“Oh, wife, huh? I saw the wedding band, but I thought you’d be married to a guy.”
Two fingers entered Carver simultaneously. He gripped the sheets, feeling like he was going over a cliff in a rickshaw. The burning pressure subsided when the fingers found the sweet tenderness of his prostate, and he relaxed again and let out a whimper. The silver fox grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back so he could scrape a bearded kiss up Carver’s throat.
“Why,” Carver gasped, closing his eyes against a tide of pleasure.
“Why what?”
“Why a guy…”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re young, it’s been legal for a while.”
“Only four years… that was in 2015…”
“Okay, still. You grew up in a different world.”
Carver did not respond. He was now beside himself, writhing and moaning, as he got when anyone rubbed his prostate. Even the few times Lillian had done it, he’d gotten completely beside himself, to the point of turning her off. It was too much, she said — she liked him truly passive, not yowling hysterically and clawing at her like a cat with a urinary infection. Her idea of a good fuck was riding him in cowgirl while he lay there sighing her name.
Silver Fox pushed a third finger in, stretching him wider than felt comfortable at this juncture, but the increased pressure on his prostate was more than welcome. Carver was drooling again. He thought for a few deluded moments that he could maybe handle the sea monster, and began to ride his fingers to encourage the idea, but then Silver Fox went away while saying, “I’ll put a condom on,” and he felt a surge of panic. This guy wanted to run him through with a sword!
“Uh,” he said, lifting his head from the bed with difficulty, swaying and blinking. “Maybe not.”
“Maybe not what,” Silver Fox said from the bathroom.
“Let’s wait and see on that.”
Silver Fox came to the bathroom doorway with a sleeve of Trojan Magnums in his hand. “Did you or did you not say you wanted to get fucked out of your mind?”
“Yeah,” Carver admitted. “I’m bad at knowing what I want.”
“Seriously?”
“Okay, to be completely honest, your dick is huge.”
Silver Fox looked down at his monster hog. “It’s big, I wouldn’t call it huge. It’s not bigger than a fist. You’ve never been fisted?”
“No, I’ve never beenfisted,” Carver said, sounding to his ears exactly like his mother. “That’s fucking barbaric.”
“It feels good. I’ve been fisted several times.”
“I don’t want to be fisted!”
Silver Fox shrugged. “Look, if you don’t want to fuck, that’s fine, but I expect to come.”
“I’ll do something for you.” Carver imagined giving that thing a blowjob; all he could picture was himself slobbering on a cob of corn. His own erection was starting to wane. “I’ll jerk you off.”
Silver Fox sighed. “You know, you’re sitting here wasting my time when there’s plenty of size queens around here who would love to get some of this. I only have this hotel room for a few days while my wife’s out of town.”
Carver blinked at him, his blurry vision clearing. “Are you a local?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
“No. Well, my parents are. I’m in town for my cousin’s wedding.”
Silver Fox froze like his blood had gone cold. Carver watched him, suddenly alert.
“Uh,” Silver Fox said. “You’re not… there’s no way you’re one of Doug Novack’s kids, right?”
Now Carver’s blood went cold. “No, I am, why?”
