Summer of Sex with Cowboy

MY SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY

Chapter 40

By Donny Mumford

Wearing shorts and T-shirts, we lie on the bedspread for a nap. It takes me a while to doze off, but Bruce falls asleep almost immediately. And, yeah, he had a good night's sleep last night too, but that week in Philly took a lot out of him, and it caught up with him today, Sunday, his first full day home. When I wake up, I'm still lying partially on Bruce with his arm over me, which tells me I didn't nap for very long. Unable to go back to sleep, I slowly, in little increments, slide down and out from under his arm, then slide off the end of the bed.

Stepping into my sandals, I leave the bedroom, closing the door behind me. After using Cowboy's bathroom, I write a note saying I've gone to pick up tonight's dinner. Phillips Seafood Take-Out shop on Ocean Drive is a shop I drive by every time I go to the boardwalk. It's always crowded, so that's a good indication it's worth a try. Inside, I take a number and wait my turn, then order two quarts of clam chowder, two pints of lobster salad, two dozen peel and eat cold shrimp, a pint of jumbo lump crab meat, cocktail sauce, two lemons, a quart of Phillips famous coleslaw, and a half dozen dinner rolls. Nothing is cheap in here, but I'm still a bit shocked when, at the register, a teenage girl with braces on her teeth rings up my items and says, "That'll be $212." Swell.

On the way back to the apartment, I stop at a farm stand and buy a dozen corn on the cob and four big ripe tomatoes. As I'm parking at the apartment in our assigned parking spot, Lee drives up on his motorbike with Cowboy on the back, his arms around Lee's slim body. Staring at Lee, I think about Jon Scheyer, who Bruce calls a dink. Jon isn't a dink. He was very confident and dominant with me. My dick gets hard thinking about him bossing me around and cutting my hair and me doing whatever he said. I can admit to myself now, but no one else, I was disappointed when Bruce rejected the pussy boy's offer to rejoin the group.

Lee drives right up next to my car, and Cowboy says, "Whassup, Zach? Why are you sitting here?" Realizing I've been sitting here staring at Lee and thinking about Jon, I snap out of my thoughts and say, "Waiting for you two to help me carry all this stuff. It's seafood take out from Phillips." Lee parks his motorbike next to my car, and they grab the plastic bags of food off the passenger seat; as Cowboy goes, "I've heard Phillips is famous for their seafood." I mumble, "And reasonably priced too." Lee goes, "No, they're not reasonable. They're wicked expensive!"

I'm walking to the apartment building's front door behind the boys, and from the back, Lee looks so much like Jon I feel my dick moving in my underwear. Oh, God, there was something about Jon that rang my bell every way it can be rung. And, he was right when he said he had me twisted around his little finger. He accomplished that in less than twenty-four hours too. Sure, he's a narcissistic prick, but I wanted to be his trainee for a few weeks. And, yeah, I know... that is so fucked up of me, but that's how I feel in retrospect. No one else will ever know that, though.

Cowboy wants to know what's in the bags, so I tell him, going up to our apartment, and both boys are like, "Awesome!" Inside, they put the cold seafood items in the refrigerator and leave the hot clam chowder, rolls, corn, and tomatoes on the counter. Cowboy tells me, "Lee and I need to shower," and Lee goes, "Plus, I'll probably need to take care of Cowboy's horniness, so is it okay if we hold off dinner for an hour?" I nod, "No problem. Anyway, Bruce is still napping. Have fun. Um, can I watch?" They laugh, and then Cowboy goes, "Do you wanna join us? Lee is my stud man and can take care of us both." Lee goes, "There's no doubt about that," and I mutter, "Another time perhaps." Chuckling, they go into the bedroom, and I get a beer and go out on the balcony for a cigarette.

Holy shit, I almost grabbed my junk when Cowboy jokingly asked if I wanna join them. Goddamn, the thought of Lee fucking me is, um, ah... crazy. Yeah, and I'm pretty sure I'm getting Jon and Lee intertwined somehow. Damn, I grab my junk and move my horny penis into a more comfortable position, then glance inside at Bruce's and my bedroom door thinking how much I wanted that fuck. The one Bruce wasn't up for earlier. I told him I didn't need to have sex three or four times a day, but the reality is, he's right, I do need it. It's what I've been used to for two months now.

Drinking a few swallows of beer, I shake my head because I feel weak and pathetic being so sexually needy. And, ya know, even though it's doubtful I'll ever again be paying Jon for sex, I'm still glad we parted on good terms. He was almost humble when I returned his clothes, but I still felt submissive to him. There is no way I'm gonna fuck up Bruce and my relationship, though, so I'm through with Jon. Shit, I was nothing but a customer to him anyway.

Plus, Bruce told me if it ever happens that we're boyfriends, he'd be the only guy I can have sex with. He's certainly the one I want to have it with, but what if he doesn't want to do it? What then, ya know? Finished my cigarette; I flick the butt, drain the rest of the beer, and go inside. Looking at Cowboy's bedroom door, I imagine Cowboy bent over and Lee fucking him, and that makes me grab my junk... AGAIN! Damn, I'm horny!

Putting the beer can in the recycle bin, I glance at our bedroom door, then go over and open it a crack. There's Bruce still sleeping. I think he's so hot, so sexy, and attractive. I walk over to the bed, looking closely at him but don't touch him. Stepping out of my sandals, I gently get on the bed and slide over right next to him, then drape his arm over me and snuggle in tightly against him. My cock gets hard as I inhale his scent, my face against the side of his neck. He goes, "Erromous," in his sleep, and tightens his arm around me as I stifle a moan, my cock throbbing now.

Putting my arm over him, I squeeze a little, then take a deep breath and try letting my tense body relax against him. Goddammit, if he had fucked me an hour ago, I'd be fine now. Jeez, it's impossible to get very relaxed when I've got a dick that's hard as a log. Moving my head off Bruce's shoulder, I lightly rub my cheek against his, then I dare to rub my lips lightly against his. Oh, fuck, I remember the hundred dollars I spent making out with Jon. It was worth the hundred too.

