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.In my own hand my cock feels ready to burst.“I’m getting close,” I tell him, gasping.I try to think of paintball.“Me too!” He runs his forearm over his face and then fwaps a line of sweat at the sheets.“When I come where do you want me to come?”You don’t look nearly turned-on enough to come, straightboy, I think sarcastically, but I’m being pounded way too hard for sarcasm.He looks down at me and adds, “It’s gonna be buckets!”“Oh my god.Wherever you want.In me.On me.Anywhere.”“I’m gonna come, McHenry.I’m gonna come.We’re going to have had sex!”The attention paid to all this talking has brought us both away from the precipice, though, and for that we’re awarded another glorious minute or two.He spends it drilling me hard, leaning into me and pushing my right leg down so my shin almost touches my face.With my free hand I rub my palm down his chest, sending streams of sweat gliding across his abs.Then he pushes my hand away from my cock and seizes it and almost at the same time pulls out of me and seizes his own.A couple of strokes and we’re both gushing in shuddering, yelping unison like a pair of squealing pigs.The bed slams the wall, the sheet rips even further.Tendons stand out on his neck, his teeth clench, bubbles of spit froth on his lips.And when it’s over I’m drenched in the new hot wetness of our mixing-together jizz.“Holy,” he says, dropping his head forward when he’s done shuddering.Sweat snaps out of his hair and hits my face; I touch my tongue to my lips.Then my tired legs slide off his shoulders and along his wet arms.“Holy mother of god.” He looks down in apparent surprise at the streaky white mess we’ve made together on my abs and chest.Then he releases my cock, which until now he was squeezing, and rolls away from me and hits the bed on his side, long arms and legs clattering across the mattress like a drunk falling out of a moving car.For a minute or two our heavy breathing is the only sound in the room.Then he sighs and says, “Gee whiz.”I laugh.“Thank you for that.”“No sweat.” Then he laughs and flicks his fingers at me.“Well, some sweat.”I remember our game.Holding up an invisible microphone, I say, “Well ladies and gentlemen, the deed is done.Number 6 of the Theban Warriors, Boots McHenry, and #4 of the Warriors, Clemente Santiago, have just completed an event that before this evening neither one saw coming.Let’s go to Santiago for some final words before the team hits the showers.” I hold the mic over to Clemente.His hair is sticking up, wet and slick as though he’s just stumbled through a carwash.“Well, McHenry, going into tonight I’m not sure I knew what to expect.I was glad to be able to help a fellow Warrior take his mind off some things, but to be honest I assumed I’d have to do a lot of imagining to get through it.But then you opened that mouth of yours, and uh— I mean the first quarter was great, but then right before halftime you unleashed the rimjob and it was, it was—”“A miracle, I believe, was the word you used.”“A miracle! Sure.Then, you know, halftime, wasn’t sure again.But hey, I rolled with it, and in the end I guess I actually had fun.”“Me too.”“Right on.”He reaches out with a jizzy fist and I bump mine against it.We don’t shower together.I’d like to, but I don’t suggest it.He’s done what I asked him to do and I don’t want to push my luck.The mic might’ve blown up in the water, anyway—the mic or whatever accompanying mental devices that are required for a straightboy to fuck his teammate and be cool with it afterward.So I offer him the master bath and use another bathroom down the hall.Fifteen minutes later when I return to the bedroom he’s sitting on the couch, dressed and tying his sneakers.“You OK to drive?” I say.“You’re not buzzing anymore?”“Nah.It was just a buzz.And do you realize we were at it for like two hours?”“Two hours?” I glance at the clock in disbelief.It’s only been ninety minutes but I love that he rounded up.He stands up, shoes tied.“Nuts, right?”“Totally.”“So yeah.Hey, have you seen my keys?”I point to where I dropped them on the table.He walks over and puts them in his pocket.“Hey, what’d you mean,” I ask, “when you said We’re going to have had sex.Right before we finished.That was some impressive tense work.”He laughs.“I don’t know.Guess I just meant there was a line coming up fast and on the other side I’d be a dude who’s slept with a dude.Because it’s never really sex until someone squirts.”“So you’re on the other side now.”“No worse off for it.That good enough?”“Thanks.Hey.Want me to walk you out?”“Nah.I know my way around a mansion.”He leaves the room and I sit down on the bed, listening to him bounding down the stairs with concussive footsteps that are proof he’s taking them two or even three or four at a time.Is he in a hurry to escape?Never mind.I feel too good to worry about it.I can still feel him inside me and I want to savor it.I flop back on the bed and sigh.Then I remember, as I hear his motorcycle roar to life, that I drove it here myself.Which means my car’s still at Yon’s.I sit up quick, ready to chase him down for a ride.But in the end I let him go.He’s done me enough favors tonight.A little while later I call a cab and go get my car.CHAPTER 7Next day, early afternoon.I’m sitting on the floor of my room in my boxers flipping through TV channels eating a dry bagel when my phone rings [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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