Date: Thu, 28 Apr 2011 07:13:28 -0700 (PDT)
From: jim ford <sojourn1950@yahoo.com>
Subject: Gordy comes Home chapter 6

This story is fiction. The characters are adults in adult
situations. Warnings: The only person you can ever hope to truly know is
yourself. Trust no one; use condoms. If you are not of legal age or in a
jurisdiction in which this document is illegal, go way. This is my
story. Please respect the copyright. Sojourn1950@yahoo.com


Wylie moved again.

This one, though more definite than the first, was still subtle.

John felt a swelling in his mouth.

Wylie thrust his engorged cock into John.

Fourth of July fireworks blinded John's vision. Partly because of the force
of Wylie's sizable intruder and partly from relief.

He was stunned! Wylie's response was more than he had dared hope. He had
considered the risks, even as he laid his head onto Wylie's crotch. Now,
those risks all but vanished.

He opened up and took his first cock, Wylie's cock , fully into his
mouth. He remembered what he had wanted from the few girls who took him
orally; no teeth, wet, sucking, tongue action, deeper. He tried to do it
all for Wylie; all, at the same time.

Then he remembered what he had wanted most. Fighting his gag reflex, he
took Wylie further, to press against the tight beginning of his throat. He
had seen enough internet porn to know; this could be done. Wylie was
thicker and longer, but not of monstrous proportions. John was
determined. Pressing harder, he swallowed. He marveled as he realized, his
mouth and throat were separated by an opening, somewhat like a sphincter.

Wylie groaned his approval as his cockhead was accepted into John's
throat. His foreskin was moved further away from the glans by the tight
fit. His cock was in enfolded in warm, wet, velvet. He had to fight to keep
from cumming.

Too soon, John moved back to let the intruder rest in his mouth. Wylie
fought the temptation to demand reentry. His self-control was
rewarded. John used his tongue to tease Wylie's foreskin, his lips pushed
it back to expose the glans, there his tongue flicked across Wylie's
sensitive frenum. John's mouth challenged Wylie's determination.

This was better than anything, girls (two) had ever grudgingly
attempted. Wylie sensed that if he could control himself, the best was yet
to cum. He concentrated on the sensations his friends mouth was
giving. Already, John's mouth had raised the bar on sexually derived
pleasure. Great sex, for Wylie, had a new standard: And he hadn't even cum
yet!

Within him there began a small thought, which solidified into a singular
desire, which grew into a demanding need. He wanted to suck John's cock!
No! He had to suck that cock!

Taking a deep breath John pushed again. This time there was less
resistance. As the head met his throat, he swallowed again. This time
Wylie's cock seemed to be drawn into his throat, as a draft of water might
be. Pressing farther forward, he could feel the fullness. He did not
panic. Instead, he relaxed and welcomed the intruder.

Wylie's response was a steady moan.

From his own experience John knew, his friend was fighting to control his
urge to force his cock deeper into the wet warmth. He knew Wylie wanted
desperately to fuck his throat.

John choked; if sucking Wylie's cock killed him tonight, he'd die a happy
man. He couldn't hold the massive throbbing member as it was, he had to
breathe. Reluctantly, he pulled back. Working on the head with his tongue,
John was surprised about how natural the whole experience felt. He
envisioned his father walking in and calmly observing the action. John's
imagination had his father react as if, his son sucking his friend's cock
was a commonly witnessed activity. That's how normal John felt. That vision
allowed John to dedicate himself to the task at hand, er, in mouth.

Wylie saw that John had risen to his hands and knees to gain better access
and control. He reached out and tugged on John's left leg. At the same time
he twisted to his right. John's head followed Wylie's cock, until they were
both on their sides. John was still in an almost fetal position. He didn't
resist the movements. He was focused on Wylie's cock. Wylie bent and slid
himself around while pulling John into a more elongated position.

Finally; his prize was there for the taking. John's cock was hard and
leaking. Wylie could smell the musky aroma of his friends essence. Opening
as wide as possible, he took John inside. Not until he felt John's cock
make contact at the back of his mouth did he allow himself to wetly, warmly
envelope John's cock.

He sensed his friend's shock. In an instant Wylie felt John's moaning
vibrate against his own cock. This brought moans of his own. He had never
thought about how sucking cock would feel. Now it seemed the most natural,
wondrous thing in the world.

