Chapter Twelve
Chet
“You have to ask?”
Grady watches me walk across the room, bare feet padding on the rich blond floorboards.
“I want to know,” I insist, heart fluttering anew at the way his big hazel eyes drink in my body, even after swallowing my load.
Most guys would be gone by now. Not that any man’s ever let me fuck his face before tonight, but still.
After we nut? Or he nuts? Gone, like an Olympic sprinter in the night. But not Grady.
“Know what?” he croaks as I stand in front of him, tousling those honey brown curls gently. Instinctively, his hands cling to my waist. I shiver at the touch, another aftershock of my biggest load to date.
“I want to know why you wore them here tonight,” I insist. “You know, if you don’t like them.”
“I wore them for you, Silly,” he insists, peering up at me as the candlelight shimmers in his big, wide eyes. “Because you asked me to. Because you wanted a cowboy.”
“Even though you’re not one?” My fingertips drift from his charming curls to his chiseled jawline, tracing it as if to chart it on a map later.
“I...” He begins, before self-editing. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” he promises. “For as long as you’ll let me.”
I gasp at the sheer romance of it all: charcoal briquets, candlelight, and a cowboy of my very own. “That ... that’s the prettiest thing anyone’s ever said to me. You know that?”
He shakes his head as my hands fall to his broad, sturdy shoulders. “I don’t know that, Chet. I don’t know ... anything about you.”
I cluck a tongue, peering over his head as my eyes moisten with the profoundness of it all. “Trust me, cowboy,” I croak. “You know everything there is to know about me. There’s ... not much to me.”
“Bullshit!” His voice is rich and raw, grip tightening around my waist as his big, calloused fingers dig into my supple, willing flesh. “You’re a goddamn wonder, and I’ll be damned if I listen to you say another word against it!”
I chuckle at his ferocity, an idea forming quickly as I peer into his scowling eyes. “Sorry,” I whisper, watching his eyelids flutter at the softly erotic sound. “I do that sometimes. When something feels this good? I worry, instantly, that I’ll fuck it up somehow.”
“You won’t,” he insists, hands drifting from my waist to clutch my hands. “We won’t. Promise, okay?”
I nod. Then wink. “You mean that?”
“I may not be a real cowboy,” he insists as I gently tug him to his feet. “But I always keep my promises.”
“Sorry if I doubted you,” I tease, leaning up to kiss his ripe, full lips. “I guess I ... I’ve been a bad boy.”
I feel his body stiffen as we kiss, smirking to myself as I peel my lips away. “A ... a what now?” he asks as I lead him up the two wooden steps from the sunken living room. I know he heard me. I think he’s just making sure he heard me right.
“A bad boy,” I insist playfully, watching those big feet pad along inside his dirty tube socks. Fucking hell, I think as we drift toward the guest room I’d noticed earlier. The one with the big, firm bed smack dab in the middle of it. Maybe I am a foot guy, after all?
“Will you ever forgive me?” I purr and, smile widening, Grady finally gets the point.
“That depends,” he murmurs as I guide him into position, standing him at the foot of the bed.
“On what, cowboy?” I purr, reaching for his big brass belt buckle. The one he’d worn just for me, the sexy, sweet little fucker. His eyelids flutter as I unclasp the belt, the heavy buckle swinging open to one side as I pop open the button above his fly.
He grins down at me. “On how well you respond to ... punishment?”
I shiver at the very word. Fucking quick learner, this one. “Oh my,” I tease as the zipper slides down, my fingertips brushing against the outline of his erection. Jesus, I think to myself as we both help him wriggle out of his constricting jeans. Talk about a banana!
He kicks off the last leg, sending the jeans zinging against a generic bureau leaning against one wood-paneled wall. “No,” I mutter when he reaches for the waistband of his boxer briefs, so thin and clingy I can see one vein pulsing along the underside of his shapely cock. “Later, okay?”
He nods, biting his lower lip as if to cut off some gooey confession. “But you can lose the shirt, okay?”
He beams, tugging it off as I marvel at his torso, richly muscled and honey-hued, sparsely haired except for his bushy armpits and little wisps around his big, maroon nipples.
