T.R.'s Tale - 8. Chapter 8

On the way back to the house I told Bill all I knew about Jed. He didn't say much. Seemed to be lost in thought. I asked what he thought about Jed. He was as far away as I had been when they all laughed at me. Why weren't we where Doc and David could at least see I wasn't the only one to drift off. Bill didn't answer the first time so I just left him to his thoughts.

By the time we got to Doc's drive Bill had seemingly recovered. What ever had demanded his attention was apparently resolved. We joined Doc and David still at the patio table. Both apologized for laughing at me. Once Doc explained why, well even I thought it was funny. I couldn't remember what had distracted me so.

The evening faded gently into night. Bill drank the last of the beer he had been nursing, stood and said, “Tar, Doc I appreciate the dinner. I've had a good time, but I have an early morning shift and I better get going. David, in spite of everything, it was good seeing you again.” Bill moved toward the door and I stood to walk him out.

We didn't talk until he pulled on his jacket and zipped it up. “You know I was serious about you staying the night.”

He looked toward the door of the house and said, “I know and I would like too, but like I said, I have an early shift and I need to get going. I do appreciate the invite and I hope you'll ask me again sometime.” He strapped on his helmet, straddled his bike, started the engine and was gone. In those couple of minutes between walking off the porch and his rumbling exhaust fading into the night, I came to more fully understand the term surreal. What the fuck had just happened?

Was I dumped? I almost laughed. I mean when he got here things seemed to be going great and then...David showed up and I walked off and Jed was insisting on a dinner date. In a daze I went back to join Doc and David. They seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. As I sat down they both looked at me and their smiles faded.

Doc was the first to speak, “T. R., are you alright? Son, you look like you just got kicked by a mule.”

Something about getting kicked echoed in my head. I made a decision. I turned to David and asked, “Do you know where Bill lives?” I think he wanted to be embarrassed but he realized I was not asking in order to condemn or berate him. He gave me directions. I told Doc not to wait up and headed out to LBJ. I plugged the closest intersection to Bill's house into my GPS and headed out. Bill lived four point seven miles away.

I began to think about why this was such a bad idea. I mean why? Why was I chasing him? Why was I so bothered at being dumped? I don't know him well enough to be hurt. It was more like I was pissed because he didn't offer me a chance to agree or disagree. He just fucking dumped me. The more I thought about it the more pissed off I became. By the time I got to his street I was so pissed, I could bite nails. I counted three houses on the right and turned into his drive.

I was surprised to see him on his bike still wearing his helmet. The engine and headlights were off. He had enough of a head start to have showered and been in bed. I was ready to drag his ass off the bike and give him a good old fashioned ass kicking. Ok, well I was mad enough to try.

He had obviously seen my headlights plaster his shadow against his garage door. He looked around and realized it was me. He took off his helmet and stood beside his bike. He sat the helmet on his seat and took off his jacket and waited.

As I walked up to him, I had to fight myself not to knock him on his ass. It would have made things easier to be looking down at him and know that I had his attention.

“What the fuck was that all about. If you wanted to dump me...” at this point I pushed him backwards. “The least you could have done...” push. “Was to grow a pair and say so.” Both times I pushed he stumbled but regained his footing.

I went to push him once more for good measure and he brushed my hands aside, stepped in and swept my feet out from under me. He grabbed my shirt and “guided” me to the grass. He followed me down and lay on top of me. My hands trapped between our bodies. There was enough light to see those perfect teeth shine through what my pappa would have called a “shit eatin’ grin”.

I'd like to tell you that I chose to lay under him, cool down and listen to what he had to say...I wanted to hear him explain. When I quit struggling and lay still he moved my hands until they were stretched above my head and held in place by his hands.

Still with that grin he looked me in the eye and said, “I didn't dump you. I was giving you some breathing room so you could decide if I'm the guy you should be spending time with. I know I am, but you got to know it too.”

“Tar, it freaked me out when that asshole hit on you like I wasn't even there. I wanted to drag his sorry ass out of that Land Rover and beat him seven ways to Sunday. The bastard! I guess that, on top of David drooling like you were an edible feast and he was starving. I don't know, I wondered what you could see in me when you've got guys chasing you left and right.”

“After showing my ass about us not being a one night stand, I felt like I'd tied your hands and you didn't have the freedom to figure out if you wanted David, or the bastard, or me. I left so you could have the time and space to figure out who and what you wanted.”