My head is back on Bruce's shoulder, my hand on the side of his head moving it slightly, getting his chin against the side of my forehead. Damn, I remember the two times Bruce and I kissed. It was before he went to Philly. We haven't come close to kissing since then. Making out with him like boyfriends, like lovers, is something I want to do so badly it's almost a physical pain in my chest. Being in love is a curse and a blessing at the same time.

Bruce sort of gasps, his body jerks as he goes, "Huh? Um, Zach, you're all over me." Oops, yeah, I am. My leg is on top of his legs, and both my arms are around his neck. Moving back onto the mattress, I go, "Sorry, um, it's that, ah... well, I love you, Bruce." He takes a deep breath that turns into a yawn, then mutters, "So you keep telling me. How long have we been sleeping?" Leaning my head over, I quickly kiss his lips, then mumble, "I don't know." He pulls away from my arms, muttering, "I'm not really into kissing, Zach. You know that," and he sits up, then slides off the bed, adding, "Your breath smells like beer and, um, I gotta take a piss."

Getting off the bed, I follow him into the bathroom, saying, "I've been up and, yeah, I had a beer. I also bought seafood take-out for dinner." For something to do, I'm washing my hands as Bruce takes a piss, saying, "You did all that and then got back on the bed?" I go, "Yes, because I like snuggling with you." He mumbles, "You're horny as a toad, ain't ya?" Drying my hands, I mutter, "You make me horny, so it's pretty much your fault." He goes, "Yeah, but you'd settle for any young stud with a hard dick." I'm staring at his face as he washes his hand. He looks at me in the mirror and goes, "Wouldn't you settle for any young stub's hard cock about now?" I shrug, "I'd prefer yours." He dries his hand, mumbling, "In other words, yes, you'd take any young stud with a hard dick."

Grinning and putting my arm around his waist, I say, "Why do you want to embarrass me?" He goes, "At least you're honest about it. You know what? If you occasionally feel you need to pay for it, do it, but don't tell me about it, okay?" I say again, "I'd rather do it with you," and he goes, "And you're the only guy I will do it with, and I told you that earlier today. The reality of it is, presently, I'm not going to be up for doing it as often as you need it."

I've still got my arm around him as we walk out of the bathroom with me saying, "I'd rather be hornier than hell and be boyfriends with you than have sex with someone else." He says, "Stop clinging to me, please, Zach." Taking my arm away, we go into the living room. He asks, "Are the guys still on the beach?" I rub his shoulder, mumbling, "No, they're taking showers. Um, can I get you anything... a beer, Jim Beam, a cigarette?" In the kitchen, he opens the refrigerator, mumbling, "I'll get a Coke."

Standing too close to him, I rub my fingers through his light-brown hair, mumbling, "I like that you're letting your hair grow, Bruce." He snorts out a chuckle and says, "Are you really so in love you can't keep your hands off me?" Making a face at him, I mutter, "Well, you're pretty much irresistible." Shaking his head slowly, he mutters, "You're the only person on earth who thinks that." I run my fingers through his hair again, saying, "There only needs to be one, and I'm glad it's me."

Then we hear Cowboy making a squealing sound, then some laughter, and we both look at Cowboy's bedroom door. Bruce grins, "Lee must give a pretty good fuck, huh?" I nod, giving my junk a quick squeeze, but Bruce didn't see that as he's going out on the balcony. I grab a beer and join him.

He's leaning against the railing, so I bump his side, asking, "You want a cigarette?" He shakes his head and asks, "What'd you get for dinner, and how much do I owe you for my share?" While drinking my beer and smoking another cigarette, I describe each thing I bought and then told him, "Your share is $19. I only bought the inexpensive stuff." He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill. Giving it to me, he says, "Keep the change."

We drink our drinks, bantering back and forth about my infatuation with him. Later, Cowboy calls to us, "Guys, the corn on the cob is ready," We eat first, then reheat the clam chowder in the microwave and eat bowls of that. Then Lee slices the ripe tomatoes as Cowboy puts out dinner plates and forks, then the containers of seafood with a serving spoon in each, saying to Bruce and me, "You guys bought it, so we'll serve it to you."

It's friggin' delicious and almost worth $212. Bruce goes, "This had to have cost more than forty dollars!" Lee and Cowboy exchange glances, but they don't say anything. I lie, "No, it didn't." Without knowing specifics, the boys know Bruce has some kind of a money problem, and I could kiss them for not saying anything about how expensive the seafood was. Ya know, Bruce is trying to cut down on lying, and I am too, although some lies are okay as long as there's a good reason for telling a lie.

Later, Cowboy and Lee join Bruce and me at the movies and, although the popcorn is disappointing, the action movie starring Lian Neeson was very good. The boys rode to the movies on Lee's motorbike because, and after the movie, they intend to go to the boardwalk while Bruce and I are going to a bar. So, we split up.

Bruce and I are drinking shots of Jim Beam with beer chasers at a random bar not far from the movie theater. Bruce goes on about what a great day today was. "Christ, Zach, I can't remember having such a corny day. I mean breakfast, the beach, a nap, great seafood dinner, and a night at the movies, then a few drinks here at this bar. It's like I'm a normal twenty-two-year-old at last. And, it's all thanks to you. Compared to last week... holy shit, what a difference this is."

Shrugging, I go, "You're as much a part of it as me. The things you went through last week, wow. Christ, how many guys could have handled that?" He goes, "If it weren't for that motherfucker, Daytime, it would have been alright. Not great, but the money made it worthwhile spending a mostly sleepless couple of nights at the site waiting for robbers and then all day breathing plaster dust as we cracked into the walls to get to the copper pipe. That guy fucking me, though... that was the worst! I couldn't take any more of that the same way I couldn't take any more of the pussy boy funhouse. Other guys could take it, but I couldn't, so you're giving me too much credit."

Twirling my empty shot glass around on the bar, I go, "Well, I admire you. I sure as shit couldn't have taken as much as you did." He goes, "Get the fuck outta here. You handled worse shit than that in the Seals. Life and death shit." I mutter, "That's totally different. I was part of a team. You've needed to handle all your stuff alone." He says, "No, I had you helping me."

