Shooting Matt Ch. 21

I'm able to capture his cock without using my hands. My hands press against his ribs as he arches his back, pushing his cock into my waiting mouth. I've gotten good at this, if I do say so myself. I wait, breathing through my nose, with his cock deep in my throat. His hips twitch a few times and then he lowers his hips to the bed. That's the way we always start, if I'm sucking his dick that is. It doesn't matter if we're in bed, or if he's leaning against the kitchen counter, or if I'm leaning across the truck seat. When my mouth goes over his dick, he pushes it all the way in, shivers a few times and then eases back out. After that, until he's ready to cum, I set the pace. It's kinda cute in a way. It's almost like a reflex -- lips on cock, push it in, relax.

I savor the taste of his cock and the way it feels in my mouth. I wonder if I was blindfold and a dozen men shoved their cocks in my mouth at random could I pick out Kent's? I'd like to think that I could. It's not just his taste but his smell and the shape. His crown, for instance, has only a very small V. There's a small nub where his foreskin was cut away. I've never had my own cock in my mouth, not that I didn't try back in my youth, but I can tell with my fingers that I have a deeper V and more of flare around the rim.

I tell myself to shut the fuck up and suck his dick. I feel his body shift. One of his bandaged hands taps my shoulder.

"Fuck me, Randy. Okay?"

I kiss the tip of his dick. "That's always going to be okay, buddy. If that's what you want."

He nods.

I climb out of bed. He can't get the lube and condoms with his hands. I had stopped at Kmart earlier in the week and bought a dozen small towels. I needed some for the gym too. I grab one from the shelf under the bedside table. Kent lifts his ass and I put it under him. I toss the lube on the towel and reach in the drawer for a condom. I tear it open and start to put it on.

"Hang on a sec," Kent tells me, as he rolls over to sit on the side of the bed. "Just put it over the tip, just enough so it doesn't fall off."

I do as he asks.

"Hold it there for me."

He leans forward and wraps his lips around the condom and the tip of my cock. As his head moves forward, I move my hand. His head bobs up and down as he unrolls the condom over my cock. I'm quite frankly impressed and tell him so.

"One of my many talents. That's why I prefer unlubed condoms." He gives me an evil grin. "You wanna discuss this or do you wanna get back in bed and fuck my ass?"

I kneel on the bed, bend and bite his nipple. I move between his legs and push them up with one hand. I put the head of cock against his asshole and squirt lube over it and my cock. I use the head of my cock to spread it around. That way I keep my hands free of lube and able to roam over his body at will. I lift him with my arms under his knees while I move my hips to keep my cock pressed against his asshole. I push with my cock as I lower his legs and give a low groan of pure satisfaction as the head of my cock is embraced by his sphincter. We keep going until I'm pressed hard against his body.

I lean over his chest and we kiss as I flex my hips, fucking him slowly. In this position and with my limited flexibility, my cock is barely moving but it's enough. I do my best to angle my cock upwards, pressing the head against and over the firm mound of his prostate.

This afternoon, that's the way we keep it. Slow with lots of kissing and nonsensical muttering against each other's neck.

"Don't cum in that thing," Kent whispers as the movement of my hips begins to pick up.

"Um, bud, you know how much I love your blow jobs but I just want to stay here today, okay? I just want to fuck you nice and slow until I cum, with your legs wrapped around me, pulling me in closer."

I like that he consents by nibbling the side of my neck. I force myself to keep it slow. I think that's the reason why a blow job feels so much more intense. If you're fucking or jerking off, when you get close you generally go faster, do whatever it takes to cum, to get release. When someone is blowing you, they're, for the most part, in charge. When you get close, you can grab their hair or try to thrust but if they keep control, you still are forced to wait. And the wait is agony. And that makes the release so much more pleasurable.

I've been using this new-found wisdom, keeping it slow until the end, letting the tension build. It works. Maybe you already know this. If not, try it.

I can feel the explosion building, deep, behind my balls. I consider pulling out, ripping off the condom and cumming over Kent's cock and belly but stick to my plan. When I start to cum I keep moving, keeping fucking his lovely ass, in the same slow, deliberate motion.

Still, he knows. He feels it in my shoulders or senses it in my breathing.

"Um, baby, did that feel good? Cumming in my ass? Hmm?"

I press my head to his in answer.

