Page 39 of The Trailer Park Twink

My boy is happier than I’ve ever seen him. When his momma left three hours ago, I stood behind my son and held him, hoping to ease his weary soul. He took an emotional beating earlier. One he wasn’t prepared for. One I don’t think he really deserved.

Listen, I know what my boy did was wrong.

Contrary to popular belief, I am fully capable of being objective when it comes to Aussie and his problematic behavior.

It ain’t nice to drug someone, stuff them in a toolbox, and drive them across state borders, but it happened, and the past is in the past. No, he didn’t apologize, but what good would an apology do anyway? What’s done is done.

Aussie and Ezzy—a cute nickname coined by Bubba—have been practicing their singing skills for the last hour, practicing their routines. I feel like a proud father as my son comes alive in front of me. They’re really giving the songs their all.

Unfortunately, their “all” ain’t all that much.

God help them, the poor boys can’t hold a single fuckin’ note.

They sound like the two cute guys in a boy band who always perform with their microphones switched off, like Tallulah’s own Phillip Firecracker, former boyband member and current pain in the town’s ass with his new proposition to ban all carbs from the Lone Star State.

While their singing leaves a lot to be desired, what can’t be denied is their agility on the dance floor—well, on the living room floor, at least. The men dip and pop and twist and twirl to their heart’s content, never a step out of time.

As Aussie looks me in the eyes and belts out that I ought to “Loosen up his buttons, baby,” his hips roll side to side.

There’s an old pink cowboy hat hanging on the coat rack, and when Aussie playfully puts it on, I can’t tear the smile off my face.

He looks so damn precious like this, all innocent and carefree like he ain’t got a goddamn thing to be worried about.

I guess he doesn’t. His mother is out of the picture, and he’s got me all to himself.

The road it took to get us here has been paved with depraved intentions, but as I stare at Aussie sashaying my way, I realize I’m just as depraved as him, because my hand is on my bulge before the action even registers, caressing my package.

My cock is half-hard at the sight of him, and if he keeps looking at me like that, it’ll be standing at attention in no time.

I know I ought to take my hand away from my denim-covered cock, but how can I when he’s staring at me like he wants to shove my jeans down and swallow me whole, onlookers be damned.

“Daddy,” he says in a low, seductive tone like he’s trying to fuck me with the words. When he reaches the sofa, he straddles my lap, grinding gently against me. “How was our rehearsal?”

I rest my hand on his ass and squeeze. I know I can’t break my baby’s heart by telling him the truth, so instead, I give him what he needs.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever heard such a beautiful sound.

You were breathtaking.” It ain’t a lie or anything.

While his tone is probably off-putting to most, I love it.

I love how perfectly imperfect he sounds when he belts out pop hits of yesteryear.

I kind of want to save up a little money so I can book a recording studio and have Aussie record an off-key album meant for me and me alone.

Something I can listen to when I need to hear him.

If I hadn’t given Shelly my truck in exchange for our freedom, I’d even blast it at full volume as I drove the streets of this small town, potentially deafening every man, woman, nonbinary person, and dog within a nine-million-mile radius.

They’d probably cuss and fuss about it, and maybe even get me on the HOA’s bad side, but fuck the HOA. Fuck anyone who isn’t Austin Snowden.

“You mean it?”

“I fuckin’ swear it, baby.” I grind against him, just needing a little bit of friction.

The moment his lips touch mine, I’m a goner.

Social decorum flies out the window as he fucks his tongue into my mouth, repeatedly spearing in and out.

He’s got a hand on my chest, but it feels like he’s got my heart in his palm, and he can either nurture and protect it or shred it down to ribbons.

“Dallas. I can’t—I’m too . . .” He bites his bottom lip and whimpers as he rocks faster against me.

I don’t even realize he’s hard until pre-cum spreads through the fabric of his underwear and my t-shirt.

“Take me to our room. Please? I’m sorry, Daddy, I know we just fucked earlier, but I’m so hard for you right now.

” To prove his point, he takes my hand and guides it between us until it’s resting on his cock.

I give it a few quick strokes before making my decision.

