My legs are carrying me up the path into the woods. My bones are tired from a day of replacing the shingles on the porch roof. I could tell something was up with Ty all day, but he wouldn't say anything. I am not sure if he was having second thoughts about telling me about the accident last night or that he is gay. Finally, after lunch, I couldn't take it anymore. I just outright asked him what was up. He told me he thought something was up with Claire. I promised him that I would go check it out right after we got done for the day. He said it was all too fishy for just an art studio.
I had to come clean with him because I knew what she was really doing up there. He had just told me some pretty deep stuff, and I didn't want to lose his trust. Filling him in, I told him Claire asked me a while ago if she could use the old shack to grow marijuana. Since leaving the police force, I have really become lax on things like that, not to mention a nice toke every once and a while really calms my nerves. I told her I didn't mind, but she had to be careful about it. Additionally, I made it clear that I would have no connection to it and play completely dumb if anything ever happened. Keeping my end of the bargain, I haven't been up there in months.
"Jack, Jack, Jack," Tyson said as if he was talking to a naive child. "There is something else besides weed growing going on in that shack. Like something a lot more serious."
Thankfully, he didn't seem upset that I have kept that from him since he came to stay. The last thing I want to do is lose the ground we have started to make up between us.
My mind knows that my destination is Claire's workshop and that there may be some serious shit to deal with, but my thoughts are elsewhere. Tyson really just dropped a bomb.
Part of me wishes I would have told him a little more about my relationship with Kirk. He told me about his first night with Sean, yet I couldn't find the nerve to tell him about the times that Kirk and I got each other off in the communal showers or the handful of times that we gave each other blowjobs in the cell we shared after the guards did their final check for the night.
Not to mention the trip to Tennessee that I just got back from. My mind starts replaying my Chattanooga river adventure.
It was almost as if someone turned a huge magnet on the moment I saw Kirk again. I could feel the air between us gather static and the pull of his energy on me.
Stepping out of the truck and seeing him come down the driveway from the old riverhouse made my heart flutter. I knew he had asked me to come here to help him finish up the insulation and drywall on the additional room he added on in the spring, but part of me wanted to believe that there was more to his invite.
"You made it," he said with a smile.
"Yeah. I thought I lived out in the cut."
He laughs as he reaches me.
The morning sun glistened off the sweat that accumulated on his ebony skin. Not one part of me cared about how wet he was when he pulled me in for a hug. We held each other for just a bit longer than two straight men normally do.
He holds me at arms length.
"You look good, Tier," he compliments with a pearly smile.
I finish taking him in. Sweat covered tank top revealing massive arms, broad chest, and powerful shoulders. His dirty cargo pants couldn't hid his thick thighs. Though he had a hat on, I could tell his head was shaved. I wondered if Kirk had any body hair besides his angular goatee that framed his luscious lips.
"You look pretty good yourself. I mean for an old man," I reply, looking deeply into his dark chocolate eyes.
"Hey," he says, "I am younger than you!"
Breaking our stance he suggested we get started so I can go back to my life in the mountains.
In no time flat, we turned into one cutting, installing, and finishing machine. By afternoon, we had all of the sheetrock up, and by dinner, we were able to mud half the room.
Between complaining about how hot the unfinished mancave was without Kirk letting the AC ducts release cold air into the door less room, he and I got ourselves caught up on each other's lives.
Kirk told me that he bought the house to get away from everything. That down the road a bit he got a job as the lone farmhand on an awesome farm owned by the nicest old man. When the owner passed away, he offered to buy the farm from the family at a super reasonable price and they agreed. The bonus was this small riverhouse that needed just another room to feel big enough to house his kids that he gets two weekends a month and every other holiday. He has been seeing a girl named Traci for a few months now and he is having fun going through the early adventures of dating.
In short, he has really gotten his life back together.
When it was my turn, I filled Kirk in on my life since leaving prison. About remodeling the mountain cabin and taking Tyson under my wing. I told him I bounced around from job to job for a while, but with savings, I decided it was time to put my attention toward the cabin.