I rest on my elbows. Kent lets his legs slide down to rest beside mine. I feel my heart pounding against his chest. I rock in his arms as my cock softens. Before I get too soft, I pull out and slip the condom off. I wipe his crack and asshole gently with the towel then fold it up and drop it on the floor by the bed. The used condom goes on top of the towel. It's ugly, a slimy used snake skin looking thing. Maybe it's not worth using them. Wouldn't the towel be enough?

I lie beside Kent, stroking him, letting my brain cool off. Eventually, I push up onto one elbow. "Your turn, lover," I whisper and caress his nipple with my lips. I make my way back to his cock. I rest my cheek on his belly and capture his dick with my lips. I rotate my head and his cock rises to vertical, the head nestled against my tongue.

I tongue his piss slit. Fucking him has gotten his juices flowing. I use my hand to milk him into my mouth. My mouth is slick with his precum and my spit as I swallow his rod. I suck him the same way I fucked him. Slow. Deliberate. I stop to stroke him. I stop to roll my tongue around and around the crown. But, always, before he gets too excited, I go back to sucking him, from crown to pubes, then back up. Slow. Deliberate.

On the upstroke, I purse my lips, milking his dew into my mouth. His bandaged right hand moves to rest against the back of my shoulders and my mouth fills with his cum. I hold my mouth over the head and stroke him into my mouth. I'll never tire of the taste of him.

I hold him there, as his orgasm dwindles away in a series of hiccup-like twitches.

I let his dick fall from my lips and scoot up in the bed.

I press my lips to his. They part. We kiss.

"There, did that get rid of the taste of peanuts?"

He nods with a smile and I stretch out beside him.

***

It's hunger that wakes me. If not for that, I believe I could have slept until morning. Kent's ass is pressed against my hip. His deep breathing flirts with becoming soft snoring. I get out of bed quietly, trying not to wake him. I gather up the towel and condom. The condom goes in the trash in the half-bath. I wash my cock at the sink and use the corner of the towel to dry with.

I look at the small pile of towels and recall the ugliness of the condom. I nod my head to myself and gather up the towels. I throw them in the washer but don't run it, not until I'm sure there'll be no more showers. I rummage in the main bathroom closet until I find the old school red rubber enema bag at the back of the top shelf. I put a drop of liquid hand soap in the bag and fill it with warm water. I squat over the toilet, insert the tip and slowly raise the bag.

At first the sensation is one of pleasure, a sensation of my ass being full, just like when Kent is fucking me. Then it becomes a little too much and then the cramps start. I close the clamp and rest the bag on top of the toilet tank, after making sure the top is closed tightly. I hold the water as long as I can, which isn't long. I don't dare leave the vicinity of the toilet. The water leaves me in a rush. I clean up, flush, and re-insert the tip. It takes two bags before all that fills the toilet is water. I'm taking a chance. Maybe Kent won't want to fuck me tonight but if he does I want him bareback. I want to feel his cum leak out of my ass.

I hop in the shower, wanting to make sure I'm as clean as Howard Hughes' kitchen table.

There's a knock.

"Can I come in?"

Shit, does it still stink in here.

"Uh, sure but..."

He doesn't wait for an answer. If the bathroom still stinks he doesn't say anything about it.

"Uh, can I get in?"

"Sure, of course." I move forward in the small tub and Kent climbs in.

"Let me finish and I'll swap places."

"Sure," he hesitates. "Randy, I need to take a leak."

Why the hell didn't he do that before he got in the shower.

"Uh, sure. Let 'er rip."

"What, I'd..." he trails off looking flustered. A look I rarely see.

Then, an epiphany. I get it.

"Bud, you wanting to pee on me. Water sports?"

He blushes. It's cute.

"It's not something I've ever tried but I'm not opposed. We can try it. If I don't like it; I'll tell you. What do I do?"

"Maybe turn the shower off for a bit, and, um, kneel."

His voice goes up at the end. I smile at him. "Is that an interrogatory 'kneel' or a declarative 'kneel'?"

He doesn't smile. Holy shit, he really is nervous about this. I turn the shower off and lean toward him. I kiss him quickly.

"Kent, it's fine. You aren't freaking me out. I've never tried it but the idea doesn't send me screaming into the night. If I don't like it, like I said, I'll tell you. Is this something that would be a deal breaker for you, me not liking water sports?"

"What? No! I always feel weird somehow about liking this. It's not a domination thing. And I'm fine being on the receiving end. I don't know. Even I feel like it's on the perverted side of things."

