SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY
Chapter 1
By Donny Mumford
I'm sipping from my fourth Jack on the rocks as I gaze out at the Atlantic Ocean... it's 3 am. The view is spectacular from the third-floor balcony of my father's ritzy condo in Key West, Florida.
The full moon's path of light shining on the ocean extends, seemingly, to the end of the world. Earth's only natural satellite hangs there in the sky, round and bright and huge, tugging on the tide of the immense ocean in front of me. Too bad no one was around when the moon first formed because, initially, it was only 15,000 to 20,000 miles from earth. That would have been something to see!
The moon's gravitational pull on the Atlantic Ocean's tide is as invisible as 'time.' A gust of wind reminds me that the wind is invisible too. Hmm, the force of the moon's gravity moves the oceans while invisible wind and time can move only much 'lighter' things. Time can move things in your mind if the 'things aren't too 'heavy.
For example, I turned twenty-eight three hours ago, a relatively unimportant thing to me, so I forgot about it until just now. What I can't stop thinking about, the heavy thing time can't easily erase, is the death of my best friend. That's too heavy a reality to be lifted away in this short period of time. His passing lies as heavy on me now as it did when he died six weeks ago.
As if to mock my musings about invisible forces, the wind blows the only birthday card I received off the little table next to me. The birthday card was from my dear old dad. He signed the card, 'Mac.' That's what he insisted I call him from when I first learned to talk, and it's what I've called him ever since. His name is Zachary McMann. It's my name, too, although Mac has never called me that. He's always called me 'Junior.' My mother never calls me anything as she, sadly, died giving me life.
Yeah, well, there's no love lost between Mac and me, but we're not enemies. I saw him at Ronny's funeral, and before that, Mac sent me a text congratulating me for finishing my four-year Navy Seal enlistment. Ronny and I were in a Special Op Group together, but we'd been best friends long before we joined the Navy Seals. We met at prep school, spent seven years together there, then attended Yale together four years before our four years in the Navy. When we joined the Navy, Mac said we joined to continue avoiding adulthood. Swell.
It was nice of Mac to show up for the funeral. The 'lady-friend with Mac was younger than me. She had on a bright red skimpy dress, perfect for a night of clubbing in Vegas. Other than that faux pas, she seemed okay. Oddly, while chewing a Chicklet, she could make a noticeable cracking sound with each 'chew,' which she did all through the service.
Jesus, I must be drunk having random thoughts like these, one after the other. Draining my cocktail, I glance over at my traveling companion, Cowboy. He's Ronny's little brother. He had one drink, smoked two joints, and conked out on that chaise lounge two hours ago.
The kid is startlingly good-looking, but he's too young for me. Still, I promised Ronny I'd take care of his brother this summer, so here we are. After Ronny's funeral in New York City, Cowboy and I spent a night at the Waldorf Hotel; then, we drove across the country to Los Angeles for no particular reason. We stayed in random dumpy motels along the way, not because I don't have the money for better accommodations, but because dumpy motels fit our mood. There was very little talking because we didn't know what to say to one another. Both our hearts were, and still are, hurting. Neither of us can quite believe Ronny is gone. It's inconceivable...
The third night of our cross-country trip, without saying anything, Cowboy got in bed with me. The fourth night he asked me to fuck him. I fucked him then... and continued doing it all the way to the Pacific Ocean, and the same on our way back here to the Atlantic Ocean. That encompassed a great deal of fucking, but it was buddy-fuck-fucking, meaning there wasn't any kind of special affection involved. Mutual mourners' fucking because it took our minds off the impossibility of Ronny actually being dead. His death has to be some kind of monumental fuck up.
I've known about Cowboy since I was an eleven-years-old entering prep school for the sixth grade, although he wasn't known as Cowboy back then. Ronny and I were eleven, so his brother was two at the time. Many years later, when we were at Yale, Cowboy would join us in our dorm on campus for weekends, and then I spent the summer after graduating from Yale with Ronny's family; so, yeah, I got to know Cowboy a little during that time, but then I never saw him during my four years in the Seals.
