Montana Ch. 02

"Oh, fuck."

I pulled off a little bit, used my hand to hold the bottom of him, wrapped my lips around my teeth a little and sucked some more. I wasn't doing this right.

All I wanted was to please him. I thought about the motion of how my hand went over him, and tried to mimic that with my mouth, up and down, and then with my hand and mouth together. I thought about how he had said 'hot mouth'. I tried to make my mouth hot and wet and tight around him, pulling the suction in, and keeping a rhythm I thought he'd like, and pouring all the love and energy into it I could.

And something clicked and suddenly I LOVED it. I was meant to do this. Without meaning to, I went faster and faster, harder and harder. My God, his dick was in my mouth. This was Kevin. Kevin! As much as I loved all those nights when I had his cock in my hand, this was better. Way BETTER.

Kevin was making these quiet grunting noises, a heavy passionate, unh, unh, unh, and I was so turned on I thought I was going to explode. Suddenly with a hard shove to my shoulder he pushed me off him. He took one stroke to himself and burst over his stomach and chest, and I came a second later.

I sat back on my haunches.

"Fuck. That was the greatest blow job I've ever had, and I've had a few. Noah, that was amazing."

"I've never done that before," I said sheepishly.

"Well, you're a natural. That's freaking fantastic. You can do that any day."

"My pleasure," I said with a shy smile.

And if you hadn't pushed me off you we wouldn't have had to worry about clean up, I thought.

"I'll get you a washcloth," I said.

"No need," he said. He pulled a small hand towel out of his bed side drawer.

"Oh," I said. Then I just sat there. I didn't know what to do. What do you do after you give your buddy a blow job? I usually got up and got him a washcloth, but now I didn't even have that. I stroked his thigh once. "Okay. I think I'll go now," I said.

"All right."

I left.

I went back to my room, cleaned up, and resumed my standard post fooling around pose, flat on my back with my arms behind my head. I stared up at the ceiling with a goofy grin on my face. But after a minute, doubts started to creep in. I wondered if this made Kevin think I was gay now, if he'd think of me differently or treat me differently. If this were a movie, there probably would have been a romantic dinner or moment in front of a castle or something moment where we talked about how we really felt. But I wasn't much of a talker, and not just because I was shy. I was more of a visual person than a verbal one, I guess. Besides, everything was amazing, I didn't want to do anything to fuck it up. This new development was definitely okay. I smiled. I couldn't wait to have him in my mouth again.

*

It was impossible to believe that there'd be that many cherries to pick. And we still had the flax. And the farm animals. And one of the cows got sick. Thank God I took my GED test, and Clay wasn't making me study any more. I didn't have the time. I really focused on my chores during the day, which was tough, because boy, was I looking forward to my nights.

I really wanted to research how to give a good blowjob on the internet, but I was afraid that Clay would check the computer history and find out what I was up to. But every day at lunch I let my mind wander, hoping my creativity would come up with something. Every night I had something new to try. Finally I overcame my shyness and just came out and asked Kevin.

"Hey, I want to get better at this, can you give me some pointers?"

He laughed. "Dude, you should give a class. If there's anybody who doesn't need any pointers, it's you."

I blushed, my cheeks probably getting as red as the cherries, but got down to business. I guess my passion for it counted for something.

I ran my cheek down his stomach first. I buried my face in his pubic hair, smelling him. I used my hand to follow my mouth all the way up and off, swirling my hand over the top when I bobbed off with a resounding smack. Just like with the animals, I tried to read every clue of body language. Every twitch, every hip thrust, every moan. Every snorting exhale from his nose, every pant from his mouth, every groan, grunt. I lived for his pleasure. His pleasure was mine.

To say I was having the best summer of my life was an understatement.

I was euphoric. It was so new, and shiny, and amazing, and wondrous. Of course, I wanted to make silly analogies to popping cherries, although of course nothing actually got popped.

And for me it was spiritual. Even though I knew he couldn't possibly feel the expanded, wonderful way I felt, the connection was miraculous. Better than miraculous if there was a word in the English language for it.

If I had let myself wander into guessing what was in his head, to wonder and compare what he did or didn't feel for me compared to what I felt for him, it's possible all the amazing sense of greatness I felt would be crushed. So I didn't ask. I didn't guess. I focused on the fact I was pretty damned happy, and if I judged by the amount of cum Kevin let out at night, he was pretty damn happy too.

