Epilogue #2
He served out his term but retreated from the public eye as much as he could, no longer doing television interviews or speaking with reporters in the halls of the Capitol. His father ensured he had more than enough people around him to keep him in a bubble at all times.
His senate accomplishment he’s most proud of is revoking his support for the human trafficking/anti-sex worker bill and working with Miles and a few other more moderate-minded senators to modify and pass the bipartisan legislation, the final version of which provides more federal funding for homeless children and leaves sex work to the states.
Paul Lawther was all over it—moving quickly to snap up grants and put his name on some Catholic shelters in New York and New Jersey. He plans to expand all across the East Coast.
Apparently, charity can be lucrative when rich people are involved. Whatever.
I try to focus on the good they’re doing and not the salaries they pay themselves to do it. Everybody got a little something and lost a little something, which, in my opinion, is the way government is supposed to work.
It’s nice to not be involved in it anymore, but I still love sparring with Graham about the issues of the day. My addiction to the news hasn’t gone anywhere, and Graham, with his abiding love for the constitution, never takes a side he can’t back up with the original texts. My patriotic puppy.
“Tell me if it needs more beer,” he says, holding a spoon up to my mouth.
I sip it, looking into his eyes. “It’s perfect.” I lick the spoon.
He lets out a soft whimper. “You should get started on that fort.”
* * *
We don’t have enough furniture to make a proper pillow fort, but we do have a two-person tent.
I pitch it in the living room over an air mattress after moving the furniture against the walls.
I string some battery-operated white lights along the top and bring a bluetooth speaker inside along with blankets, pillows, and lube, of course.
The storm has made landfall, and the electricity is still deciding whether it’s going to stay on when we crawl in with the margaritas and the dog.
“I don’t know why a sheet of nylon makes me feel better,” Graham says, “but it does. And I love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Thank you. The naked rule was my idea, too.”
“Yes, I was pretty sure Fish didn’t come up with it.”
I laugh, tackling Graham onto the mattress and giving him a long, greedy kiss meant to make him hard as a steel rod.
He grunts beneath me, adjusting to my aggressive pace and quickly catching up.
He gropes at the back of my thighs while I devour his neck, which he offers to me like a sacrifice.
I glance at poor Fish who stares balefully back at me from his loll alongside the mattress.
He knows from experience no one’s going to pay any attention to him for a while.
I love the fuzzy guy, but nothing compares to how I feel about the guy between my legs.
“I thought there was gonna be music,” Graham says, out of breath already.
“Forgot. You want me to stop and pick something out?”
“No,” he says quickly, his hands tightening on my ass. “No.”
“Good, ‘cause I wanna hear all your slutty sounds.”
“Mmph…”
There’s just enough room to roll us over, and I take advantage of it. With him now on top, I wrap my hands around both our cocks and tug them together. “Oh, God,” he groans.
“Give me your ass, puppy.”
His eyes open and his head tilts, not clear on what I’m asking. I make it obvious. “Sit on my face.”
His cheeks flush dark as I help him reposition.
He straddles my chest, facing away from me.
I plump his cheeks with my hands, enjoying their size, substance and weight.
Best. Ass. Ever. Wasting no time, I run my tongue from his balls to his hole, sucking him to me and growling at how fucking good he tastes.
“Silas—Jesus.” He rolls his hips, taking his pleasure as surely as I’m taking mine. I lick his rim and slide inside him, making him cry out. Fish sighs heavily beside us, but safety first. He’s gotta be wherever we are. It’s a hurricane, after all.
“I wanna suck your cock,” Graham says, like it’s not there and waiting for him—leaking for him.
I nod into his ass, hoping he takes that as permission to get his sloppy mouth down there already.
“It’s not gonna be good,” he says, hips still moving, still seeking out my tongue. I give it to him, along with grinds of my stubble on his sensitive taint.
“It’s gonna be great,” I take a break to say. “Now put my dick in your mouth.”
“Fuck…” He bends down, his hole opening wide for me, and I go feral. His hot, wet tongue licking up my precum has me eating him out with a passion I’ve never shown anyone before—even him.
He moans around my length as he draws his tight lips up and down.
I was right. It’s beyond good. It’s sensation overload. I massage his balls with my thumbs as I fuck him with my tongue, stretching and plundering his tight, sweet hole, trying to hold back the orgasm slowly building with a satisfying ache in my groin.
With a pop, the electricity shuts off. No flicker this time. More thunder rolls. Lightning bangs, illuminating the green walls of the tent.
Graham must not notice because he surely would have said something. He just keeps sucking my cock like the best fucking boy in the whole wide world.
I lick his inner walls in appreciation and give his balls a light tug.
He pops off my cock and gasps. “I think I’m gonna come.”
He thinks? I smile as I keep at him. Lifting my hips, I indicate he should keep going. Sex telepathy.
“Don’t want to hurt you,” he pants.
I lift them again and make an insistent noise.
“Fuck…” He bends over me again and swallows me to his throat.
An emergency alert blares from both our phones, and he whimpers. I know he wants to check it, but I hold him in place because I’m already past the point of no return.
At my dick’s first throb, he moves his lips up my shaft to receive my cum on his tongue where he likes it.
At the first taste, he groans loud, and his body jolts.
I feel the burst of his first gush on my chest and abs.
Taking my mouth off him to breathe through the release he continues to suck out of me, I slide a hand between his legs and milk his never-ending supply of cum.
We’re both shaking, panting, whining messes as our orgasms have their way with us.
When he can’t take any more touching, he crawls off me, grabbing for his phone and flopping back down next to me. I run my fingers through his cum on my chest and suck them into my mouth. He glances at me, and his eyes hood like he’s never seen anything so hot.
“It’s not a tornado,” he says, diving for my mouth.
I give him my tongue and gather some more of his cum to shove between his lips. We trade the taste for several minutes in the soft glow of white lights as rain pounds the house.
“I think we’re gonna make it,” I tell him, when I’m more or less cleaned up.
“We should stay in here for the night, though, don’t you think? Just to be safe.”
“Yeah, definitely,” I agree. “We’ve got everything we need right here.”
“We could probably use a towel.”
I kiss him again, combing my fingers through his thick, wavy hair. “If we die in here without a towel, I think I’m okay with that.”
His vivid green eyes meet mine and hold them in their grip. “Look at us,” he says with the soft, adoring smile he saves just for me. “We made it to the end of the world.”
THE END