Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we the next issue in my historical M/M romance, Dear Jon, which is set in 1945. Every issue of this serial will be under 1500 words so they're quick reads. Our word prompt today is 'Wood'. This story contains mature language and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering.
Today's issue has a graphic gay sexual scene.
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We left the radio on in the living room. The soft strains helped Andy sleep it seemed. In addition, it aided in setting the mood while helping to muffle the sounds of two men stealing a precious hour or two of pleasure.
Our clothes had been shed hastily. There was not much time to spare on seductive slow-paced strip teases. The lad could wake up at anytime, or a car could go past and spy my car hidden behind the low hanging pine boughs. Paranoia was a living breathing thing for men like Ross and me.
I arched upward, trying to take more of my lover inside of me. His mouthed covered mine; his hands clutched my wrists as he held my arms above my head. His chest rubbed over mine enticingly. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Ross growled low and deep, his teeth nibbling my lower lip. He released my wrists then sat back, nearly withdrawing from me.
“Take yourself in hand.” I trembled at the command then gripped my prick tightly. He nodded, grabbed my knees, pushed them into my chest, and then began to move in a rhythm that soon had me begging for more while pleading for him to stop. “Which is it?” Ross panted as we dallied dangerously close to the summit.
“Don`t stop,” I whimpered. He didn`t. We both exploded within a moment of each other, Ross reaching his release first. It was the sight of him finding his ultimate satisfaction that helped me tumble. We collapsed to his dark green coverlet, sweaty and covered with semen, arms and legs intertwined, and breathing labored. He grew flaccid and slid out. I bemoaned the loss. He kissed me quickly then pulled the sheet over our damp bodies. His big rough hand moved over my chest.
“Do you know how exciting your body is to me?” he asked raggedly, his fingertips finding a nipple that puckered at his touch.
“I think I have a pretty good idea.” I was fair-skinned, young, and possessed little body hair. “Would you like me to shave?” I had done so before for lovers and would gladly do so for Ross. He nodded then kissed me so passionately my toes curled like a recently prodded woolly bear caterpillar.
“Jon, no matter where this goes or what happens, I want you to know that I am madly in love with you.”
“Ditto,” I said as my fingers crept through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Think you`re up for another round before I take Andy home?”
“I really wish I could wake up next to you. Do you know how badly I desire that?”
“Yeah, I really do,” I sighed, grabbing a handful of hair then pulling his mouth to mine. Why waste time talking about things that could never be? Moonlight was burning and so was our passion for each other.
“I feel like a vampire.”
Andy looked at me curiously as we bounced into Hannity Hills.
“What`s a vampire?” he asked, his cheeks pink with health. So exhausted was I that I almost told him vampires were bats that sucked the blood from people that had to be killed with a wooden stake. Thankfully I didn`t. Who wanted the kid scared of brown bats?
“A vampire is a movie actor like Bela Lugosi,” I told him as we pulled into my lawyer’s office. Andy didn`t seem interested in such things. He climbed out of the car then took my hand, holding his wooden Trigger in his other hand. Miss Sourpuss the receptionist didn`t seem overly thrilled to see us. I sat down gingerly. Andy clambered into the stuffed chair next to me. I wondered if our lack of suit, tie, and Fedora was what was getting us the evil eye from the receptionist. We were clean, if not a little wrinkled. I needed to purchase an iron, but that had to wait. Flat broke meant no extras. Good thing Ross enjoyed feeding us.
We had barely gotten comfortable when we were told to go in. Attorney Bartlett was behind his desk, his pudgy fingers steepled, and his critical eyes sharp. We shook hands and then I told him why I was here.
“So you need someone to watch the boy while you`re working,” Bartlett smiled, the disapproving mood lifting as I conformed – I mean talked. “That shouldn`t be an issue. For a small fee I`m sure I can locate a willing housewife.”
“That would be fine,” I said eying his phone. “I`m going to fill out applications at several businesses in town, and with Mr. Coleman agreeing to sell my paintings for me in his shop I-”
Bartlett leaned into his desk. His stomach was too large for him to lean over it while seated.
“Mr. Porter, I surely cannot tell you who to befriend in Hannity Hills, but I would caution you about Ross Coleman.”
I sat slack-jawed. Andy made soft whinnies and snorts. Someone in the reception area sneezed.
“Uhm, why is that?” I inquired crossing one leg over the other than instantly changing my mind.
Bartlett looked at Andrew then me. “He`s a man well into his fifties who has never been wed. And you with a young boy to protect . . .”
“I`ll stop by before I leave town to find out about a babysitter. Thank you for your help. ” I grabbed my nephew by the arm and left, nodding at the grim woman at the desk as I passed. I could not get outside quickly enough. We drove to the shop. Andy was oblivious. I grabbed the completed landscape from the back seat, nabbed Andy as he dallied on the sidewalk, and rushed into the shop to find Ross laughing with an attractive young woman with dark hair.
“Hello, Mr. Porter!” Ross smiled, motioning me to join them. I did, my eyes darting from Ross to the blue-eyed woman then to the back room. “Mr. Porter, this is Miss Abigail Jenkins, our town librarian.”
“Pleasure,” I said with a nod of my head. “I brought the landscape. Perhaps we could take it into the storage room and discuss a suitable consignment plan?”
Ross studied me closely. “That would be fine. If you`ll excuse us for just a moment, Miss Jenkins?”
“Of course.” She smiled warmly. Andy had found the stash of other handcrafted toys and was seated on the floor behind the cash register. Miss Jenkins sauntered off to browse. We slid into the backroom but left the door cracked in case Andrew called.
“Ross, the people of this town know about you,” I whispered as he took the oil from me.
“I know,” he said, tipping his head left then right as he drank in the painting. I blinked several times. Ross glanced at me. “You look stunned.”
“I am. I`m stunned that you`re not worried about it.”
“They don`t know anything, all they have are suspicions and as long as I keep my nose clean-”
“Clean as in having my car parked at your house every night?”
“Jon,” he whispered, turning to peek through the cracked door then giving me a hard look, “you need to calm down. Suspicions are just that, suspicions. I`ve heard the whispers for years. How you heard them is the question.”
“I was talking to Bartlett about selling some paintings in your store. He cautioned me to make sure I protect Andrew from you.”
The thunder and lightning erupted in his stormy eyes when I passed that horrid detail along. I wanted to hold him and rain kisses along his sternly set jaw. I folded my arms over my chest instead.
“I won`t even dignify that disgusting comment with a reply. We do need to make the fog a bit denser though. Miss Jenkins! I`ve just discovered something I think you`ll be pleased to hear!”
I stared at Ross`s wide back as I fumbled along behind him, lost as a man could be. Miss Jenkins came bustling over. She wore her frock nicely. Ross took her hand and placed it in mine.
“Mr. Porter has just said that he was grievously disappointed not to have a date for the dance at the community center this Saturday. Would you be willing to go with him?”
Miss Jenkins blushed prettily and bobbed her head. I felt my hand grow cold as it cradled her feminine one.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
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