After the first night he let me drink him down. And in taking him in physically, I felt like I took him in in every way. Made him a part of me.

Sometimes, after I went back to my room, it made me cry. And not because it wasn't enough. Just because it was so good.

Chapter 8

Labor Day came around, and Clay actually gave us the day off. I think he did it because he was sick to death of cherries. Cherry season was finally over. I felt like we'd never get the red-purple off the pads of our fingers, and if I never saw another cherry for as long as I lived, it would be too soon for me.

I actually slept until 6:30 AM. I didn't even want to get dressed. I came out to the kitchen table in a robe. Clay was at the table drinking coffee, and Kevin was at the stove.

"Whadda ya want for breakfast?" Kevin asked us. "Cherry blintzes?"

Clay gave him the finger.

"What's a blintz?" I asked.

"Don't encourage him," Clay said. "I don't give a fuck. If it has cherries in it, the answer is no."

Kevin laughed.

"Wise ass," Clay mumbled and snapped open the newspaper.

Kevin made a ton of food, and I ate so much, I was groggy. I turned around and eyed my bedroom.

"Cows still need to be milked," Clay said.

"So much for our day off," I mumbled under my breath.

"Ungrateful wise ass," Clayton said. He swatted me on the ass with the newspaper.

After chores I actually had time to lounge around on the porch for a little bit with a good book. At lunch Clay announced he had a date with Sherry that night. He was taking her out for a fancy dinner in town, and then they were going away for a night at a bed and breakfast north of Route City.

"After this past year and summer, I could frickin' use the break, and I'm hornier than a bronco, so I'll be out 'til tomorrow. Don't wait up."

I stared at him. He'd never been out overnight, ever.

"What?" he asked, looking at me.

"Nothing," I said. "Good for you."

"Good for Sherry," Kevin said with a snicker.

"Jerkface. You're fired," Clay said good-naturedly. And then he did something I hadn't seen him do in five years... he smiled.

At four o'clock Clay went in the bathroom to start showering and getting ready, and at a little after five he came out into the kitchen. He was wearing a fancy grey suit, white shirt, and a blue tie. I didn't know he owned anything like that. God knew where he got it. He held his hands out and did a slow circle. He was also wearing a brand new pair of cowboy boots.

I gave a loud wolf whistle. "Awwwww," I said. "That suit's so preeeetttty. Too bad you're still too ugly to breed."

"That's it, asshole. You're fired too." He gave me a big smile, a clap on the shoulder, and then he pointed a finger at me. "Don't sprain an ankle or burn the house down."

"Got it."

"No hookers or porn."

I gave him the finger.

"Kevin," Clay said. "Look after my baby brother."

"Right-o."

Clay grabbed his cowboy hat and left.

I couldn't help it. I pumped my fists in the air and did the touch down boogie-boogie dance. Too late I realized I probably looked really stupid. I stopped dancing. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose.

"What's for dinner?"

"Cherry pizza."

My face fell.

Kevin laughed.

"Just kidding. Regular pizza."

"You made pizza?"

"Yeah. Well so far I just made the dough. When Clay said he was going out I figured that was cause for celebration."

I started dancing again. Wiggling my ass around and walking backwards.

Kevin laughed. "Stop that. You're going to break something."

I stopped. I did one more booty shake just for good measure. Then I stared at Kevin. "Can I help?"

"Sure. Come on. You can grate cheese and arrange the pepperonis into a smiley face."

Kevin took out his mp3 player and blasted music, a wide mix of everything from Alicia Keys, and Adele, to Garth Brooks, The Beatles, Nirvana, Areosmith, Santana, and Slipnot. The pizza took longer than I thought to cook but not so long to eat. I was quickly sated and debating about whether to turn on the TV or go back to my book.

Then I caught the look on Kevin's face.

He slowly stalked around the table and grabbed me by the back of the neck. Hard.

What????

He bent over and put his lips down to my ear. "You know, you've been so good to me," he growled. "Don't you think it's time I returned the favor?"

What? What?

He pulled me up by the neck and dragged me over toward the sink, pushing my hands out at the last minute so I grabbed the edge of the sink to avoid being slammed into it.

He smacked his hips up against my ass. I felt the semi-hard outline of him against me.

I couldn't believe how turned on I was.

Kevin let go of my neck, ran his hands down my chest, and rubbed one hand over my crotch.