Changing the subject, I say, "Have I mentioned lately that I love you?" He snorts out a laugh, then goes, "Not if you mean in the last hour. You love me, huh? What do you know about love?" Hearing us speaking of love, the middle-aged bearded man drinking alone three stools away stares at us with a disgusted expression on his face. Bruce looks right back at him, saying, "Can we help you with something?" He smirks at us, mouths the word 'fags', and looks away. Then he quickly finishes his drink, gets up, and walks out of the bar.

We shrug at one another, then Bruce says, "He saw how tough you look and decided to get out of Dodge while the getting was good." I go, "I'm peaceful. A person needs to really agitate me before I even think of physical force." He nods, "Yeah, but it must be, um, a good feeling knowing you don't need to back down to anyone if push comes to fuckin shove." I go, "Actually, yeah, it is a good feeling. It's the only thing I got from the Navy Seals that benefit me now. That, and a sense of pride for some of the missions I was on rescuing innocents from terrorists."

Drinking our third beer, we talk about the movie we saw and then about going to the Target store tomorrow to get Bruce a new cell phone and an electric toothbrush. Bruce tells me again, "Damn, though, today was the best day I can remember having." I nod, mumbling, "Yeah, it was good," and he bumps my arm, "If you're up for it, I'm willing to fuck you up good tonight." I look at him, muttering, "Whaddya, you think I'm going to say to that?" He grins, "Okay, then. Let's get to it."

We gulp down the rest of our beers, leave money on the bar for a tip, and walk out of the bar. I'm excited, but he said he's willing to fuck me up good, as if, ho-hum, he'll do it because he feels it's his responsibility. I'm nitpicking with that, though, as I'm exceedingly horny right now. Yes, I blew my load many hours ago, sucking Bruce off, but it's not like blowing my load when Bruce fucks me. There are two different levels of sexual intensity involved, and anal intercourse for me, especially with Bruce; that's my number one sexual thrill ride by a mile.

Walking the block to where I parked the car, I put my arm across Bruce's shoulders and hug him against my side, smiling at him, murmuring, "My man..." He rolls his eyes, "Don't make it into something it's not, Zach. Sorry, but it's only sex, not love." I mutter, "I know," and leave my arm on his shoulders. I love him so much...

The movie theater is in Northfield, not far from Atlantic City, so it's about the same twenty-minute ride back to the apartment as driving back from the boardwalk. We had three shots and beers, so we're not drunk, but we're not exactly sober either, so I drive carefully.

We're feeling good as we undress in our bedroom, with Bruce saying, "I can't promise you sex in the morning, Zach." Slightly irritated, I mutter, "You don't need to promise it to me at all. If you don't want to do it, then don't." He goes, "No, don't be like that. I just meant I get into a routine, um, one with you expecting we'll be doing it morning, noon, and night and then sneak in a fourth fuck somewhere along the line."

Standing in the room naked, I say, "I know, I know, I know... Jesus!" He drops his boxer shorts and puts his hands on my shoulders, saying, "Please, don't act like a child, Zach." I go, "Look, you said earlier today something about me needing sex, and you're right. Then you said you'd wean me off four fucks a day. You didn't say anything about going cold turkey on me." His hands slide down to my arms, then he wraps his arms around me and hugs me, murmuring, "Okay, act like a child if you want." Then with a tighter hug, my arms trapped against my sides, he adds, "Try to understand that I'm temporarily having a hard time sex-wise. It's because of the forced sex with that horrid Daytime person."

I meld against him, mumbling, "Okay, as long as it isn't me that's putting you off sex." He goes, "No, I told you two or three times already that you're the only person I'd think of having sex with, but temporarily I need to work my way back to normalcy. Three or four times a day is beyond my capabilities, um, temporarily." Letting go of me, he adds, "As I told you before, please feel free to, temporarily, substitute another when you need to, but don't mention it to me."

Now I feel bad putting this pressure on him, but, fuck, I get horny! I mutter, "Thanks," and he says, "But only temporarily. I already told you, if you want me as your boyfriend someday, then I'm your only fuck buddy." I nod, "Absolutely. That's what I want, and I'm staying faithful to you. Fuck paying some pussy boy." He smiles, "You may try not to do that, but c'mon..."

Huh, he's insinuating I can't feel sexually satisfied having sex only once or twice a day with him. Well, I'm not going to argue about it because maybe he's right. I smile, "Okay, temporarily, maybe I'll cave in and follow your advice, but as of right now, I don't plan on doing that. Plus, I resent those snarky child comments." He snickers, "Yeah, okay, I take them back. You're not a child." Obviously, I'm not. I meant I resent him saying I was acting like one, but I'll drop it for now.

Bruce goes, "If you're ready, bend over, your hands on the bed, and I'll spank you to help get you in the right frame of mind." I look at him and say, "Since we're being honest with one another, I need to correct your assumption about spanking." He goes, "How so?" I'm like, "I don't like it, and we're not doing it anymore. I get a nice submissive sense from sucking your private parts, so spanking my ass isn't necessary; it's redundant." He looks surprised, "Really?" I nod, "Uh-huh," and he smiles, "Awesome, I feel like a jackass when I'm doing it. So, this is good, but before you suck my dick, how about adding some gel, um, some lube to the lube you put in your ass this afternoon."

That's a good idea, so I do it and then look at Bruce, who goes, "Um, so why didn't you tell me you didn't like the spanking part before now?" I'm like, "I hinted at it, but you thought you were doing a good thing for me even though you didn't like doing it. That was nice of you, so..." He goes, "This is better. The two of us being open with each other, um, we're making good progress role-playing the boyfriend thing." Haha, he calls it a thing, a role-playing thing!

As I drop to my knees, anxious to taste his dick, he says, "When you think about it, the relatively short time we've known one another, plus the uneven experiences we've had together, some of them very unpleasant, um, it's incredible that we get along as well as we do." He considers me being in love with him 'getting along.' Ha! Yeah, but that was a very positive statement in his mind, so I nod my head, mumbling, "Yeah, it is."

As I pick his limp penis up with my fingers, he absently rubs my head, murmuring, "Goddamn, ya know, I'm starting to think we actually have a chance, Zach. I mean, a chance for you and I to work into a real relationship." Instead of saying what I'm thinking, which is... What do you think we're in right now, plus I'm in love with you! I mumble, "I think so too."

