HIS69-240 Hard to Shoot
Hard to Shoot
HIS69
HIS69-240
Peter Tuesday Hughes
$2.25
Hard to Shoot
HIS69
HIS69-240
Peter Tuesday Hughes
$2.25
Excerpt
All this exaggerated play-acting had Bruce’s cock rock-hard; he felt it throb on his thigh as it protruded from his jockey’s. “What about Jackson?” he repeated as he moved toward the hall door.
“I said I got him trained, didn’t I? You think you’re the only guy here in early morning wanting to suck me off?” and Bludger roared with laughter.
“The neighbors?” He was now at the hall door, and begun to close it quietly.
“No neighbors. The Desk owns the houses on both sides of this one. They’re vacant. Why? Want me to chase you naked around the garden?” He rose from the couch and, as he shrugged shoulders, his maroon silk dressing gown fell to the floor.
Adam Bludger’s body was lean and muscular, a flat stomach and groin fuzzed by darker blond pubic hair, and that enormous pole now harder and sticking straight out between his heavy thighs. He was over six feet tall, blond hair (worn once in a crewcut) curling to his shoulders. (Bludger thought it made him look younger, and it did, though he’s the same age as Bruce Doe, twenty-nine.) His bare feet were narrow, ankles thin for a muscular frame, and he had long-fingered hands. He stood, a hip lifted slightly, one knee bent in a languid pose as his eyes stared directly at Bruce. “You dig nelly queens, and don’t tell me you don’t. What about that Israeli, that little cunt, Aaron Kedem? with his nancy ways and queeny manners? You got your rocks off messing with him, right?” His voice began to lisp in a preposterous imitation of gay speech: “Well, don’t just stand there drooling over my meat, dearie.”
Bruce burst into laughter. Their relationship over the past five years had been one of many such encounters, playful and at times brutal, and he never knew what to expect from Bludger. Which, he admitted to himself, was part of Bludger’s fascination: life was never dull around him. Bludger took delight in living, grabbed life to enjoy all of it to the fullest. How can you resist a guy like that? he thought.
The hall door was shut. He walked back to the couch unbuttoning his suitcoat and lowering his pants. Bruce understood Bludger’s needs, and one obsession he’d learned was Bludger’s excited arousal by letting him undress the object of his sexual passion. Digging into the pants and jockeys, Bruce lifted out a cock almost as large as the one between Bludger’s heavy thighs now sticking out hard and erect; he watched the blue eyes open wider. “Man!” said the Assistant Director of Operations. “Always did say you got the prettiest dong in the whole fucking world, with the exception of my own, of course.”
Warm, muscular arms wrapped around him as a hot mouth pressed to his ear moaned, “Suck me off, Brucie—I’m dying.”
Bruce stood impassively (having learned this trick also) as fingers moved over him: first the pants’ waistband was unfastened and the pants lowered to his knees; next, his jockeys were rolled down to join the pants, and now, half-naked, he permitted the fingers to play with his cock until it began to throb and pulsate and his breathing became difficult. But he still didn’t move (this also part of the game) until the suitcoat was flung to the floor with his shirt and tie. Since he never wore underwear tops, he stood naked but for the crumpled fabric around his knees, shoes and socks.
“Brucie, Brucie,” the hot breath in his ear whispered. “Where the hell you been? Why haven’t you come out here to see me?” No answer was needed (this, too, a move in the game) and the hands led him to the couch where he sat down. His pants were pulled off over his shoes and socks; he spread his thighs wide, his cock projecting up from a hairy belly. When the pants were removed, Bludger stood admiring the sight for a moment then dropped to the bare floor between Bruce’s knees and gripped the rigid column in his hand.
“Brucie? You don’t want me to shove my cock up your ass, do you?” (Always, in the game, there was a moment of indecision: should Bludger ball him, or should he let Bludger suck him or should they both suck each other in a sixty-nine.) He smiled to himself, gripped Bludger’s head to force a mouth onto the wet head of his cock. “Lick it!” Bruce muttered in a guttural voice. (This was again another move in their game.)
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