, growing things people need to survive. A relationship can survive only if it grows, too.
We laid on our backs, still breathing heavily, cum in hair everywhere on Marc's body. I reached for Marc's hand between us, and wove our fingers together. Silence calmed us, the old clock working as a metronome to lead our beating hearts back down from triple digits.
"Jozef....."
"Right here."
"Oh, I know who you are, where you are, and I know where you just were."
"Are you okay? I mean 'where I just was'?"
"Perfectly fine. I can still feel you. That's interesting. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew what would happen, and it did. I gave my cherry to the man I love."
"Awww....that's sweet."
"What won't be 'sweet' is what I'll have to say when I get the bill from the hospital and surgeons, who had to spend, no doubt, hours trying to get my alimentary canal back in place and in operating order."
"Well, I don't like to brag, but.....I had thought if farming didn't work out, I could have a stellar career in mining.....particularly with my own equipment....."
Marc laughed and squeezed my hand, and the rolled onto his side, facing me. I mirrored his action, and moved my free hand to the side of his face.
"We have now officially given each other something no one else has ever had from either of us, Marc. That's big."
"One of two things that is big. BIG, Babe. SO BIG. Seriously, though.....thank you for making my first experience inordinately more incredible than I could've imagined. It somehow.....I don't know.....cements the connection I feel with you."
"You have some of that cement all over you, Boyfriend. There's even more where you can't see it. Seriously, though.....you were my first and I was your first."
"I want you to be my last, too, Jozef."
"Don't say it if you don't mean it, Marc."
"Can I tell you now I will certainly mean it when I specifically say it?"
"I know already you will. There's no race to the 'When', Boyfriend. We'll know it when the time is right. All of Team Jozef seem to know I know WHO is right. I'll quote my brother on that one."
"You're very pragmatic, but also romantic, for a teenager."
"I'm 130 years old. I paid attention to my parents and, as much as I could, my grandparents. Those unions created something better and bigger than all that had come before them. I don't want the biggest farm in the county, but I want the best one for the next 130 years."
"I believe you. And I believe in you, Jozef."
"Marc, It's gonna be a hell of a ride from today until you and I parked out back on the North Forty with all the others, you know. Do you think Harvard can settle in Montana? Really settle? It's a lot to ask, so I won't; but it's also a lot to hope for. I'm hoping."
"Babe, Harvard has settled in Montana, in Fergus County, on Farm W, with and for and because of Team Jozef."
Well, that settles that.