He must mean a boyfriend relationship, a concept Bruce has never felt was relevant in his world. It's for the 'straight' world and outside of a prostitute's domain. I've never had a boyfriend either, but it's not an alien concept to me as I believe it is to Bruce. After saying that, I admit that my optimistic outlook for Bruce and me becoming true boyfriends has been too optimistic the same way Bruce's pessimistic view of it has been too pessimistic. We'll meet somewhere in the middle... maybe.

However, thinking more about that will need to come later because licking and sucking Bruce's cock and balls has all my attention right now. And, I'd have thought the thrill of doing this would have diminished somewhat by now, but it hasn't. If anything, it's a more intense sexual thrill, and that's true even though I'm very familiar with these parts of his body. Familiar with his significantly above average-size penis, his hard, heavy nuts, the subtle scent and even more subtle taste of his taut skin, and his flat, firm belly. I'm very familiar with the inside of his thighs, and Bruce's quiet moans of arousal, and his shuffling feet when sensations startle him. I'm also happily familiar with Bruce's fingers brushing my short hair as I suck him off and familiar with how my cock grows hard as stone, and, well, all of it is a delicious sexual experience for me.

I'm energetically licking and sucking his penis and all around it, then licking and sucking on his scrotum and then each hard nut one at a time, licking inside his legs and up past his groin to his belly, then up to his belly button and, oooh, my cock is wicked hard now. After a few minutes of me doing nonstop licking and sucking all over and all around his private parts, Bruce murmurs, "That's good..." and gently pushes my head away. Oh, look at that. His cock is very hard, almost sticking straight out now, all seven heavy inches of it.

He gasps in a long breath, then he goes, "Oh, God, I almost blew my load. Um, lie on your back at the edge of the bed and pull your legs back." Yeah, I like this position because I can look at his face as he's fucking me. Lying on my back, I'm pulling my legs back so hard my back curves, pulling my asshole up. My ass, at the end of the bed, is so ready for this. Bruce smacks it as he stands there, taking another deep breath and holding his hard, heavy boner in his fingers.

Shivering with anticipation, I watch him guiding his big boner to my asshole. It touches my anus, and I shudder, then he exerts steady pressure, his eyes closing and shortly, "Ahh!" from me when the big mushroom head slides incredibly tightly inside me. He pushes in all seven inches of that mushroom-headed boner while I'm making a long hissing noise exhaling through my clenched teeth. The pain is present for sure, but I'm embracing it this time. It's an important part of the magic, and ya know, nothing worthwhile is free. Pain and pleasure are the Yin and Yang of that ancient Chinese philosophy. Meaning the phenomena of two opposing and complementary cosmic energies, such as dark and light, cold and hot, passive and active, pain and pleasure, etc.

Plus, recently, the pain has been a little less each time we do it, although I'm not sure if that's just in my head or if it's a function of my anus being frequently exercised, so to speak, and nerve endings have become used to the experience. It still hurts, which, by comparison, makes the pleasure sensations that follow more intense. Using the same logic, it should follow that the pleasure nerve endings would also be less prominent now that they're used to the frequency. They're not, though, and once he finishes the first half-dozen thrusts of his fat boner opening me up, the pleasure comes pouring in. Yes, the early thrusts hurt, but then comes the welcome pleasure wagon.

He did his usual four-inch quick early thrusting with his crotch slapping against my buttocks, then longer thrusting until all seven inches are plowing up and back inside me. A few of those, and we both begin making quiet moans of sexual pleasure. I wanted to look at Bruce's face as he fucks me, but the intense pleasure I'm feeling makes me close my eyes to absorb as much of it as I can. Concentrate on pleasure by eliminating all senses except the senses of touch and hearing. Touch, obviously meaning his steadily moving hard boner inside me. I also like hearing the slapping sounds and Bruce's moans, which confirms his pleasure as I'm very much aware of my pleasure.

Forcing myself to open my eyes, I see Bruce has his closed, sweat on his forehead, his lips tight together as he grunts, "Umm, umm, umm," with each thrust. His hips moving smoothly while the rest of him hardly moves at all. Standing there at the foot of the bed, he's leaning over between my legs, his hand on the bed next to either side of my chest. If he opened his eyes, he'd be looking at the top of my chest as his head is only about ten inches from my chin, his face only visible long ways from his forehead down.

Tonight we've both been able to hold off climaxing for maybe seven or eight minutes, but my orgasm is percolating strongly now. My moans become more like desperate whining groans than moans. Then it's here... my climax is about to blow, and I try to hump at his last thrust, but with a girlie squeal, my climax explodes on me, and cum shoots straight up, hitting Bruce in the stomach, one hard shot of cum followed by two weaker streams that don't go up far enough to hit him, then drop back on me.

His eyes flash open when my cum-shot hit him, and he looks almost frightened, humping hard a final time, then blowing his load up my ass, creaming my insides with lots of cum from his big balls. Hot steaks of pleasure spread out from my cock and balls as my prostate sizzles and then vibrates. Bruce groans and closes his eyes again, shudders, and then thrust in my sloppy rectum a few times before straightening up, then pulling his cock from my ass, mumbling, "Christ, that was unexpected. What a gigantic climax."

I'm still shaking a little, reveling in the after-effects of my orgasm. Nodding my head, I mutter, "Uh-huh, awesome fuck, Bruce." He goes, "Whoa!" and steps back, adding, "I'm dizzy." Sitting up on the bed, pulling on my dick, I go, "That was fantastic." And, yeah, that was really good, but there are no hugs and kisses after our climaxes, no affectionate words... not yet there aren't. Bruce isn't nearly ready for that. Still, I think his extra scintillating climax might have something to do with his revelation that, hey, maybe he can have a real relationship after all. That was still buddy sex, but perhaps with a little extra something.

He's got a tissue wiping at the cum I shot on him, then he goes, "Do you wanna practice bathing me again?" Nodding, I go, "Absolutely." We get in the shower, and I start bathing him while wondering if maybe this is Bruce's way of sharing affection. He doesn't feel comfortable showing it in a normal way... yet. With my cup half-full mentality, I always include a 'yet,' meaning it isn't over yet. In time, things can change.

