Summer Sweat (Spruce Texas)

He meets my eyes. “Maybe try putting on a pair of pants first? That might help you decide.”

“No. I need to know which shirt I’m wearin’ before I can pick which pants. You do tops first, not bottoms.”

“I …” Harrison squirms with his face. “I want to make a sex joke with that, but I’ll refrain.”

“Better to refrain,” I warn him, “because I’m about to lose my dang mind with these shirts.”

“Tops do bottoms, bottoms don’t do tops.”

“Harrison,” I sing warningly as I swipe the shirts off the bed again and head to the closet, only to discover a green shirt I forgot to consider. “Oh. You. I forgot you.”

“If the bottom dictates the top, sounds like you got a power bottom.”

I whip out the green shirt, only to realize it’s a tank top. “No, I can’t wear a tank top on the first day. What message am I tryin’ to convey here? That I’m some summer bum from Spruce lookin’ for an easy degree?”

“Oh, did you decide what degree you’re going for yet?” asks Harrison, as he spontaneously decides to stop being a child with his sex jokes.

“Counselor said I don’t gotta decide.” I tilt my head as I lift the red shirt to my chest and glance at myself in the mirror. “But I’m thinkin’ kinesiology. I like the idea of becoming an athletic trainer or physical therapist.”

Harrison sighs happily from behind as I continue to fuss at the mirror. “You’re gonna go so far, Hoyt.”

I peer over my shoulder at him—and catch him saying that to my ass. “You sayin’ that just because you’re staring at my ass? I’m well aware these are your favorite pair.”

He smirks. “You better pick out your clothes real soon and put them on so I can tear them right back off of you.”

“Promise?”

That earns me a growl. “Hoyt, I’m warning you …”

I chuckle to myself. “Listen, you better leave me alone before you make me late for class on my first damned day.”

Before I can so much as draw another breath, Harrison flies off the bed and appears right behind me. I see him in the mirror as his arms wrap around my waist and pull me against him.

His big cock, fully hard, makes its presence known as it flexes with all its strength, pressed firmly against my ass.

To be fair, Harrison is really fucking difficult to resist.

And I do need something to help me relieve a bunch of stress right now.

I squirm playfully in his hold. “I … guess we do have time for a little quickie.”

“How about a big quickie?” he asks.

Quite suddenly, whichever shirt I wear to my first day of class is the last thing on my mind. We’re right back on the bed. From the way he’s looking at my ass, and knowing the kind of pleasure only he can give me, it seems like I’m about to be the bottom this lovely Monday morning.

We’ve taken turns all summer. It seems like it’s the perfect speed for us, to routinely hand control back and forth. Sometimes he’s got the mad hunger and takes the reins, steering me like his naughty steed. Other times, I get as frisky as a cat and can’t help but to climb him, tackle him to the bed, and have my way with that mountain of a man.

But strangely, my favorite part isn’t always the sex. It’s how he is afterwards, when all the energy is calmed down, and a glaze of sweat dresses our deeply breathing bodies, and he’s got me tucked away in his arms like a precious treasure.

Harrison is a special, one-of-a-kind, beautiful soul.

He’s not someone you casually pass by. He’s someone who you must savor. He’s someone who takes his time, and with whom you feel like you’ve got all the time in the world. He makes time slow. He makes time freeze. He’s like some kind of magician in that way, having the uncanny ability to make you feel like you’re the only person in the whole world who matters to him. Tomorrow is just a distant, faraway thought. Yesterday and all its woes doesn’t exist. There’s only now. Only the love in our eyes. Only our adoration.

He cherishes me as much as I cherish him.

I’m so in fucking love with this man.

When we’re finished, staring up at the ceiling, in each other’s arms, out of breath, with time coming to a complete standstill (as I explained it so often does when he’s around), I say, “I love you.”

I feel him smile against my neck. “Love you, too, Hoyt.”

“I know it’s just for a day of class,” I go on, “and I’ll be back for dinner and all that … but I already miss you.”

“It’s just Mondays and Wednesdays, and the occasional Friday afternoon. You’ve got the perfect schedule. Strong Fitness won’t even miss you, since you’ll have every weekend free.”