Calvin’s neck, and Brock’s hands—that had been pulling at the blanket—clamped themselves to the sides of Calvin’s head.
Normally Calvin objected to being manhandled when giving a blowjob, wanting always to be in control, but he knew Brock was so close to the edge he’d be able to finish him off in seconds. Calvin considered slowing down, but he knew he’d teased his beautiful cowboy enough. So with a combination of tongue action to the underside of his dick, repeated swallowing, a finger inside the still moist asshole and finally a couple bars of God Bless America hummed on the cock-head, Calvin was rewarded when Brock shot a massive load of cowboy come into his mouth and down his throat.
* * * *
Brock lay on his side. Calvin—needing to get closer and thinking Brock might be in need of reassurance—worked his left arm underneath Brock, and laid his right arm over the top of him. Calvin moved in close and pressed their chests and groins together. He hadn’t gotten off, but that didn’t matter.
When the post-orgasmic shudders stopped and Brock’s heart-rate slowed, Calvin expected the guy to say something. When he didn’t, Calvin felt he had to fill the silence.
“You okay?”
“Uh huh.”
Another silence descended, Calvin breaking it by asking, “You’re not freaked or anything?” The last thing he wanted was for Brock to run away from him again.
“I feel…”
Calvin waited several heartbeats before prompting, “Yes?”
Brock moved a little further down the bed and snuggled into Calvin’s chest, resting his head under Calvin’s chin. Calvin tightened his grip and tilted his face to kiss the top of Brock’s head.
“I feel…safe,” Brock whispered.
“I’m glad.”
The two lay together for the longest time, Calvin listening to Brock’s steady breathing. He wasn’t sure, but thought the cowboy had dozed off. To pass the time, Calvin began to write on Brock’s T-shirt-covered back with the index finger of his right hand.
“What are you doing?” Brock asked quietly.
“How’d you mean?” Calvin kissed the man’s ear.
“With your finger.”
“Writing.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll show you.” Calvin pulled away from Brock a little and resumed what he’d been doing, this time on Brock’s chest.
Calvin spoke the letters aloud as he drew them. “B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L.”
“Why?” Brock asked in a small voice.
“Why are you beautiful? That’s down to your genes, I guess.”
“No.” Brock sounded close to tears. “Why are you bein’ so nice to me? There are other folks out there you could have got to fix up the house, other men you could have brought here to your bed. Why me?”
“Why not you?” Calvin kissed the top of Brock’s head again. “It’s true back in high school I couldn’t stand you, but I’ve grown up since then, and so have you. Now I see what a great guy you are.”
“Great or not, I’m flat-assed broke.”
“Okay, you’ve got some financial troubles—”
“Some?” Brock laughed.
“And I want to help if I can.”
“Why?” Brock asked again.
“Why not?” Calvin repeated. “Don’t you think you deserve a break?”
Brock shrugged.
“You getting injured, stopping you from playing ball, wasn’t your fault. Your daddy dying wasn’t your fault. The hospital bills aren’t your fault. You’ve been doing the best you can, raising your son. I just want to help a little if I could. And it also benefits me.”
“How so?”
Calvin thought it high time he lightened the tone of the conversation. He moved down the bed until he was face-to-face with Brock. “I get the folks’ place fixed up by the studliest,” Calvin kissed Brock’s ear, “sexiest,” he kissed Brock’s cheek, “beautifulest,” he kissed the side of Brock’s mouth, “cowboy this side of Austin.”
Their lips met and Calvin put everything into his kiss that he was unwilling to say out loud.
“Thanks. Not sure I deserve it, though.”
At that moment, gazing
Normally Calvin objected to being manhandled when giving a blowjob, wanting always to be in control, but he knew Brock was so close to the edge he’d be able to finish him off in seconds. Calvin considered slowing down, but he knew he’d teased his beautiful cowboy enough. So with a combination of tongue action to the underside of his dick, repeated swallowing, a finger inside the still moist asshole and finally a couple bars of God Bless America hummed on the cock-head, Calvin was rewarded when Brock shot a massive load of cowboy come into his mouth and down his throat.
* * * *
Brock lay on his side. Calvin—needing to get closer and thinking Brock might be in need of reassurance—worked his left arm underneath Brock, and laid his right arm over the top of him. Calvin moved in close and pressed their chests and groins together. He hadn’t gotten off, but that didn’t matter.
When the post-orgasmic shudders stopped and Brock’s heart-rate slowed, Calvin expected the guy to say something. When he didn’t, Calvin felt he had to fill the silence.
“You okay?”
“Uh huh.”
Another silence descended, Calvin breaking it by asking, “You’re not freaked or anything?” The last thing he wanted was for Brock to run away from him again.
“I feel…”
Calvin waited several heartbeats before prompting, “Yes?”
Brock moved a little further down the bed and snuggled into Calvin’s chest, resting his head under Calvin’s chin. Calvin tightened his grip and tilted his face to kiss the top of Brock’s head.
“I feel…safe,” Brock whispered.
“I’m glad.”
The two lay together for the longest time, Calvin listening to Brock’s steady breathing. He wasn’t sure, but thought the cowboy had dozed off. To pass the time, Calvin began to write on Brock’s T-shirt-covered back with the index finger of his right hand.
“What are you doing?” Brock asked quietly.
“How’d you mean?” Calvin kissed the man’s ear.
“With your finger.”
“Writing.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll show you.” Calvin pulled away from Brock a little and resumed what he’d been doing, this time on Brock’s chest.
Calvin spoke the letters aloud as he drew them. “B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L.”
“Why?” Brock asked in a small voice.
“Why are you beautiful? That’s down to your genes, I guess.”
“No.” Brock sounded close to tears. “Why are you bein’ so nice to me? There are other folks out there you could have got to fix up the house, other men you could have brought here to your bed. Why me?”
“Why not you?” Calvin kissed the top of Brock’s head again. “It’s true back in high school I couldn’t stand you, but I’ve grown up since then, and so have you. Now I see what a great guy you are.”
“Great or not, I’m flat-assed broke.”
“Okay, you’ve got some financial troubles—”
“Some?” Brock laughed.
“And I want to help if I can.”
“Why?” Brock asked again.
“Why not?” Calvin repeated. “Don’t you think you deserve a break?”
Brock shrugged.
“You getting injured, stopping you from playing ball, wasn’t your fault. Your daddy dying wasn’t your fault. The hospital bills aren’t your fault. You’ve been doing the best you can, raising your son. I just want to help a little if I could. And it also benefits me.”
“How so?”
Calvin thought it high time he lightened the tone of the conversation. He moved down the bed until he was face-to-face with Brock. “I get the folks’ place fixed up by the studliest,” Calvin kissed Brock’s ear, “sexiest,” he kissed Brock’s cheek, “beautifulest,” he kissed the side of Brock’s mouth, “cowboy this side of Austin.”
Their lips met and Calvin put everything into his kiss that he was unwilling to say out loud.
“Thanks. Not sure I deserve it, though.”
At that moment, gazing
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