Halfway through bathing him, I go, "Hey, you're not correcting the thing I'm doing wrong." He mumbles, "I'm just enjoying the parts you're doing right. No more mentor/trainee horseshit, right?" I go, "Right," and finish without springing a boner. Well, get real, I just had a fantastic orgasm ten minutes ago. He gets out of the shower stall, saying, "Thanks, you can do that whenever you want. I'm getting used to being spoiled, and I'll try enjoying it for as long as you're crazy enough to continue spoiling me." I mutter, "It might be quite a while before I get tired of it... just so you know."

Drying, he says, "Do you wanna help me with the MAN creme in the morning?" I'm in the shower stall still washing as I go, "Of course, I do," and he mutters, "Thanks, I want to continue that hairless routine. You like it, and you're the one who has much more contact with my body than I have." These are good developments, except there wasn't any dominance coming from Bruce. He asked what I wanted instead of telling me. I'm betting he won't be able to keep that up for long, though.

He brushes his teeth as I'm finishing up in the shower. By the time I'm dry, and I've brushed my teeth, Bruce is in bed. I come out of the bathroom, and he goes, "Get the light." And then, same as last night, we sleep cuddling together, except it feels slightly more intimate as Bruce gives me an extra squeeze before saying, "Goodnight, Zach. A really nice day, huh?" I go, "I'll say."

I go to sleep more optimistic about us than ever. We don't have sex in the morning, but Bruce reminds me to do the MAN creme before his shower. Yes, he still takes a shower most nights and another one in the morning. I guess he's making up for all the showers he's missed when he was living on the street.

Bruce stands naked in front of me, his legs spread and his hands clasped behind his head, saying, "Get my underarms first. I liked Scheyer using the creme on your armpits. I was hesitant to include that, but he did it, so..." I do as he says, then drop all the way down to his crotch because, like me, Bruce has a naturally hairless torso and doesn't need the MAN creme, although I kinda wish he did. It'd be fun rubbing the creme all over him.

I spend five full minutes rubbing the cream around his pubic area, all over his scrotum, then under it. He bends over and spreads his buttocks so I can carefully wipe the creme around his anus. As I'm doing that, my dick gets stiff from thinking about rimming his rosy pink asshole that's sparkling clean and very tightly closed. The last hair on his body, other than the light-brown hair on his head, is on his calves. On my knees, I cover his lower legs with the cream and then stand, grinning and saying, "That was fun." He snorts out a chuckle, muttering, "You're the only person I've ever known who makes me feel special."

Following him into the bathroom, I ask, "Do you want me to bathe you?" He says, "Not this time, Zach. I'd feel self-conscious with the creme and dissolving hair. Um, pass me one of those washcloths." I do that and then wash my hands as Bruce gets in the shower stall. After brushing my teeth, I take a piss, get dressed, and briefly rewash my hands from habit.

While Bruce showers, I go into the kitchen and make a mug of coffee. On the balcony smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee, I hear Cowboy and Lee giggling about something, so, flicking the cigarette butt, I go in and say, "Hey, boys, good morning." They give me a joint hug as Lee tells me, "I'm making breakfast this morning." With an arm around the back of his neck, I kiss the side of his face and think for a second about Jon. Cowboy goes, "Hey, where's my kiss?" I kiss him, and we let go of one another as I casually move my stiffening penis to the side, asking, "What are you planning on making for breakfast, Lee."

Cowboy answers for Lee, "He's making pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs because I did the best blowjob ever for him this morning, so I get what I want for breakfast." I mutter, "TMI, bro."

Lee is quite the short-order chef preparing breakfast. First, though, he tells Cowboy and me to get out of the kitchen, which we're only too happy to do. Lee makes Cowboy a coffee, and he joins me on the balcony, asking, "Can I bum a smoke off you, bro?" Even though I don't want it, I smoke another cigarette with Cowboy as I finish my coffee. He tells me he thinks he's in love. I go, "No shit. Who with?" He laughs, then tells me he's thinking of transferring to Notre Dame and blah, blah, blah.

That's a topic I'm not getting involved in because his parents both went to Yale, as did Ronny and me, and I don't want them thinking I had anything to do with Cowboy not going there. I don't want anything to do with Cowboy coming here for college breaks instead of going home either. I just nod and go, "Uh-huh," as he excitedly talks about it.

Bruce joins us, bums a cigarette from me; then Cowboy tells Bruce everything he just told me. He seems so young! Was I ever that young? I don't think I ever had Cowboy's youthful enthusiasm because I was too busy trying to be like Ronny, who was a serious motherfucker and always acted older than he was. I've always been the opposite. I mean, how immature was it of me for years trying to be someone I wasn't?

The breakfast is excellent; then the boys go to the beach while Bruce and I go to Target to buy an electric toothbrush and a cell phone to replace the one that got crushed at the work site in Philly. I ask him to add his phone to my account, which is the cheapest way to get it activated, plus he can pay off the phone monthly. With the new phone, Bruce says, "This concludes the last connection to Philly I'll ever have and ever want to think about." Naturally, he's insisting on paying half the phone bill every month. I love that he agreed to put his phone on my account because it sort of binds us together... slightly.

The rest of the day goes pretty much like yesterday, minus the movie after dinner. Then, tonight the boys prepare a dinner of burgers and fries, plus the last two of yesterday's tomatoes and the rest of the corn on the cob. It's a fine dinner. Afterward, the boys talk us into playing Fortnite's Save The World, a four-player version that Cowboy hooks up to his TV. It's habit-forming, I can see that, but the boys are so significantly better at playing it than Bruce and me that it's totally uncompetitive. They try to dumb down their superior skill, but Bruce and I give up after an hour.

We have a few beers while smoking a few cigarettes on the balcony, with Bruce again talking about finding a job. He says he needs to make spending money. "Minimum wage will set me up with a couple of hundred a week. You know, until the end of the summer at least." He's fanatical about making money to pay his own way. He goes, "As an escort, I made $400 to $500 a week. I mean, once I was online and then sometimes a thousand as a feature getting fucked in a video during a Florida shoot," and blah, blah, blah.

Obviously, with my trust fund, I've never given a thought to making money. Ronny and I spent all the money from the Seals during our four weeks of leave, living like millionaires. It's just another part of life that's an entirely different experience for Bruce and me, so different there's nothing to compare it to. Almost totally sober, at eleven o'clock, Bruce asks, "Ready for bed, Zach?" Not really, but I nod, "Sure, another good night's sleep almost sober can't hurt."

