Chapter 4: Mouth to Man
820 Words
Chapter 4: Mouth to Man
The Rawhide Bar & Grille
9:23 P.M.
He took one of my hands and drew it to his chest. He moved in close and licked his way up to my ear, then whispered, “Unbutton my shirt.”
I did as I was told. Good Bradley. Now I’d get a treat, just like a puppy learning to take a piss outside instead of on the kitchen floor. My curiosity was killing me, of course, and I was wondering exactly what kind of bone he was going to give me.
His ripped chest was covered in soft black fur, a total turn-on for me. His n*****s and pecs were firm. His puckered navel was lightly ringed in the same fur. “You know what to do now,” he said.
“What’s that?” I said, playing stupid. Sometimes it’s just the way to get exactly what you want.
“Touch it, man. Roll your palm over my torso.”
And so I did. I touched my fingers and palm to his beautiful chest and started moving south. I trailed my fingers along his sternum, brushing the soft curls with exceeding pleasure. My index finger casually circled his firm navel and traveled southward. I felt a bit dizzy, low on oxygen, lost in his overwhelming sexiness.
“Are you trembling?” he asked me, beaming at me.
“I think I am.”
“Do you like how it feels?”
“I’ve felt better.”
“Yeah, right,” he laughed, pulled me to his chest and walked me backward to a nearby wall. He obviously had things in mind for my city-boy skin.
It was nothing less than triple-X-flick perfect. Cord pressed me to the wall, drew his tongue along my neck and pulled off my tight navy T-shirt, dropping it to the floor. There in the shadows his lips whispered over my hairless pecs, my abs, and he dipped his tongue into my navel. Then he grabbed my Buckling Broncos buckle, unfastened it, and started on my zipper. Within seconds, he’d tugged m jeans below my buttocks.
“I’m going to eat you up,” he said. He’d gone down his knees and was looking up at me past the slope of my chest. He pulled my eight-inch rod from my boxer-briefs, taking a strong whiff of my goods and grunting his approval, ready to start a steamy-hot blow session.
Shame on me when I pushed his face away from my c**k and balls. And shame on me for saying, “Not here. Not in this place. I don’t f**k around with guys in bars like this.”
He rose, brushing his tongue along my chest as he did, and dabbed a kiss on my chin. He said, “I can respect a guy with those limits.”
I zipped and buckled myself back up. Cord picked up my shirt and handed it to me, but I chose not to put it on. I wanted to display myself, flaunt myself to stoke his appetite. I was afraid that if I put it back on, he might head back to his hotel and then go back to Oklahoma, with no interest in seeing me again. But that didn’t seem to be the case. He seemed to drool over my semi-nakedness. No one could have convinced me that Cord Darringer didn’t have an interest in me.
“We should leave,” I said, thrilled that he wasn’t pissed at me for turning him away.
“Where should we go?”
“Somewhere quiet and private.”
“You’ll take me there, I’m sure.”
His shirt was still open and I brushed my fingers across one of his pumped pecs, touched its erect n****e. I wondered how he stayed fit. Something told me he traveled a lot for his company and didn’t have time to exercise. How does a man with that kind of busy schedule stay in shape? I thought about asking him, but one of his tender and manly hugs interrupted me. Cord took me into his arms, squeezed me against him, and gave me an earth-shaking kiss.
Was it possible to be fully awake and under the cowboy’s s****l spell all at the same time? I believed so. “Wooing” seemed an understatement to me right now. The shock of his lips meeting mine made me feel mysterious and desirable, and it made me want more from him. And when he found his courage and pressed his palm against the denim between my legs, I felt light-headed, overwhelmed by lust.
This time he pulled away from me, chuckled, and said, “That was pretty hot.”
“Molten hot,” I admitted. “Who do you think you are, anyway?”
“Someone you want to kiss more.”
“What gives you that impression, Cord?”
“Your cock.”
It was my turn to chuckle, and I said, “A d**k never lies, does it?”
He shook his head and started to walk me out of the bar, a firm grip on my left arm.
“Hey, buddy, where are we going?”
We passed through the crowd of city cowboys; the place had started to fill in the last half hour. The music had ramped up to deafening and the bar was now wall-to-wall men, all different heights and shapes and dripping with sexiness. Almost all of them were bare-chested, wearing cowboy hats and name-brand boots.
As chiseled and partially naked bodies slid around us, Cord shouted at me over the music, “You’ll show me.”
Indeed I would, I thought, craving adventure and his company.
- Writer