“Fuck,” I gush, circling one with a trembling finger as it stiffens beneath my touch.
“This is going to be so good, isn’t it?”
“What is?” he asks nervously as I replace the finger with my palm and gently press him down onto the foot of the bed.
“You spanking me,” I insist as our eyes meet in the dimly lit guest room. “You and that big, rough hand smacking my soft little ass until it’s blushing as red as your cheeks are right now.”
He smiles. “I ... I was hoping you’d want that, too.”
“Too?”
He nods as I turn gently to offer him my side. Instinctively, his big hand starts to smooth along the outline of my ass, tracing it with those big, rough fingers.
“I knew the minute I saw this pretty little thing,” he purrs, warm breath slithering across my waist as he cups the bottom rind, as if weighing it per pound.
As if reading my mind, he gives it a little jiggle, the sensation making us both moan with surprising pleasure as the gentle touch ripples through my every nerve ending.
“That I wanted to feel it under my hand.”
“Great minds think alike,” I mutter as he squeezes it for good measure.
His hand is so strong. My flesh so yielding, I know I can cum just from this.
Cum again, already, just from his big, strong hands all over my ripe, willing ass.
But it’s not me, I’m here to please this time, I suddenly remember.
It’s him.
My big, strong cowboy. His hands settle on his knees, as if uncertain what to do next. He’s not alone. I’ve always wanted to, but I’ve never quite done this before. I wink and move his hands gently.
“I think—” I sigh, inching closer as our eyes meet uncertainly. “That’s where I go?”
We chuckle quietly, but he shakes his head, pushing back against my carefully curated scenario. “Naw, Son,” he purrs, patting the bed beside him as he makes room for me. “I think I’ve got a better idea.”
I shiver at the invitation, never happier than when I’m face down, ass up.
And even happier when there’s a big, strapping man weighing down the bed next to me.
He waits until I’m in position, hands laced under my chin, head turned to face him as he stretches out beside me, propped up on one elbow, and gently tracing the curve of my spine with a single finger.
I shiver at the touch. “I know this looks like it’s for me,” I remind him, winking saucily as he grins. “But it’s really for you.”
“Baby, you never have to worry about how much I’m enjoying myself with you,” he insists, hand settling atop one ripe, round flank. “If you’re naked in front of me? I’m happy. So. Fucking. Happy.”
He pinches my ass on each word, making me rock hard again in seconds flat. “Jesus, those hands.” I sigh from the belly up.
“Jesus, this ass.” He chuckles as he fondles both cheeks, the pressure intensifying with each passing moment. “You sure this is what you want?”
“I was sure the minute you pointed at your office door this morning,” I insist. “So fucking bossy it made me wonder what you’d be like ... in bed.”
He chuckles, warm breath splashing across my bare back as I shiver in reply. “Damn, was that just this morning?”
“Time flies when you’re around your new man crush,” I blurt, and his hand freezes, mid-pinch.
“You too?” he asks almost shyly, as if I haven’t already offered myself to him a dozen or more times this very night.
“Grady, Jesus, I know I’m a city boy, but do you think I offer up my sweet, bare ass to just any old cowboy?”
“I mean, you’re offering it up to me, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, you big lug. Because you’re my man crush, get it?”
He winks and lifts his hand a little higher. “You’re the one who’s going to git it if you keep on sassing me!” He’s really laying it on thick now, and me? I’m here for it. Every syrupy, slow syllable.
“Says who?” I tease, arching my ass as if to hurry his lollygagging self along already.
Smack! His hand comes down, forceful but far from hard. Even so, the force sends ripples through my entire body, but most of all my jiggly, wiggly ass. Fuck, but that’s good!
I grunt, mostly because ... duh. But also? Because I almost just came again! Already! “Jesus!”
“Too hard?” he asks shyly as our eyes meet in the dimly lit bedroom.
“Not nearly,” I purr, wriggling my ass and feeling its pink blush without actually seeing it. “You can do better than that, can’t you, baby?”
Whack! This one stings, so fucking good. I feel the ripple all the way through my body, cock throbbing for release as both flanks ring out from the slap. “Oh, Jesus, yes!”
