by GR Richards
Mitch had only brought him home about a hundred times. He should know what to do by now.
Holding the rim of Brent's cockhead between his soft lips, Mitch grabbed Brent's balls and squeezed. It didn't take any more than that. His thighs vibrated as he tried hard to bring them together. No luck. Mitch was in between them, so he squeezed Mitch's naked sides with his legs. He could have sworn he could feel his hot cum surging out of his balls and up through his shaft, out his tip and slashing against the roof of Mitch's mouth. He was so hot. He was hot all over.
Mitch didn't release Brent's cock from the lip lock. As his erection dwindled, Mitch took more and more meat in his mouth, until the whole thing fit inside. He kept sucking until the pleasure got so big it hurt.
Falling asleep would have been easy. As Mitch rested his clean-shaven cheek against Brent's thigh, he stayed awake by watching the droplets of rainwater course down the windowpane. "Are you sure you don't want anything?" he finally asked.
Mitch smiled. "You just gave me a mouthful. What more do I need?"
Rising, Mitch headed to the closet for a crisper, cleaner shirt. Brent considered pulling up his pants, but he didn't. The raindrops were racing. He couldn't take his eyes off them.
"Do you think we'll ever tell them about us at work?" he mused. He wasn't even sure why he asked.
Taking a deep breath, Mitch paused before the closet. "Yes."
Before buttoning his shirt, he walked to Brent and sat on the bed. As they wove their fingers together, Mitch lifted Brent's hand to his lips and kissed it. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Though they'd been together a pretty long time, Brent couldn't always read him. Sometimes--like now--he had no idea what Mitch was about to say.
Mitch gazed into Brent's eyes for a pleasant eternity. Finally, he leaned down on and kissed his forehead. "We'll have to tell them when we announce our engagement."
Brent was sure he'd stopped breathing. Did he die? Was this heaven? Had Mitch really just asked him to get married? He was speechless. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to talk!
But now Mitch seemed worried. His brows slumped as though he were anticipating Brent might say no.
"Well?" Mitch asked, his voice squeaky and high. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking..." Brent leapt up to kiss Mitch's soft pink lips. "...I do like Mondays."
About The Author
You would never know it by the love of public television documentaries and great food in high-end restaurants, but G. R. Richards pens some of the world's hottest guy-on-guy erotica. Richards is no stranger to a bed damp with sweat, or the sweetness of bodies pressed together. There's a reason guys growl for G. R. Richards erotica.
For more information about G. R., visit: http://greatgayfiction.blogspot.com
* * * *
Please enjoy the following preview of other titles by G. R. Richards, all available at AmberQuill.com!
Camp
The Brothers Of Hoggs Hollow
Birds Of A Feather
CAMP
ISBN: 978-1-61124-007-8 (Electronic)
Genres: Gay / Contemporary / The Arts / Interracial / Multicultural / Exhibitionism / Public Places
Heat Level: 3
Length: Novella (27k words)
Despite Steven's excitement about a planned camping trip, his boyfriend Kawa isn't so hot regarding the idea of sleeping in a tent. Kawa is a flashy aspiring actor who'd rather spend the week pampered at a spa than roughing it at a campground.
When they meet Josh and William, the men in the campsite across the way, Steven becomes intrigued--the blond bombshell and silver daddy are so obviously "together." But why won't they admit their relationship, even to another gay couple? While Steven pries where he isn't welcome with Josh, Kawa finds himself more than welcome to William.
Who will find lasting love in the woods?
* * * *
CHAPTER 1
"Kawa, would you please just--"
"I am not touching that thing!"
"But I can't keep it up on my own," Steven pleaded. "Come on, just this once."
Tossing his scarf over his shoulder, Kawa leaned against the car door like a petulant child. "I am not touching your tool, Steven. Don't even think of asking again. I won't do it."
Steven rolled his eyes. "Christ, it's just a mallet. And, look, it's all coated in rubber. You're not going to hurt yourself. Just give the peg a little tap while I hold up the tent." The instructions looked so easy on the side of the box: all the little flaps hooked around the pegs, the rods strung up through the tent, and the pegs drove into the ground. "Why doesn't our tent look like the one on the box?"
