“You’re going to have marks for a day or two,” he pointed out. “You’re going to have to make sure to cover them up with your shirt cuffs, or with work gloves.”
“Oh, I’ll roll up my shirt sleeves, the way I usually do, if I feel like it. I don’t care. I don’t care if the other guys notice the marks, and know I’ve been your sex slave. Let ‘em all know that I took your big stud cock up my horny ass.”
Camilo laughed. “They’d have to be psychic to know all that, just from seeing a couple of red marks on your wrists.”
“What we do in bed together is none of their business. Except for the fact that they’d probably be jealous.”
“Turn around and hold still while I untie your cock and balls.”
Carefully, Camilo unknotted the second bootlace, and unwound it from around Jacob’s genitals, freeing them as well.
“Thanks. That felt good while it was on me and you were fucking me. But it feels good now that it’s off, too. It chafes a little. You’re not bad at this bondage and discipline stuff, for a beginner.”
“You got off on that kinky shit, didn’t you?”
“I really got off on it.”
Camilo snuggled down against him and whispered, “And I have to admit, I really got off on it, too. That was one hell of a hot fuck.”
“Yeah, wasn’t it?”
“It just seems to get better, every time.”
“Obviously we both know how to benefit from practice.”
“Fuck,” Camilo said. “I’m all hot and sweaty, again. So are you. Maybe we’d better shower again.”
“Don’t bother, on my account. Just stay here beside me. I like having you here in bed beside me—even when you’re hot and sticky.”
“Well, then you must love me, tonight. I’m dripping wet. Is this heat wave ever going to let up?”
“Never mind,” Jacob said. “After all, you and I have our own personal heat wave going—no matter what the weather outside’s like.”
“Guess so,” Camilo mumbled, drowsily.
Jacob could feel the coarse beard stubble on Camilo’s cheek rubbing against the curve of his chest. He liked the feeling. Camilo ran his fingers over Jacob’s side and let them slide up over Jacob’s pecs. Then, after a moment, Camilo raised himself and climbed on top of his bedmate, his legs settling in on either side of Jacob’s thighs, and his cock and balls nestled against Jacob’s own genitals. Camilo lifted his shoulders just enough so that he could take Jacob’s head between his hands and look down at him, his eyes large and bright in the dim light of the room as he seemed to be watching Jacob closely, gauging his reactions. He leaned forward and kissed Jacob, very tenderly, the delicate caress of his tongue nudging Jacob’s lips apart and penetrating them.
Jacob returned the kiss. This was quite different from the violent sex they’d just shared. It was different—and yet, in its own way, it was equally satisfying, if not more satisfying.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jacob said, keeping his lips close to Camilo’s.
“Yeah? About what?”
“Us.”
“What about us?”
“Once the cold weather starts coming, in the fall, it might be more energy-efficient if two guys doubled up at night.”
“Huh?”
“Slept together in the same room, in the same bed,” Jacob specified. “Instead of each guy alone in his own room.”
“Oh, I see. So this ‘energy efficiency’ thing is just your fancy way of saying you’d like to shack up with me.”
“I can think of worse ways to spend a cold winter night. And I like sleeping with you.”
“I’m willing to take the risk—if you’ll take it, too.”
“All right. You have yourself a deal.”
Camilo made a kind of growling masculine sound of approval, and then his mouth covered Jacob’s. At the same time, his hands began to move all over the younger man. Jacob slid his arms up over his lover’s shoulders and pulled him down on him. Camilo’s mouth crushed Jacob’s, his tongue lashing with abandon all around the inside of Jacob’s mouth, the slickness of their saliva mingling. Their naked bodies writhed erotically together, and Jacob knew that whatever Camilo would ask of him, he would give him. Not only physically, but emotionally, as well.
Chapter Ten: When a Cop Comes Knocking
Jacob turned over onto his side on the bed. He was suspended in that hazy transition between sleep and wakefulness, in which he wasn’t certain whether the input from his senses was real, or only part of a dream.
He heard a distant peal of thunder—followed, a moment later, by the sound of raindrops, pelting against the windowpanes of his room, behind the closed curtains. The noise sounded “real” enough. He wasn’t dreaming. A previous rumble of thunder must have woken him up. So the rain had come, at last.