Strange; he didn't expect this would feel almost as good as the pleasure,
John was giving. He wondered why he had never done this before? He had the
answer before the question had fully formed: He didn't have John in his
life before.

He had never wanted anything like this.

Until, he had taken John's hand that first day. Even then, he had not known
why; that handshake had stirred him, those deeply intelligent, warm brown
eyes had called him, and why the experience had been momentarily
frightening. He hadn't understood. Now, he knew, he wanted nothing more
than to consume and be consumed by this man!

This was new for both of them, yet neither hesitated. Each was thinking, it
may be the only time this ever happened. Humping, deep kisses, even jerking
each other off, could be, perhaps, explained as "experimentation". Combine
all of those activities with sucking cock and you have a horse of a
different color. Each would give this; their all.

They bobbed their heads and swathed their tongues around each others
cocks. Tasting, testing, trying to find what would bring the other more
pleasure. Moans acknowledged each favored effort.

Wylie's `deep throating' John, was less challenging than John's. John was
less thick, yet still of impressive dimensions. Wylie's determination
resulted in his nostrils being blocked by John's ballsack. He would have
laughed as he envisioned himself being smothered to death, by a BALLSACK!
He felt the hairs tickle inside his nose. He didn't laugh. Instead; he took
John's balls in hand. This drew yet another muffled moan from his lover. He
learned to flex his throat and move his head to stroke John's cock. He
mused, between moans, `so this is why they call it `giving head'.

As each man reasoned, accepted and adjusted, the sensations enflamed their
passion. Sooner than desired, their bodies demanded release.

John felt Wylie's cock swell and surge in his throat. He could not taste
Wylie's cum. He only felt it pump deeply inside him. He withdrew until he
felt the second blast choking him. He coughed and cum spit from his
nose. He breathed around Wylie's cock and for the second time tonight he
tasted his friend. He fed on Wylie's cum. As an infant finds nourishment at
his mother's breast.

Even as he had choked on Wylie's cum, he felt an intense twinge in his
perineum. His ballsack spasmed so as to bring his balls in closer. This
brought a sliver of pain as his balls responded to the increased
pressure. Pain was the furthest thing from his mind as his body tensed in
preparation to experience his greatest orgasm yet! As his cock swelled to
expel the first shot, he pushed deeper into his lover. Nothing existed but
the here and now demand, of his own ecstasy!

When he felt John's cock swell and pump in his throat. He knew his throat
felt like a velvet glove to John's cock and the swallowing motion was
incredibly stimulating. John's cock spurted deep into his
throat. Swallowing was only for John's benefit. John's cock was deep enough
that the flood of cum required no action on Wylie's part.

John, sucked Wylie's foreskin until he was sure he had consumed all his
friend had offered. He then used his tongue to search for any traces he
might have expelled with his cough. Once he realized there was no more, he
let his head rest on Wylie's powerful thigh.

Wylie had let John's cock slip from his throat to his mouth. Only then had
he tasted John. The bitter sweet liquid drops he coaxed from John's cock
made him almost regret not taking that nectar into his mouth. He savored
the taste. Rolling his tongue to capture and remember the flavors. With
regrets he released John's softening manhood. Like his lover, he kept his
head near the source of pleasure. He felt sated, warm and loved.

He relaxed as he lay his head onto John's thigh.

Before dawn John stirred and awakened. The first thing he saw was Wylie's
morning wood. There in the predawn light it stood; hard, tall and
tempting. Guilt and fear are great motivators.

John slid silently out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Yesterday, he
was a college kid who played around with his roommate. Today, even as he
shaved, he knew he was looking at the face; of a cocksucker. The face
looked the same, as yesterday. He didn't feel any different. He recalled
how minutes ago he was eager to do it again. He relaxed as he realized,
given the chance, he would do it again; and again. Fuck labels!

He was John Rutledge Grant. Not, "cocksucker". Just the same old John
Grant. Even as his brain sought and found a level of self-acceptance, he
was wondering how Wylie would cope?

Last night, Wylie had shown his own eagerness. He had done better than any
girl who had ever agreed to try. He didn't have to beg or tease or cajole;
Wylie was eager to suck John's cock. In fact; John realized that last night
was his first real blow job. The others had been mere facsimiles.

