Frog by Mary Calmes (read along books TXT) 📗

came down there in the middle of the day, in the heat, even though it was shaded where we were. I would hear anyone to the left walking over the gravel, and to the right was thick brush. We were safe.

“Get those pants down,” I told him, pulling a lubed condom from the back pocket of my Wranglers. “And that shirt off.”

He was shaking, but he did it, stripping on my order. The second I saw his hard, sculpted body, chiseled abdomen and chest, and watched the long, beautiful, cut brown cock bob free, I sank to my knees before him and took him down the back of my throat.

“Holy fuck,” he groaned hoarsely, hand instantly fisted in my ginger hair, which fell thick and straight to my shoulders.

I smiled around his shaft, and he moaned looking down at me, his eyes fluttering shut as his head fell back against the wooden slats of the tool shed.

“This is so…. I had no idea it could just be so…. God.”

I sucked and laved and swirled my tongue around the velvet length of him, tasted precome and played with his slit. When he started to move, his body jolting hard before he began a slow thrust and retreat in my mouth, I leaned back, letting his throbbing cock slip from my lips before I stood up.

“Weber,” he hissed out my name in protest.

I shoved him to the ground, and he opened his mouth for me, but I just squinted before I walked around him and pushed him forward onto his palms in the grass. He looked back at me over his shoulder, on his hands and knees in front of me.

“Put your face down.”

He didn’t argue, just lowered himself, pressing his cheek into the sweet smelling grass as he lifted his ass at the same time.

I spit into my hand several times and then leaned over and did the same to his pretty pink quivering hole. Spit was not my favorite lube, but I had been ambushed by passion so was not prepared. The condom I pulled from my back pocket was slick. I only ever bought the lubed kind, which I was thankful for, but there was no sound of anything but whimpering need as I slid a finger inside of him. Saliva seemed like it would work just fine.

“Oh God, please.”

The man was at my mercy, having surrendered completely, and was now writhing at the end of the second finger I had added to the first. I scissored gently, made circles, but kept the pressure constant, loosening him, stretching him, even as I bent forward and kissed up his spine. His skin was like silk, and as I was rarely allowed to indulge in my favorite parts of sex, the nuzzling, kissing, and caressing, I was taking my fill of my friend from the city.

Normally, on the rodeo circuit, sex was rough and fast—never lovemaking, only rutting done in bathrooms or stables, not even in hotel rooms because what if somebody saw you go there in pairs? Small towns with people with even smaller minds kept everyone wary and discreet and frightened. Without vigilance there could be a beating or worse. I did not want to end up with my brains splattered all over the highway with not enough of me left over to identify.

But this, on the ranch where I was working for the summer, a place that catered to rich men who wanted to pretend they were outdoorsy for a weekend, this was a place I could indulge in some spontaneity, at least briefly.

“Weber,” he gasped as I removed my fingers. “I….”

I slid my hands over the man’s sides, feeling the rippling muscles there: gym muscles, long, sinewy, and gorgeous. When my hands reached his hips, he started to beg me.

Spreading my legs, lowering myself since I was taller than his six one, I rolled forward and slowly, gently, began pushing my way inside of him.

“Jesus Christ, cowboy, you’re huge!”

Which was why I would never, ever just pound into anyone. As many times as I had been treated to pain in my own life, I would never be the cause of it in others. I especially would never hurt the men who trusted me to top.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“God, no! No—don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

The noises he was making, the whimpering and whining, the chant of my name, the flex of the muscles in his hot, tight ass. I was ready to ride him hard.

“Oh, baby, please.”

I loved endearments more than anything, and I would die before I ever told a soul. As I rocked my hips, holding onto his so tight I knew I’d leave bruises, he cried out my name.

How strong was I supposed to be?

My control was annihilated by the man with the warm, willing body, the melting eyes and golden skin. Grabbing hold of his hair, I yanked back hard, bending him into the most beautiful arch of submission, his back curved, ass angled high, and the sharp hiss of breath sending me into a frenzy of movement.

I plunged in deep, and he yelled loud, his channel clenching around my cock as I let him go, allowing his head to drop back down to the grass. I clutched his hips, pounding into him hard, grinding against him as he pushed back at the same time to meet each new hammering thrust.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I growled, sliding a hand up from the small of his back to between his shoulder blades, anchoring him down and to me at the same time.

“So do you.” He shuddered under me, and I could hear the tears in his voice. “I’m going to come. I can’t…. This ache has been there for so…. Don’t… stop.”

A bullet to the brain was the only way to stop me.

My hips pistoned fast, and I nailed his gland, as I could tell from the high-pitched cry that tore out of him.

“Come for me,” I demanded, my voice rough and low