Aware that a warm, naked body was lying next to him on the bed, Jacob opened his eyes.
His bedmate was Camilo, of course, fast asleep beside him. Jacob saw that his alarm clock’s digital display read 11:56 PM—almost midnight. As usual, they’d left on the little lamp on the nightstand while they were making love, so that they could see what they were doing to each other. Tonight, they’d forgotten to turn it off, when they were done.
Jacob was trying to decide whether he had enough energy and ambition, to reach out his arm and find the lamp’s switch, when he became aware of another source of light, which appeared suddenly outside his window, penetrating the drapes. It was the headlights of a vehicle of some sort, which had pulled into the parking lot and was now being parked in the space in front of his room.
Must be one of the other guys coming home from a night out on the town, Jacob thought, as he heard the car door open and close.
But then, a moment later, there was a very light knock on his door.
“Shit,” Jacob muttered. Who could be visiting him, unexpectedly, at this time of night?
Groggily, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and went to the window. Drawing the edge of the curtain back just enough so that he could peek out, through the rain-blurred glass, he saw that the car was a police car—and that his visitor was none other than Officer Duane Mallory, standing on the porch in full uniform.
“Shit,” Jacob repeated, under his breath. Any other time, he’d have been delighted to see Duane; but, under the circumstances—!
He heard Camilo stir on the bed behind him. “What—?” Camilo mumbled, drowsily.
“It’s nothing, Camilo. I got up to check on the weather. It’s finally raining, that’s all. Go back to sleep.”
Naked, Jacob opened the door a crack. Duane grinned at him—and swept his glance appreciatively up and down Jacob’s nude body.
“Hey, Duane,” Jacob greeted his cop buddy, in a whisper.
“Did I wake you up?”
“Not quite.”
“I just got off work. I didn’t want to call you, this late, so I sent you a text message—”
“I didn’t get it. Probably because I put my phone down here somewhere in here—”
“That’s what I figured. So I thought I’d take a chance and drive by. I saw you had a light on.”
“Yeah, well, Duane, ordinarily I’d invite you in. But the fact is, I’ve got company.”
“Oh?” The disappointment was apparent on Duane’s face. “Well, in that case, I’ll make myself scarce. Maybe you’ll let me have a rain check—?”
“It’s raining now,” Jacob pointed out, seeing the drops of water on the shoulders of Duane’s uniform shirt.
“Yeah, maybe it’ll finally cool things off, a bit.”
Then both men heard Camilo’s voice, coming from the bed: “Why don’t you invite your friend in, Jacob? I don’t mind.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Jacob opened the door wider, and gestured for Duane to come in. Jacob closed and secured the door after him.
Camilo was sitting up on the bed. Evidently deciding that the situation didn’t require modesty, he made no effo
rt to pull the bedclothes over his exposed crotch. “Hi, Duane.”
“Hey, Camilo. Long time, no see. I haven’t run into you in town lately.”
“Jacob, here, has been keeping me pretty busy.”
Duane smiled in a way that was almost a smirk. “I can just imagine. Lucky you. Listen, are you guys sure I’m not interrupting anything?”
“No, not at all. We were just nodding off,” Jacob said. “Want a nightcap?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Let’s all have a round,” Camilo suggested, reaching for the bottle of scotch on the nightstand.
“Coming right up.” Jacob went in search of a third glass.
“I guess I’d better get dressed,” Camilo said.
“Oh, don’t bother, on my account,” Duane urged him.
“Then I won’t,” Camilo replied, with a laugh. “No need for any of us to be shy, is there? We’re all friends.”
“I hope we are,” Duane said. “I hope we can all become much better friends, before the night’s over. Damn! That’s some ink you’ve got there,” he added, as his eyes swept appreciatively over the tattoos on Camilo’s nude body. “If I get too close to those critters, do you think they’d bite me?”
“Only one way to find out,” Camilo suggested. “Rub yourself against me and see. After all, you’ve got that gun on your hip, to protect yourself with.”
