Chapter Eleven
Dean
“I mean, this bucket of fresh jizz, for one.”
Sully grunted, releasing Dean’s soft, pink, creamy dick to run his index finger through the cum splattered all over his chest. “Let’s see what virgin jizz tastes like, huh, baby?
” he teased, holding up a finger so Dean could see his seed covering it like a coating of batter from the bottom of some baker’s bowl.
And then, before Dean could react, Sully plopped the finger in his mouth and sucked it clean, sliding it out with a fresh, clean “pop” sound that nearly made Dean blast all over again.
“Yummo,” he teased, arching one sweaty brown eyebrow before sliding the same finger around Dean’s puffy, sensitive nipple. Dean whimpered with the sensitivity overload that resulted. “How about a taste, City Slicker?”
Dean demurred. At first. Shaking his head.
Shrinking away. Frowning. But Sully persisted, inching that long, expert finger closer to his lips.
“You just let a guy jerk you off in the middle of the night,” Sully reminded them both.
“Naked and sticky on his kitchen counter. You’re making great progress, my little virgin. Care to make a little more?”
“I mean, I thought we were taking things slow,” Dean argued even as he licked his lips and gently, perhaps even predictably, parted them.
“This is slow,” Sully promised, finger hovering temptingly just in front of Dean’s lips. “I mean, you know how badly I wanted to suck that thing the first time I saw it?”
They chuckled almost nervously. Or, at least, Dean did. “I mean, tasting yours would be one thing. But my own? Isn’t that ... weird?”
“Weirder than me pacing around this stupid kitchen in my gayest robe in the middle of the night?” Sully prompted. They chortled some more before Sully offered, “Listen, I’ll just rub some around your lower lip so you get a little taste. You know, bucket list style?”
“I mean ... okay?”
Sully nodded. “That’s my good boy,” he praised, doing just that as his rough, calloused fingertip slid surprisingly gently across Dean’s lower lip.
Inspired, still horny, Dean’s lips almost involuntarily clamped around the sexy digit, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked greedily until it was completely clean.
He was still sucking, like a babe on his mother’s teat, when Sully chuckled and slid his finger free with a sexy, sticky “pop” sound that felt as sexy as it sounded.
“How was it?” he asked, helping Dean off the counter as they stood, face to face in the quiet kitchen.
Dean shrugged. “Salty?” he offered, peering up into Sully’s sexy green eyes. “Tangy? Is that ... is that how it’s supposed to taste?”
“Like I’m some kind of expert?” Sully croaked before leaning in for another of his brisk, bracing kisses.
“More of one than I am,” Dean offered, toying with the nearest sash of his lover’s frilly purple robe.
“Yeah, well, if you let me, one day I’ll taste it fresh from the source.” He reached down and gently tweaked Dean’s flaccid shaft.
“Or I could taste yours,” Dean grunted, tugging the sash a little looser. “Right now? Sink to my knees and suck my first dick, right here, right now?”
“Whoa, there, City Slicker,” Sully chuckled, swatting his hand away with ease. “Taking things slow, remember?”
Dean gave Sully a quick once over, noting the way his robe was gently but obviously tented in the front. “Any slower and that thing might just go off by itself,” he noted, watching Sully laugh.
“Now that you mention it,” he murmured, pressing Dean back against the counter behind him. “I’ve got a little fantasy of my own brewing, if you’re up for it?”
As if on cue, they both glanced at the flaccid cock hanging between Dean’s still trembling legs. “I mean, give me a few and maybe?”
“No,” Sully insisted quietly, cupping Dean’s chin in one hand. “I meant, why let all that sweet frosting go to waste when I could use it for myself?”
“I don’t,” Dean began, before the lightbulb went off. “I see,” he said, leaning up to kiss Sully and, in the process, tugging the untended sash of his lover’s fluffy purple robe. Sully gasped. Dean pushed away and, in the movement, the robe slithered open.
“Mmm,” he murmured appreciatively, tugging it even further open until, inevitably, one side slid from Sully’s shoulder, the other quickly following until, with a whisper and a rush, it slid off completely.
Sully stood, raw boned and towering, naked and hard, his stiff, thick dick compact but exquisite, five hard inches of pretty man flesh. “Damn,” Dean gasped, inching closer with both hands at the ready. “It’s so hot!”
“Boy,” Sully teased, batting his hands away playfully but, at last, succumbing to Dean’s eager blitz attack. “You’re just saying that because you’ve never seen one before.”
“I’ve seen plenty,” Dean insisted, tapping into a part of himself—flirty, eager, fearless and raw—that he’d never let out into the open before.