When we were both completely out of fuel and covered in drywall primer from head to toe, Kirk called it a work day. He promised me the most delicious barbecue at a place about thirty minutes from the house, but we had to wash up first. Without warning, he took off running down the path in the backyard to the small dock. I let out a laugh and ran after him.
When he got to the end of the pier, Kirk stripped off his dirty clothes and turned to face me.
"Come on, Tier. Hurry up!"
I couldn't help but take in the sight of Kirk. This umber bull before me with strong pecs, round but firm stomach, and matching bull cock. He turns and with two bounces of his big juicy ass, he jumps right into the water.
My clothes come off in a blink and, like a kid again, I am cannonballing into the river after him. The chill of the slow moving Chattanooga also took thirty years off Kirk's age, for before I knew it we were laughing and splashing and dunking each other. With the slimy ground only being a half foot under our treading bodies, it was easy to bob up and down off the bottom of the river to get momentum for perfect tackles and counter attacks.
After we were thoroughly clean, he turned to climb the wooden ladder back to the topside of the dock. I got this strange feeling that I couldn't fight anymore. Like a spider monkey, I sprang onto Kirk and plastered my naked self to his wet back, wrapping my arms around his neck.
When after almost a whole minute had passed and Kirk's laugher died, my old friend knew I wasn't playing anymore.
"Jack," he whispered over his shoulder.
A shiver went through me hearing him call me by my first name, but I didn't loosen my grip.
"Jack, we can't," he adds.
Though it is his mouth expressing what his mind is thinking, his body betrayed them both, for only a moment later he had let go of the ladder and floated backward into our private crystal oasis.
We floated a couple yards closer to shore before he spun like a slippery fish in my grasp. In the fading light of the day, we were now face to face. Chest to chest. Tool to tool.
"Jack," he murmured again, almost as a plead.
There was no denying it at that point. My manhood was steel hard and digging into his hip. I wasn't alone, though. Kirk's thick tool was solid as rock and pressing into my thigh.
Before he could say my name again, my lips found his. Timid only for a moment, and then it was all out passion. My tongue explored his mouth and he playfully bit my lower lip. The whole time both of us grinding our hips and cocks together.
Between pants, he hoisted me back to the dock ladder and directed me up it. As I ascended, he chomped on my right ass cheek and I let out a snort. He grabbed my right thigh and stopped me mid-climb. This time he dove in between my mounds. His tongue quickly found my hole and circled it, darted in and out of it. Almost losing my grip, I sat back onto his face, moaning and grunting as he went to town eating my hairy knot.
Shoving me up the last rung, it was his turn to jump on me. We both landed in the pile of our work clothes. Kissing and rolling on top of each other like teens in heat.
It was Kirk that made the next move. While lying on our sides, deeply kissing and groaning in ecstasy, he reached down and took a hold of my rigid prick. The feel of his firm hold on my love organ stopped me in my tracks and a deep, primal moan escaped me. As he started plunging my rod, he moved his mouth to my left nipple. He sucked on it, flicked it with his tongue, and nibbled lightly on my crispened nub and then showed the same attention to my other one.
My reestablished lover propped himself up on all four, and spun himself around so his head was now pointed toward my feet. Almost like a dog hiking his leg to piss, Kirk swung his left leg over my body and scooted back to let his sac and stones rest on my hungry lips. No sooner than me taking one big orb into my mouth, he consumes my entire dick in one amazing swallow.
"Shit," I groan, with a mouthful of balls.
Wanting to share with him the unbelievable feeling he is supplying to me, I reached up and directed his donkey cock into my mouth. When the sucker hit the back of my throat, I coughed a bit, but then I was able to loosen my pipes up and it slid down my esophagus like a stick of butter on a hot frying pan.
Kirk stopped worshiping my meat sword and rested his forehead on my upper leg.
"Damn, Tier, that feels so good. I have missed that mouth."
I reached around and playfully smacked his ass to tell him to get back to work, and he does. As he bobbed up and down, working my prick, my mahogany titan wildly fucked my face turning my mouth into his own man pussy.
I couldn't take it anymore. Kirk working away at my cock, his body smashed on mine, and the stretching he was giving my own throat, I could feel myself getting close. I couldn't tell him with his beer can cock down my throat, so as a warning, I tapped him on the back. When he didn't stop or even slow down, my tapping got more frantic.