He hoped that Wylie would see it as John did; a damn fine experience, he
would gladly repeat.

He considered Wylie's possible reactions. (Yes, he did it again. Are you
really surprised?) He could move to another room. He could ask to go back
to the dorm. He might simply "cold shoulder" John. The more John thought
the less likely he believed Wylie would be OK, with last night. He began to
worry.

The most likely option; Wylie would cold shoulder him. This would be the
worst.

If Wylie left today, John would have to deal with it. He could and probably
would change schools.

If Wylie stayed; he could earn money, he could earn his father's respect,
he could ask to be given another room. John tried not to be morose. Time
would tell.

John, awakened Wylie and went out to the kitchen. His father and Conchatta
were already having breakfast. Platters of food were on the table. John
grabbed coffee and filled a plate. Conversation was light and easy. Banter
with Conchatta had become a practiced art. His father seldom engaged either
of them when they "went at it".

Wylie was only a few minutes behind John. He greeted everyone warmly. To
John's dad he said, "Mr. Grant, I believe your son mislead you yesterday."
Everyone attended Wylie's serious expression.

John's father's face questioned Wylie.

John, in mid-sip almost choked on his coffee.

Conchatta just smiled, like she was expecting fun.

"Well Wylie, sad to say, it wouldn't have been the first time. Would you
care to enlighten us?"

"Well, as you recall, sir. John told you, my snoring kept him awake. Well,
I can tell you now, without fear of contradiction." Glancing at John, with
a grin, "Well, Mr. Grant. I hardly slept at all. He", nodding toward John,
"snored like a bull elephant with sinus problems. I'm not really
complaining. It's just that, yesterday was the first time I have been
accused of keeping anyone awake, ah, with my snoring. I figure I would let
you kind folks know the whole truth."

John's father replied with equal sincerity, "Well son, what would you have
me do? John is not too old to be taken out to the wood shed. But, I'm not
sure this calls for such serious action." Then lifting an eyebrow, he
added, "We could have your things moved to one of the other bedrooms. Would
that suit you?"

"Oh, no sir!" Wylie continued hastily. " I figure if he can put up with my
snoring, I can learn to put up with his. It's just I would like the record
set straight. Besides, I learned that if I nudge him, hard enough, he
stops."

John's Dad muttered, "Hmm. noted and amended." Then to himself, 'thought
not.".

John's relief now surged toward elation. Moments ago, he feared being
outted. Then he feared he was loosing Wylie. Now, all his fears had
vanished. Wylie had adjusted! He wanted to jump across the table and give
Wylie a big ole, sloppy, kiss. John was happy! Wylie had winked at
him. That was not a cold-shouldered approach. John was elated!

John and Wylie finished breakfast and headed to the larger and closer of
the two barns. A group of fifteen men were already gathered in front of
what Wylie would learn was Louis' office. There were coffee and doughnuts
available. Most men had already helped themselves.

Most all had something to rag John about. A lot of it had to do with,
'school was a poor excuse for missing work', or a couple said they had,
'trained John so well they figured he had started his own spread and was
competing with his father'.

Each time John had an exchange he introduced Wylie. Each shook his hand and
welcomed him to the ranch. Some warned him about, 'the company he
kept'. Wylie had the feeling he would get along well with these guys. Their
ages ranged anywhere from twenty to fifty.

Most all hands lived in one of a number, of houses on the ranch. Some
shared the house with their families. Others, roomed with up to four
cowhands, In any case the 'head of the house' reported on and was
responsible for a specific area as well as cattle, equipment and out
buildings.

Some houses stood empty, until the seasonal hands returned. Even those
seasonal workers had, for the most part, worked the ranch for
years. Between the two barns stood a bunkhouse that would accommodate fifty
men. That would be crowded when the work was at it's peak. Beside the
farther barn were camper pads and hookups, for those who brought their own
accommodations.

Promptly at six, Louis stepped from his office. He was a short, wiry
guy. Wylie could tell he was well respected. The chatter that had permeated
the group, died as the men became aware of his presence. The first order of
business was a report from each area of the ranch. Various hands reported
on head count, feed conditions and availability, fences, equipment status,
etc. Then Louis, taking those reports into account, made the days
assignments.