As he spoke, breathless and rushed, he let his left hand riffle through the thick, bushy pubes that wreathed his lover’s stiff cock.
With the other, he gently brushed the thick, furry sack beneath it.
“In high school locker rooms,” he insisted, fondling and tugging until Sully fell back against the butcher block behind him with a grunt and a creak.
“In dorm room showers. And in about a million jerkoff videos, obvi.”
“Still,” Sully croaked, big hands practically tugging the butcher block from its stand as he gripped it tightly on either side of his raw-boned, narrow waist. “In real life.”
“Oh, that,” Dean murmured, too entranced by the sights, the sounds, the heat and the feel of man flesh in his fingers to concentrate on witty retorts or zippy comebacks. “Obviously and... I couldn’t have asked for a better specimen.”
“You’d be the first then,” Sully grunted, and not just because Dean’s hand had finally slithered from his balls to the base of his pretty little cock.
“Says who?” Dean squeezed it playfully, enjoying the way it made Sully wince with bittersweet desire.
“Every guy I’ve ever been with,” Sully groused. “I guess the fellas you find on those dating apps are all size queens.”
“Not me, baby,” Dean cooed, eagerly savoring the feel of Sully’s veiny shaft in his trembling little hand. “And even if I was? Yours is just. Perfect.”
Sully smirked, thrusting gently. “Keep talking, pretty boy,” he practically grunted. “I almost believe you.”
“I would,” Dean gushed, hand reaching all the way to the fat, purple tip as his efforts squeezed out a fresh drop of clear precum. “But you’ve got me all speechless.”
That much was true. Dean was on sex overload.
Not only had he just literally (almost) come buckets all over his still sticky, dripping, jizz-splattered chest, but here he was, naked and face to face with the sexiest damn country boy in all of Clay County.
And not just that, but with his dick in Dean’s hand, soft and pretty and smooth and veiny, glistening from Dean’s efforts as he gently stroked it as if handling the finest spun glass.
“Damn, boy,” Sully grunted, body all aquiver as every sinew and tendon stood on high alert. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”
“Only to myself,” Dean admitted, winking up at Sully’s chiseled, sweaty face. “But real talk? I never do it this slow. And I never last this long.”
“Keep that up,” Sully grunted, gasping with a hitch in his throat. “And I won’t, either.”
“Good,” Dean teased, mimicking Sully’s dirty talk from earlier that night. “I can’t wait to see you come all over your chest and belly.”
Sully grinned, smile as wide as a country mile and just as easy on the eyes. “Now that you mention it,” he grunted, still struggling to control himself in Dean’s soft, gentle grip. “I was hoping to come all over yours?”
Dean’s hand froze, midway up Sully’s glistening cock. “How’s that?” he asked, more than eager but slightly dubious.
Sully nodded at Dean’s sticky chest and wet belly, his own cum still drizzling down his naked torso. “I mean, why let all that natural lube go to waste, right?”
Dean squeezed the cock in his hand, as if it might help him understand.
Sully must have seen the questioning look in his startled eyes, chuckling that slow, lazy, country boy laugh of his.
“Much as I’m enjoying your pretty little hand all over my hog,” Sully sighed, wriggling free of Dean’s admittedly loose grip.
“I thought, if you’d care to assume the position, I’d rub myself all over that sticky little body of yours until, well. ..”
Dean gulped, feeling the press of Sully’s big hands on either shoulder as, gently, he moved him back into position. “Jesus, that... have you ever done that before?”
Sully merely shook his head, following him as the small of Dean’s back pressed against the counter behind him.
“Never had much time to think of extra stuff before,” he insisted, grabbing the counter on either side of Dean’s waist as gently, he pressed his swollen cock against the soft, pliant flesh of Dean’s belly.
He gasped, the surge of manhood tender and hot against his stomach as, gently, the cock turned upward, gliding as Sully had predicted through the copious icing that covered Dean’s still trembling torso.
“Oh,” Dean gasped, feeling the slither and grind of another man’s cock glide across his virgin flesh. “Oh, that ... that’s good.”
“You think it’s good?” Sully grunted, voice higher than usual, faster and more urgent. “How do you think it feels for me?”
“Show me,” Dean insisted, relaxing and going limp as he sagged against the counter and made his body a plaything for Sully’s obvious pleasure. “Show me how good it feels to you, Sully.”
Sully seemed to flinch at the sound of his name, smiling as he did just that.
