Pretenders (Firsts and Forever 3)

The answer now, quite simply, was with Wes.

I still worried about my career and had no idea what would happen long-term, but it wasn’t all-consuming anymore. Falling in love with Wes and sharing my life with him had given me perspective, and it had made me believe I was going to be okay, no matter what.

I didn’t know how to tell him all of that, so I tried to show him instead. I kissed him passionately, my hands grasping and caressing him, my body pressed tightly against his. He whispered, breathlessly, “God, I love you,” before brushing his lips to mine again, the tip of his tongue finding mine, tasting me.

We ended up naked, tangled up together among the pillows. I grasped his hard cock and mine in one hand, stroking both of us, and he moaned softly, his head thrown back and his skin flushed. I loved this, seeing the side of him reserved only for me, which was as vulnerable as it was wild.

I wanted to give him more, so I flipped around and took his cock in my mouth. A moment later, his warm, wet lips slid over my hard-on. We sucked each other off feverishly, giving and receiving in equal measure. I chased my orgasm and his, and it was frantic, and intense, and perfect.

Before long, my orgasm crashed into me, making my head spin and my body tremble. I kept sucking him throughout it, and he came moments later, shooting down my throat, his moan vibrating around my cock. Afterwards, I scrambled back around and into his arms, and we burrowed into the pillows.

“Hell of a party,” he said, and I burst out laughing.

“We’re celebrating properly. There are supposed to be fireworks on the Fourth of July.”

“True.” He lazily trailed his fingertips down my arm, then over my bare hip. When we kissed each other, it was unhurried and tender.

He was great at making me feel cherished. That had been totally unfamiliar to me before Wes came into my life. Now it was my new normal, and something I would never take for granted.

We probably would have stayed like that all day, naked and wrapped up in each other, if I hadn’t received a text from Cole. It said: Dude, where are you? Actually, I can probably guess, given the way you and your love doctor were looking at each other. Put on some pants and come join us in the front yard. Something epic is about to go down.

I grinned and showed Wes the text, and we both got dressed. As I finger-combed his tousled hair, he asked, “What do you suppose Cole is talking about?”

“Who knows? We’re at Nana’s house, so just about anything is possible.”

When we arrived in the front yard, River exclaimed, “Just in time! The dick parade’s about to start.”

Wes asked, “The what?” But all of a sudden a marching band rounded the corner, all of them dressed in big, inflatable dick costumes with balls bouncing around their feet, and he murmured, “Ah.”

The band came to a stop in front of the house and marched in place. It took me a moment to recognize the song, and a big grin spread across my face when I realized it was Madonna’s “Vogue.” Everyone on our side of the street spontaneously started to dance, including Wes. I loved seeing him cut loose like that.

Considering how hard it must be to march while dressed like a giant dick, the band managed some slick moves, weaving through each other and forming two lines while some of them broke into two smaller groups. Darwin was standing next to us, and he chuckled and showed me his phone. It displayed an aerial view of the band, and I saw that they’d formed a giant dick…made of dicks. I glanced up and spotted the drone hovering in the late afternoon sky, then realized there was an ulterior motive to this spectacle.

Nana’s neighbor across the street rushed outside, his face as red as his apron and his mouth gaping open. Humpington had apparently been having a sedate barbeque with his snooty friends, who followed him into the yard. There was much pearl-clutching and gasping from that side of the street, and cheers and applause from ours.

The marching band moved on after a minute, heading right down the middle of the street. They were followed by a flatbed truck carrying a slow-moving, dick-shaped bucking bronco ride. Two shirtless guys were riding it and waving cowboy hats, while maybe twenty go-go boys in their underwear danced around the truck and tossed dick-shaped sippy cups to the crowd on both sides of the street. My group caught them eagerly, while Humpington and his guests recoiled from them in horror.

Next up in the mini parade was a group of twenty seniors on motorcycles. I recognized Nana on the back of her husband Ollie’s bike, even though they both wore masks—possibly of Colonel Sanders, but I wasn’t quite sure. At first, I thought all the riders were wearing unicorn hats. When we realized each of them actually had a dildo suction-cupped to the front of their helmet, Wes and I burst out laughing.