Stockton County Cowboys Box Set

Chapter 22: The Mile-High Hand-Job Club

Chapter 22: The Mile-High Hand-Job Club

Seats 2A and 2B

3:31 P.M.

Cord really started in on me, jacking my plump meat fast. My mind drifted back to that first night at my apartment, making love with him for the very first time. I felt the cowboy’s hand on my tool—then and now—as he worked me.

“Gonna make you shoot,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl, which was extremely hot. “Pump my fist, guy. Don’t hold it in.”

I listened like a good boy and rose, fell, rose in his hand, rubbing myself into his fist. I panted as my temperature rose. My flying fantasy had turned into reality.

“Hump it hard, Bradley,” he growled low, grinning at me.

I jacked my weight up, let out a deep, indulgent groan, and whispered, “Stroke it, guy—hard.” His hand and my hips synchronized as I rose and fell in my seat. I bounced between the seat and the fist he was jolting into me. Before I knew it, I was f*****g his hand, moaning—as discreetly as I could—and knew that I was going to come, and quickly.

“There,” I whispered through gritted teeth. “I need to shoot.”

“Fire it,” he said. “I can’t wait to see you blow.”

I humped his fist a few more times as an intoxicated groan escaped me, and I felt a whirlwind of pleasure gathering inside me. I gushed into his hand, the thick, warm, ivory cream flying out of my spike and splashing against his smooth fingers and onto my massive Buckling Broncos buckle. My juice could have filled a keg, and it kept leaking out of my shaft in a slow, syrupy flow, coating his hand and running down my balls to pool in my jeans.

Spent, I heaved for air, woozy and disoriented. I’d come so hard that I was shaking and my ears were ringing. I looked down at my explosion gleaming white on my abs and striping my purple d**k like snow on a telephone pole.

“That was a triple-X show, man,” he said, finally releasing me. “I didn’t know you had porn star in you.”

“I didn’t, either. Hey, I’m sure it wasn’t that smoking hot, crammed into these seats.”

He huffed with laughter, “But it totally was.”

“You’re crazy, Cord.”

He fed me, then. He pressed a finger coated with white sap between my lips and coached me softly, “Suck it off and don’t hold back. I want to watch you work.”

I listened and obeyed, suddenly craving my own burst. It tasted more sweet than bitter, and I enjoyed it to the full, relishing my own strong flavor. I was euphoric again and moaned as I felt my come slide down the back of my throat.

“You like that?” he asked, pushing two fingers in at the same time.

I nodded in agreement, sucking the splat from his fingers, and heartily enjoyed the gooey burst, feeling that my homoerotic desires were fulfilled.