"It's telling us we belong at the spa." Kawa sat in the backseat of the car with his feet hanging out the door. He'd insisted on wearing pink rhinestone flip-flops. The bling only drew attention to the dark leg hair between his ankles and the hem of his capris, but there was no dissuading Kawa. He did as he pleased.
"No," Steven said. "I'm not giving up on this tent. I used to camp with my family every summer when I was a kid."
Slipping from the car, Kawa picked up the nearest rod and stuck it inside a little pouch at the base of the tent. He folded his scarf over his head like a clumsy hijab. "If you're such an experienced camper, why didn't you know to do that?"
Steven rolled his eyes--so simple even Kawa could see it! Why couldn't he? Everything fell into place. The tent remained upright and the pegs stayed put when Steven hammered them into the ground.
"Can we go to the beach now?" Kawa whined. "This campsite smells like...nature."
But the sight of his young companion leaning against the car with one flip-flop perched against the back tire got Steven's juices pumping. He didn't normally chase twinks, but Kawa had proven a welcome respite from the intellectuals he'd dated throughout college, and the business-minded guys he'd been with throughout his career. Sure, Kawa wasn't the type he could bring to a dinner party, and he was a bit campier than Steven had patience for, at times, but he was fun. Plain and simple. Fun.
"You really want to go to the beach?" Steven growled. "Or would you rather check out the inside of this tent? Hmm?"
Closing in on Kawa, Steven stole the scarf from his head and quickly wrapped it around his thin brown neck. His black hair shimmered in the mottled sunlight filtering down through the treetops. Kawa's skin was perpetually flawless, light honey brown, but that he owed to some line of products he washed with unrelentingly, and to a dab or two of liquid concealer over erupting zits. His eyes were black oil spots in pools of gold. They reminded Steven of snakes or lizards, though, at the moment, they dabbled in mock fear.
"You wouldn't harm a poor country girl?" Kawa sang in a southern-accented falsetto.
It was starting to get to Steven that Kawa so often referred to himself in the feminine, but a fondness for all things girly and camp was an inexorable part of Kawa's queerness, or so Steven had observed. Nothing much he could do about it but steal Kawa into the tent and tear off his glam T-shirt and his capris. It was no surprise to find him without underwear. He almost never wore any.
"No panties, young lady?" Steven played along. "Must be that you were expecting some handsome farmhand to mosey on down your path today."
"Oh, no sir," Kawa protested in his overblown southern accent. "I only had it in mind to wander down to the stream and watch the baby ducklings learn to swim."
Flipping Kawa onto his stomach on the tent's clean blue tarpaulin base, Steve spread the boy's legs. God, they were thin as pins. Steven was almost afraid he'd snap them when he leaned his denim knees on top of those skinny thighs. When he'd pulled off his T-shirt, he leaned down flat until his bare chest met Kawa's naked back.
"How's about I teach you something new?" Steven had played games for years. He could keep up with this or any role. Pressing his mouth to Kawa's ear, he whispered, "You ever been fucked before?"
"Why no, I never have," Kawa said, leaning his head to the side. He was incredibly conv
incing. His voice was tinged with fear and curiosity. "I've heard it hurts something fierce."
"No, no," Steven cooed. Now he was the charmer, seducing his prey. "You just relax and it won't hurt one little bit."
Steven rose from Kawa's back to take off his jeans. There wasn't quite enough room to stand in the tent, so he rolled on to his back and wriggled out of his pants and his black jockey boxers. Kawa turned to his side to watch. His half-hard cock drooled pre-cum onto his smooth thigh, and Steven got distracted by the sight. Naked, Kawa was an objet d'art. He was young and slender, like the ancient sculptures of Greek athletes.
In his everyday voice, Kawa said, "Condoms and lube are in my shoulder bag."
"Where's that?"
Kawa nodded to the tent flap. "Passenger seat, on the floor."
Steven started to say, "You couldn't have told me this before I took off my pants?" but he didn't want to spoil the mood. Their site was pretty private, surrounded entirely by leafy green trees and pines. The only site with a good view of theirs was the one across the way, and nobody was camping there. And so, in his put-on southern accent, Steven said, "You stay put, now, you hear?"
