Page 3 of Bobby Green
Fifteen months earlier…
VERN ROBERTSflailed for purchase against the hay bale and tried not to let his knees buckle. Goddammit, it was like thisevery single time.
His girlfriend’s brother gave the most delicious head, and in spite of Vern’s protests, Keith Gilmore wouldn’t leave Vern’s cock alone.
“Keith,” he panted, stars exploding behind his eyes. “Keith, I’m gonna… oh fuck… I’m gonna come….”
Keith pulled back, breathed on the head of Vern’s dick, and grinned. “Then come,” he taunted before sucking Vern down again. He could only get halfway down, but that was two inches farther than Keith’s sister could, so Vern wasn’t going to argue. And something about Keith’s grip, his stubble, the dirty way he smiled at Vern when Jessica wasn’t looking—it always made the blowjob ever so much more amazing.
Keith squeezed Vern’s base hard and then tugged on Vern’s generously sized balls. It wasn’t actually the ball-tugging—that was okay—it was the forbidden way Keith’s little finger brushed up against Vern’s asscheeks that did it—sent Vern right over, pumping hard and hot into Keith’s sucking mouth.
Keith gagged and swallowed and swallowed more, finally backing off when Vern was still milking the dregs out of his own cock, because this here—the coming forever—was about the one thing in the world Vern could do right.
But only with Keith.
“Whoo!” Keith chortled, falling back against the straw and wiping his mouth on his bare shoulder. “Damn, Vern. That’s like a party trick. You should do that on the internet and get paid!”
Vern rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I think that’s called porn, and your sister would kill me.” He bit his lip self-consciously then, tasting Keith’s come in his mouth all over again, because it had been Vern’s turn to suck first. “Not that, uh, she’d be any happier about what we’re doing now,” he said delicately.
Keith just smirked at him, completely naked, sweating in the heat of the hay barn. Vern blushed and pulled his jeans up from around his ankles, positioned his briefs, and buttoned up. He checked the neck of his T-shirt self-consciously, hoping none of Keith’s jizz had spilled out of his mouth, but Keith didn’t come for as long as Vern did, so it wasn’t a problem.
“Yeah—and my girlfriend would probably gut us both with hay hooks,” Keith said affably. It was true, though—Carla was a little bit, uh,psychoticandjealouswere the words Jessica used. “But that don’t mean we’re gonna stop.” He winked—and Vern recoiled.
“But Keith—you and Carla—you’re gettingmarriedin a couple of months.”
Keith had sandy-brown hair and gray eyes in a farm-boy tanned face. When he smiled, he looked bright and wicked and alive, but times like this, when he looked blank, Vern suspected he really didn’t have a lot going on upstairs.
“So?”
Vern stared at him. “Keith—you’re gettingmarried.This… I mean, it’s bad enough what we’re doing here—butmarried.”
The blowjobs hadn’t been Vern’s idea. He and Keith worked for Keith’s dad in the summers—baling hay, driving it to feed stores around the county, feeding Mr. Gilmore’s stock. Two years ago—right after Vern hit his growth spurt at sixteen and passed six feet tall—they’d worked a long summer’s day and ended stripping off their jeans and hosing each other off behind the barn. Keith had taken one look at Vern’s equipment through the wet cotton of his briefs, shucked the briefs down to Vern’s ankles, and blown him, right there in the mud. Vern hadn’t been going with Jessica yet—but Keith had been with Carla for more than a year.
When Vern said something—as he remembered, it had been along the lines of “But… but… you’ve got a—omigod, I’m gonna come! Girl—Jesus yes!—friend!”—Keith had grinned up at him, those appealing crinkles in the corners of his eyes.
“Cool your jets—just boys playing around.” And then he’d sucked on Vern again, and Vern had come in his mouth.
But now—now with Keith and Carla getting married and Vern and Jess talking about it—this thing they were doing didn’t feel like boys playing around anymore.
It felt like cheating.
Vern discovered he didn’t like this feeling much.
Keith stood up fluidly, the lean muscles in his twenty-one-year-old body stretching and flexing as he did.
God, he was pretty.
Vern felt like a fag for thinking it, but Jesus—Keith Gilmore’s body was made for more than blowjobs. Vern felt a little cheated, actually—here they were, doing this thing that could get them caught, screw up both their lives, and ruin their relationships, and he hadn’t even been allowed to run his hand down Keith’s back, just to feel his muscles and his skin.
“Stop looking at me like that, faggot,” Keith taunted, rolling his eyes. Vern looked away.
“We can’t do this after you and Carla get married,” he said in a small voice, and for once, Keith’s perpetual smirk fell away, and he looked a little lost.
“What? Why the hell not?”
“’Cause it’s not right,” Vern said, walking to the sink in the corner so he could wash the come off his mouth. “You may not think this is cheating, but I bet Carla won’t feel that way—”
“So we don’t tell her!” Keith laughed as he came up beside Vern and grabbed a cup from the ledge to start drinking from. Vern flashed to when he and Jessica had been washing dishes at his mom’s house the night before, when she used the opportunity for closeness to bump his hip, nuzzle his shoulder, touch his back.