“Careful what you wish for, kid,” he grunted, pressing greedy lips down on the top of Dean’s head and peppering his sweaty blond stubble with fast, feverish kisses as his thrusts grew more insistent, digging erotically into Dean’s yielding flesh as he ground his sticky cock against Dean’s even stickier torso.
Dean instinctively reached out to cling to Sully’s hard, taut waist, peering up into his lover’s half-lidded eyes as he used Dean’s flesh for his own satisfaction.
The thrusts grew more intense, more luxurious, more liquid and loud, the squishy sound of flesh on flesh filling the tiny kitchen as much as the scent of sex and sweat and manly, meaty musk.
Dean’s fingers dug into Sully’s flesh, taut and hard, like the five-inch cock using his plushy belly like a pussy, gliding up and down until the flesh in Dean’s clutches tensed and froze.
“Fuck!” Sully spat, and his mouth wasn’t the only one doing the spitting.
His cock spurt, throbbing and jutting against Dean’s flesh as thick ropes of increasingly hot spunk splattered his already coated chest. So intense were they that Sully’s jizz splattered his chin, high enough so that one dart of Dean’s greedy tongue could seize a drop of seed and suck it dry, salty and tangy and sweet as his own had been only moments earlier.
Sully’s thick cock pulsed until it softened and, panting, he bent his face once more to spready butterfly kisses all over Dean’s head.
They were warm and gushing, soft and feathery, more flattering and sincere than a thousand pricey gift cards or bouquets of flowers.
In that moment, sweaty and sticky, panting and moaning softly, a complete stranger showed Dean more affection than, well, pretty much anyone ever had.
No wonder his hands shot out, slithering around Sully’s narrow waist to pull him closer.
Sully let out a little gasp of surprise and then did the same, clutching Dean up in a cowboy worthy bear hug that, oh, so pleasantly squeezed the life right out of him.
They sagged against one another, panting, sighing, silent, save for the pounding of their battering hearts.
In time they righted themselves, reaching awkwardly for the clothing they’d scattered hither and yon around the kitchen.
Dean’s shirt clung, sticky and clotted, to his still panting chest. “Is there a laundromat around here anywhere?” he asked, watching Sully slither long arms back into his robe.
“Because I didn’t bring a change of clothes. ”
“Not to worry,” Sully grunted, tying the sash and reaching for the door. “I’ll have something presentable for you to wear tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Dean watched him unlock the door with a mounting sense of dread.
Sully playfully slapped his own forehead with one hand, cinching the robe with the other. “Sorry, today. This morning. Whatever.”
“How? Where, I mean ... are there even stores here?”
Sully chuckled. “It’s Pistol Creek, Jesus, not the Mojave Desert. Yes, we have stores. I have a store, matter of fact. I’ll get you something cool, honest.”
“Cool?” Dean was just stalling, afraid of what Sully’s hand might do as it reached for the back door again.
“Literally cool. Those ghost tours get hot, kid.”
Suddenly, he brightened. “Really? You mean it?”
Sully chuckled. “Dean, I just used your body as a sex toy. I owe you at least something in return.”
“Gosh, thanks,” he said ridiculously, even as Sully whisked open the door. Despite the spring heat outside, the gush of fresh air that breezed inside was more refreshing than he could have predicted. “Well, what now?” he asked, despite Sully’s obvious intentions to get him the fuck out of Dodge.
Sully smirked, leaning on the open door. “Now? Now you get the fuck across the street in those sticky ass sex clothes before someone spots you and asks you whose jizz you’re wearing on your sexy little titties!”
They were chuckling, but Dean approached the door cautiously just the same. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Now. Scoot.”
“But...” Dean let out a little tongue cluck, surprised by the abrupt tonal shift. “Things were going so well.”
“They still are, dummy. But if we don’t get some sleep tonight, we’ll both be useless at Gravel Gulch tomorrow, right?”
“I mean,” Dean teased, giving one last shot before being tossed, quite literally, into the street. “We could sleep in each other’s arms, right?”
“Not with your tight ass little bod next to me all night we couldn’t,” Sully growled, pretending to be a hard ass even as Dean reluctantly took one hesitant step out the back door. “Now get. And let me watch that perfect little ass wriggle all the way back across the street!”
Dean sighed and slid the other foot out the door. “You sure about this?”
“Scoot,” Sully insisted, face barely visible through the crack in the back door.
“But? Tomorrow? What time? Where? When?”
“9:00 AM sharp,” Sully called out from the door as Dean looked both ways before preparing to cross the deserted street. “Downstairs in the ghost tour office. Be there or, well... I’ll come get you, I guess?”