“If I do any shooting in here, it won’t be with my pistol. Oh, thanks,” Duane told Jacob, as the farmhand poured him his drink. “Would you men be interested in something to go with it?” He unbuttoned the breast pocket of his uniform shirt and pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes. Jacob saw that the pack was half-empty, and that, camouflaged among the remaining tobacco cigarettes, were four hand-rolled joints.
“I didn’t know you smoked, Duane,” Camilo said.
“I don’t,” the cop replied. “Not tobacco, anyway. It’s bad for your health.”
Camilo grinned as he accepted one of the joints. “And this stuff isn’t?”
“No one can lead a completely pure life, I suppose,” was Duane’s philosophical rejoinder.
The three men, with a joint apiece, lit up and smoked. Jacob found a saucer for them to use as an ashtray.
“Yeah … now that’s the way I like to end a long, hot day at work,” Duane declared, as he blew sweet-smelling rings of bluish-gray smoke into the air.
“You’re going to be a bad influence on Jacob,” Camilo suggested, as he and Jacob also puffed away, just as avidly.
“Oh? And you’re not?” Duane retorted.
Camilo laughed. “I guess you’ve got me, there.”
“I really don’t mind being corrupted,” Jacob assured the other two men.
The conversation flagged as the three men finished their drinks, and their joints.
Duane stubbed out his joint in the saucer.
“I can’t see any reason to beat around the bush,” he said. “I have to admit it, I came here ‘with only one thing on my mind,’ as they say. So—do either or both of you guys want to fuck?” he asked, bluntly.
Camilo glanced at Jacob, who nodded at him. “Count me in,” Camilo said.
“Me, too,” Jacob agreed. “I remember us talking, Duane, about the possibility of getting into a threesome with Camilo, sometime. Looks like tonight’s the night.”
“Been discussing me behind my back, have you?” Camilo asked.
“Yeah,” Jacob admitted. “I told Duane what a hot fuck you are. So now’s your chance to prove it. Don’t make me a liar.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Camilo turned to Duane. “You can start by taking that fucking uniform off. Let’s see that hot body of yours, man.”
Grinning, Duane removed the handcuffs from his belt, and deposited them on the nightstand. “These might come in handy later on, if either of you men is in the mood.” Then he began to strip.
“You two haven’t tricked with each other before?” Jacob asked.
“No,” Camilo said. “Not that I haven’t thought about it—fantasized about it—and jerked off, thinking about it.”
“Me, too,” the blond cop admitted, as he took off his clothes. “I can’t imagine why we haven’t gotten together, before now. Seems like a waste. But we can make up for lost time now.” Naked, he stood beside the bed. “Anybody got any preference, about how we start off?”
Camilo got onto his hands and knees on the bed, and thrust his face forward, into Duane’s groin.
“Let me suck on that big, fat cop dick of yours,” he demanded.
“Knock yourself out,” Duane invited him.
Jacob couldn’t believe his luck as he watched Camilo’s mouth surround Duane’s erection. The two hottest men in town, so far as Jacob was concerned, were both there in his room at once—naked, erect, and going at each other with unrestrained lust. It was like watching a porn video, only better.
“Fuck,” the young farmhand exclaimed, as his own cock rose from his groin, silently pleading for some attention. Instinctively, he grasped his shaft in his hand and began to stroke it, as he stared at the two men on the bed. “Fuck,” he repeated. “Those tattoos—those muscles—it’s so goddamn sexy to watch.”
“Don’t be just a bystander,” Duane advised him. “Come here, Jacob. Join the party.”
Jacob stepped toward the bed, and Duane reached for his hard-on, brushing Jacob’s fingers aside and taking over the task of manipulating Jacob’s cock himself. All the while, Duane continued to fuck Camilo’s face.
“Oh, you’ve got a hot mouth,” Duane moaned. “Oh, fuck—you really know how to do a number on a guy’s dick. Suck it, baby. Keep sucking it, just like that. Damn! You have no idea how good that feels.”
But Camilo decided to tease him a little first. He stopped sucking the cop’s cock, and kissed his belly, instead. Quickly, he ran his tongue up Duane’s torso and over those solid pecs of his for a moment, kissing each hard-pointed, pierced and ringed teat in turn. He then moved his head back down Duane’s broad torso, licking the smooth tanned skin and the corded muscle of the guy’s flat belly, thrusting the tip of his tongue into the deep-puckered navel as far as it would go, making Duane bite his lip and squirm at the lewd sensation.