We've been here in Key West for a week now. Each day we run three miles on Smathers Beach, up and back... seven-minute miles. I slow up so he can keep up with me. We also swim every day for like a half-hour and then chill out on the beach the rest of the time without saying much except an occasional comment about a hot guy walking by... that's about it.
I guess it's been okay, but we need to move on. I've got things I need to do, although I don't know what I'm going to do with Cowboy. I can't abandon him; I know that much. Strangely, the brothers were very close. I say 'strangely' because of the nine-year age difference.
Glancing over at the kid again, I'm wondering why it is that neither of us ever mentions Ronny's name. Well, as I said, we don't talk much. Hmm, right now, I can't decide if I want another drink or if I want to fuck Cowboy's brains out again. We fucked after dinner, but that was almost seven hours ago.
Oh, shit! I'm crying again. Not boo-hoo crying, just tears rolling down my cheeks. I feel like such a pussy when I do that. The thing is, I'm still in denial. I can't make myself accept the fact that Ronny's gone forever. Omigod, were we ever bad-ass-motherfuckers even before we joined the Navy Seals! We caused tons of havoc in prep school and then again at Yale. I'm not saying, looking back on it, that I'm proud of our irresponsible behavior... it was fun, though.
And, not only was it strange that brothers nine years apart would be as close as those two were, it's just as strange that Ronny and I were such close friends. I say that because Ronny was uber 'straight' while I've always been gay. Hell, I made that official way back in seventh grade when I used my young dick to fuck Ollie Wright. Ha-ha, Ollie had the fattest ass I've ever fucked. So, sure, Ronny knew I was gay, but it never mattered to him. We hit it off from our first day at St. John's Prep. Well, we had a vicious fistfight when we first met, but after that, we became the best friends ever.
And, how ironic is it that we made it through four years of hair-raising exploits as Navy Seals doing all kinds of nasty shit we couldn't even talk about outside our Special Ops Group, and then Ronny gets killed shortly after cashiering out of the Navy. Life blows, ya know?
He was shot by a carjacker in New York City and died three days later. Un-fucking-believable! The carjacker was known to the city cops as a small-time hood who mostly robbed people at ATMs. The cops think the guy's gun went off accidentally. We heard they caught the guy the next day, not that it helped Ronny a whole lot.
Cowboy and I were with Ronny when he breathed his last breath. That happened the day after the doctor assured all of us, Ronny, his parents, Cowboy, and me, that Ronny was out of danger. The very next day, Cowboy and I were sitting on the edge of Ronny's hospital bed when Ronny got this startled expression on his face. I was like, "What is it, Ron?" He made me promise that I'd take care of his brother this summer.
Hearing that, Cowboy's eyes opened wide as he asked, "What do you mean, Ronny?" I was like, "Don't worry about it, Cowboy! He's going to do that himself." Ronny shook his head and said, "I don't know about that, Zach; I feel really weird, man." Then a blood clot from somewhere traveled to his brain. "Totally unexpected." That's what the doctor said... it was totally unexpected. Swell.
And, I still don't know what Ronny meant by me taking care of Cowboy. Sure, he knew Cowboy is gay like me, but Cowboy and I have never been, um, together like that. Cowboy's a kid, for Christ's sake. Well, he is nineteen going into his freshman year at Yale this fall. Still, at age nineteen, you're a kid. I was at that age.
"Zach, aren't we ever going to bed?" Wiping my eyes, I sigh and put my empty glass on the table, then mutter, "Good, you're awake. Pull your shorts down and turn over." I watch him doing that as he grunts, "This is what I meant, anyway."
With his cargo shorts around his ankles, Cowboy gets on his knees and then looks back expectantly at me. He has bright-blond wavy hair, and so did Ronny. That is, he had wavy hair until he lost the wave four years ago at the Great Lakes, Illinois' Navy Seal basic training facility. His hair hasn't been long enough to be wavy since then. Cowboy's hair, on the other hand, is plenty long enough to be wavy. Pretty boy; that's what Cowboy is... a pretty boy on his hands and knees on a chaise lounge, his bare ass looking sexy.
