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“I don’t like to smile,” he says, even though I saw him try to fight back hundreds at the farmer’s market. And he’s fighting like hell to keep one at bay right now.
“You have a nice mouth, should let it flex a bit more than you do. It’s good practice for later.”
The way I say it has his cheeks flaring red, and as I think back on my silly words, I realize that they sound kinda sexual. Not that I meant them to be. But now that I’m thinking about sex, I’m starting to get real hot all over. This flannel is kinda suffocating.
I shrug it off and press my cool hand to my neck.
“You’re real innocent, you don’t even know how you come across,” Braxton says, the pig moving off his lap and bounding off to play with the goat and donkey.
“Yeah, might be a bit sheltered, but I’m a Kansan. Don’t know much else. Don’t really want to.” I look around at all the beautiful scenery and don’t really understand wanting to go anywhere else. I have everything I need right here.
He wets his lips and then nods, turning his gaze away before pulling it right back to settle on me.
“Are you a virgin?” he asks, and my cheeks positively flame.
Could be summer for how I’m starting to sweat. I didn’t expect that question at all, for some reason.
“Maybe,” I say, and then Braxton lets out a huff of laughter.
I wonder if he’s going to push back. Make me flat-out answer him. I would. “That’s fair. You don’t need to answer. Just…you seem like one.”
“Are you?” I ask, finding my voice.
He shrugs. “I’m not. Only been with girls though.”
He peers over at me, and I want to roll into the creek and get all wet with how I’m overheating. Never did get to the hand job I needed earlier, and now I’m wondering why I didn’t make it a priority.
Hand jobs should always be a priority.
“So you’re not gay?” I manage to squeak out. I honestly can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I don’t want it to end.
“No… Maybe. I don’t know what I am, but when I’m near you, I get all…bothered.” I beam at that because I’m happy to bother him any damn day.
His eyes sneak down to my lips, and he wets his own. Suddenly, I feel like I’m combusting. Flames lick my skin, and I swear I’m burning up from the outside in. Before I can reach for a handful of water and splash it onto my skin, he reaches out, his cool fingers cupping the back of my neck. My breath hitches and so does his, and before I can even exhale, he leans in and kisses me.
As soon as our mouths meet, the flames lick at me harder, pushing me toward the edge of a cliff. I inhale deeply as his tongue slides into my mouth and pushes against mine. A groan escapes me, and he whimpers into my mouth, his body scrambling onto my lap. He’s so lean and strong, all hard muscle and warm, smooth skin.
I grab on to him, my hands pulling him onto me, his groin hitting mine, our hard dicks rubbing up against each other through the fabric of our pants. His hands slide through my hair, tugging and pulling until we’re both gasping, our hips rolling together as we fight off our orgasms.
“God, these damn overalls,” he says as he reaches out and unbuckles a strap and then the other, letting them fall into the mud at our feet.Don’t even care, I think as his mouth presses against mine once more, our hips rocking back and forth.
His hands move down my sides and find the end of my white shirt and tug it up, those fingernails dragging across my skin as he lifts it, exposing me to the cool air. But I don’t even shiver. No, I need it. I need this.
“So big,” he murmurs against my mouth. “You’re so big. Is your dick as big as the rest of you?” he asks, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside. I glance at it lying in the mud, the goat moving up to chew on it.
Don’t matter now. Nothing matters but his lips on mine again.
“It sure feels like it is,” Braxton says as he continues to rut up against me. “It feels huge. Oh fuck, I’ve thought of you sticking it in me more times than I can count. And now that I know how big it is, I want it. I fucking want it.”
He’s short-circuiting my brain with this dirty talk. He’s thought about that? About fucking me? Or is he just dirty-talking, drunk on lust? Somehow I don’t think so. I think he’s being totally honest, probably to his horror. I bet he’s gonna regret these admissions later on when he’s stone-cold sober.
“I thought you weren’t gay,” I say, even though the sentiment is silly now. Not with how he’s writhing against me.
“Oh god. Oh fuck. I’m so confused,” he says and then he’s smashing his lips to mine once more and grinding against me with a purpose. Everything is hazy and my brain is scrambled. All I can feel is the sensation of him rubbing against me, his hands, his cock, his tongue.
I’m losing my damn mind.
A low groan escapes me, and the donkey brays in response. It should kill the mood, but I’m too far gone. Nothing short of a nuclear explosion could pull me away from this guy. I pull him farther into me, grabbing on to his lower back under his hoodie and canting my hips along with his. Our lips stay pressed against each other’s, and we moan and bite and lick until I feel a deep sensation build in my balls and move through my dick.
