craving that fat, juicy cock inside of me, and now I couldn’t get enough of it.
Ford Illuminati was hung like a racehorse and he knew how to use it, too. My
hands were all over that. I had thought I was attracted to Jake but that paled
in comparison to the intensity with which I wanted to devour Ford.
there was a world of difference now. We were free of all restraints for that
glorious forty-eight hours, and Ford took me to see a couple of the vortexes.
We had been on a tour of these several times when we were kids. This time no
one brought any weed, and I wanted to suck on that horse cock inside the middle
of a vortex.
man. The thrill, the illicit excitement of canyon carving through the rusty
layers of sandstone, like red velvet cake tall on either side of us, it was all
new to me again. Now I could thrust my hand along Ford’s pec and toy with the
little barbell that pierced his nipple, proud of myself when my other hand felt
his cock stiffening. I knew he pretended this irritated him, and he’d reach
around, slap my ass, and shake it.
awhile until we felt the highest, most intense amplification of all, and that’s
where we’d fuck or give each other head. Ford had learned a lot of tricks in the
past decade. Lapping me into a mindless clusterfuck of an orgasm with his
talented tongue was apparently one of them. I was still amazed that he could do
“Just, you know, with a vibrator.” I didn’t want to mention the shower head in
Cottonwood. The horrific memory of that bathroom wall was probably the reason I couldn’t come with another man.
stretched out on the sandstone, propped up on one forearm, looking like he was
posing for fucking GQ. I loved it when he wore his cut
next to his bare skin, like now. I loved to flick that damned infernal barbell
that pierced his nipple with my tongue. It never failed to make him hiss in air
and clutch the back of my skull. His new Apache tattoo was fascinating. He
seemed to be embracing his Native American heritage instead of shunning it, as
most bikers would do.
fur-lined leather job that still had a D-ring where a
leash could be attached. He had gotten into some kink that was right up my
alley. Right now we were having a little picnic we’d brought, just wine and
some salami and cheese and crackers, but he’d left the short leash attached to
my collar. It wasn’t safe to ride with it for fear of pulling an Isadora
Duncan, but he liked the submissive way it made me look.
mention, but plenty of men have tried.”
ignored it. There was plenty of time for strife later, I knew. There always
was. “No, I mean experienced guys, men who were willing to try for ten minutes
or more. I always wound up worrying that they were wearing out their tongue
muscles. I’m not kidding, Ford. It got to the point where I didn’t want anyone
to even bother trying. Then you come along and blow them
all out of the water.”
looked down at the cracker box. He shrugged innocently. “I don’t know what to