Eager to do this now, I get up and pull Cowboy's shorts and underwear from his knees the rest of the way off, dropping them on the balcony floor. Then, being deliberate about it, I spank his ass hard. He tries to pull his ass away from my spanking hand, but he doesn't tell me to stop. The spanking goes on for too long, but Cowboy finally yells, "Nah, no, that's enough, Zach. Stop." I watch the last white-hand-imprint fade into the bright red of his smacked butt cheeks.
He muffles a cry, then mutters, "That felt way good," as he strokes his dick. Slowly shaking my head, I take a condom from my pocket. Cowboy strokes his hard penis again, mumbling, "Fuck me hard, okay, Zach?" Taking a deep breath, not responding to that, I drop my khaki shorts, then my underwear, kicking them next to Cowboy's clothes.
An invisible warm breeze, smelling like the ocean, drifts by us, ruffling Cowboys pretty hair. He murmurs, "I'm so aroused I'm almost ready to cum right now." I'm like, "Try not to," and he says, "I loved the way you spanked me, Zach. It reminded me of how Chucky Barns would do it at prep when I'd give him some shit, or..." I interrupt, mumbling, "Not now, Cowboy."
Like me, Cowboy's been promiscuous from a young age, so, sensibly, I always use a condom when fucking him. I'd love to do him bareback some time, though. Really nice ass on this boy, although most asses are pretty much the same for fucking. Still, Cowboy's ass looks better than most; that's what I meant to say. Two very firm pinkish-white mounds, totally hairless. He has the only ass I've ever fucked without at least a few hairs around the anus, not that it makes the fucking better or worse... just saying.
His years of promiscuousness have a plus side in that he's learned how to be an excellent 'bottom,' which is his preferred position. Holding the unopened condom between my teeth, I use both hands to drag Cowboy's ass to the foot of the chaise lounge, his feet now hanging over the end. He's still on his knees, but he drops his head, resting it on his forearms while he's exaggeratedly pushing his ass up at me. Spreading his feet further apart, I step in between them. With the condom in my left hand now, I use my right to drag the head of my cock from one of Cowboy's butt cheeks to the other. His skin is pinkish-white, as I said, and it's also satin-smooth.
Cowboy isn't as tall as his brother, plus he has a smaller frame, a lot smaller than Ronny's. Still, every part of this kid's body is in perfect proportion. It's a slim body but with good definition in all the right places. Like Ronny, Cowboy was, is, a good athlete. He's quite a kid!
As usual, my dick gets hard quickly, and I roll on the condom, stifling a moan as Cowboy mumble, "Do it hard, Zach." I mutter, "Yeah, yeah... you said that already," and then I deliberately push the head of my condom-covered penis tightly in past the kid's anus muscles... ooh, yeah! He grunts, "Ah... ow!"
He likes the 'pain-train,' though, so there's no hesitating on my part. I steadily push my six-plus inches of boner up his rectum until I'm tight against his buttocks. His back arches as he groans, "Ahhhh... fuck..." Wow, even after many hard cocks have invaded this hole, it still feels wicked tight... fantastically so! There are a lot of benefits to being young.
Humping against his super firm buttocks, shivering at the sensations coming off my iron-hard penis, I again stifle a moan of arousal. With both hands, I rub up and down Cowboy's back, then grab both sides of his hips and begin thrusting, fucking his ass hard. The familiar "Slap, slap, slap," sounds of my crotch slapping against his butt cheeks make me smile, as do the delicious sensations coming off my boner. The fast, strong six-inch thrusts jostle Cowboy on the chaise lounge with him grunting at each hard thrust. The chaise lounge makes its own sounds, squeaking in protest as if it's unused to this usage. It probably is.
Really feeling it now, getting into the meat of it, Cowboy cheers me on, moaning, "Yeah, yeah, yeah," with every thrust of my swollen hard cock up his ass. On and on, "Slap, slap, slap!" and, Omigod... nothing feels as good as this. Fast, steady, hard thrust with every inch of my iron boner screaming sexual pleasure. My eyes close, and I luxuriate in this special world where nothing but pleasure exists. It's a four-to-five-minute ride to the stars. Sometimes it's a shorter ride, and sometimes it's a longer one, but it's always mind-blowingly perfect.