His cheeks are blushing along with mine, though not nearly as hot.
He grins and, God love him, smooths out both cheeks after the last stinging love tap.
“You should see how pink they are,” he marvels, tracing what must be his handprint as a single fingertip swirls and dips along my tingling flank. “Fucking hot.”
“It could be ... hotter though, right?” I offer, suddenly hard for more of the bittersweet release his palm brings with every strengthening swat.
“You sure about that?” he asks coyly, even as his big, rough hand lifts higher than ever. I merely nod and watch as he winces in advance before slapping my ass good and proper.
“Fuck! Yes!” This time, I bounce atop the bed, body and soul ringing with the aftershocks of his big, strong palm.
For once, he needs no encouragement from me, no more permission or coy little hints to keep going.
Even as I’m settling back in from his last swat, he lifts his hand gently higher and whack—smacks my ass again.
My low, hungry moan is primal, searing through my entire body as my eyes roll back in my head with sheer delight. “Tell me when to stop,” he grunts coarsely as I feel his hardon press desperately against my thigh. “And I will.”
My eyes pin him with quiet desperation, a need in me gurgling over where it never has before. “If it’s up to me,” I murmur in a rich, deep, faraway voice. “You’ll never stop.”
“I’ll have to soon,” he insists as we both spy the way his cock tip is poking out past his waistband, creamy thick and slick with icing. “Unless you and I want to go swimming on this here bed.”
We chuckle playfully, the bed creaking beneath our shared laughter. “Promise me you’ll come on my ass?” I ask, as if negotiating the price of one of his scenic cabin rentals.
He replies by smoothing out the stinging flesh beneath his hand, making me wince with sheer, taboo delight. “It’s thick,” he boasts playfully. “But it’s not lotion.”
“Promise me,” I beg, watching his eyes go wide at my desperate plea.
He winks, pinches my ass, and lifts his hand once more. I shudder in anticipation, leaking across the soft tan sheet beneath me like a hose left on after watering the lawn. “I promise,” he grunts before smacking me harder than ever, but if I’m being honest? Still not hard enough.
He tries his best, though, sensing I want more even as he struggles to give it to me.
My thighs are spread indelicately, as if I’m alone at home getting ready to dip into my shoebox full of rubbery, ribbed sex toys, and I can feel a draft whisper across my exposed sac as my balls stretch across the sopping sheets.
His palm whistles through the air once more, stinging me with a thrilling slap that echoes through the tiny bedroom, followed closely by another and, with an air of finality, one last whopper of a doozy that finally makes me wince and gasp with something just shy of pain.
“That’s enough,” he grunts as the mattress shifts, and I watch him rise to his knees with surprising grace.
He yanks down his drawers as his smooth, skinny cock leaps to life, glistening with desire as he strokes it like nobody’s watching.
I delight in its veiny masculinity, his big hand barely containing its silken shaft as his chest heaves, his belly pants, and his lips part to form a soft, almost gentle, “Fuck!”
He comes then, fast and hard, thick ropes dutifully splashing across my stinging cheeks as their soothing heat coats my searing flanks in record time.
I whimper with delight, wriggling my ass as if to milk him dry with it and damned if I’m not soaking by the time he sinks down next to me and, with a fortune teller’s prescience, nudges me over to find my cock milky, stiff and begging for release.
“Poor baby,” he murmurs, taking me in his big hand as his palm swallows me whole. “Did my love taps get you all hot and bothered, Sugar?”
I merely bite my lip and nod, feeling the sting of the damp sheets against my rubbed raw ass, fire and ice as he jerks me as eagerly, as enthusiastically, as he did himself.
I cum in a blinding flurry of equally copious seed, ropes flinging wildly left and right as he pumps me mercilessly as if continuing with his playful punishment.
“Jesus,” I murmur as he leans down and, with a simple kiss, cleans me dry before licking my seed from his lips. “You are something else, Cowboy.”
He sinks down beside me, having but to open his arm for me to take up space in every available inch beneath its sheltering embrace. “Only for you, City Boy,” he murmurs, peppering the top of my head with soft, sticky kisses. “Only for you.”