“And probably horny.”
“That too.” Bulldog was glad Smash was listening. “He isn’t ready to face people, but he does wanna go outside. He watches the animals play in the woods, and thinks maybe he can hang out with them because they won’t make fun of his face. He tells his sister what he wants, and she hires this architect to build these tunnels, so he can be outside, in the woods, but still feel safe and protected.”
“From, like, bears?”
Bulldog rolled his eyes. “No. It’s more metaphorical, actually. The long tunnel tubes would be all glass, and they’d wind through the woods….”
“Like those pipes hamsters play in, that go up and down and all over?” Smash had stopped rubbing himself. He sounded sleepy.
“Kinda, yeah. Only fancy. Miles of them through the woods. And the architect comes to design them.”
“And the guy and the architect are about to fuck?”
“Right. Pennsylvania and Sam.”
“Sam?” The question came on a yawn.
Shit! Bulldog’s inner voice chastised. “Samantha. The architect’s real name was Samantha.” He easily saved himself.
“Samantha….”
“‘Samantha makes her way up the long, winding staircase, nervously grasping the smooth, polished, wooden banister. When she gets to Pennsylvania’s door, she reaches, tentatively, for the knob.”
Bulldog paused for dramatic effect. The sound of Smash’s light snoring across the room, though disappointing, also made him smile.
The rest of the day passed between therapy, tests, vitals, and meals. It seemed the duo only passed each other coming in or going out of the room.
During his daily treatment in the hyperbaric chamber, Bulldog imagined Smash jerking off, assuming the big guy actually was, now that he had the room to himself.
Sigh.
Oh, to be a fly on the wall!
Bulldog imagined himself jerking off, hoping before long he’d be able to do it for real.
Another sigh.
Just before dinner the next day, the moment Bulldog returned from treatment, bored out of his mind, refusing to see anyone because of his uncertain condition—not health-wise, but looks—Smash asked Bulldog for the next chapter in the life of Pennsylvania.
“Skip all the foreplay, though.” He pulled the curtain shut, drew up his knees, and pulled his dick out from beneath his gown. “Just get to the sex. If you feel up to it, that is.”
Bulldog was tired. He was weak, but he summoned his strength—for Smash’s sake—and, maybe, just a little, so he could enjoy a shadow puppet beat-off.
“Okay. So Sam….”
“Samantha, right?”
Was that disappointment Bulldog noted?
“Yeah. Samantha, with, um, tits bigger than Nurse Nancy’s.” He went off-book. “You’ve seen them, right? I mean….”
“Been here many times. I fly into things for a living—bust through walls, break down doors, take down trees. I’ve had stitches in my head, casts on my legs…. Nurse Nancy has given me plenty of sponge baths in my day.”
“Lucky her,” Bulldog mumbled.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“Nancy’s tits, they’re not really my thing, though. Not big into tits. What say we just put Pennsylvania’s peter in Sam’s mouth, and I’ll let my imagination do the rest? I’m halfway there already.”
Smash lifted his butt up off the bed, adding a whole new dimension to his sexy shaded silhouette.
Bulldog had visions of Michelangelo’s garden, complete with a pornographic sundial.
“Sam was told never to go into the house,” Bulldog improvised. “But one day he—”
Fuck!
When Smash didn’t object to the male pronoun, but kept right on stroking his meat, Bulldog kept right on telling his story.
“He had watched the day before, as Pennsylvania pleasured himself at the window.”
“Kinky.”
“Behind the sheer drapery, his manly form thrusting, arching, stroking, Pennsylvania didn’t stop, even when he noticed Samuel looking on. There was an instant connection as their eyes met, even through fabric and stained glass. Over the next several days, Penn came to the window nude, always covering his face as he performed for Sam and relieved his pent-up sexual yearnings.”
“Hot.”
“Even though they’re not fucking?” Bulldog grinned.
All he got was a near-orgasmic grunt.
“Sam wrote love notes to Penn, huge, poster-size declarations of being smitten—”
“Smitten? Really?”
“Hush. Declarations he held up from two stories below.”