We say goodnight to the boys and walk into the bedroom. Bruce goes, "Every good night's sleep I have puts me one day further away from that Philly nightmare." I nod, but I'm mostly thinking about how we haven't had sex all day and wondering if Bruce mentioning Philly just now was to remind me he's kind of off sex, um, temporarily. I'm so horny I'm jumpy and jittery. I've been dropping things all night.

It's awkward getting undressed, not knowing if I should mention sex or wait to see if Bruce does. We showered after our day at the beach, but Bruce might take another shower anyway. We're at the sink brushing our teeth, Bruce using his new electric toothbrush when I almost drop my toothbrush, catching it before it hits the sink. I mutter, "I'm all thumbs tonight..." Rinsing out his mouth after brushing, he grins and says, "I hope you don't drop my dick when you're sucking a hard-on for me." I try to stay calm, mumbling, "I'll try not to."

In the bedroom, I'm almost trembling as I get on my knees and pick up his dick. Bruce says, "I appreciate that you haven't mention sex all day, Zach. It's a weird time for me, but I've been sort of looking forward to our sex tonight. I'm encouraged by that." Nodding, I go, "Me too, although I'm not the sex maniac you think I am." He chuckles, saying, "Yeah, you are, which is why I'm so impressed that you didn't mention it all day. All kidding aside, though, I'm disappointed in myself for letting that fucker, Daytime, screw with my head as he did. It's just that I thought I was finally done selling myself. That's what it amounted to those nights with Daytime. I gave in to him because he was in charge of who was going to get paid at the end of the week, and I was desperate to get paid the money I earned so I could quit that job and come back to this safe harbor that you provide."

I feel awful for Bruce, but right now, my fingers are shaking like mad because I'm so anxious to do this sex with him. When I put his cock's head in my mouth, I let out a long, 'Mmmm," and that was embarrassing, although I don't think Bruce even noticed.

Anyway, my eyes close as I suck on the head of his dick. Suck it as if it's the most delicious thing I've ever had in my mouth. My cock immediately gets bone-hard and moves tightly up against my belly. Bruce's scent swirls around in my head as I push his cock further into my mouth. Push it in until the mushroom head pokes at the gag reflex area on my throat. Gagging once, I lick as much of his penis as my tongue can reach, then close my mouth, cover my teeth with my lips, and then slowly pull his cock out until just the head remains in my mouth. After a few licks on the smooth curved head, I begin bobbing up and down on the quickly hardening shaft.

Bruce makes a gasping sound, then goes, "Ahh, ahh, ahh," as his cock gets hard as a fat wooden dowel... a fat wooden dowel with a hard mushroom head. My head is bobbing up and down, up and down, up and down, and then a long drool of precum slides across my tongue, and Bruce goes, "Umm," and pushes my head away, doing it gently but firmly. His cock hangs away from his body to the left, heavy and hard.

He murmurs, "Christ, that felt good, Zach." I move my head to his crotch again and begin licking his balls and the inside of his thighs, but he's again pushing my head away, saying, "Stop, I'll cum..." As I sit back on my ankles, almost panting, a spurt of precum plops out of my wicked hard boner, and I wipe it off with my thumb.

Bruce murmurs, "C'mon, get up, and I'll fuck you with both of us standing." I'm in a bit of a trance, feeling good, feeling kinda submissive. Nothing new; I'm always a little submissive with Bruce. Standing, the lips of my anus quiver with anticipation. Bruce is behind me, pushing lube in my asshole and around my quivering anus.

His finger goes in, and I grunt, "Ahh," but it feels good. Bruce chuckles, mumbling, "Hey, your asshole won't let go of my finger, haha." He jokes, so obviously, he isn't nearly as turned on as I am, but that's okay. He puts an arm around my waist and guides his cock's head to my asshole as I shiver and shake a little. With the wide, smooth head of his boner pressed tightly against my anus, Bruce wraps his other arm around me, then pulls me back against the head of his boner until "Oooh!" it slides inside... and it hurts too!

He has his arms around my waist, one hand holding onto his other arm's wrist, pulling me back against him tightly as inch by inch his boner slides into my ass with me quietly groaning, "Ahhh, oooh." It takes five seconds. With Bruce flat against my butt cheeks, he keeps his hips moving forward, his breath moist and warm on the back of my neck. Bending his back now, I need to go up on my toes as he lifts me, his hard cock seemingly going inside me further. My anus still burns and aches, but mostly I'm fascinated at how dominantly Bruce is doing this.

He grunts as he shakes me, my toes barely touching the floor now as I slide into a brilliant submissive state of mind, my body relaxing, my cock sticking straight out hard as a steel spike. Embracing the fading pain, my head lulls back on his shoulder. He shakes me again, and I murmur, "Umm, ahh, Bruce..." I'm limp except for my steel rod of a boner. His arms around my waist justle me one more time to be sure I'm offering no resistance, then Bruce sets me on my feet and starts dominantly fucking the shit out of me, figuratively, not literally. As usual, he starts with only those short hard jabbing thrusts moving only his hips. Each thrust makes me go, "Ump." It's "Ump, ump, ump," with him slapping against my buttocks. "Slap, slap, slap," fast and hard.

When he begins longer five, then six, then full seven-inch thrusts, I'm dizzy with swarming pleasure seemingly all over my body. Too soon, I let out a startled, "Aaaahhh!" as my climax unexpectedly blows with a long stream of cum shooting straight out three or four feet, a shiny blur of white, then a couple of short spurts that have me babbling, "Oh, oh, oh, aah..." and then the after-effects send shivers all over me.

Bruce is breathing deeply as he takes his arms from around me and pushes a hand at the back of my head. I obediently bend forward, my hands on my knees, and he grabs my hips pounding his cock back and forth in my ass, "Slap,slap,slap!" In less than a minute, he makes a gasping sound, his cock fully impaling me, and he fills me up with cum. The total time from beginning to end couldn't have been more than three or four minutes. Fast, but it was a fantastic few minutes, and I had one of the best climaxes of my life. I'm still shaking as Bruce pulls his cock out, asking, "Are you okay?"

