Smashwords

“Listen, you two,” I said, wiping my greasy fingers off on a napkin. “I gotta… tend to some personal business. Nature calls, and all that. You two know what I’m saying?”

Cliff—or Clyde—ever the helpful young man, pointed behind me. “We’re not far from the woods,” he said eagerly. “You can go in there.”

“Just watch out for poison ivy,” the other one added. “Remember, leaves of three, leave it be!”

“Right,” I said, grimacing as I stood up from sitting on the ground for so long. “I’ll do that.”

I walked as fast as I could toward the treeline without actually running. The hardon in my pants made it difficult. Relief couldn’t come soon enough. It wasn’t just that I was horny. My brain needed something to break up the monotony.

Fortunately, I’d brought just the ticket. As soon as I was far enough away, my hand snaked down into my back pocket. I pulled out a small, square, brown bottle.

“Daddy’s little helper,” I said, grinning. “Just what I needed.”

I wasn’t looking where I was going and managed to step into a gopher hole. The bottle almost slipped out of my hand, but some quick maneuvering saved it. The treeline was just up ahead. I found a gap that let me squeeze in and settled behind a large oak not far in.

These woods were spooky. If I were honest, they’d always given me the creeps. It felt like things were watching me from within them. I would never admit this to Jimmy, but this was why we never went hiking together.

None of that mattered, though. The denseness of the trees was a blessing now. It meant I was out of sight of Saunders’ creepy little well-behaved spawn.

Giving the bottle a few good shakes, I undid the top button of my jeans. The second button went easy, but I had trouble with the third. At last, though, my cock sprang free, waving hard and ready in the warm summer breeze. The cap on the bottle popped off. I held it under my left nostril, pinched the right one closed, and took a huge-ass hit from the poppers.

“Oh yeah…” I exhaled as the world tilted slightly. “That’s the stuff!”

Occasionally, a man just has to take matters into his own hands when he wants to feel good. As the woods spun, I gripped my hard cock in my fist. The head was already leaking thanks to the poppers. I added a big ol’ loogie to the mixture—my own personal brand of homemade lube—and started stroking.

For a moment, it was just me and my hand. I ran my fist up and down, using long strokes out of necessity. My cock isn’t built for beginners, another thing that could prove to be an issue where the twins were concerned.

Thinking about the twins made my mind wander. “Yeah,” I grunted out. “Suck that fat daddy cock… Couple of little faggots!”

I pictured their sweet little mouths, which had been busy saying grace earlier, wrapped around each side of my man meat. They were licking and slobbering all over it, just like they had earlier with those rib bones.

“Fucking sluts!” I grunted, stroking faster now.

Smashwords