"WICHITA"
Part 9
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Folks (authors) try their hand at writing gay love, and gay smut. It's all good, using the written word for telling stories. However without Nifty stories go nowhere. We write, - You read. Nifty does the background work. Nothing is without cost, so please help (if you can) with a little "folding paper." as one of my favorite ladies (Dame Edna Everage) would say... "Stories give me a sense of identification."
The story continues...
Jack headed straight back to the farm where he said, he felt very much at home. He loved the Kansas sunset.
He debated telling me about Danny, and decided not to mention it. Nothing happened in Jack's opinion. It was only a yank, not real sex. There was no need to say anything – so he didn't.
Jack handed pa the invoice for the egg delivery showing the count for his record. Kissed ma on the cheek (he always did that being a gentleman) and asked, - "Where's Curly?"
"In the barn son, yuh better hurry on down there," pa said winking at his wife. They both recognized that Jack was away only a few hours, and we were already missing one another.
"Good job brother Curly," said Jack, looking at the stall that I had repaired. I was cleaning up the mess and Jack pitched in to help without being asked. When I bent over to pick up some scrap lumber Jack put his arms around me from behind pulling me back to an uptight position.
He held my face kissing me from my forehead to my neck. We wrapped arms around each other and pushing with a tight grip our crotches swelled with a need to be together.
"Geese gotta send you to town more often," I chuckled.
"Gaud, I love you Curly," Jack said unbuckling my pants going in search of my pecker. My pants dropped to my ankles and Jack was on his knees with me in his mouth. He was wilder than usual but I questioned nothing. If he wanted to suck cock; I had plenty for him to choke on. (Silly talk) Jack had become such a good cocksucker he could swallow right down to my thighs.
I feared I was covered with the stink from the horse barn, but apparently not, from the way he pulled the man juice from my hairy nutts.
I never told him when I was about to cum. I just let go shot after shot, with Jack keeping up with me and beyond. It ended with Jack barely able to stand back up. His knees were covered with straw, and he smelled like - well, it wasn't very good.
It was the best blow job he had given me in a long time. I had no idea what made him so horny, and didn't ask. I only know I was in love.
"Do me a favor," I asked Jack.
"Anything!"
"Go to the house and bring me clean pants and a clean shirt. I am going to bathe in the creek. If you had waited, you would have gotten a clean pecker." I smiled grabbing the front of my pants.
"It was good, I didn't notice a thing."
"Okay, I'll get you clean clothes, go wash your ass and I'll lick it dry." He giggled and walked away.
"Fuckin weirdo, I mumbled, but smiling. Jack was Jack, and I, although a lucky cowboy, never knew what he was going to say next.
When Jack returned, I was naked in the water. He stripped nude showing off his sexy body, and jumped in the water with me.
We were in the deep section of the creek able to stand in the water up to our chest. Nobody was around, so you can only imagine the kissing and groping that went on.
We washed each other running our hands over shrinking flesh under the water. It wasn't really cold, but hardly bath water. Didn't matter, we were tough farm boys, and used to rugged living. In bed we were queer ducks, taking energy and cum from one another. We did that a lot –oh yeah, sluts with no lipstick.
At suppertime the kitchen filled with the savory aroma of fried chicken and mounds of buttery mashed potatoes.
Jack and I didn't sit next to each other at the supper table. The folks (ma and pa) took places at each end of the table, and Jack sat across from me. It was no doubt to prevent us from looking like a couple.
We never thought much about seating arrangements. Dang, when chow time came, we just dug in and devoured ma's plum delicious vittles.
Pa talked `bout the repair job I made to the barn stall. He followed that with jawin about the repair job Jack did with the fence. Ma kept heaping our plates with taters and more chicken.
Good golly, we were being loved to death. It felt annoying, but it made no never mind to either of us. However, we smiled saying, "Much obliged pa, and thanks Ma." - Yes, indeed, love was everywhere in the kitchen that night.
One had to believe and accept family compliments, in order to get anyplace. Strangers, clear and simple, didn't count for much with us. We were the happiest at home on the farm.
The following day, Pa had us check the fence line across the south pasture. That fence was major, keeping the horses from running through rows and rows of potatoes. The dang fence had held up "specially-well," so we didn't see any need to repair anything.
"Wanna do anything?" asked Jack.
"Such as?
"Such as, there is nobody around and I could use me a ride on your backside. I have been watching your ass move and gotta say it makes me dang interested in a quickie; if yuh know what I'm yupping about."
"You want me to take down my pants so you can poke my dump hole. Is that what you're sayin? Cause I believe that's what my ears are hearing.
"Yup, that's it."
"Okay, let's do that, a prairie whore, to keep that big ole pecker happy?
"You're the cowboy I love, and poking or not poking, you make me happy. I feel like fucking, and "hot butt partner," you're it."
Let's go fuck," I said to Jack, grabbing his crotch. I never could disagree with much of what he had to say. I couldn't think straight. You would have to feel it, to understand it.
Like a rag doll, I laid over a boulder while Jack nibbled on the cheek of my ass, just a poking and prying on what belonged to him. I was wet with spit one moment, and cock plugged the next. In no time at all, I was full of baby juice. Happy as fuck, we kissed like real homos.
At this rate we could admire ourselves all day.