“For what?”
He presses his lips against the corner of my mouth, making my entire body shudder against my will. “For being Daddy’s good boy.”
“You’re not my Daddy,” I attempt, but I don’t know how sincere the words sound. His finger strokes my hole again, and my knees go weak. “Bubba!”
“Look at you. Coming undone against my finger. I can’t wait to hear the sounds you make when you’re sinking down on my cock.”
“Oh, God,” I moan, arching against him again. “Never. Never gonna fuck you. Never taking your cock.”
“Keep telling yourself that, baby,” he says, kissing my jaw. “Now, get that sexy ass down there and into the boat. If you’re a good boy, I’ll convince Johnny to rub sunblock on you.”
I shake my head emphatically. “I don’t want that.”
His finger flicks the head of my cock through my speedo, but all I can focus on is how good his finger feels when pressed against my hole again. “I guess your little cock didn’t get the memo.”
“Not little,” I whine, rocking back and forth against him. “Perfectly average.”
“Sure,” he whispers, using the hand not playing with my hole to caress my hard length. “What is it, three inches?”
I shake my head, because that’s just fucking slander. “Five-and-a-half. I measured it last week for my OnlyFans.”
His thumb brushes against the head. “Did you scratch off the three and write a five on there instead?”
“Bubba, don’t. Please, I—”
“I know. I know how much you like it.” He’s not simply caressing my cock anymore, he’s full-on stroking it through my speedo. “I’ve seen your search history. I know exactly what you’re into. I didn’t know making fun of your little cock would be something I was into, because it would break my heart to hurt your feelings, but I’d do anything for you, Ezzy.”
“That was Austin’s search history,” I argue, because it was. He likes to be teased about his size, but I don’t. At least, I don’t think I do. “He has a humiliation kink that quickly spun out of control. Not me.” Just as I’m about to cum, he releases my cock and steps away, leaving me breathless, gasping for air. “Bubba!”
“Well, if you’re sure you’re not into it.” He slaps my ass and points at the lake. “Johnny’s about to see how hard you are. He’s going to see that big puddle of pre-cum soaking through your trunks. Go on. Give my boy a show. He’s earned it.”
My cock twitches for reasons I don’t understand, and I hazily make my way down the hill, toward the dock. I low-key feel like I’ve been gooning for hours, like the time the creepy guy paid me to masturbate for six hours straight without coming. It was torture then, but I kind of like it now.
The boat we’re using looks like it’s supposed to seat two people. It’s small and gray, hideous in both color and overall vibe, and it seems like it would probably sink if a twig scratched the siding. I don’t know how the fuck wood rusts, but the wooden boat seems to be rusted through around the edges, creating jagged spikes and crags around what used to be the ledge. The thing is a fucking deathtrap, and I’ll be lucky to live past noon. God save this queen.
There are two small benches, one at each end of the boat, so I’m not sure where the hell I’m supposed to sit, but that’s a problem for Bubba to figure out. Johnny’s already in the boat, bent over, clearing cobwebs with a rag. I clear my throat, and when he looks up at me—specifically, at my cock—his eyes bulge.
“Holy shit.”
I wave. “Bubba says I have to be nice to you, but I still hate you hard.”
“Bad boy, baby,” Bubba scolds as he approaches from behind “Are you boys ready?”
Johnny swallows and nods, tearing his eyes away from me. “All aboard.”
I touched a man’s asshole.
I touchedEzra’sasshole, and the world didn’t stop turning. Not because I’ve got some deep-seated urge I’ve been fighting to claim another man, or something. That ain’t the reason I thought Armageddon may have been at hand. It’s because ofhim. Ezra Edwards. Psychic douchebag extraordinaire.
The guy is a fucking weirdo. He wears these stupid fuckin’ clothes that show off more skin than necessary. He makes everyconversation into a production. The little creep spends weeks filling entire balloons with semen, just to throw them at me while I sleep. He’s a threat to my physical safety, and he’s slowly stealing my best friend. The first friend I ever had after moving out of my hometown of Dunsberry, Arkansas, population: thirty-five.
My family lived like hillfolk, and I figured I’d just grow old and die on the farm like my daddy, my daddy's daddy, and his daddy before him. Then Auntie Dot got sick, and Momma sent me to take care of her, just a few months after I turned eighteen. I’m the oldest of my brothers and sisters, so she couldn’t send my brothers Pete or Barrett. I got the short end of the stick, but I like the stick I was given, because that stick led me to Bubba. Auntie Dot never got better, so I never left.
Saying the move to Texas was a culture shock is putting it lightly. We barely had running electricity back in Arkansas, but Auntie Dot had a whole television to herself. She even had a personal laptop computer! I didn’t get to leave the house too much, mostly because I was taking care of her, but also because I was scared of all the changes. Tallulah was like a metropolis compared to Dunsberry. Streets with two lanes on each side. Stoplights. I just about shot a load the first time I saw a drive-through car wash.
Then I met Bubba down at the Walmart on Highway 80 a few years before they closed the store down and boarded the windows. It was the first time I ever saw a Walmart, and walking into the store felt a lot like thatWizard of Ozmovie I watch with Ezra sometimes. Like walking out of a sepia-tinted world, into one bursting to life with color.
Back in Arkansas, our only store was the Pick-n-Save, two towns over, forty miles away. At the Walmart, I saw things on the shelves I never knew existed. There were razors with more than one blade. Dolls that talked when I squished their tummies. There was even something called a DVD, and they had an entire rack of them.