In my haze of pleasure, it registers somewhere in my brain that Cowboy's buttocks muscles are clenching even tighter than normal. Hell, his entire body clenched tightly for a second there, and then I hear his noisy exhale and moan of extreme pleasure, the kind of pleasure that sexual orgasm always brings along for the ride. Now, breathing deeply, he moans, "Umm, ooh, mmm," firing another squirt of cum onto the chaise lounge to mingles with his first, much larger blast of semen.
His body goes limp as he pulls on his cock, getting drools of cum on his fingers. That extra tightness on my cock just before Cowboy blew his initial load made me grunt because I knew I would blow my load in two seconds, and I do. Magically, a blackness as black as deep space surrounded me for a second there, then... WOW! The sensations of sexual climax create exquisite pleasure that nothing else can equal. So intense I gasp, shudder, and hold my breath as a sizzling series of shivers swarm in waves down to my toes and up to the roots of the hair, my heart pounding too hard and, all of it basically paralyzing me for a couple of seconds. There's nothing else remotely similar to sexual climaxing.
As my shoulders shudder again, I'm able to inhale a gasping lungful of air and then begin coming down; coming back down to earth with the last scintillating after-effects of climax still zipping around my groin. One last shudder, and I pull my cock from Cowboy's ass. Avoiding his cum at the top cushion, he rolls over on his back, grinning up at me as he says, "Do it again, Zach." Pulling off the condom, I mumble, "Yeah, sure," then I hold out the condom, "Get rid of this." He takes it and flips it over the railing, laughing, "Is that what you meant?" I snort out a laugh, "Not exactly, but it'll be an interesting conversation piece for somebody in one of the condos below."
After we fuck, there's a moment or two of shared closeness, a short reprieve from our sorrow. Cowboy says, "I'm invigorated now, Zach," and he scrambles off the chaise lounge and gets his clothes, then hands me mine. We put our underpants on and carry our shorts inside. And, all of a sudden, I'm exhausted. Patting his shoulder, I say, "Let's get some sleep." He pats my back, mumbling, "It's great traveling with you, Zach." I smile at him... he's a good kid.
Cowboy follows me, closing the sliding glass doors behind him, saying seriously, "You fuck me better than anybody, Zach." He's like a big puppy dog, as likable as anyone I've ever known in my life. The only bad thing is, I think about Ronny every time Cowboy speaks. They don't look alike, not really, but their voices are chillingly similar. Hearing Cowboy talk makes me cringe... it's like hearing a favorite voice of mine coming from the netherworld.
Although I'd prefer sleeping alone, we both climb onto tonight's king-size bed. Cowboy pouts if we don't sleep together, and he sleeps almost on top of me. Sure, I enjoy the feel of his mature male body, but I can't stop thinking that this isn't what Ronny had in mind when he asked me to take care of his brother this summer. On the other hand, I'm the closest substitute for Ronny that Cowboy knows, and he misses his brother as much as I do, so I don't know what the right thing for me to do is.
Ronny was six feet, two inches tall, and one-hundred-ninety pounds, and I, well, I still am six-foot-two inches and the same weight as Ronny, um, was. It's so unnatural to think of him as 'was.' Stupidly, sometimes I don't believe he's dead even though I was at his funeral. Anyhow, Cowboy is at least three inches shorter and weighs maybe fifty pounds less, so it's not like I'm hugging Ronny. Not that Ronny and I ever slept together, not like Cowboy and I are doing.
And, oddly, I never had the slightest sexual fantasy about sleeping with Ronny. I had sexy fantasies about a few guys on our Seal team, but never about Ronny. Somehow that would violate our friendship or something like that. Sure, Ronny and I hugged, but we did it like buddies' hug; like 'straight' guys hug as a way to say 'hello,' or whatever.
Tonight, Cowboy and I are in the third different bed we've slept in this week. He snuggles up against me, murmuring, "Where are we going to go next, Zach?" I'm like, "I don't know. Go to sleep." I know where we're going next, but I don't feel like talking about it right now. I put my arms around him. What else am I supposed to do with my arms when he's almost on top of me?
