His Woods (MxM)

12 Tyson Takes Care of Business

Somewhere in the distance I hear pounding. It sounds as though it is coming from the front door of the cabin. The pounding is louder, more tribal now. I slowly open the door to look out into the dark night. From behind the screen, I hear the shadowy figure speak in a raspy voice.

"Tyler, you did this to me."

The figure leans into the light streaming onto the porch from the hallway. I see his face. It is bloody and mangled. Just as it was the day the accident happened. He bangs on the door and I scream.

"You did this!"

I sit straight up and find myself on the couch where I fell asleep. I am beyond relieved. Not to mention, I find it a bit heartwarming to find my favorite blanket covering me.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I jump again. This time I know it is coming from the front. I cautiously look out the front window and find Jack working on the porch.

I look at my watch. 7:19 am. What the hell? Is he part robot or something?

With a yank, I open the door and look at him from the doorway. He already has his trademark sweat "V" going.

For some reason, my mind returns to last night. After the John Denver record was done, I called up to Jack to see what he wanted to hear. When he didn't answer me, a pang of concern struck me. Hopping up the stairs, I made my way to the bathroom. Even after knocking on the door, Jack didn't answer. Though he is not on my list of favorite people right now, I wouldn't want him to have drowned during his bath.

Without a second thought, I push the door open and step inside.

"Jack," I said again from across the room.

When he didn't answer, I moved closer.

"Damn," I let slip.

Jack's body was submerged in the old tub. Seeing the water dance on his strong shoulder and his plump nipples break the surface and return with each breath hypnotized me. My eyes slowly made their way down his chest, following his furry belly, past his full nest of hair, to his thick, flaccid cock and hanging orbs.

I just sat there for a few minutes, taking Jack's body in. I picture my hands running through the fuzz on his chest, taking each of his pecs in my hands. Tracing my fingers down his stomach and only stopping briefly to rake my hands through his fur collection above his resting unit. It was when I reached into my shorts to squeeze my hardening dick, that I knew I crossed a line and had to leave.

I left the bathroom and returned to the living room, grabbing the rest of the wine from the kitchen on the way. All I wanted to do was strip off my shorts and rub one out, thinking about Jack's wet body in the tub upstairs. I switched the record out for a Simon and Garfunkel album and downed the wine with big gulps.

I plopped back down on the couch and kicked my shorts and underwear off. Within four seconds of reimagining Jack in the tub, my dick was at full mast. Spitting into my palm, I covered my shaft with my slick saliva. Rewinding the tape in my mind, I saw him all over again. The water helps his fur dance in the tub. His hard nipples peek out of the water with each inhale and then return to the warmth of the bath.

It was the imagining of myself having him stand in the tub–and me stepping in to join him–that got me moaning. In my mind, I took his strong biceps in my hands. I worshipped them and kissed my way from the mounds of muscle to each of his nipples. Licking and sucking on each teat, my hand moved faster on my own prick. Up and down on my hard rod. I started to quiver and shake.

It was my last thought that put me over the edge. I dreamt of kneeling down in front of the mountain man, and with my hands, grip onto Jack's daddy dick. With a few plunges, his manhood became rock hard. Our gaze met.

"It's all yours, Ty," he told me with lust in his eyes.

My body stiffened and my toes curled.

"Fuck," I panted, as the first blast of cum fired from my dick. I moaned with each of the following half-dozen spasms, as my nut collected on my t-shirt-covered stomach.

Part of me knew the sin I had just committed, but the wine-drunk, climax-complete part of me did not give a damn. Before post-orgasm slumber could get me, I peeled off my wet shirt and put my shorts back on.

"Nothing to worry about, Tyson," I reminded myself, lying back down on the couch. "Just pent-up horniness. You're a dude. Jack is off limits for so many reasons. The biggest being he is zero interested in getting with me."

"How long has he been out here?" I ask myself, joining Jack, in the present, as he works on the front porch.

"You're up early," I say when it looks like he has paused for a breather.

Not looking at me he replies, "Yeah. There is coffee made. I thought I'd let you sleep in since you have to meet with Officer Scott at nine."

I can't help but notice a cold tone in his voice.

"Gee, thanks." I am suddenly slapped with a resentful feeling. Not necessarily with Jack and how he spoke to me, but the fact that I have to hang out with my probation officer this morning after my drunken mind opened a can of the most confusing worms last night.

***

Pulling up to the Asheville Police headquarters I feel my face get hot. I am a child being sent to the principal's office. I feel silly. I am sure that Jack thinks I am just as immature as I was when he'd babysit me back in the day.

Damn. Why do I suddenly care what he thinks?

"Okay." He pats my knee. 

Lightning bolts zap through me.  

"So I am going to run some errands around town. Maybe pick up some paint samples so you can help me pick out some good combinations to use for the cabin. I know you will be better at it than me."

I sneak a peek at him and find a warm smile. My hand goes to the door handle; I know I have to go. His hand slides causally off my leg.

"Yeah. Pick me up at the library. I wanna say hi to some of the campers," I say, trying to play it cool. When I get out of the car and close the door behind me, it takes everything I have not to look back at Jack.