Chapter 78

Jake groaned. “And you don’t want him to change?”

“Shut up,” Barry and Jimmy said together before chuckling.

“Lube and rubbers are under the couch,” Barry told Jake.

It had become one of Barry’s unofficial duties to make sure each room was well stocked with supplies. He and his cowboys had made love in the bathroom, the dining room, and on one very memorable occasion the kitchen. There was always the danger they’d be interrupted by one or more of the hands, but that was part of the thrill. In the few weeks Bess had spent with them, impromptu sex in the house had all but ceased. Though Barry worried about his friend, he would be lying if he denied being glad the spontaneity had returned to his sex life.

Jimmy lay on the sofa, one leg slung over the back cushions while Barry worked on loosening him up. Meanwhile Jake’s fingers were busy greasing up Barry’s butt. Barry had elected to be the meat in a cowboy sandwich. But despite Jake’s best efforts—and the man could do wonderfully erotic things with his long fingers—Barry’s attention remained on Jimmy. The man just looked so wanton, legs spread, hand lazily stroking himself.

“Want to ride your English train into my American tunnel?”

“Jesus, Jimmy,” Jake groaned. “Where the fuck do you get those cheesy lines?”

“Make ’em up as I go along.”

“Figures,” Jake mumbled.

Barry was alternately amused and turned on. Not that he would admit to the latter. It would only encourage Jimmy further.

“Want your big English cucumber sliding in and out of my American ass sandwich.”

Barry barked out a laugh. “I’d stick to ranching, Jimmy. Don’t think you’d make it as a poet.”

“Come on, slide that salami between my buns.”

“Fuck!” Jake gasped. “You can’t even get the geography right. Salamis aren’t English, dumbass.”

“You eat them in England don’t you?” Jimmy asked.

“Uh, yeah. But ‘bangers’ would be more British.”

“Okay then, bang your banger in my—”

“Jimmy! Shut the fuck up,” Jake demanded. “Barry, just fuck him already.”

“You think that’ll shut him up?” Barry asked.

“If it doesn’t he’ll choke me with his chorizo,” Jimmy said.

“Sausage, at least the non-human variety is off the menu for the foreseeable future,” Barry said, removing his fingers from Jimmy’s ass and reaching for a condom.

Jimmy smirked up at him. “Glad I won’t have to go without human sausage.”

“That would definitely count as cruel and unusual punishment,” Barry said, lining himself up. “Ready?”

“Ride on in, pardner.”

Barry did so. And a smooth ride in it was, too.

“Well, at least he’s culturally more correct now,” Jake said, withdrawing his fingers from Barry’s ass. “You ready for me, Barry?”

“Jist get on that there saddle and ride me to the paddock, cowboy,” Barry said, attempting a western accent.

Jimmy laughed and Jake just concentrated on the task in hand.

It wasn’t easy to get a good rhythm going, but once they did, Barry’s mind and body was awash with sensation. He didn’t know whether to close his eyes and concentrate fully on what he was feeling or gaze down at Jimmy, whose face was going through a whole series of expressions, all of which showed his pleasure. In the end, Barry decided to watch Jimmy and feel what sensations he could

Jimmy was the first to shoot, his load arching into the air only to land on the man’s ripped chest. The tightening of Jimmy’s ass muscles soon had Barry firing into the rubber. Jake took a little bit longer to climax. That was when Barry shut his eyes and gave Jake his full attention.

The three men lay in a tangled heap on the rug, their sweat-sheened bodies reflecting the firelight.

“Definitely a tradition worth keeping,” Jake said, lifting himself up to kiss first Jimmy then Barry.

“Yeah.” Jimmy yawned. “I’m hungry.”

Barry stretched and sat up. “Where are my pants? I’ll go see what’s left in the fridge.”

“Why dress? We’ve all seen what you’ve got,” Jimmy said.

“No way.”

Barry had heard of The Naked Chef, but wasn’t about to create his own version. He well remembered the last time the hands had seen him nude. He wasn’t going to give them another show. Not that there’d be much to see if it was as cold out there as he feared.

“Well, come back in here when you’ve got the food, strip, and we can have a naked picnic,” Jake suggested.

Barry raised an eyebrow. “Another tradition?”

Jake’s lazy smile told Barry it just might become one. 16

December, and the nights were long and cold. Barry was glad Rex was now a house dog so would sleep where he’d be warm.