That is when he went completely wild. His grip got tighter and his sucking moved faster. There wasn't anything I could do and an instant later my body was convulsing with ultimate pleasure. Growling and grunting, I unloaded serving after serving of man milk into Kirk's mouth. Even as much as I bucked, he didn't miss a drop.
"Fuck! It's my turn," he warned, just before I felt his staff spasm in my throat.
Without any other options, I swallowed explosion after explosion of Kirk's hot sweet man juice. Feeling glob after glob slide down my tube, I wrapped my arms around his waist to keep him from pulling out. I didn't want him to waste a single ounce.
Exhausted, he rolled off of me, and I joined him with a sticky kiss.
"Damn. Haven't gotten that good of head since I got off the block, Tier."
"So you missed me," I joked.
Kirk pulled me in for another kiss.
"I guess you could say that," he said with a wink.
Though I lied there, smiling, naked on the dock with the first man I had ever been intimate with, I couldn't stop the growth of a nagging feeling that was starting in the pit of my stomach. A feeling I eventually realized was a pang of guilt. Not because Kirk had told me he was dating someone or that I have been with Claire for the past few months. No, it was because many times throughout our hook-up I wasn't picturing my old friend. When I was rubbing my body against Kirk's, kissing him deeply, getting my ass eaten, and taking his dick deep in my mouth, I couldn't help but think of Tyson.
Maybe that is what stopped me from sharing my secrets with my best friend's son. Would I have given away too much information? Would him knowing about mine and Kirk's sexual relationship have somehow opened a door that shouldn't be opened? Would he look at me differently? Would he have seen through me? Would he have somehow known that I have been fantasizing about him?
I hope letting him know that I take him for who he is, and he does not have to pretend or hide around me was enough. The last thing he needs is to feel that he can't trust someone else in his life.
The old shack comes into view and my mind switches gears. Honestly, this is the first time in months that I have walked this far along the woodland path. My sad thoughts of how crazy life has become are pushed from my mind when I see Claire scooting out the door of the rundown shed.
In a second, I am in law enforcement mode. The same feelings and mannerisms that have been long since programed into my being kick in. No matter who I am encountering or how silly the situation, this side of me always emerges. Part of me is sorry for Claire because I know that this could be the first time she sees my asshole side.
"Oh, hey, Jack," Claire welcomes me without an actual welcoming expression.
I can immediately tell that she knows I am here to follow up on what Tyson told me.
"I was just on my way out," she explains, reaching behind her to lock the door.
"Cool. Mind if I look around? See how the growing season is going."
She pauses and just looks at me. I can clearly tell that she doesn't want to open the door, but she knows she doesn't really have a choice. A glitch of annoyance flashes across her face. It is in this moment that I realize I don't know a damn thing about the woman standing before me.
"I guess Tyson said something to you," she spits as her back is to me, unlocking the door. "Which is weird that you are here checking on me. You haven't seen him in years and the moment he shows up, you bend over backwards for the kid."
This instantly infuriates me, but I try my best to let it roll off my back. It makes me being a dick even easier.
She flings the door open and flips on the overhead light. Claire gestures her arm into the now empty room.
"Hmm," is all I reply with. A flare of annoyance burns through me. Not necessary because there was nothing there, but because it is now clear that Tyson has it in for Claire.
I feel like my emotions are moving up and down like children on a seesaw.
"Just this morning I moved the plants, lamps, and supplies to a friends house. I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't know how much I could trust Tyson. Since I saw him snooping around up here the other day."
She seems to answer my unasked question.
I nod and let out an "okay" as she starts to usher me out. But just before she hits the light, I see a bump in the woven rug on the far end of the floor.
"Wait," I say, putting my hand on the door and stopping her from closing it all the way.
She lets out an irritated sigh.
"What now?"
I go to push the door back open, but for a split second Claire stands fast. In that instant I know something is up. With a thrust that almost takes her with it, I hurl the wooden planks open.
When I hit the lights, the metaphorical fan turns on, for all of the shit hits it.