"Jesus, you're cute." I kiss him again and kneel. "Piss on me, Kent. I really want you to now. You've gotten my curiosity aroused, and my cock, I want to see what all the fuss is about. Piss on me."

Kent's cock is half-hard. He lifts it slightly with one hand. I wait. Nothing.

"I don't think I can. Jesus, this is so embarrassing."

"Why?" I ask, climbing to my feet. I wrap my arms around him and press my cock against his. "What's the big deal? From what I can tell it's a pretty common kink. And you wouldn't be the first dude to have a shy bladder."

It almost doesn't work. I really don't need to go and it's harder to pee on demand than I had anticipated. But, in the end, success.

I'm surprised at how warm my own pee feels on my leg. Kent gasps and he pushes his body into mine. A moment later, a much greater, and seemingly much hotter, stream of piss hits my leg. I step back and grab his cock, point it toward my belly and chest. I'm shocked at how hot his piss feels on my skin. I play the jet over my nipples. He arches his back, playing the stream higher. I think I know what he wants. I bend slightly and let some of the stream enter my mouth. Not much, I'm not sure about this part. His piss is surprisingly bland, bitter but not more so than some really bitter India pale ales. It has an acrid taste behind the bitterness. I can't say I like the taste but it doesn't gag me. Before I come to that conclusion and the related conclusion that if it's something he gets off on, then I'm okay letting him pee in my mouth, his stream is tailing off.

I bend and take his cock in my mouth. His bladder is spent. There's a few dribbles but that's all. I suck his cock softly for a couple of minutes and then straighten.

"That was kinda fun," I tell him. He doesn't hesitate when I lean in for a kiss.

"You can do that to me, if you want, I mean," he murmurs against my chest.

"Sure, bud. It was surprisingly okay. Come on, let's get cleaned up and take care of those hands."

***

Not long after, we're back at the kitchen table, still naked, sitting on towels as I unfurl the bandages from around his hands. They lay in a clump beneath his hands, a gauze nest.

"Could I take some pictures of your hands?"

"Uh, why? They're ugly."

"No, they're burned. They're not ugly. I think it would make a powerful picture. The soft gauze, the hard hands. The contrast is striking. I can always delete the pictures, will delete them, if you don't like them."

"I guess so," he replies with a very reluctant shrug of the shoulders.

I grab my camera. I've been leaving the 50mm prime on it. I'm trying to force myself to compose with a fixed lens. I take a shot, peer at the back of the camera and reduce the exposure a third of a stop. I take a dozen or so, from various angles and varying distances. I'll let them sit and look at them later. For me time provides a needed prospective. I'm too invested right after taking the shots to be good at critiquing them.

I clean off his burns, which takes hardly any time. There's almost no oozing any longer. Kent spends a few minutes opening and closing his fingers. He can't make a tight fist yet, not without some major grimacing but he's close. I think if it weren't for the bandages, he could manage to hold a cup, maybe even wield a mean butter knife.

We stare, uncomprehendingly at the TV until we realize neither of us are watching it and then head to bed.

"Thanks for not freaking out," Kent tells me as we make ourselves comfortable.

"I don't feel like there's any call for praise. Why would I freak out? Honest, if I didn't want to do that, if I don't want to do something, I'll tell you, 'Kent, that doesn't sound very fun to me.' Would that work? Buddy, you forget I had a junkie wife, then a junkie ex-wife. I got over freaking out a long time ago. If something ever did get that bad between us, I'd tell you I was leaving and walk. To be honest, right now, I can't imagine that happening but I've learned that lesson. I won't just disappear but past a certain point, I'll simply tell you -- bye."

"So, what is, what are, your red lines?"

"I don't know, serious drug problems, that's easy. Beyond that, I don't know. I guess you making it clear you have no respect for me, something like that. I doubt one will pop up out of the blue. I'm guessing there'll be a few yellow flags before a red line is crossed."

He nods.

"What about you?"

"Same. Abuse, not physical, I worry more about mental abuse, belittling, lack of respect, like you said."

"Do you expect monogamy?" My heart is pounding. I wasn't sure the words would come out until the moment they did. It's a loaded question and I'm afraid of the answer, afraid I've asked it too soon.

"Yeah, yes, is the short answer. Cheating is a pretty big display of disrespect. I know stuff happens. You're at a party, too much to drink, some twenty-something Brad Pitt look-a-like offers you his ass. Fine, I get that. I expect safety though. That's a red line. Unprotected sex, outside of us is a red line. We were pretty stupid about that at first. At least I was. I didn't really know you. I hadn't been with anyone in years. I knew I was clean but I let my dick get in the way of my brains at the beginning."