After unzipping the tent flap, tiptoeing across the sandy dirt, and opening the front door, he looked up. He nearly jumped out of his skin when two sets of eyes looked back. There'd been no campers in the site across the way when he'd pulled Kawa into the tent, but there were people there now. Two men: one young, if "young" meant Steven's age, with dirty blond hair and the pink lips of a cherub drawn into a surprised smile. He wore gray cargo pants and a white undershirt, while his silver-haired companion was dressed in old-school jeans and a purple and green plaid top which looked far too fleecy for the weather. Though the second man was older and thin with a gaunt face, his features were attractive in a classic sort of way. It looked like they were struggling to ease their ancient fold-away trailer from its hitch.
And Steven was standing naked behind a car door.
"Uh...hi," he said, offering a bashful wave. He eyed Kawa's satchel as they waved back, simply raising their right hands in the air and nodding.
What the hell was he supposed to do now? Oh, what difference did it make? They'd obviously seen him cross the campsite naked on his way to the car. So, they'd get a two-for-one strip show today. Trying to act casual, Steven picked up Kawa's bag from the floor, slammed the car door shut, and offered a proud nod as he strutted back to the tent.
His heart pounded as he eased inside the flap. He felt like a rodent burrowing into its den. "Well, I met our new neighbors."
Kawa offered a bitchy cackle. "Let me guess--a family of four?"
"God." Steven shook his head. "Wouldn't that have been a treat? We'd be out of here so fast...no, it was just two guys."
Kawa cooed his approval. He'd rolled on to his back and now lay with his arms folded behind his head, giving Steven a magnificent view of his slender torso and his sleeping cock. Even at rest, Kawa's prick looked big, but Steven wondered if that was simply because Kawa himself was so thin and small in stature.
Dropping the subject of the guys across the way, Kawa picked up his southern accent to ask, "Did you find what you were lookin' for?"
Steven opened his satchel and pulled out a big bottle of lube and a box of super-stealth condoms. His cock jerked forward just holding those instruments of arousal. Setting down the lube, he tore into a condom packet and stretched it down the length of his erection. The snap of latex only made him harder, and his pelvis ached to thrust against Kawa's firm little ass.
"Get on your front," he commanded. His voice didn't quite hit the mark of that deep southern drawl. "I'm going to take you from behind."
In his lilting falsetto, Kawa replied, "All my friends say a lady's meant to lie on her back and look up into the big strong man's eyes while he makes love to her."
Without missing a beat, Steven said, "We're not making love, you little whore. We're just fucking."
He'd meant to speak in that deep southern accent. It was supposed to be part of their role play. Instead, he'd spoken as himself, in his own voice, and Kawa's jaw dropped as his expression filled with hurt. That hurt only lasted a moment, though, before Kawa shook it off and flipped onto his front. They were back in the game. "Well, if that's what you prefer, mister, I don't suppose there's anything I can do about it. Your big muscles could snap me like a twig if I don't do as you say."
Steven was very careful about his tone when he said, "That's right. They could." He tried to sound suave and coercive. That's what Kawa liked. "But I wouldn't hurt a pretty little thing like you. Not if you do just as I say, that is."
"All right, mister. I sure will." Kawa lay on his front with his ass slightly raised and one hand protecting his cock from the cold, hard ground. "What are you going to do to me?"
"Like I said..." Steven poured a good amount of lube into his palm and slapped some against Kawa's puckering asshole before rubbing some more against his sheathed cock. He was so hard he worried his erection might burst the latex. He had to get in there fast.
Leaning onto his left elbow and knee, Steven hovered over Kawa's small body. Kawa seemed to tremble with anticipation as Steven held his cockhead against that pursed hole. The guy might be young--Steven hated to think how young--but he took it up the ass like a pro. Maybe that's one reason he held Kawa so close to his life: the road to fame and fortune was paved with prostitution, for actors like Kawa. Steven didn't want him turning to the dark side of casting couches and worse.
Kawa whimpered and whined as Steven forced his engorged tip through that tight ass-ring. The tension and the pressure made Steven growl. He wanted to feel Kawa skin-on-skin, so he sank his chest down until he was crushing the boy's back. That stupid scarf was still wrapped around Kawa's neck, and Steven grasped it with one hand while he held Kawa's arm above his head with the other.