“Can they be dirty declarations about being ‘smitten’?”
“Pennsylvania, he, um, moved to a clear window, and wrote erotic poetry all over his naked body.”
“I’m gonna come.”
“No. Wait till Sam gets to the bed.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Play with your ass, or something!”
“He was up the damned stairs two days ago! Why is he outside again?”
“Backstory.”
“What’d I tell you about backstory? Get them fucking.”
“Okay. Um… one day, um… just out of curiosity, Sam tried the front door.” Bulldog quietly reached for the curtain and lifted one corner. “Whoa!”
“What?”
“Nothing.” The storyteller tried to get back on track. “Um… Pennsylvania….” He felt a little bad spying on the hottie with his hospital gown up around his neck. “Pennsylvania….” But once he saw the tight middle, the smattering of jet-black hair on pale skin, the thick legs with twice as much, and, oh yeah! that rock-hard, fat, long, superhero, super suckable dick.... “Pennsylvania….”
“Pennsylvania what?” Smash demanded.
“Oh! Pennsylvania was taking a nap. Sam…. Um….” Bulldog swallowed hard as his own dick, one of his few body parts not wrapped in medicated compresses, demanded some attention.
He’d been relieved, ecstatic really, the first time he got wood after the second fire—after the first one, too—years after. Shallow as it was, the fear that things might not work down there was not something he could have faced with his usual resolve.
Since he’d been at the League of Power infirmary, he hadn’t had a chance to test himself beyond erection. He was looking forward to the opportunity.
Now might be good, he decided.
Smash, meanwhile, had taken Bulldog’s advice. His fingers were teasing the area under his sack, running along his thighs, venturing into the split, places Bulldog wished his cock could go.
“Mmm….”
“Hey!”
Bulldog nearly fell out of bed. “What?”
“Do you actually have a story here, or are you making this up as you go along?”
Bulldog settled himself upright. He struggled to come up with more story, and, even more, to wrap his fingers around his fat stiffy.
Shifting his body wasn’t all that difficult. Executing fine motor skills, bending his fingers, making his bandaged, nerve-damaged hand obey orders, that was both frustrating and hard.
“So, Sam moved to the bed and he just looked at Pennsylvania lying there. He gently pulled back the covers to see if he was naked beneath them.”
“Mmm.” A soft moan from Smash.
“Mmm.” Bulldog made the same noise, pleased that he had sensation in his hand, even through the gauze. “Mmm.” He said it again as it rubbed against his tingly, thick half-wood. “Pennsylvania stirred,” he said much clearer. “‘Ssh’, said Sam, ‘It’s me.’ Pennsylvania was afraid. He was anxious and scared, but when he felt Sam’s warm touch against his cheek, trepidation melted away.”
“I think it’s dick-up-ass time, kid.”
“Sam took Pennsylvania’s throbbing penis in his mouth, first. The sensation Penn felt in his gut—one he had often imagined—was immeasurably better than anything he ever could have fan
cied.”
That sucked, Bulldog thought.
“Keep going.”
“Sam’s head bobbed up and down on Penn’s rigid prick. Penn let his hands wander the whole length of Sam’s hard, nude body. ‘I want to,’ Pennsylvania said timidly, ‘I want to taste you.’ Though Sam was reluctant to give up on the cock he hoped would soon shoot hot come right down his throat….”
A grunt let Bulldog know Smash liked the dirty talk way more than romantic stuff.
“He released Pennsylvania’s hot, salty lick, only for a second, then threw his legs over Penn’s head, so, straddling his ears, he could bend over and swallow dick while giving Penn the opportunity do the same. Penn was tentative at first; staring at the dangling dick and balls, up into the crevice—”
“Fuck yeah!” Smash said without even realizing it.
“The crevice… umm… nearly nose to hole, wanting to taste it, after going down, or up…. Penn was inexperienced and wondered if it would be called going up on a man, considering their 69 position. Going up? Get it?” Bulldog grinned.
“Ha ha. Funny. Now make Sam fuck Arizona.”
“Pennsylvania.”
“Whatever. Fuck him up his virgin ass. Make him scream. Make him come while Sam pounds his tight, little ass.”