I wake up the next day at twelve-thirty and notice we're in the same position we were in when we fell asleep. I sure needed the sleep. The air-conditioner was on all night, but we're sticky-sweaty between our bodies. Gently pushing Cowboy off me, I slide out of bed and sit on the edge of it with my head in my hands. Fucking hangover! Lately, I've needed to ask myself... when will you learn to drink in moderation? I ask myself that question but don't do anything about it. Swell.
Looking back at Cowboy hugging his pillow while still sleeping, I touch his head to feel his silky hair, admiring his beauty. His is a masculine beauty as special as any woman's, but it's an all-male beauty. Nothing girlie about this boy; well, except his hair is a tad girlie. And, I appreciate beautiful women too; I like women, but not sexually. Cowboy says, "Um, umm, when?" in his sleep, his eyelids fluttering as he dreams about something he won't remember.
Staggering into the room's oversized and over-opulent bathroom, I do all the things one usually does in a bathroom. Twenty minutes later, showered and freshly shaved, my mouth all minty tasting, I'm feeling a little better. Just to be safe, I swallow three Tylenol with a couple of ounces of bottled water. Then, after putting on fresh underwear and shorts, I grab my sunglasses and walk barefoot and shirtless out onto the balcony. Hmm, I believe today is Memorial Day. I could verify that if I knew where my cell phone was.
Whatever, it's another beautiful day in Key West. Aren't they all? Yeah, but I need to get to my hometown. I haven't lived there much, not since entering prep school, but my home is officially in Alpine, New Jersey. That's in Bergen County, USA, with a population, last time I heard, of under two thousand. According to Forbes, Alpine is in the most expensive zip code in America with a median house price of $4.14 million. I don't know how much our house is worth as it's been in the family since the 1950s, purchased by my Grandfather, who I have no recollection of since he died five years before I was born. Dear old dad moved right into Granddad's house with my mother, and he still lives there, now with his various lady friends.
I won't be visiting Mac at the house. My only purpose for going home is to meet with our family lawyer. It seems my trust fund changes now that I'm twenty-eight, and I'm required to sign some papers. Money is not one of my problems. Even after paying over seventy-thousand for my car, I still have a hundred thousand dollars in my New York City bank account. It's all trust fund money accumulated during my enlistment in the Navy, so I'm fat with cash. Still, it's a prudent move on my part to have the official meeting and sign whatever needs signing to ensure my trust fund keeps giving generously. Money is nice to have, so...
Yeah, well, money aside, Mac thinks I'm going to law school now that my playtime with the Navy Seals is over. He expects I'll eventually join the family firm, but I'm not going to do that. Sure, over the years, I've sort of given him the impression I would, but I had my fingers crossed behind my back in case I wasn't ready to do that. And, as it turns out... I'm not.
Jesus, I need a cup of coffee! The thought of going 'home' isn't pleasant. And, thank God I gave up smoking when I joined the Navy, or this hangover would be even worse. "Zach, come back to bed with me." Turning my head, I smile at Cowboy. He's standing there in his underpants, groping his 'junk' while squinting, his other hand shading his eyes from the sun. I say, "Yeah, alright, but first, brush your teeth." He nods and then pads off to the bathroom. Sometimes he acts like a little kid. He's not a little kid, though, so I try not to treat him like one, although sometimes I do.
And, he's had enough sleep. That's not why he wants me to 'come back to bed.' What he wants is another spanking, followed by another hard fuck. Yeah, well, minus spanking him, it's what I want too. A good hard fuck will help me survive this Goddamn hangover, as well as the thoughts of being responsible about going home.
Spanking Cowboy is a pain in the ass; no pun intended. I've been sexually active with Cowboy for a relatively short time, but it quickly became obvious that he doesn't get into anal intercourse fully if I don't spank him first. After a hard spanking, he's tremendously aroused and becomes one of the hottest 'bottoms' I've ever encountered.