“Now, why are you here?” With that Bill twisted his head slightly and leaned down and kissed me. It was soft, wet and warm. It was a kiss to make me lose my place. I still was pissed... but it was nice. He broke the kiss and spoke again, “Why did you follow me home? He made the exact same motion and kissed me again. Only this time it included a caressing tongue. My lips parted and my tongue barely caressed his before he again broke the kiss. “You're not the kind of guy who would want to be the center of all this testosterone driven attention. It ain't supposed to be the cowboy chasing the cop.” Another, longer, deeper kiss, “So, why are you here, cowboy?”

This time I was ready I raised my head up to meet his lips and saw stars. We had collided! He had twisted the opposite way I had anticipated. Our heads butted hard. My head dropped back to the ground and hit a small rock and I saw stars again. “Fuck!” When we bumped, Bill released my hands and moved to get up. I brought my right hand down to check my head as I raised it and managed to crack skulls with Bill; at the same time my leg came up between his and contacted his balls.

When I sat up, Bill was in a fetal position clutching his groin and moaning softly. I began to chuckle, and then laugh. I mean just earlier that day the guy was thumping his balls himself and now he acts like he's about to shit a cow. I stood up and laughed until he was recovered enough to disparage one of my favorite activities. Why is “cocksucker” an insult when having his cock sucked is, at some point, every man's goal?

I stood up and scolded him, “Well, it serves you right for dumping me like that. You could have talked to me you know. Jesus, Joseph and Jesse, you shut down and shut me out like I was a stranger you'd just met.” I realized that in fact we had pretty much just met.

Bill sat up. I offered my hand and when he took it, I pulled him to his feet. Even as he stood he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. This one could have been one of those in an old movie where they pan the camera to an open window with curtains undulating in a gusty breeze, except they would have to find some visual or musical metaphor for a throbbing hard on…hmmm, maybe Bolero! I could feel Bill had the same reaction.

He broke the kiss long enough to whisper in my ear, “Let's take this inside the neighbors might want to call the cops or join in and I'm not eager to share you with either option.”

I must have nodded or given some sign of acquiescence because he was guiding me toward his front porch. “Tar, I am so damn glad you're here, I don't care what the reason is. Will you stay the night...” there was more to what he said, it was just below a whisper and I didn't hear it.

His house was a small craftsman type bungalow. There were live plants on the porch along with a porch swing. Somehow it occurred to me that most homes in Texas probably have a porch swing. We entered a living room that was at once masculine warm and cozy. The room was small but didn't feel cramped. I saw a small dining room and an eat-in kitchen beyond. Where the dining room and living room met a hallway led off to the right.

“Bill, this is nice.”

He half grinned and said, “Thanks, I took a couple of design courses in college. Bet you expected to wade through discarded clothes and pizza boxes.” I hoped my guilty blush didn't show up too clearly in this subdued light.

He laid his helmet and jacket on the sofa, took me in his arms and scanned my face. “God, you're a handsome man. I can't believe you're here.”

He kissed me lightly on the lips and then led me down the hall. He pointed out the bathroom as we passed. I followed him into a neatly appointed bedroom. Somehow I expected a dungeon like atmosphere. There were no ropes, slings, chains or whips. It was a comfortably masculine bedroom. The queen size bed looked inviting. Bill began to undress me. I reciprocated. We seemed to be in a mutual rush and wound up undressing ourselves.

Once naked, Bill led me to the bed and pulled down the covers. He lay down and tugged on my arm to join him. I lay down facing him. I slid my arm under his neck and pulled him to me. His eyes sparkled with hunger. I kissed him. There was no smoldering, building passion.

This was all out no holds barred gonna cum soon no matter what happens. I broke the kiss and sat up. I stroked the hair on his chest and tweaked his nipples. I cooled down and was no longer on the brink of cumming. I took his massive fun tool in my left hand and began to stroke it slowly while my right hand brushed his nipples. His moans turned into guttural growls. He slide around and tugged until we were in a sixty-nine position, with me on top. I licked the precum that coated his glans and ran down the side of his cock. I sucked and stroked while playing with his balls. Bill was raising his head in order to take my cock into his throat. Once I realized the he had no problem deep throating me I began to slide in balls deep and come back out to let him breathe. He took control by pushing and pulling my hips. He held my cock in his throat until his gag reflex kicked in. He pushed bringing my cock out of his throat and mouth. He slicked up the fingers on his left hand and took my cock back into his throat. He used his swallowing muscles to massage my cock even as in slide in and out.