Bulldog almost shot his load prematurely. His hand hurt like hell, wrapped around his fat cock, but the good feeling far outweighed the bad. “Sam worked Penn’s hole with his tongue.”
Somehow they had speedily changed positions, Bulldog guessed. Not that Smash seemed interested in story consistency.
“Oh yeah! Rim him good, Sam,” the other said breathlessly.
“He worked his wet ass with tongue and one finger, then two, making pure Pennsylvania hum a low tune of sensual paradise. ‘Put your cock in me,’ Pennsylvania begged. Sam gave himself a couple of hardening strokes. He coated his cock with lubricant and pressed the very tip against the uninitiated pink pucker.”
“How big was it?”
“Big. Like yours.”
Oops.
“Nice. And how big was good old New York?”
“Like mine.”
“That doesn’t tell me much, Mr. Writer Man.”
“Oh. Shorter, but, uh, really fat.”
“Mmm. Nice. Wish I could feel it.”
“What?”
“Sam’s cock. Wish I could feel it up my ass.”
“Oh.”
“Or the other guy’s….”
“Pennsylvania.”
“Yeah, him.”
Bulldog’s super-sensitive hearing could detect the change of speed and slickness as Smash rewet his palm and started stroking harder and faster.
Smash was gonna come.
“So Sam… I mean, Pennsylvania….”
“To hell with them. Tell me about your cock. Describe it to me,” Smash said as a growly whisper.
“Wanna, um, touch it?” Bulldog asked slowly.
Smash stopped stroking.
Fuck! Bulldog thought. I blew it.
But he hadn’t. The brief awkward silence was soon interrupted by the sound of curtain rings scraping against the curved metal rod.
“Say something.” Smash was on his feet. “I can’t see, so I need to follow your voice to get over there.”
“Oh. Um… I don’t know what to say.”
Smash slipped his hospital gown off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
“Wow!”
“You gotta say more than ‘wow’,” Smash said. “But thanks.”
“Can you walk over here backwards? Your dick is fucking awesome, but I’m an ass man, truth be told.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Smash’s lips. He turned his back and took a few steps. “Oops, dropped my pencil.” He bent over for his imaginary writing piece, giving Bulldog a good view of his slightly hairy crack and the grand prize, the bull’s-eye, the toy in the Cracker Jack box! “Like it?”
“Mmm. If half my face wasn’t bandaged, I’d bury it in there until I couldn’t breathe.”
“You’re a dirty little bastard. Tell me what you look like.”
“I’m average, I guess. I have reddish hair.”
“All over?”
“I’m pretty smooth.” No hair would grow over most of him because of the burns from when he was little. “But the hair I got, yeah, it’s red there, too.”
The quick conversation was enough to get Smash the short distance to the other side of the room.
“Take my hand,” he said. “And put it on your junk.”
“Junk.” Bulldog laughed.
“I don’t know any flowery writer words like you, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.” Bulldog did as requested. “Mmm.” He liked Smash’s hand on his junk. “Our ages aren’t that far….”
“This hair I feel is red?”
Bulldog felt himself blushing. “Yeah.”
“Hot. Touch my cock.”
Smash jumped when Bulldog did.
“Oh. Sorry,” the kid said. “Bandages.”
Smash felt around, gently exploring Bulldog’s body. “A lot. Does it hurt?”
“It’s way better than it was,” Bulldog said. “I’m almost off all the drugs.”
“Good. Would it hurt you if…? If I sucked your dick?”
Holy shit! Out loud he said, “I don’t think so.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before his dick was inside Smash’s mouth, making him repeat his “Holy shit!” one more time.
He was a sloppy sucker, Smash was. His spit generously lathered the head and dripped all the way down the shaft, soaking the red thatch of fur he ran his long, thin fingers through. He worked the fat tool with expertise, sending shivers up and down Bulldog’s body, and, rather quickly, a warning signal to his brain, nuts, and cock tip.