I read somewhere that archeologists' discoveries proved that sadomasochism was practiced openly as far back as the 4th century BC and most likely before that. What I haven't read is a concrete explanation for why that's so. Spanking is obviously a behavior associated with sadomasochism, or BDSM if you prefer; however, Cowboy rejects being part of that subculture. Silly of him, of course, as spanking, while the most 'vanilla' BDSM act, is also the most prevalent. Cowboy insists spanking is merely erotic and feels good,' having nothing to do with BDSM. He also scoffs at my suggestion that it should be humiliating to be spanked at his age.
A cup of strong coffee would be good, but getting my rocks off will even be better, so I walk back through the condo to the bedroom we slept in last night, arriving there the same time Cowboy is coming out of the bathroom naked. I said earlier, an excellent body on this boy, so I admire it for a second. He sees me watching him and poses, grinning and saying, "I look hot, don't I?" I'm like, "You're too young for me." Dropping his pose, he says, "No, I'm not. Or, do you mean I'd be hotter if I were all macho with chest hair and hair on my stomach? Is that what you mean?" I go, "Don't be ridiculous. I mean, you're Ronny's little brother, who I remember seeing one time when you were three years old."
Coming over to stand too close to me, he asks, "Why don't you ever make out with me, or how about if you let me suck your dick?" Stepping back, I mutter, "No... same answer." Running his fingers through his too-long hair, he says, "Um, but," and he exhales in my face, adding, "I brushed my teeth." That makes me laugh. He's such a good kid. I hug him and then kiss him. It's a quick kiss on his minty-smelling lips, and then, stepping back again, I go, "Satisfied?" He smiles, "It's a start."
I know if he weren't Ronny's brother, I wouldn't think he was too young for me. He's actually not; not really.
He licks his lips, mumbling, "Umm, tasty lips you've got there, Zach." I roll my eyes and say, "Do you wanna do this, or what?" He's like, "You bet I do, but I need an especially hard spanking this morning. I was a bad boy for making you uncomfortable, nagging you to adore and worship me by kissing and fondling me, and nagging again to blow you."
I make a 'you have-got-to-be-kidding-me' face at him, and he chuckles, saying, "I know you like me, and I know you think I'm hot." I go, "You're right, Cowboy. I can't sneak anything by you. You see right through me." He turns around and bends over with his hands on his knees, telling me, "I've been a bad boy, Zach. Let me have it!" I give his ass a mighty whack, "SMACK!" He yells, "Oh, yeah!"
He's not hungover, so he's a lot friskier than I am. And, he's unusually talkative after like twelve hours of sleep. Plus, he only had one drink last night before conking out on the chaise lounge. Well, he did smoke the two joints I mentioned earlier. Actually, though, it's encouraging that Cowboy is maybe accepting Ronny's death in some way. Maybe he's dealing with it and getting ready to move on, so to speak. Now, if only I could follow suit, the dark clouds can begin lifting. The problem with that is, what I've started noticing the past day or so is, I find myself being royally pissed off at Ronny for letting that loser scumbag get the best of him. I'm pissed off at Ronny!
Cowboy interrupts my train of thought, mumbling, "Earth to Zach, my ass is waiting for a hard spanking." I'm like, "Yeah, yeah." The spanking routine that Cowboy likes so much does nothing for me except give me a stinging hand. On the other hand, he springs a hard boner from getting spanked, so we don't see eye to eye on that front at all. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I'm in the mood to give it to him extra hard today because I'm pissed off I need to do it at all, and I'm pissed off his brother didn't tie that asshole carjacker in a knot... if that makes any sense.
Gawd! Anyway, here we go. Right away, the loud smacking sounds of my hand slapping his ass make my headache worse, which pisses me off even more, so I spank him harder until he's yelling, "OW! OW! OW!" Screaming at every smack on his red ass when all he needs to do is say 'stop' and I'll stop, and that goes for whatever sexual activity we're into... say 'stop.'
He doesn't say 'stop,' though. Instead, he drops his hands to the floor while keeping his ass up, so it's easy for me to spank it. Fuck this. I begin smacking the back of his thighs until he finally yells, "Stop! That's good, Zach! Please stop." Christ, I'm sweating and, never mind that my 'frigging hand has gone numb, my arm is sore too. Swell.
