Pure Slush

flash ... without the wank

Earlier Again

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by Matt Potter     Orwellian Industries Annual Retreat  >

(scroll below for links to other stories in this series)

 

When he flicked his lighter I grabbed his hand and cupping it in mine, leaned in. The cigarette stuck to my bottom lip caught the flame. And as the smoke puffed between us, just before I pulled away, I looked up at him – a split second – from under my eyelashes.

“Thanks,” I said. But I couldn’t see his eyes through his sunnies. I stood back, breathed out so my chest filled my one-size-too-tight Kuhlschrank and Sons workshirt, and blew smoke out across the car park. “So was he good?”

I didn’t really want to hear the answer. A three-night-stand a year ago and I’m still making goo-goo eyes whenever Tony’s name is mentioned. But I have this need to know

“Yeah.”

“Did you fuck him?”

Tony shook his head and flicked ash into the rose bushes. “Thick cock,” he said, holding his hands out, measuring the circumference. “Massively thick.” And his fingers spread wider. “A real arse-splitter.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’re walking around okay today,” I smiled.

“Yeah, it was just what I needed.” He stretched and yawned.

The side door of the vestry flew open. “Fellas,” Brian said, eyes sliding. “I say this every day. Smoke over there.” And he pointed to some bright asphalt.

“It’s too sunny over there,” I said.

Brian sighed. “This … is … a non-smoking … zone.”

We moved further along the building, Brian finished his school principal wowser act and the door closed.

“Fuckin’ uptight shit,” I said. “Needs a good cock up his clacker to calm him down.”

Tony laughed. I like to make him laugh. “You offering, Jarred?”

“Not a chance,” I said. “That’s old news, baby.”

Tony smiled. Looked away. Flicked his cigarette butt into some more roses and shoved his hands in his pockets. When he does that, it’s hard to know if he’s playing with his cock or if he always smiles that way.

I looked down. My nipples stood erect against my blue shirt. “My hole needs a workout soon,” I said. “It’s starting to grow over.”

“Go to the sauna,” Tony said.

“Yeah, I might.”

No flicker from him at all. Like I’m just there to take the edge off.

“Just lie back in a sling and take on all comers,” I added. “I’ll let them do all the work.

“Line ’em up.”

“Yeah,” I said. Thinking all I really want is for him to be the one lining up. “Get my hole fucked so hard it’s gaping open but I’ve got a smile on my dial from arsehole to breakfast time.”

“Yeah,” Tony added, “so to speak.”

I looked over at the building and saw a flash of white in a window. Then heard the schtock! of the window sliding shut.

“Hungry?” Tony asked, taking his hands out of his pockets, still smiling.

“Starving,” I said, dragging on the end of my cigarette. “Could chase the horse and suck the rider.”

“Good,” Tony said. “Time for a late lunch.”

  

published 15 February 2013 


click below for more stories in this series: 

• The Never Far From Home Café, Friday, 1.57pm  (#1)

• Earlier  (#2)

• Even Earlier Still  (#4)