“I’m gonna come,” Bulldog warned. “I can’t get it on my thigh. I have a pretty bad…. Fuck! I’m not all that certain as to the properties of semen on open wounds, but it has the potential…. Oh my God! I would think it could burn like a bitch!”
“No problem,” Smash reassured with his mouth full.
“I can’t hold back,” Bulldog stressed. “You want me to…?”
“Bring it on,” Smash said eagerly.
“You sure?”
It seemed a wee bit familiar to slightly inexperienced Bull. Swallowing come was something lovers did, the naïve boy thought, not acquaintance fuckers. He didn’t wanna take advantage of Smash’s doped up mind.
“I….”
But there was little time to debate as Smash’s masterful mouth swallowed Dog wood all the way down to his pubic bone. The raven-haired stud shook his head back and forth, only coming up briefly for air, with a grunt and two words. “Do it.”
He went down one more time, teasing with his lips, pausing at the curved, engorged dome, using tongue and extra suction to amplify the sensations and bring the boy to the edge. “Just come, boy! Come!”
“Aohragh!” It was a pleasurable exclamation, for sure, and quite loud, even overpowering Smash’s animated, raucous sucking noises.
Several spurts and a whole lot of cock-twitching followed.
“Nice, kid.”
“Don’t call me….”
“My turn,” Smash said. He spat a mouthful of jizz out onto the floor and then licked his lips, savoring just the tastiest of whiteness that comes from the very first shot. “I’ll blow over here.”
“No!” Bulldog hollered. “Come on me.”
“I thought it would hurt you.” Arguing helped him hold back some, but within a matter of seconds, the man was gonna nut! Bulldog’s gauzy touch on his ass was a hot new sensation. Add the taste of boy milk—from a redhead—and his own hand now working his tool the way it liked it most, even a man of steel could only take so much! Onto the floor, down the wall, into the curtain, on Bulldog, edged-to-the-max-Smash didn’t much give a shit where, but the guy had to come and he had to come fast! “Just tell me where you want it, dammit!”
“My feet,” Bulldog said. “Come on my feet!”
“Where the fuck are they? I can’t see, remember?”
“Step back,” Bull said, quickly but calmly.
Smash did.
“A little more.”
Smash followed direction.
“Turn slightly to the left.”
“Kid….”
“A little more.”
“Ahh....”
“A little more.”
“Oh… I’m gonna cream!”
“Just a tiny bit more.”
“Mother shit!”
“Okay, you’re there.”
Smash’s warm, sticky superhero spooge soon buttered Bulldog’s foot. The last minutes of edging made the climax real intense. “Mother Fucking Shit!”
“Oh yeah!” The small ginger squealed. “Come on that foot!”
“You kinky freak boy!” Smash grunted, firing shot after shot. “Like come between your toes? I’ll fucking come all over ’em!”
He wiped his slightly deflated but still thick, rubbery wang through the fluid afterwards. “Never had a guy who liked come on his feet. Next time, I’ll come on the other one. Naw,” he reconsidered, tapping the sole of Bulldog’s paw with his Jacob’s Cannon, “I’ll come on both—then lick it off!” He imagined a beautiful pair of size-twelve or -thirteens.
In reality, they were barely a nine.
Smash turned to leave. Though Bulldog immediately romanticized the encounter—two patients brought together by fate, bonding over a common disfigurement, destined to fall in love and have mind-blowing sex over and over again—“Hit it and quit it” Smash had only gotten as far as the kinky relations part.
“You can, if you want,” Bulldog offered, “stay over here for a while.”
“Naw.” Smash was done. “But I’ll give ya one last thrill.” He bent over for his discarded covering partway back, running his thumb up and down the wisps of sweat-dampened curls decorating his deep, hot man-space. “One for the road. I’m supposed to be outta here tomorrow.” He wiped his dick off with the hospital gown and tossed it over his shoulder. “Maybe we’ll meet up when you’re back in your cape, so to speak.”
“I don’t wear a cape.”
“Oh.” Smash felt his way back to bed. “Well, whatever.”
“Smash… I mean… Jacob…?”
“You know who I am?” The other stopped in his tracks. There was panic in his voice.
Men of Steel Page 24