"I agree. I didn't really know you either. We were dumb. We've been going at it kinda hot and heavy, though we've been using condoms. You want to get tested? You can get most of the tests online. Make sure we're both as clean as we think we are?"

"No. I trust you."

"Uh, so does this mean if we were on Facebook we'd have to report we're in a relationship? Talking about red lines and all?"

"Aren't we?" he asks me, looking confused.

"I hope so."

Kent raises up. "Randy, you've been taking care of me for a week. You've put up with my mom. You've fucked and sucked me and peed on me and vice versa. Yeah, this is a relationship. You do this with friends?"

I kiss him, hard. "No, I don't but I've been afraid to hope for too much. It's so fast."

"Yeah, it's been fast alright."

"Kent?"

"Yeah?"

"I really cleaned myself out, while you were sleeping. If you're tired, I get it, but I want you to fuck me without one of those damn condoms. It shouldn't be messy at all and I hate those fuckers. I want to feel you cum inside me, not in a fucking latex snake skin."

"Well, okay," he says with an exaggerated sigh. "But you'll have to suck my dick to get it hard."

"Deal."

Later, as I'm drifting to sleep, I feel his seed leaking down the back of my leg. I start to smile. I'm not sure if I had time to finish it before I was dreaming.

***

"Excellent, very good. They look better than I expected."

The hand surgeon, I've already forgotten his name and his coat is folded over so I can't see it, is beaming at Kent.

"You can stop with the bulky wrap, a thin layer of silvadene and telfa over the areas that are still open, then a bit of Kling wrap and you should be good to go. Show me your range of motion." He nods as Kent opens and closes his fingers. He puts two fingers in each of Kent's palms. "Squeeze." He nods. "Not bad. Range of motion is good but work on strengthening. It's amazing how quickly you lose strength in muscles."

"Do I need to come back?"

"Not unless you have a problem. Your family doc can keep an eye on you. Easier than driving up here from Pittsburgh."

"Okay, thanks. I appreciate all you've done."

"I didn't do a goddamn thing and you know it. I gave you some pointers on taking care of burns, something you could probably have done on your own. But thanks." He winks at Kent. "And oh, by the way, that doesn't mean I'm not going to charge you." He laughs, waves at me, and disappears.

The nurse whisks back in, rushes through a dozen pages of paper that say nothing of importance and we're free to go.

"Now what?" I ask him as we walk toward the car.

"We stop at a drug store, get the stuff he mentioned."

"Let me re-phrase, now where? Are you coming back to Cleveland? Am I driving you home?"

"Have I worn out my welcome? I can't go back to work for at least another couple of weeks, not until the open areas are closed and I have my grip strength back. My short-term disability is good for six weeks, so I don't have to go back to work as soon as my hands heal over."

"You're welcome to stay. I hope you know that. I want you to stay. I hope you know that as well. But I need to start packing. Not packing actually, selling. Whether I rent or sell, I'll need to be out in a few weeks."

"Pack away. I can help. What about work?"

"I gave them my notice but I felt kinda like a shit head for using vacation time to cover it. I told 'em I'd come back for two weeks, starting Monday, then I'm out of there. I'll still have almost five weeks of vacation pay coming in my last check."

"Perfect. I can deal with the sod and do a little packing while you work."

"I think the sod is pretty established. We can back off. I know we decided this is a 'relationship' but it's a very young relationship to be asking you to help me pack. Maybe you could field people who come by to buy stuff."

"If you rent, you could rent it furnished."

"My furniture is from the last century, literally."

"Well, why would anyone want to buy it then?"

"Shut up, Kent." I'm smiling.

He smiles back. "Just sayin'."

"Yeah, and I'm just sayin' -- shut up."

I call Dale after we get going.

"I've decided to rent."

"Excellent. You won't regret it."

"I hope not. Hey, Dale, should I try to get rid of my furniture on craigslist or eBay? Or should I try to rent it furnished?"

"I'd probably lean towards selling it. Most people looking to rent a house already have furniture. They're usually moving up from an apartment, need more space and are waiting to buy. But there's sometimes the guy with a family who needs to be in town for only a few months, for a project, consulting, that kinda thing, who might want a furnished place. We can try it either way."