Chapter 17

His eyes were shut, his cheeks slack, fucking not only with his

dick but with every fiber of his being, giving himself wholly to

the moment and the man beneath him.

After a breathless second when I was sure RC

saw me through the partially closed slats, he too gave into their

coupling. His eyes glazed over and rolled back as he moaned in

pleasure. I picked up my own rhythm again, matching Mr. Pierce’s,

tugging myself to release not once, not twice, but three

exhilarating times, each orgasm racking me silently. They felt like

a strand of pearls, each one precious, pulled from me in rapid

succession. My palm filled with jism; I smeared it along my length,

coaxing a second ejaculation from me, and a third.

Suddenly the scene before me seemed private,

too intimate, and I felt ashamed for watching. Mr. Pierce leaned

over RC almost protectively, grinding his hips into his lover. RC

fucked into his own hand, fondling his balls, reaching down farther

to toy with Mr. Pierce’s behind him, as well. Together they moved

toward ecstasy, each guiding the other to a climax I knew would be

as mind-shattering as my own.

I leaned back against the counter to catch my

breath, my sore dick now limp between my legs, my feet and legs

numb from the position I’d been in for so long. Rolling my head to

one side, I saw the edge of a dish towel hanging over the counter

above. I reach up, stretching, and snagged it down. The faint smell

of Dawn soap wafted up from the still damp rag, which I used to

gingerly clean myself off.

In the dining room, RC’s breath grew ragged.

“Yes, yes,” he moaned. Then, raising his voice, he cried out, “Yes!

God, Hank, harder, fuck me, harder.”

Between clenched teeth, Mr. Pierce warned,

“Shh. My son’s upstairs.”

“Harder,” RC whispered. He pushed back

against Mr. Pierce, eager to get off. “Harder, harder. Yeah.

Oh, yeah. Yes, yes, yes.”

I saw Mr. Pierce’s buttocks tighten inside

his briefs. He thrust forward one last time, up on tiptoe now, and

held that position as he threw back his head, a guttural moan

rising from the back of his throat when he finally came deep within

RC’s ass. Mr. Pierce’s orgasm triggered RC’s own, and I saw a few

white drops trickle down RC’s wrist as he closed his hand into a

fist to keep from dripping onto the floor. “God!”

Then Mr. Pierce collapsed onto RC’s back.

“God,” he said again, his voice scratchy and hoarse with

exhaustion. “You’re something else, you know that? You’re damn

good.”

RC turned his head slightly, lips pursed.

“You ain’t bad yourself, old man. Kiss me.”

Without comment, Mr. Pierce did just

that.

* * * *

I blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream.

A satisfying wet dream that had left me spent. I felt warm and

relaxed, and if I had access to one of those packs of cigarettes

left discarded on the dining room table, I would’ve lit up even

though I’d never smoked a day in my live. But I wanted to breathe

in deep, hold in the moment, let it percolate within me, sear my

lungs, then exhale slowly, sated. I felt as though Ihad

just been the one in there, fucking, fucked. I had never found such

release in masturbation before and knew, sadly, I probably never

would again.

But now I knew how it could be between men,

how wonderful and amazing it could be, and I looked forward to

college more than ever. I wanted tonight, a man of my own, those

kisses and that hard dick in my ass, that tight muscle encircling

my cock. And I’d have it. The rest of my life spread out before me

like a promise I planned to keep to myself.

All that and more.

Dazed, I pushed myself up off the floor and

deposited the soiled dish cloth onto the counter. With gentle

fingers I tucked my now wilted member into the confines of my

briefs, clammy from my own juices. I zipped up my jeans, careful to

be quiet. Already my mind was turning to Mikey and the two beers I

still needed to snag from the fridge if I hoped to gain entry into

his room again. Would he settle for cans, or would it be easier to

grab bottles instead?

Before I could dwell on that question, the

sound of a chair scraping across the dining room floor startled me.

I peered through the slats in the louver door and saw something

that terrified me—Mr. Pierce, pants still undone, dick still

sheathed by a condom flecked with cum and shit, heading toward the

kitchen.