"Rocky Mountain High"
Part 5
Frankie and Barry were due for a night of heavy and complete sex, however things moved slowly at first, as they rested naked in bed facing one another. Crotches were behaving wild touching one another. Their hands were all over each other's face, hair, and mouth exploring and talking about whatever popped into their heads.
"I was right," said Frankie.
"No, I was right, and so was Lonnie," Barry replied.
"Are we talking about the same thing?" Frankie asked, rubbing his face over Barry's cheek, and nibbling on his ear.
"Lonnie said you were a stud, and he was right on target with one exception."
"And that is? - questioned Frankie.
"You are hot like a bonfire, it's a beautiful way to burn. The fiery part Lonnie never mentioned. I may get a fever just shooting a load. You know, we are good together." Barry mumbled.
"Madonna santa, (Good God) I have been telling you that." Frankie confessed. "What a bod, - what lips, - what a butt, what a gorgeous man "Gagootz" (crazy) - Frankie wants to fuck." He mumbled reliving his old ways for the last time.
Everything he just said, was pure "Gagootz." He was a new man now – a different man, falling in love. There was no longer a need, to talk as if he was a Little Italy Don Cheech. Cheech is "Frank" in Italian.
"Maybe, I am a crackpot," giggled Barry, but I like hearing you talk about sex as if it was family business. It sounds hot, tossing around the Italian words, I like it. You don't hear that sort of talk in Denver," he concluded.
"A-hah, YOU, do want to marry me. I told you so, sure enough did," barked Frankie being pointless. "I'm not joking with you; I can yank underwear off your pretty butt, in two seconds, and we can sweat together, mamma mia."
Barry was trim around the waist and his butt slinked into a curve from his lower back forming a body worth pursuing. He had hair on his chest, but not heavy fur, just fuzz neatly growing in the right places. A bit of dark hair swept from his crotch continuing down his leg.
Frankie saw Barry's charisma fill the room with sex, clean warm inviting sex. His body sprawled waiting to be fondled and brought to attention. There seemed to be magic, in them there bones.
Frankie, in his mind, remembered how Barry looked waiting tables in the restaurant. Patrons agreed that Barry had a knockout looking body. Gay folks would pause when eating their lunch, as not to miss looking, as he walked by gifted in all the best places.
Barry was a specialist, with an appetizing body dressed in his tight western clothes. He turned many heads at work, but very few men got to touch him.
It disturbed Frankie so much that he made no secret of wanting Barry for himself. Others, in the restaurant or bars, could flirt and pinch his butt, buy him drinks, offer him cash or promises of a better tomorrow. None of that mattered, Barry was meant to be with him. That is just the way he saw it, and to change an Italian's mind, is pretty much impossible.
Barry pushed Frankie onto the pillow. He rested on top of him, chest to chest, sucking his lips and mouth as if starving for affection. They rubbed composed firmly still kissing, as two different peckers mashed together becoming acquainted in a `Dick and Jane' moment.
There is no need to mention how sexy Frankie appeared to be. For a gay man, nothing could be finer. He loved sex and was great at it; an alpha male, with everything big, yet with everything gentle. Frankie, an Italian stallion, who knew how to make beautiful love. He was also stubborn enough to get what he went after.
Lying together in the bed, they were hard and leaking, wanting the same thing. Being gay, hot, and a bit crazy, it was sex controlling their every movement cemented with enough kissing to last a lifetime. Frankie intended to have Barry's face in his crotch, licking, and draining him until he squeaked from dryness. That is exactly what happened.
Loving Frankie came natural to Barry and he licked Frankie from his neck, down his chest, nibbled on moist curly pubic hair swallowing his dick deeply (no easy feat) clear down to what felt like his knees.
"OMG – you're a piranha. I don't know how you can swallow so deeply. With me, you have my dick full time," he said, pulling Barry up off his crotch.
He kissed him franticly licking his ear, kissing his closed eyes, nose and sucking his lips into his own mouth. He would never do anything close to this with a casual hook up. However, with Barry he could not help himself. Frankie was falling into a crater of gay love, faster than he imagined.
Frankie wanted to drain the honey out of Barry and use him like custard pie. He was past trying to be, or even sound, proper. Frankie was Frankie, a man's, man. He no longer wanted to cruise bars searching, going from one "fuck-fest" to another. If he had to be Barry's slut for the next hour, that was fine with him. He didn't like it, but he knew how to follow orders. Whatever made Barry happy, made him happy.
"Frankie held Barry over his head, letting a hefty meaty man push between his lips in order to feed him. He couldn't say anything other than groan.
"You've got me man – you have definitely got me. I love you Frankie," confessed Barry, going back again between Frankie's legs and licking his hairy flesh. Frankie's cock slapped across Barry's face and he stopped it with his hand, in order to kiss and feel its warmth. It was his Easter basket, sweet like candy, for lack of a better word.
He loved Frankie and absolutely worshiped him, along with Frankie's crazy trifling habits. Everything was happening so fast, he would do anything to please him. Name it – name it, he would do it.
He was Frankie's lover, and his body a planting ground for Frankie's enormous appetite to fuck him into the twilight zone.
Frankie squeezed the firm cheeks of Barry's ass. He was a top, giving a tight smooth ride to what seemed eternity. He knew this was the first of many times he would plunge buckets of cum inside the man he loved, enough to pollinate Barry, several times over.
However, this time, Frankie, was thinking differently. He wanted to erupt in Barry's mouth. He had the weird notion that they needed to do that first, to be connected. "Was it an Italian thing? Who knows, Frankie was Frankie."
"Sounds like a plan to me, I'll go first," agreed Barry. He shot the first load covering Frankie's tongue watching him smile as a gloppy mess went down his throat.
Frankie's dick, moist, but not dirty, had been inside Barry. He opened his mouth waiting for communion of warm cum. He had always been so clean when having sex with men, but here, nothing strange mattered. It's amazing how mouthing a used cock, because it was Frankie, didn't bother him.
Frankie shot big loads, and he flooded Barry's mouth watching him swallow without choking. It all disappeared and Barry stared quietly eye to eye with Frankie. The staring became intense.
"Well, say something," Frankie commanded.
"THANK YOU SIR, may I have another?" Barry howled in a fit of laughter.
"You're freakin nuts,' I love my beautiful Barry, you are one in a million, maybe two million," said Frankie.
They pulled a sheet over their naked bodies, pressed together and kissed one more time. "Yuck, you smell like cum," said Frankie.
"I hope so, you smell like cum too, so what's your point?" replied Barry.
"The point my handsome Barry is... "You're a very lucky boy."
Frankie was playing for keeps and ironic how things `come to pass. From the moment he first saw Barry, his life began to change.
He didn't understand a thing about, "love at first sight." All he knew was, he liked what he saw, and he liked it in a much different way from other people.
Frankie told himself - "I'm going to marry that man," and he did.
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