Nodding, still bent over with one hand on my knee and the other squeezing my still fairly firm dick. He smacks my ass, saying, "C'mon, let's get ready for bed." I nod again, my heart going rat-a-tat-tat real fast. Slowly straightening up, cum running out of my ass, I murmur, "That was, um, sexy." Chuckling, he says, "Yeah, I needed that more than I realized." I'm still in a fog, so he gets a firm grip on the back of my neck, moving me toward the bathroom, saying, "Once a day makes for hotter climaxes, huh?" Still feeling dreamy and submissive, I mumble, "Yes, Bruce," and he chuckles again, then gives the back of my neck a hard squeeze before taking his hand away. See, it was merely a quick buddy-sex fuck to Bruce but more meaningful to me.

In the bathroom, Bruce turns on the shower, saying, "I'm going to take a quick shower." Staring at him like he's my hero, I go, "Uh-huh." He's in a good mood after getting his rocks off. He chuckles, then gets his hand on the back of my neck again, and, pushing me into the shower stall, mutters, "You need to snap out of it. The water will help with that." He grabs the washcloth he used when he showered coming off the beach, and cleans the cum off my ass with it, then says, "You're on your own now."

Out of my dreamy trance, I turn around under the heavy flow of water, then hug Bruce and say, "Nice sex, boyfriend." He grins, saying, "Yes, I enjoyed it. As I said, I needed it more than I thought." That is good to hear. I get out of the shower stall feeling encouraged. Bruce continues showering as I dry myself, then brush my teeth.

Oh man, do I ever feel good right now! I get in bed naked, and a few minutes later, Bruce turns out the light and gets in bed with me. Our cuddling seems to me as if there's a little something extra in it tonight. My body is half on Bruce and half on the mattress, but he doesn't complain, so I kiss the side of his neck, and he goes, "C'mon, Zach!" I'm like, "What?" He mutters, "Nothing... go to sleep." Progress...

The next couple of days play out pretty much like today, with me pretending I'm not horny, although I am. Sure, I'm missing our morning and afternoon sex, and at night I'm blowing my load in two or three minutes, but Bruce appears relaxed and contented with this arrangement. To make up for the lack of sex, every opportunity I get, I'm touching him or finger combing his hair as if to get it out of his eyes. Joking around because his hair isn't nearly long enough to get in his eyes. Annoyed, Bruce rolls his eyes but lets me get away with it.

Wednesday afternoon on the beach, I'm standing behind Bruce as he's sitting in a beach chair putting up with me, sort of massaging his shoulders when Cowboy says that old line, "Jesus, Zach, get a room, why doncha." Bruce snickers and mumbles, "He won't leave me alone, Cowboy." Lee mutters, "He's like Cowboy who's always touching me when we're in the bedroom." Cowboy goes, "What? I'm not doing anything to you in the bedroom. I'm certainly not fondling you as Zach does to Bruce." I go, "You apparently do not know the meaning of the word fondling!"

Bruce gets up, saying, "C'mon, Zach, we're going for a swim." Ah, yes, his natural bossiness shows itself... so sexy. He can't help it. I go, "I was just going to suggest that." Bruce smiles and mumbles, "Sure, you were. Let's do that half-mile swim again."

We have take-out Chinese food for dinner tonight, and then try playing Fortnight with Lee and Cowboy again... and suck at it again! Pretending it's a childish, boring activity, Bruce and I smirk at each other and go out on the balcony to smoke cigarettes. He says, "We really need to get some joints to smoke if we're going to continue this, um, normal life you guys seem comfortable with." I shrug, "Sure, but what's wrong with our normal life?" He grins, "Hey, where is the constant fear, the nervousness of not knowing what horrible thing is about to happen to any of us next?" I go, "Oh, fuck that! You know that's not a part of most peoples' lives."

He flips his hand, muttering, "I know, I'm kidding. Hell, I keep pinching myself to be sure I'm not dreaming. It's like I was tense all the time before, and now I'm not, but I can't help thinking in the back of my head that this is too good to be true, and any minute now, the other shoe will drop, and the shit will hit the fan. Oh fuck, Zach, I don't know what I'm worried about; it's just, um..." I put my arms around him, murmuring, "I love you." He nods, mumbling, "I'm beginning to believe you, but I don't know how I'm supposed to react to that."

Pressing my luck, I give his lips a quick kiss, then let go of him, saying, "You're reacting fine. I'm so happy you're here with me." He nods, "Me too." Rubbing across his shoulders, I mumble, "How about a shot and a beer?" He shakes his head and goes, "Nah, no thanks, I'm not used to drinking as much as you do." Ha! Since he moved in, I'm drinking about one-third as much as I used to. Well, that fits right in with me having one-third the sex I used to have. That's been the case these last four days anyway.

As if he read my mind, Bruce says, "I'm so relieved that you seem okay with our, ah, reduced sex life. It's been good for me, and you've adapted really well. I'm proud of you." Shrugging, I go, "Oh, man, Bruce, I can't lie... I miss our morning and afternoon sex more than I've missed anything before in my life. You don't know how much having sex with you means to me. You're my, um, you know..."

He frowns, "Oh, I thought you adjusted, um..." and I interrupt, "No, I mean, I know it's only been a week since you had a terrible experience with that animal, Daytime. I'm determined to wait until you're ready for more. You're my man, and what you say goes." He rubs his face, mumbling, "You're giving me a fucking guilt complex here, Zach. Do you want me to fake it? Fuck you as if it's my job, as it was when I was on the street hooking?"

Actually, I'd take that gladly, but that's not what he wants to hear. I go, "No! I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry. Having sex with you once a day is better than doing it with anyone else four times a day." He mutters, "That's a bald-faced lie, but thanks for saying it." He pats my shoulder, and I put my arm across his shoulders again, saying, "I know I'm always touching you, but you feel good." He mumbles, "I'm gonna fuck your brains out tonight." I go, "Good plan."

Later, he doesn't fuck my brains out, but he fucked out every drop of cum in my nuts. I had a huge supernova of a climax, Bruce fucking me on my back, after which I was clinging to him, not wanting to let go. He isn't a big fan of affection after sex, but he's tolerating it better than he used to. He finally mumbles, "If you let go of me, I'll take a quick shower. You can join me if you want." I kiss him hard on his mouth and then let go of him, "Yes, I'd like to join you."

