Summer Sweat (Spruce Texas)

And really fucking hard.

“You like that?” he asks softly.

I nearly laugh when I answer. “I fuckin’ love it all. Keep doing that, touch me all over, get your fill. Fuck, I love this.”

I hear the smile in his words when he says, “Glad to hear it,” then continues slowly stroking my abs and chest with his hand under my shirt. Obviously guys have touched me before. Throwing their body at me. Tackling me to the ground with force. Wrestling me for fun at a friend’s house and being dumb. Quick, bro-ish hugs of encouragement. Circling up before a play. Slapping my ass.

No one has ever touched me like this. Sensitively. Caringly. Lovingly. The sensations that fire all over my body are unlike any damned thing I have ever felt.

For the first time in my life, I’m alive. Actually alive.

I’m excited and thrilled to the point of feeling sick with joy. Isn’t that crazy? To be so fucking happy, you feel sick?

All of this, just from the soft touch of his fingertips to my skin.

His hand slides back down, where he caresses the side of my hip, massaging my hip through the jeans. His hand skirts around my crotch, either respectfully or teasingly, and starts massaging the other side, slowly rubbing and squeezing.

“Comfortable?”

It’s like he’s asking my permission. I can’t imagine my face is showing anything but a blissful grin of liberation. “Yeah, man.”

His fingers slide over my crotch.

I bite my lip.

My cock is so fucking hard, it flexes automatically the second I feel the weight of his hand there—desperate to be touched. He is gentle as he massages my bulge through the denim. With both of my hands behind my head, I’m all his. My body. My chest. My abs. Now my throbbing cock inside my jeans. Every part of me is his to play with. I’m his toy, and that’s exactly what I want to be.

But I’m learning quickly that Harrison isn’t the kind of guy to abuse or disrespect anything—even his willing toys. He treats me with more esteem than I could have ever imagined.

The button of my jeans pops open. His other hand must have come into play, because I still feel him massaging my cock through the rough, denim material. My zipper slowly lowers, and already I can feel tension releasing, my cock desperate to come out.

“So you’re a sporty boxer-briefs boy, huh?” says Harrison, mimicking the same tone of voice I used on him.

I smile. I like that he plays back with me. “You bet I am.”

His hand slides into my jeans. The moment his fingers graze across my hard cock through the very thin, clingy material of my boxer-briefs, tingling bolts of excitement race through me. It feels like he’s touching my cock bare. Each time it flexes against his fingers without my control, I feel like I might explode.

“Someone’s excited,” he says.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I whisper under my breath, half to myself.

His fingers close around the base of my hard cock and balls, clenching them through the tight, thin material of my underwear. I’m so fucking excited that I feel myself leaking just from his firm squeeze, and I’m desperate for more.

Suddenly, there’s heat on my dick. His breath, as his mouth draws close. Then I feel his lips on it, pressing kisses to every inch of it, from the base up to the tip, then back down to the base again.

My cock flexes again, but this time it meets the resistance of his mouth. That inspires Harrison to greedily close his lips around it, bathing my bulge in his warmth.

I can’t help but let a moan escape.

He’s doing everything right. He’s making me delirious.

His mouth lifts from my crotch. “Feeling good?”

“More than good,” I whimper.

I feel him tug on the waistband of my underwear, stretching it open. My throbbing cock falls out, meeting the cool night air of the barn—and Harrison’s lips, as they softly press to the warm, firm flesh of my cock, then kiss it all the way to the tip. Oh my god, is this really happening? His tongue darts out, wetting my cock as he licks it. Still firmly gripping the base with his hand, I can barely resist moaning as his sultry, passionate kisses make a goddamned wet wonderland of my cock.

Then his mouth opens and takes in the tip.

I’m helpless to resist the moaning now.

The way he twists his whole mouth and tongue around it has me overloaded with sensations that explode all over my body. I feel like I’m already coming. How can he unwind me so easily?

I grab hold of the back of his head, feeling the soft prickles of his hair where it’s buzzed, then sliding my fingers up to the silky, tiny tight curls on top, where I squeeze.

He seems to like it, because he goes down, swallowing it all.