His spit-lubed fingers began to toy with my pucker. When he penetrated me I came up off his cock. He had found an itch I didn't know I had. His finger found my prostate and I tried to bury his cock in my throat. My ass rode that digit like a carnival ride, twisting and undulating. When he added a second finger I began working his cock in and out of my throat. I used every skill I had to give to his cock what his mouth and fingers were giving me. When he added a third finger, the itch he had found began to be scratched. He worked those fingers like a concert pianist. Each time his fingers pushed against my love nut, he would swallow my cock.

It was maddening. As I got closer and closer to my own end I began to focus on his cock with a vengeance. I knew somehow his cock was connected to my pleasure. I sucked up and down and stroked his cock while my left hand tugged on his balls. My lips tightened the pull against his foreskin. My tongue teased the sensitive frenum. I made sure to keep everything wet.

His fingers moving in and out and his throat milking my cock became too much. I could feel my balls boiling, ready to flood his guts with my load. His fingers in my ass made a connection with my cock in his throat and I was gone.

My ass tried to bite off his fingers as I rammed my cock deep into his gullet. Whatever I did or he did his cock tried to drown me with his cum. His load was going down my throat and then his cockhead was unloading in my mouth. I had to swallow or drown. In spite of my best efforts cum was running out my nose and pooling around the base of his cock. We came close to drowning each other.

Once I came I pulled my spit and cum slicked cock from his mouth. He gasped for air and took some cum the wrong way. Bill leaped from the bed and stepped quickly into the hall and to the bathroom.

I heard him gag and blow his nose. I could hear running water. I listened. Everything seemed to be ok, so I waited for him to come back. When he did he brought a warm wet washcloth and proceeded to gently wash my face. At one point he put it against my nostrils and said, “Blow.” I did. He then used a towel to dry my face and wipe my cock clean. I said, “Bill, no one has had me blow my nose since I was a child.”

“Well, it was an act of self defense. I figure it might keep you from snoring. Tar, you don't talk much about your folks. Do you miss them? If they know about you, why didn't you just stay in your hometown?”

I couldn't resist teasing him, “Are you trying to get rid of me again?” His response was to hit me in the face with a pillow. I grabbed the pillow and stuck it beneath my head and got serious.

“Well, I came out to everyone just before I came here. So the smoke is still settling. Most seemed to take it ok, my mom did great, I think she may have guessed already. My Dad was real quiet about it. He hugged me real tight and told me he loved me then spent the rest of the day by himself in the barn. When I went out to call him to supper, I could see he'd been crying. As we walked back up to the house he threw his arm across my shoulder and told me he was proud of me. I guess things are going ok. I called and told them about taking the job. So mom is going to forward my mail. I reckon I will call like always about once a week. Living here, I can go home for birthdays and holidays. As far as going back there to live, I don't see that happening.”Bill's eyes searched the room, as if he was uncomfortable with my story.

Finally he nervously glanced at my face and said, “I'm not being a very good host. You have been here almost a half hour and I haven't offered you anything to eat, drink, smoke, or chew? Where are my manners? I told him I was comfortable as I was. He excused himself and again headed down the hall. Shortly he came back with two spoons and a pint of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream. We talked about family, college, high school, boy scouts, music. Probably the biggest difference we had was that Bill liked country music and I like oldies rock. The conversation was light and yet it was the getting to know you better kind.

We had shared the ice cream until there was a single large chunk left. Bill offered me some of the last. When my spoon touched the container he pulled it away. With an evil grin he scooped up the remaining ice cream and took it into his mouth. Taking my spoon, his spoon and the empty container, he sat them on the nightstand. Then sliding around, he took my semi hard cock in his mouth. I could feel the strangely cold yet almost burning sensation travel the length of my cock. I steeled myself and refused to react. I looked calmly into his eyes as if having my cock frozen was an everyday occurrence.

Bill proceeded to tease me by letting my glans press against the back of his throat. Soon the ice cream had melted and Bill pulled off and asked, “Want to put it someplace warmer?”