The blond man gasped out loud and worked his hips back and forth in an instinctive humping motion as Camilo parted his muscular, soft-furred thighs with his hands . . . and then Camilo’s disheveled dark head was being thrust blindly into the warm, sweat-moistened grip of Duane’s crotch. The tattooed Mexican stud went back to work on the cop’s cock, devouring it with his ravenous mouth.
“Oh—oh, shit, Camilo!” Duane cried. “Suck it—suck my cock! I need it bad, man. Suck my cock!”
Once again, though, his cocksucker teased him, abandoning his cock. Camilo’s insidious tongue explored the blond man’s perineum muscle, flicked tantalizingly over his anal crack, and poked at the two huge balls that trembled helplessly within the confines of their taut-stretched, swollen scrotal sac.
Camilo kissed both nuts passionately before he sucked them inside his mouth.
It was all Duane could do to keep from shrieking as his warm testicles were engulfed by that sensuous wet oral pressure. Camilo’s hot mouth squeezed them tightly, rolling them around in a bath of lubricating saliva.
Duane leaned forward over the edge of the bed, dug his fingers into Camilo’s short black hair, and pushed the other guy’s head down even harder against his crotch, encouraging him to work on his balls some more. Duane’s erect probe, neglected, impatient with lust, was rubbing ever more insistently over Camilo’s unshaven cheek as he sucked on the cop’s big balls and tickled them with his wet, slippery, intolerably stimulating tongue.
Duane would’ve been content to let this go on all night: he was sure that nothing could top the delicious sensation of having another guy’s hot mouth on his balls like that, making love to the hypersensitive orbs.
So he actually did let out a quick, strangulated shriek of disappointment when Camilo
suddenly released his nuts. But, a split-second later, the shriek turned into a wild, loud moan of lustful satisfaction when Camilo repositioned his head—and went down on Duane, taking all of Duane’s thick cockhead and half the pulsating, blood-engorged shaft deep into his greedy mouth in one fast gulp.
Warm lips sealed themselves tightly around Duane’s frenulum and the cop almost shot his load even before Camilo actually began to suck him. Sobbing, he threw his head back and forced his quivering body to relax as he tried to get accustomed to the wildly sexual feelings that washed over him once Camilo really got going on his dick. The husky tattooed Mexican stud was doing an incredible variety of things to the thick young cop meat he had trapped inside his mouth; each new method of attack seemed to be more effective, more exciting, than its immediate predecessor. Duane cursed himself for not having tricked with Camilo long ago. He realized, now, just what he’d been missing how. That lucky bastard, Jacob!
Camilo was a master cocksucker. He was lavishing all of his oral expertise upon Duane. It was almost too much, too good—it was intolerably arousing, what Camilo’s mouth was doing to him. But Duane didn’t want it to end … not ever.
He could no longer distinguish the sensations produced by Camilo’s incessantly sucking, sliding lips from those that resulted from the expert action of the sexy gay guy’s tongue and lightly nipping teeth. That faint, tremulous, helpless tingling in his cock and lower torso, in his groin--the feeling that usually warned Duane that he was about to come—had spread over his entire body . . . and yet he didn’t come!
Instead of simply leading directly to an explosive release of sperm, as it usually did, the tension just seemed to build and build, to incredible levels, without resolving itself in ejaculation. Duane wanted to come—hell, he had to come!—but somehow he couldn’t. It was agony--exquisite sexual agony.
He was finally reduced to helpless, near-hysterical pleading—to begging frantically for Camilo to either stop teasing him, and let him come, or—awful alternative!—to stop sucking on him altogether until his cock could calm down a bit.
“Oh, please, Camilo. Suck it, let me fucking shoot. No more! Don’t, I just have to get my fucking nuts off, man. My balls’re aching, they’re going to goddamn explode unless I come! Suck it off—let me come, let me blast! Oh, please! I’ll do anything you want, anything, if only you’ll let me fucking come now—right now, before I can’t stand it anymore. Now—oh!”
Midnight Farmhand Page 23