Bubba and Ezra are going to need to find something to occupy the next thirty minutes of their lives, because I’m about to fuck my son until he can no longer remember his name.

The only name he needs to know is Daddy, and I want to hear it carried away on the winds of a needy moan .

“Bubba, find something to keep Ezra entertained with. We’ll be right back.” As I shift in my seat, preparing to stand, Bubba puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.

“You boys ain’t got to go to the bedroom.” He eyes us up and down, and when Austin shifts back a few inches, Bubba’s gaze lands on the promised land, and I have to bite back the urge to deck him for blatantly staring at the outline of his erection. “Do it here. We don’t mind.”

Ezra gapes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just give him the greenlight to fuck my best friend in front of us?”

I cock an eyebrow and pull Austin closer. “If you think I’m letting you anywhere near his dick, you’re about to learn a hard fuckin’ lesson. Don’t ever look at his erection again. You ain’t got the right to look at him like that.”

Bubba just scoffs and dismisses me with a casual flick of his wrist before turning back to Ezra. “What?”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘What?’ Are you dense, Bubs? I don’t want to watch my friend get fucked. Why would I want to see that?”

“I like it when you call me Bubs. It’s cute.

” Bubba clears his throat and looks down at his feet.

“Almost as cute as you. Besides, it ain’t like you’ve never seen it.

I already know how you like to shoot fat loads while you watch him jack off on OnlyFans.

You told me all about it on the trip, remember? ”

Austin’s eyes bulge. “You did what? ”

“Damn you. Damn you straight to hell, Bubba Jenkins.” Closing his eyes, Ezra sighs. “It’s not nearly as sordid as it sounds, Austin. I can assure you.”

“You ain’t even going to deny it?” I growl, reaching for the lamp on the end table, because I’ll cave his fuckin’ skull in if he ever jacks off to a video of Aussie again.

“Absolutely not, caveman,” Aussie says, slapping my hand away.

“We’re not killing my best friend today.

” With a still throbbing cock, he removes himself from my lap and walks toward his best friend, his dick jutting outward, leading him on his way like a horse-riding general during war times in the Middle Ages.

The front of his briefs are soaking-fucking-wet, and it makes my heart swell with pride, because I’m the reason he’s drenched.

I got him nice and wet in a way I ain’t ever got anyone wet before.

Do I really do that to him? Am I really that arousing?

I don’t know how it’s possible, considering Austin could have his pick of the litter.

Why does he pick me? Of all the men he could’ve had, what’s so special about me?

Ezra takes a step back, raising his hands like he’s pleading for his life. “I promise, I wasn’t doing it for pleasure. I’m not sexually attracted to you.” His eyes dart to Bubba, terror spreading through them as he silently pleads for support. “Tell them. You started this. Fix it, you big oaf.”

Aussie lifts his hand to slap Ezra across the face, but he stops. He must notice something in Ezra’s gaze that calms a bit of the rage storming in his heart, because he lowers his hand and takes a step back.

“What do you mean you didn’t do it for pleasure? That’s the whole point of masturbation. You just rub and tug until it feels good. That’s literally the goal.”

Ezra closes his eyes and sighs. “I miss you, Aussie,” he whispers. “You’re my best friend, and you’re supposed to be there for me, but now it’s like if something isn’t directly related to the topic of Dallas, you don’t care anymore.”

Austin blinks at him. “I don’t understand what any of that has to do with you subscribing to my profile and jacking off to my videos. Were you looking at my dick? Did you see me come?”

Ezra blushes even brighter and looks away.

“I did. I just needed to feel some form of connection with you since you refuse to text back on a consistent basis. We used to spend every day together, even when you were with Tatum and the Bens. Then you moved back home and essentially ghosted me.” The more he speaks, the harsher his tone becomes, and it’s kind of pissing me off, because he ain’t got the right to talk to Aussie any kind of way he wants.

“I helped you move both times. I helped you escape from that monster, Benito. I’ve championed this IRL taboo romance arc you seem to be living with your stepfather.

I did it all with a smile, because you’re my friend, and that’s what friends do.

I’ve officially been the best friend ever, have I not? ”