Josh brought Matt to the edge several times but always eased off at the last moment.
“Don’t torture me,” Matt begged. “I need to cum.”
“I’m waiting for the right song,” Josh said.
A few minutes later, a bright techno beat began.
“This is it,” Josh said. “Now, taste your finger. I want the tang of my ass on your tongue when you cum.”
Matt stuck his middle finger in his mouth, sucked the flavor from it.
The song was “Another Night” by Real McCoy. Matt had never heard it before but would not forget it after that day. For the rest of his life, whenever he heard this song, he would be transported back to this moment in time. A time when he was young, reckless, intoxicated on ass.
A base beat joined the techno sound from the radio. Then a woman sang.
Josh stopped stroking. He hawked up spit into his hand, curled his fingers and thumb to form a circle. “Turn on the cruise control. Then fuck my hand,” he whispered.
Matt arched his back and bucked his hips to fuck Josh’s hand. He fucked in rhythm with the beat.
Now a gravelly, husky male voice started rapping. It was a bedroom voice that could coax girls to drop their panties, guys to do so too.
In Matt’s mind he was fucking Josh’s furry ass. His hands held Josh’s ankles—not the steering wheel. Matt pounded into Josh’s fist, feeling the orgasm building inside him.
Sexy guy continued rapping. His was a voice that bespoke permanent five o’clock shadow.
The orgasm, when it came, was electric. Matt convulsed, pumping out cum to the techno beat, the taste of Josh’s ass on his tongue, the musk of that ass in his nostrils. But it was Adam’s freckled face he saw.
Chapter 16: Cherry Pie McCurtain County-Style
Monday, September 4, 1995
MCU scoffed at Labor Day. Their puritan, Capitalist god rewarded thrift and industry, frowned on the sort of sloth that would celebrate the proletariat. Academic life must continue as if the holiday did not exist. So, of course, Matt had tests in both math and history. Anything less would be sacrilege.
It would be a slog of a day: the two tests, chapel, soccer practice, cleaning the locker room, then his first date with Ava. The only bright spot was a planned evening meetup with William.
As if that weren’t enough, he had arranged to meet Debbie for coffee, in the short break between English and math. He’d invited Idabel to join them. Matt had a plan, but wanted Debbie to think it was her own idea. Idabel could help with that.
The cafeteria was nearly empty, the breakfast crowd having decamped. Matt claimed a small corner table, wondered how Adam would spend his day.
Idabel arrived, grinning like he’d won the lottery. He carried a mug of coffee and three pieces of cherry pie, which were stacked, wrapped in napkins. “Leftovers. Manager hooked me up. He’s from McCurtain County. Small world. Want some?”
Matt shook his head. He couldn’t afford to pack on pounds, even if they were muscle. He needed speed and agility on the field.
He saw Debbie approaching, smiled.
She had the wide, swinging gait of an apex predator—not the T-rex from Jurassic Park, but rather Barney the dinosaur. She wore purple slacks and a green summer sweater. A rope of white, plastic beads dangled from her neck. Her large breasts made her arms look disproportionately small. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Matt.
He hugged her, introduced her to Idabel.
“I’ve seen you on the soccer field,” Debbie said to Idabel after she’d appropriated a seat. “What’s your real name, hon? ‘Idabel’ is no name for a strappin’ fella like you.”
“Tony. Tony Gobles.”
Debbie held her coffee mug with both hands, took a small sip. “What’s yer mama call you?”
Idabel gave a sheepish grin. “Anthony.”
Debbie eyed him over her mug. “Anthony’s a little fella name. I like ‘Tony.’”
