Shooting Matt Ch. 14

Matt takes a third wipe, wraps the other two in it and drops it beside the bed. He uses another to wipe Liam's hands, then his own.

"You aren't done yet, mother fucker." The growl has returned to Matt's voice. "Take the phone, straddle my chest and feed me your cock. I want to see what my mouth looks like full of your cock," he pauses, "and your cum."

Liam kneels astride Matt's chest. He rubs his ball sack up and down his chest.

"Can you not shave? Not until team practice anyway?"

"That depends," Matt answers.

"On what?"

"On how good your cum tastes."

***

Kent rubs my cum over my nipple a few times, then leans over and kisses it. He sucks it into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue. I roll toward him slightly and rub the back of his head with one hand. With my other, I drag my fingers through one of the trails of cum and lick my fingers clean.

Kent lifts himself up and watches. He pulls himself up onto his knees and urges me onto my back with one hand. I continue to rub the back of his head as he stares at the softening cum on my belly and chest. He looks uncertain.

"I'd love to watch you jerk off," I tell him, in absolute sincerity. He looks at me and I see desire and fear struggle together in his eyes. "I didn't mean to push you, Kent." I shake my head. "No, I meant to push, a little." I touch his cheek with my fingers. "Don't let me fuck this up," I tell him. "You looked so fucking hot, lying there, boner tenting the sheet. I should have taken care of business in the bathroom. I wasn't thinking clearly. I'm sorry. Let's let it be for now, okay? Lie down beside me. Relax."

He shakes his head. "You didn't fuck anything up. I'll probably need a little pushing." He lies down beside me. "I'm the one that should apologize. I wanted to touch you so badly but I couldn't work up the nerve. Then when you started playing with your nipple. That was even hotter. And even worse. Brad liked me to play with his nipples like that. Then, when you came, God it's been so long. I wanted to grab your cock and shove it in my mouth." He snorts. "I thought when I started playing with your nipple, tasted your cum, I'd made it. I was going to lick every drop of your cum off your body. Or I was going to jerk off on your belly and then lick you clean. Or I was going to lick you clean and then shove my cock in your mouth. Or I was -- fuck it -- it doesn't matter what I was going to do. Every time I started to move, an image of me doing that to Brad would pop into my head."

As he's talking, I feel all my old ways of thinking stir. I shouldn't be surprised. I've been thinking that way most of my adult life. It's my fault. I was a jerk. I was stupid. I was mean. I struggle, trying to give Kent the attention he deserves, while at the same time I tell myself to shut the fuck up. It's not my fault. I wasn't trying to force him to do anything. I just presented an opportunity. However, whenever, whatever I could have done, we'd reach this point eventually.

Holy fuck! It dawns on me -- he's having the same sort of thoughts. Before I can act on what should have been an obvious insight, he sits up abruptly.

"I got to get out of here," he mutters. "This is nuts. I can't do this. I can't."

I put my hand around his wrist but I don't pull.

"Hang on, Kent. You can't do what exactly?"

He looks at me like I've lost my mind. "This. All of this."

"All of what? You can't get upset over the loss of someone you love? You can feel desire again? You can't give yourself a break? Give yourself a chance to work through all this heavy fucking shit you've avoid dealing with for two years? What?"

"Fuck you," he splutters. "You don't know a fucking thing about me or what I've dealt with or haven't dealt with."

He's pissed. That's okay; he's not trying to clamber out of bed and run away for the moment.

"That's bullshit and you know it," I tell him as I sit up and lean against the headboard. I ignore the feeling of my now liquefied cum running down my belly. "It's true, we only met a few days ago, but we've had some pretty intense conversations already. It's true, I haven't suffered the kind of loss you have but I've had losses of my own. And I may only be a warehouse forklift driver but I know when someone is dealing with a problem and when someone is ignoring it and going through the motions of living.

"Fuck, I'm a living, walking, talking, breathing example. I'm not criticizing how you've dealt with your grief. You're doing a helluva lot better job at it than I have, or probably ever could. Maybe your right. Maybe you can't do 'this'. But at least admit that 'this' is the process of starting your life back up again. Maybe that's what Brad would have wanted; for you to live for his memory forever but from what little you've said about him I doubt it.

"And, I'm not saying I'm the one to help you or that I'm the one to get you moving again. Maybe it is too early. Maybe I'm not the right guy. Maybe you do need more time. And maybe with all the time in the world, you won't be able to do it. I don't know. What I do know is whether it's me, or whether it's today or next year or ten years from now, you'll still arrive at this point."

I sigh. "I'm not trying to convince you to let me suck your dick. All I'm trying to tell you is you don't have to leave. I'm not disappointed. I'm not angry. I know how hard this is for you. And it's not that I feel sorry for you, either. I like you, a lot. I can take all the time you need. If I fuck up, say so. I --" I can't think of anything else to say. I shrug and get out of bed.

