War Letters

When Hal was as hard as hard can be, Bud scooted up the length of the sofa again, to where he could guide Hal's cock to his asshole, wrapped his legs around the small of Hal's back, and pulled the cock inside him.

"Shit, you're good at this," Hal muttered as he continued his pushups, this time stroking his cock in Bud's channel rather than his mouth.

"So, according to those letters, was my grandfather," Bud answered. "There's so much I can show you, so much we can do, so much fucking we can make up for for our grandfathers."

Hardened armyman that Hal was, he was able to do hundreds of pushups without breaking a sweat. Bud was glad he could, although they both broke a sweat.

When they had been ejaculated and fell into an entwining embrace—and Bud had managed to regularized his breathing, he whispered, "Can you come again?"

"Gettysburg isn't that far from D.C. I think I can manage to make the trip again soon."

"No, I mean can you come again now. Can you make me come again now. This house is small, but it has a bedroom."

"Yes, I think I can manage that," Hal answered, with a grin. "But our grandfathers did it wherever. I don't need to go as far as the bedroom."

Bud gave a gasp and arched his back, as Hal thrust his cock up inside him again and began to pump, showing how fit he was—that he could get hard again quickly.