Since Wylie had little experience on horseback, Louis had them start from
the ground up. The normal stable hands had been reassigned for the day, in
honor of Wylie's presence. When the crowd heard this, they whooped and
hollered. The cowhand closest to Wylie, leaned in a muttered, "better you
than me."

Shoveling was first on the agenda, that was followed by grooming and
feeding. Wylie had spent summers at camp and had spent most of his time at
the stables.

John's father helped sponsor a camp for underprivileged kids, so he asked
no obvious questions.

Gentle stable horses were a walk in the park compared to independently
thinking quarter horses. Wylie had turned his back on a dappled mare, who
promptly tried to take a chunk out of his ass.

John heard the yelp and knew what had happened. Wylie was backing away,
cussing the mare and rubbing his left cheek.

"I forgot to warn you she bites." John was straining to keep from smiling.

Wylie, rubbing the injured cheek and staring daggers at the guilty mare,
now innocently munching a mouthful of hay, said, "She damn sure does!" John
couldn't hold it. He didn't "start" laughing. Laughter burst forth like a
tidal wave. He leaned on his pitchfork for support. His hat fell off and he
had to hold his sides. Tears streamed down his face. Each time he looked at
Wylie's 'highly indignant expression, a new flood of laughter burst forth.

Finally, the fit passed and John picked up his hat, walked over and put a
consoling arm across Wylie's shoulders. "Wylie, I'm sorry. I should have
remembered she likes to bite. She is choosey though. She only bites young
guys and always on the ass." Then with a more serious tone, "I wish I had
remembered her. Then I could have watched." After a short pause, "Hey,
would you go in there again and this time let me watch?"

Wylie fumed and roughly pushed John away. "You sorry asshole. You knew she
bit. You could've told me. I'm probably bleeding in my drawers and you
stand there laughing your ass off."

"Fuck You! John Grant."

John stumbled. Then with an apologetic look and a sincere voice, he said,
"Wylie, drop your drawers and let me see. You might need stitches or at
least a tetanus shot."

Wylie still glaring at John, tried to stick his hand down the back of his
jeans to check the wound. Failing that, he undid his belt, unfastened and
lowered his jeans. Now, sticking his hand inside his boxers he
checked. John saw that when he touched the damaged area, he grimaced.

John was concerned now. Playtime was over, his friend was in pain. He
looked Wylie in the eye and said, "Turn around, let me see."

Wylie could see the concern in his eyes. Slowly, holding his jeans he
shuffled around so John could inspect the bite. John knelt and carefully
lowered Wylie's boxers. The welt was almost three inches long and vivid
pink. Thanks to brother Levi's hip pocket, there was no lasting
damage. John let Wylie know the skin was not broken.

Wylie asked, "Are you sure?"

Just as he was about to stand Wylie's question had him carefully reexamine
the injury.

Suddenly Wylie's butt checks clinched and John heard a high pitched sptttt!
In the same instant his olfactory network was bombarded with a fried egg
fart!

Wylie hitched up his boxers and jeans and turned to John with an innocent
look on his face. "John I'm so embarrassed. I really didn't mean to do
that. I wish I could have remembered I had fried eggs for breakfast, then I
could have warned you." Truly a fine example of friendly concern.

For his part, John wondered if the fart was an improvisation or had Wylie
set him up? He would be more wary, Wylie could play dirty. His respect for
Wylie grew, just a little.

By the end of the first day Wylie had mastered the do's and don't of
equestrian care. He learned to communicate his whereabouts as well as his
intentions. He had used his shoulders, his elbows and the flat of his hand,
more than once or twice.

When the job was done, (Ok, I know. When they decided to quit, is more like
it.) They saddled up John's horse and a gentle (non-biting) mare for Wylie,
and went for a leisurely ride.

When Wylie's ass greeted the saddle, John made sure he was watching.

Wylie, having forgotten the injury; immediately posted and grimaced. John
suppressed a grin. Wylie jerked his head toward John and caught him. "Very
funny, asshole! Want to check it again?"



"I'll pass. You just better hope she don't get spooked by a rattler and
throw your sorry ass. You'll do a hellavu lot of begging before I get close
to that hazardous chemical leak again."

In response Wylie nudged his mount and headed off.