Now his ass is so red it shines unnaturally. He's half sobbing and half laughing as he crawls in a circle on his hands and knees, tears dripping from his cheeks. He goes, "I won't be able to sit down the rest of the day, but I loved that spanking, Zach!" With his nice-looking five-inch fat boner in his fist, he adds, "Spank me like that all the time." He tries to stand but wobbles a little, so I grab him under his arms until he's steady. Laughing, he mutters, "I need to be a good boy from now on. Daddy spanks me hard."
I say, "Please, Cowboy, don't call me that. I told you before; I don't want you calling me, 'daddy.' It gives me the fucking creeps." He mumbles, "Sorry, I forgot." He's leaning against me, so I hug him and ask, "Is your ass too sore to be fucked?" Still holding his hard cock in his fist, he says, "Surely you jest. I can barely contain myself; I want it so bad." Letting go of him, I look over at the bureau top... no condom. "Cowboy, do you have a condom?" He ignores my question, snickering and muttering, "Oops," and I see a watery string of pre-cum drooling from his boner.
Noticing my suitcase on the chair, I mutter, "Never mind, I've got a package of rubbers in there," and walk over to get one. Cowboy comes with me, saying, "I'll, um," and he lies face down at the bottom of the bed, his chest on the bed with his feet on the floor. He unnecessarily adds, "I'll be lying on the bed right here with my smacked ass up high, okay?" Flipping the condom on the bed next to Cowboy, I drop my shorts, eager to do this, mumbling, "Yeah, sure, whatever."
My dick is as limp as a noodle, which is how it gets when I spank him. Hmm, I give a quick thought to letting him suck it, but then shake my head... Nah. Instead, I rub my dick over the silky, shiny skin of his buttocks and then move the head up and down his ass crack. Damn, he has a hot ass, and I don't mean from the spanking. As I've mentioned, his buttocks are really firm and nicely rounded, and, yeah, they are extra warm from being spanked so hard. Christ, Cowboy's right, he arouses me mightily. I admit that to myself, but I don't want to tell Cowboy that too often because I don't want to encourage him into thinking that we're in a relationship of some kind.
He's let go of his boner, content that he's now lying on it, I suppose. Meanwhile, my dick is getting hard fast because I'm as anxious to fuck him as he is for me to do it. He looks back at me as I'm rolling on the condom. He mumbles, "Do me hard, Zach, alright?" I mutter, "Something new, huh?" He always says that.
Seeing I'm ready to go, Cowboy bites his bottom lip, pushes his hot ass up even higher, and tightens his buttocks muscles. He wants to make it difficult for me to force my hard fat boner past his anus muscles. He's the only guy I've fucked who does that. He's not the only guy I've fucked who liked a little pain with his sexual pleasure, though. There have been others, but Cowboy is the one who likes feeling pain with pleasure the most from my rather extensive sexual experiences.
That isn't a complaint, by the way. Not at all because it frees me up to fuck him the way I like best, which is to say, forcing all six-plus inches of my cock all the way in fast, BANG! And doing it without worrying that it'll be too painful for him. Gripping his waist with both hands, my boner sticking straight out, I use my hips to move the nipple end of the condom to his asshole. In position for 'docking,' I hump my hips hard, forcing open his anus. Cowboy goes, "Oow! Oh, fuck..." as I continue pushing in past the tight opening. It's so tight a lot of the lubricant from the condom collects, bubbling almost, on this side of his asshole, squeezed off while passing by that tight 'hole.'
Two seconds or less, and I'm fully impaling his rectum. Six-plus inches of rock-hard cock, extra fat throbbing rock-hard cock, all of it inside Cowboy's body, and while it was going in, he didn't drop his ass an inch. He kept it up as he groaned at the pain that I assume was significant. I only hesitate now, leaving my boner fully inside him because the intense sensation from my penis makes me dizzy for a second. Dizzy but enormously aroused.