God, he wanted in deeper. He clung to that small body and the veritable noose around its neck as he plunged his shaft down into Kawa's tight asshole. It was hot in there, like the fires of damnation, but Steven just kept pounding away. He looked behind him to get a glimpse at his own ass as he forced his hips hard against Kawa's. Maybe it was narcissistic, but Steven loved the sight of the muscles in his own cheeks tensing and releasing as he fucked a guy.
With each thrust, he felt like he was tossing something of himself into Kawa's body. He was launching his energy to Kawa, so the little man could whisper, "Mister! Mister! Whatever are you doing to me, mister?" as he jerked himself off against the tent tarp.
Kawa came before Steven did, but the clenching and compressing of his ass-ring inspired Steven to follow suit. Wrapping his fist around Kawa's scarf, Steven tightened his fingers around that almost nonexistent bicep and squeezed. Kawa seemed to like being scrawny. In fact, he'd do almost anything to get out of heavy lifting, or pretty much any sort of hard labor. Just about the only exercise he got was sex, but at least that was frequent.
Steven issued one more pump before his leg muscles tensed. His thighs held very still as the pressure mounted in his pelvis and his balls. He couldn't do anything now, only rest like a tightly-wound corpse against Kawa's back as the wave of pleasure consumed him. He could have sworn he felt each spurt of cum bound from his balls and zip through his shaft, making the final leap out through his cockhead. It was always a mournful moment dressed in bliss before the deep satisfaction set in.
He felt his body grow heavy on Kawa's. When he was nearly asleep, he heard a sigh beneath him. For a moment, Steven thought Kawa was snoring...but...sniffling?
"Am I too heavy?" Steven asked, though it was an absent and obvious question. He was significantly larger than Kawa, and he slipped onto his right side until he could see those eyes full of tears. "Christ, Kawa, what's wrong? What did I do now?"
It was always something.
"No, you didn't do nothing," Kawa said, still wearing the mask of his lilting southern accent. "I'm still playing my part in all this. I am only a simple country girl, une
ducated in the ways of men."
"Cut the crap." Steven immediately wanted to take it back. For once, could he say something he didn't regret? God! "I mean, don't pretend this is just a game. You wouldn't be crying if it were."
Kawa's smile was even more put on than his accent. He gave Steven's shoulder a playful push. "See? I told you I'm a good actor. Fooled ya, girlfriend."
Steven stared Kawa down for a good thirty seconds, but he just wouldn't break. There were so many responses he could offer, starting with his intense dislike of being referred to as anybody's "girlfriend." Being gay didn't make him a girl. But he didn't want to fight, not on vacation, so he simply said, "Fine."
Rolling on to his side, he closed his eyes. There wasn't peace, but at least there was quiet.
He could feel Kawa's tepid breath on the back of his neck, though no part of their bodies met flesh-to-flesh. Was he breathing through his nose, with his lips pursed tight? It sounded so. The boy was obviously livid, but Steven had already asked the question once. He wasn't going to ask again.
Finally, the tension boiled over. "Why wouldn't you look at me?" Kawa spat.
Steven took a deep breath to prepare for the battle ahead, and then lifted his head off the hard ground to find tears streaming down Kawa's tawny cheeks. He willed himself to hold his own, but now he just felt like a jerk. "Oh, come here," Steven entreated. Sitting up, he unwrapped the tangled scarf from around Kawa's neck and dried those desperate eyes before pulling the kid into his arms. "I'm sorry. Tell me what's wrong."
Naked, Kawa wrapped his hands around Steven's core. "You didn't want to see me. You just flipped me over and fucked me. I'm just one more anonymous asshole to you, aren't I? I could be anyone."
Bile rose in Steven's throat, and his blood ran white-hot. What an accusation! Why would he take Kawa on vacation if he cared so little? God, after everything he'd done to help the kid out! How dare he? Steven was just about ready to snap, but he held back. After all, he used to set those same traps when he was younger. He had to remind himself Kawa wasn't as mature or as experienced with relationships. Just two years out of high school, Steven hadn't exactly been sensible either.