"Payback time," he said.

I threw my head back. "Oh, fuck."

He pressed his chest into my back. "No one home but us," he said. "You can be as loud as you want."

Holy crap.

"Now it's time for me to help you out."

"Oh, my God."

He laughed.

Kevin pulled my shirt out of my jeans. He ran one finger under the waistband. He stopped. Hooked one finger in my belt loop. Paused.

"You fucking bastard," I said with a laugh in my voice. "You're getting off on the control."

"You bet, buddy."

Then he bit me.

I took a sharp inhale, and I saw stars.

I grit my teeth and willed myself not to come.

I stared out the window, flexed my hands, and focused on my breath.

Kevin flicked the top snap of my jeans open. Caressed me over the denim. God, I was so hard, I wasn't sure he'd be able to get my fly open.

I could feel the energy arc between us. Every time we'd been together, I knew that I'd pleased him, but part of me always wondered if he'd really been into it. This time I didn't wonder. He raked his teeth down the side of my neck. I always serviced him. I was always subservient to him. But this time he was dominating me. And he was REALLY into it.

He wrangled my zipper down. Pulled the halves of fly open. Stroked my cock over the thin, soft cotton of my boxer briefs.

"Oh, God, Kev," I moaned.

"That's it, No."

I will not come too soon. I will not come.

Kevin yanked my jeans and underwear down.

His fingertips brushed my hip, he teased me, just barely brushed into my pubic hair, touching the side of the base of my cock.

"Kev."

My cock was fence post hard, the tip leaked pre-cum, and my toes curled under so hard I thought they would break.

"Please, Kev, don't tease me, I can't last."

"No... ah, you want me touch your cock? Grab it? Stroke it? Pump it?"

I didn't think I could get any hotter, but hearing his husky voice in my ear, I did.

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Say it."

"I want you to stroke me."

"Put my hand where you want it."

I wasn't sure I could loosen my hand from its death grip on the lip of the sink, but this might be my only chance to have him do this, and I wasn't going to pass it up. I forced my right hand to work. I reached back, and I put his hand on my hardness.

"Now say it, Noah. Say Kevin, I beg you. Fuck me with your hand."

"Oh God." I will not come yet. Not yet. My toes started to tingle, and my balls seized up. "Please Kev, just do it."

He pulled my cock away from body. He started to pump, slow even strokes. I felt white light fill me, starting with the top of my head and filling everywhere. I knew I wouldn't be able to last. The pleasure was excruciating. It was so great, it was almost painful. I was whining. It was a loud, low keening sound.

I didn't want it to be over yet. I didn't want it to ever end. Please God. Not yet, not yet. I felt like I could feel his heartbeat through my back. His body was getting warmer and warmer. His hand was so large, the callouses so rough, and it was fantastic. I knew, I knew intrinsically that this would be the only time. And I could never get enough. I could never get enough of him. My Kevin. My, my Kevin.

He pumped faster.

Then he stopped. He pulled away.

"Aaugh."

"Hold on, buddy."

Then he was back, his body wrapped tight around mine. He had a kitchen towel. He must have grabbed it off the hook near the stove. He held it in front of my cock and pumped furiously.

I screamed.

"All right, Noah. Come for me. Let me help you this time. Let go."

My whole body bowed back. Huge white bricks of light crashed over my head. Like falling off a horse, breaking my neck, and getting stepped on, I died and fell apart. I exploded—my cum flying into the towel. My heart and soul flying into Kevin, my brain flying into oblivion.

I sagged against him.

He laughed. A warm, contented chuckle.

The best sound in the universe.

"I guess that was worth waiting for," Kevin said.

I still couldn't speak, so I nodded.

*

The world was trying to recalibrate itself to include, hey now, Kevin had actually touched Noah. My brain kept shorting out.

"My brain keeps wondering, how can we just be sitting here watching TV when you just turned my whole world upside down?"

Kevin looked over at me.

"Yeah, dude, you're looking a little mind boggled and wrung out."

I let my body become the huge jellyfish it felt like and slink of the couch and onto the floor.

He laughed.

"I guess I took a little too much out of you," Kevin said.

I sat on the floor and scootched until my back was against the couch and my shoulder was near his leg.

Some teen movie from the nineties was on. One with teenage girls where one girl was wearing glasses and the other girls take her glasses off and change her clothes and give her make-up and she suddenly is the hottest most popular girl in class. The screen switched to a blaring car commercial and Kevin muted it.