In the morning, Cowboy and Lee are gone by the time we get up. They'll be at Lee's house helping set up a surprise fiftieth birthday party for one of Lee's aunts or some relative. Then, they'll spend the night there. Anyway, Lee isn't here to cook breakfast, and Bruce doesn't feel like cooking, so, wearing bathing suits, sandals, and T-shirts, we drive to the boardwalk for breakfast at the cafe we like.

We get coffees and place our order with an overweight woman with a ring in her nose, then Bruce says, "Look at that," pointing to a HELP WANTED sign. I go, "There are less than six weeks left of the summer season. Odd they'd be needing help." He goes, "I'm going to see what that's about." I'm like, "No, Bruce. You've got enough money for the rest of the summer." He mutters, "No, I don't," and he gets up to talk with the lady at the register. Balls! If he gets a job, what the hell will I do all day?

He comes back and sits down with a piece of paper and a pen, telling me, "Holy shit. That lady and her husband own this place. He's the chef or, um, the cook, whatever. Anyway, they caught two waitresses stealing and fired them. The pay is only five dollars an hour, but she claims I'll make at least another five or six dollars an hour in tips as a waiter." I go, "What? That's peanuts, Bruce." He mutters, "Ten dollars an hour is not peanuts. It's $400 for a forty-hour week." I whine, "What am I supposed to do when you're here forty hours a week?"

He's filling out a brief application, muttering, "You'll figure something out." I go, "What are you putting down as your previous job experience?" He says, "I'm pretending I'm a college student with experience as a waiter at a restaurant in Utah. She's not going to verify that." I'm rolling my eyes as our food is served. I go, "They've got waitresses here." He finishes the application, gets up, and says, "She told me one of these waitresses is from a temporary employment agency and too expensive to keep on." I mutter, "Sounds like bullshit." He chuckles, "Pout all you want. This is fabulous!"

Off he goes to the register lady, letting his breakfast get cold. I start eating, but I'm not happy about this at all. He talks to the lady for five minutes, comes back to the table excited, saying, "I start tomorrow at six o'clock. The workday is six o'clock to three-thirty with a half-hour for lunch." I go, "what? Tomorrow is Friday. You're starting on a one-day week? What's up with that?" He snickers and goes, "Calm down; she told me I might need to work right through the weekend. You know, if she can't hire another person by three o'clock tomorrow."

He starts eating his breakfast as I finish mine, mumbling, "Six o'clock? Who the fuck is on the boardwalk at that time? And why do they close at three o'clock? It's the night when the boardwalk is the most crowded." " Swallowing a mouthful of room-temperature scrambled eggs, he says, "They open at seven, and there are a lot of boardwalk workers that eat here early and then open their shops. From six to seven, we clean and set up for the day, whatever that means." I go, "So, why does this place close at three o'clock? Something fishy is going on here."

He laughs again, mumbling, "Why are you so upset? This is good. Anyway, when lunchtime is done, they close a partition to the restaurant leaving a ten-foot space in front, and lease the space to a company that brings in a candy cotton machine, frozen Italian ice, and a couple of other things for the afternoon and night crowds." I go, "How stupid is that? Primetime on the boardwalk is at night, and these nitwits lease it out." Bruce says, "You're incoherent, bro. This cafe is a breakfast and lunch joint. By three o'clock, most people have had their lunch." Nodding, I mumble, "Obviously, I knew that."

Finished his room-temperature breakfast, he excitedly says, "Starting tomorrow, I'm a working man, Zach." I mutter, "You'll need to get up at five, for Christ's sake." He grins, "C'mon, Zach, be happy for me. It's only five days a week, and I'll be with you afternoons, nights, and most weekends. Probably not this weekend, but she'll get someone to work weekends. Plus, there's another waitress who will be working with me during the day. It's not just me." This place is busy as hell--the two waitresses running around like mad. There are about twenty tables and people waiting to be seated as soon as tables become available. Huh.

Well, maybe this will help Bruce get over the disastrous week he had in Philly, and we'll get back to at least two fucks a day. One at night and a nooner when he gets off work, ya know? A morning fuck is pretty much out of the question unless we get up at four-thirty. Anyway, that's the best I can do for my glass-half-full take on this development. But, wait a minute here... he'll be going to bed early if he needs to get up at five-fucking-o'clock in the morning, so do I go to bed with him at, what, eight-thirty?

After breakfast, Bruce talks to the lady for ten minutes as I smoke a cigarette looking out at the ocean leaning against the railing. I'm a block from the locker rooms. Then, turning my back to the ocean I look down at the locker room sign and think about Jon Scheyer. Well, why not? Maybe he can handle my morning wake-up sex. Maybe my afternoon sex as well. I mean, what are the chances Bruce, after working all day, is going to want to come home and fuck? Plus, as I just said, what time is he going to want to go to bed? Where's my glass-half-full rationalization for that? And why am I asking myself all these questions?

Bruce comes out all smiles as he's walking over to say, "It's all set. Let me see you smile at my good fortune." Acting grumpy, I go, "Well, this is the happiest you've been since I met you." Then I add, "Yeah, I'm happy for you." He puts his arm across my shoulders, saying, "I'm gonna kick this straight world's ass. You were right, Zach; this is so much better than what I was doing before. I mean, bro... it isn't even comparable." I say, "Being a waiter doesn't sound like a good time to me... just saying." He goes, "Anne, that's the owner's name; says I need to practice smiling. Haha, I didn't realize I wasn't smiling." I mutter, "Well, you're not big on smiling, so, yeah, ya better practice."

He gives me a big smile, and I snort out a chuckle, "That's a pretty good smile, Bruce." He goes, "I'll be raking in the tips with this smile of mine." I go, "Yeah, you will. And, fuck, I know where I'll be eating breakfast from now on, and I'm a big tipper too." I'm getting caught up in his enthusiasm as we head for the beach chair rental shop. Bruce goes, "Omigod, though, how am I going to get to work? Will you drive me, Zach?" I go, "Of course, I will."

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com.

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