John watched to see how Wylie sat a saddle and finding no real fault,
caught up. "Wylie, are you still pissed? You got more than even, you
know. I think I would've tried to kick anyone else's ass."

"John, I am willing to call it even. If, you agree to check for snake
bites, if I ever need it." With that he gave John a grin that slid into
that dazzling smile. John's insides warmed, every time he saw it.

"Deal." The matter was dropped.

Their ride followed the fence line. At one point John reined in and
dismounted. He dropped the reins and walked up to the fence. Extracting a
leatherman from his belt he reattached a strand of barb wire that had come
undone. Without looking at Wylie, "Two of the many things a cowboy should
never be without; a good pair of gloves and a leatherman." Remounting they
rode on. Wylie had been unaware of the fence except as a point of
reference. John was on the outside and still, he had seen the damage. Wylie
was impressed and began to pay more attention to the fence. They found two
more potential trouble spots and Wylie found one of those. John was
impressed and told him so.

They didn't follow the fence line back. Instead they headed for the ranch
house. At least Wylie hoped John knew where it was. It all looked like
brown sea of undulating pasture to Wylie. Before long the barns and then
the ranch house came into view.

John asked if Wylie wanted to pick up the pace. His response was to urge
his mount into a gallop. John held back to see what kind of rider Wylie
really was. He was satisfied. Wylie could handle a horse; maybe not a
cutting horse. He spurred his horse and readily caught Wylie and the
mare. He could see Wylie was enjoying himself.

Once inside and dismounted, they took care of the horses. In John' room
they got naked, showered and dressed. They had showered together. (it saved
time and water; they were environmentally motivated)

They found Mr. Grant in the library. Together, they moved to the kitchen to
have supper. Wylie was impressed with the flavorful dishes, he noted there
was enough to feed a large family.

John had begun telling his dad what great job Wylie had done. Even Louis
was impressed. Wylie noted John did not bring up the biting mare
incident. Wylie was sure it was because John would have had to tell the
whole episode. Farting, especially farting in someone's face, was not
appropriate dinner conversation; anywhere.

Wylie was pleased when Mr. Grant seemed interested. working as a ranch
hand. Actually; Louis had already reported to Mr. Grant. John's dad related
as much. Wylie's smile reached dazzling proportions.

Wylie was enthusiastic in his retelling of the days events. He surprised
himself, when he told Mr. Grant about the biting mare. Mr. Grant chuckled
and told him she had gotten John back in the summer. He couldn't sit a
saddle for a week, without wincing. John was not amused; but Wylie sure
was.

After dinner, they rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. (The
meager leftovers did not warrant consideration.) Wylie was somehow
surprised and touched that they would do something like that for
Conchatta. It was the same thing he did for his grandmother. The more time
he spent here, the more he liked it.

The mundane, familiar, task, of loading the dishwasher, while John rinsed,
gave Wylie his first opportunity to work with John, in a domestic setting.

Silently, he mused, this is what couples do. Were, he and john a couple?
The question was a backward approach to the more daunting issue. He
couldn't directly address his feelings for John, especially to
himself. Following this line of thought he considered the facts; he and
john had a sexual relationship ( they never talked about), they had a
strong emotional commitment, they lived together, they never shared
endearments nor showed any obvious signs of affection. Yep, they were a
couple.

Wylie was surprised at the feeling of warmth and well-being, this appraisal
brought him. He had just been handed a dish, John had rinsed. Instead of
adding it to the dishwasher, he stopped and watched John. It wasn't until
John tried to hand him another that he broke from his reverie.

"Wylie, you skylarking? Try to keep up."

John's father came to Wylie's rescue. "Son, I think Wylie just found
something more pleasant, to focus on, than doing dishes."

Wylie blushed, as he realized Mr. Grant had been watching him, watch his
son.

"Daydreaming is fine, sometimes. I've seen you do it often enough. It's
when your working with livestock, that it can bite you in the ass."

Even Wylie joined in the laughter.

The table cleared and dishes in the dishwasher, they headed for the library
for whisky. As they entered; Wylie revisited the idea that he and John were
a couple. If this were true, it followed that Mr. Grant, was now his
father-in-law. Wylie thought the whole concept ludicrous, and comforting at
the same time. Wylie felt, suddenly, even more at ease in this already
hospitable environment.