I thought about what happened in the kitchen.

"I'm a greedy horn-dog," I said. "I'm always taking from you. I just take and take and take."

Kevin laughed. "It's okay. I get it. I got energy to spare. Take what you need, man."

I felt bad for a second. Maybe I had enjoyed it too much. Maybe Kevin would think I was too gay. I stiffened against him.

He must have felt it.

"Listen," he said softly. The movie came back on but he didn't put back on the volume. "When my mom was sick," he said, and then he paused.

"Yeah?"

"I never talk about this. But when she first got sick, she sent me away. I was thirteen, the youngest. She said she didn't want me to see her go through the chemo and the radiation. But I thought that having me around was too much of a pain and the ass for her. I wanted to be around for her then, but she wouldn't let me." He voice was gravely.

I twisted to look at him.

"So she sent me to live with one of my aunts in New York City. You ever been to New York City?"

I shook my head. "Ut-uh. But I've seen it on TV."

"Not the same. The place is... like no place else. The constant noise. All the gray. The traffic. The smell. The crush of people when you're waiting at the corner for the traffic light to change. The unbelievable lack of green. The weirdness of having no big animals around. The incredible loneliness in a sea of people.

I learned a lot. My mother insisted that she was going to get better. She was an eternal optimist. But in my heart I knew that wasn't true. I knew she was dying. I knew she only had a finite amount of time left, and I was missing some of it. So I spent a lot of my time watching people. N.Y.C. is a great place for watching people. New Yorker's are sort of an anomaly. They are... ah... really present but in their own little world at the same time. It's like they do what they want. You know?"

I nodded. I wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"I saw people with purple hair. People with mohawks. Guys in miniskirts. Women with suits and sneakers. People with dogs in their purses. People rushing around with phones to their ears, trying to squeeze out every second, trying to make the most of every minute of their day.

"And do you know what I learned? Do you know what I learned the most from that trip?"

I shook my head.

"You just gotta be yourself, man. You have to just, you know, breathe into it. Whatever your dress, eye, hair color. Whatever your flavor."

He fisted his hand through my hair and grabbed it hard, yanking a little and pulling my gaze to his.

"It's like the movie," his gaze flicked to the screen and then back to mine. "You can't dress it up and just be someone else. You have to be who you are. Be who you are, man. No backtracking, second guessing, tap dancing, pussy footing. With your friends, no fronting. It's balls to the wall. Be who you are."

He let go of my hair. He looked back at the screen.

"My mother always lived for everyone else," he said softly. "She was always trying to be this preppy, perfect soccer mom. Putting everyone else first. She was quiet when she didn't want to be. Gave up all her dreams when she married, for my dad and us when she didn't really want to and I wonder if that wasn't what ate her up inside. I wonder if that's what killed her."

He looked down at me.

"I don't want to be like that."

"You're not," I said.

I thought I was always taking from him, but I realized, right now, this was his way of giving to me.

I crawled in front of him and pushed his knees further open. I scooted in another inch closer to him, kneeling tall. I kept my hands on his knees.

"Thanks for telling me," I said.

He shrugged.

Suddenly he looked like he was going to say something about me being gay and him not and I reached out and put my finger across his lips.

Electricity sprung up between us, searing and hot, and his eyes opened wide. His lips were much softer than I'd thought they would be, and I was hyper aware of his breathing coming out heavily on my finger as I realized I'd never touched his lips before.

"Sssh," I said into the silence.

I leaned up even more, crouching up, bringing my eyes closer to his as if I could see down into his soul. My gaze dropped to his lips. I felt his mixture of fear that I would kiss him, and total trust that I wouldn't.

I realized we weren't boyfriends, we weren't even lovers. But that untamed, needy energy snapped between us, brutal and hot.

I removed my finger and knelt back down. I slid my hands up the denim over his large thighs, and then back down again. Pressing harder and harder into his jeans until I felt his legs warm, getting closer and closer to that juncture with each pass.

"Shit, No, today is supposed to be about you for once."

"Be about me, huh?" I said.

"Yeah."

"Well then this is me. This is what I want."

I pulled his shirt out and slowly licked his stomach right above his waistband. I unsnapped his jeans and stared at him. I sat back a little bit and teased him, running my thumb over the side of him, watching the outline grow. Feeling the hunger in him build.