Gasping quietly, I closed my eyes to concentrate on the incredible pleasure sensations. After two, then three seconds, I pull my cock back, pulling it back until just the head remains hidden inside, pulling backward on the lips of his anus. Exerting a tiny bit more backward pressure, only then do I shove it right back up his ass. Omigod, it feels so fucking good. I moan, "Mmm, ooh, mmm, Jesus," and my shoulders do their normal shuddering as all around my groin there's a fantastic buzzing sensation... un-fucking-real.
Then, exhaling, getting myself under control, I begin fucking him steadily. Hard fast thrusting, again with long six-inch thrusts, my crotch slapping against his buttocks, "Slap, slap, slap," and Cowboy's moaning, "Ah, ah, ah..." as he pushes his ass up at each thrust. Perfection!
This goes on for five, six, up to ten incredible minutes. That's plenty long enough for me to lose my sense of time and place. My head back, I drive my boner back and forth in this welcoming and accommodating rectum. My eyes are closed for a lot of it to focus on the indescribable sexual pleasure I'm experiencing, and, yeah, I admit most of my focus is on me. Somewhere in my brain, I'm aware of Cowboys moans of pleasure and his cooperation in our mutual endeavor, but mostly it's a pleasure I'm experiencing that has my attention.
Partially, I'm trying to block the fact I'm fucking Ronny's brother, and maybe because of that, I find that I'm concentrating more on my own pleasure than I normally do. When I'm having casual sex with a guy I pick up in a bar, I pride myself on working with the guy to ensure we're sharing the pleasure. Sometimes I'm so concerned about the other guy's pleasure; I'm not especially enjoying myself. That occurs when I'm accommodating my partner, who has some oddball need during the fuck.
With Cowboy, in my own defense, this is how he wants me to fuck him, so why not concentrate on my pleasure? I mean, I'm doing it mainly for him. I'm not sure if that's a rationalization, but it's what I've got.
Very few of my sex partners, and there's been between fifty to sixty of them, allow this kind of full six-inch penetration right off the bat. Many guys can't tolerate it at all, and, as I said, this is my preferred way to fuck. Yeah, it's sexiest when my entire hard and super-sensitized cock is sliding in and back at least five inches quickly and deliciously... nothing could feel better than that. And, Cowboy's ass, every inch of his rectum is tight. That's because he clenches his ass muscles during the entire fuck.
I don't know how long this fantastic fuck lasts, but it has to be closer to ten minutes than five before I finally notice Cowboy's moan changing pitch. I open my eyes just in time to see his back arching, and, with his face deep in a pillow, I hear his muffled cry simultaneous with his hips thrusting forward as he climaxes. I mean, I didn't see his cum shooting out, but what else could it have been. Plus, his body goes limp after blowing his load, and he lightens up on the buttocks-clenching.
Huh, I actually could have climaxed a few minutes ago, but I held it off to enjoy the ride as long as possible. With him limply lying there, I thrust even faster, and in twenty seconds, the world turns into a pinprick of time, and, gasping, I blow my load into the condom. Otherworldly, incredibly fantastic sensations paralyze me for half a minute as I shiver with pleasure, not sure where I am.
Coming to my senses, I see Cowboy lying limply, trembling at the after-effects of his orgasm. I'm now trembling a little bit, too, but trying not to be demonstrative about it. As I mentioned, I'm conscious of not encouraging him to think we've got something special building between us. Fucking him is special, though.
Catching my breath, I pull my cock out and stagger back a few steps. Cowboy is hugging the pillow as lubricant drools around his anus. Yeah, heated by his body temperature, the lubricant becomes runny.
Oh, Christ, that was excellent. I pull off the condom and take another deep breath, and then quietly ask, "Are you okay, partner?" He flops over on his back, smiling and saying, "You fuck me better than anybody." I mutter, "So you've told me about a hundred times." Sitting up, he says, "To answer your question, I'm doing awesome. Omigod, that was the best spanking ever, and then the best fucking my ass has ever had!"
Shaking my head, I go, "Dude, you say the same thing every time." He gets up, muttering, "Well, it's true every time."
to be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com
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