I use my tee shirt from yesterday to wipe the jizz off my belly. I walk outside and pull on my wet swimming trunks, hating the cold clingy feel of them. I grab my damp-as-ever towel and head toward the lake.

I duck my head in the clubhouse. It's quiet. I hear someone back in the kitchen. It's Glenna.

"Good morning. Hey, I know I'm not dressed to be in a kitchen."

She smiles. "Your cinnamon rolls aren't ready yet, buster."

I'd forgotten about the cinnamon rolls.

"No worries." I look around and nod my approval. "Nice." The kitchen is surprisingly large given they're really only running a snack bar out front.

"Remember, Leon's a restaurant supply salesman."

"Duh," I say and smack my forehead with the heel of one hand. "Still, you got a lot of kitchen for such a small operation." I look around and see a Mix Master but it's a standard model, not industrial. "How many cinnamon rolls could you bake in, oh, say four or five hours? Assuming you had four or five hours to bake?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Randy, what the hell you working at anyway?"

"Patience, my dear. Patience."

"Not that many, few dozen. The bottleneck is the dough."

"That's what I thought. What if you had a bigger mixer?"

"That's it buster. What the hell you getting at?" she plants a floured hand on each hip and I know I'll have to fill her in.

"Glenna, you are sitting on a gold mine." I offer her a half shrug. "Or at least a copper mine. Those damn cinnamon rolls are unbelievable. If you could ramp up production, and keep the quality, you could sell them in the stores in town. I was thinking you could even use them to get business for the resort. Turn it into the home of 'Glenna's Good Witch Cinnamon Rolls'. You got all the kitchen you need to offer folks staying at the resort a nice little restaurant. Hell, you could even pull business from town."

"You're nuts. Besides the Good Witch was Glenda, not Glenna."

"Glenna, Glenda, no one will give a shit once they taste one of your rolls. I want to take your rolls into town, make the rounds. If no one in the restaurants are interested, fine. But they will be. How much would an industrial- size mixer cost?"

"Beats me," she answers softly. "But Lee would know." She shakes her head. "Randy, it won't work. I don't have time to start up a bakery, even one that only makes cinnamon rolls. Who's going to run this place?"

It's my turn to raise an eyebrow.

***

It looks fun in porn videos but Liam quickly discovers that straddling someone's chest is an awkward position to get your dick sucked in. Matt pulls himself up and it's easier. He finds himself, as Matt had, watching the screen on the phone.

In this position, he can only get half his cock in Matt's mouth but even that is pretty fucking hot. He watches as Matt takes his cock from his mouth and tongues the slit. He slides the foreskin forward.

"Dude, I'm totally digging this. I had no fucking idea I'd love uncut dick this much."

He pushes his tongue under the foreskin and swirls it around the head.

"Aw, fuck, man, that's so intense," Liam pants. The image on the screen jiggles and he forces himself to relax.

Matt takes the shaft back in his mouth. His head moves forward and he swallows most of it. When he pulls back, he follows with his hand, squeezing. He squeezes the foreskin tight over the head and a stream of precum hangs free.

"Oh, just fuck me," Matt whispers before his tongue darts forward.

He holds Liam's cock to his mouth. His tongue plunges beneath Liam's cock sheath. His tongue dances over the head, around the head, pushes into the slit. All the while his fist jerks the foreskin back and forth over the head.

Liam's body tenses. He starts to pant, "I'm going to cum," over and over. "Aw, fuck," he cries as cum explodes from his dick. Very little goes into Matt's mouth.

The video will show how his cum sails over Matt's face and into his hair, into his nose, onto his cheeks. It will even show how Liam, once he catches his breath, use his kisses to clean off Matt's face and how Matt tips his head back and opens his mouth and accepts the gift that falls from Liam's mouth.

***

As I swim, the distraction of Glenna and her rolls is washed away and I'm left wondering if Kent will be at the cabin when I return. We'll both be leaving this afternoon. Liam and Matt will be back. I need to get my house put back together and Kent has to get back to work. Soon, we'll all, all of us, be hundreds of miles apart. I can't shake the feeling that for all my big ideas, in a few days my life will fall back into the same routine it's been in for twenty years.

I swim to the swim platform and back to the dock a dozen times and climb out. I wonder how many meters that makes. Leon will know, almost certainly. I rinse the lake water off under the shower and move the water around with my damp towel. I resist the urge to swear as I struggle to get my wet feet into my sandals.

I walk with my head down, afraid to look to see if Kent's car is still parked up at the cabin. As I near the clubhouse, the smell from the kitchen almost lifts my spirits. I decide to stall by going in to chat with Glenna.

Sitting at one of the tables, Glenna and Kent are quietly eating on of your rolls.