Stonegate Stables
Chapter 33
The trial ended on a Wednesday. Vincent recovered quickly, but it took Matt a few days to begin sleeping through the night again. He was very quiet, and spent the evenings at home, sticking close to either Vincent or me, needy for affection like when he'd first come to live with us back in November.
Adam came for dinner once or twice that week, but didn't spend the night, and his conversations with Matt were stilted and awkward. They always hugged goodnight, but otherwise they rarely touched, and Matt looked miserable each time Adam left. I talked to him about it one evening when Vincent was working late.
"Matty, did you and Adam have a fight?" We were sitting at the kitchen island eating BLTs. Matt picked a piece of tomato from his sandwich and chewed it slowly before he replied.
"No, nothing like that. I just . . . When the trial got close, I knew I'd have to think about how I used to live, and I started to feel weird about being with him, like he was too good for me or something. I mean, I know that's not true, but my head was all fucked up . . . so I told him I just needed to be with you guys for a while. He's angry with me for that."
By the time he spoke the last word, his head was hanging, and he was barely whispering. I turned and gathered him close, pulling him off his stool to stand between my knees. Adam might be wealthy and come from an upper-class family, but he was certainly no better a person than Matt, and Adam didn't act like that, so I knew that this was all from inside Matt, his own fears and insecurities intensified by the stress of the trial.
"Oh, honey, Adam loves you. I don't think he's angry. You hurt his feelings," I said, remembering the jab I'd felt realizing that Vincent had needed someone other than me when he'd hugged Jesse. "He's a really good guy, and he's not hanging around here just because he feels sorry for you."
He nodded against my shirt. "I know. Now that it's over, I don't feel like that so much anymore." He kissed me, then pulled away, and sat back down. "I'll talk to him tomorrow."
We went to the den after dinner, where Matt curled up against me, and fell asleep in the middle of a movie. I slid down next to him, holding his soft sleeping body close until Vincent came home around nine. He settled down on the floor and rubbed my leg as we reconnected after a day apart. I told him what Matt had said, about not feeling worthy of Adam. Vincent listened with growing anger, finally bursting out with it.
"They can't hang that motherfucker too many times to make me happy," he hissed, trying to stay quiet. "Thank god I brought Matt home. Imagine where he'd be otherwise."
We were both silent for a moment, thinking about Matty being shuttled through the foster care system, or simply turned loose to fend for himself once he'd hit eighteen. It was an awful thought, and we both looked at Matt's peaceful, sleeping face pillowed on my arm.
It was an unsettled time for all of us. Vincent had been a little edgy, even with me, although he seemed to be sleeping okay. Matt tossed and turned every night, whimpering now and then until I soothed him with a touch and a word. Between the two of them, I wasn't getting enough sleep, and I could feel it catching up with me.
Vincent seemed more his usual affectionate self this evening, disengaging me from Matt and pulling me to the floor, where he rolled onto me and cradled my head in his hands. His thumbs rubbed slow circles on my temples while his cock rocked against mine as we both hardened. We kissed for a while - soft, loving kisses that made us smile at each other. There was no urgency to do more; it just felt good to be together.
Adam was at the house when I got home the next evening. He and Matt were standing close together at the stove making stuff for tacos. They seemed much more relaxed with each other, and I was glad things were sort of back to normal for them. Adam still didn't spend the night, but Matt walked him out to his car, and was gone quite a while just to say goodnight. When he came in, he was wearing a smile, an unbuttoned shirt, and a hard-on.
Katie's folks had really liked our neighborhood, and were lucky enough to get one of the smaller estates when it went into foreclosure; some dot.com guy who wasn't paying attention when the market changed. It was on the opposite side of the development from us - four acres of house, pool, gardens, a two- horse barn, a small arena, and a pasture. It was perfect for them and they moved in that weekend, thus ending Katie's weekly trek to stay at our place. Matt helped them all day Saturday, and we had them over for dinner that evening since their kitchen was all still in boxes.
After dinner, we all took a walk around the development. With Matt and Katie leading the way, Paula and I trailed behind Vincent and Jack, talking gardens and landscaping. She smiled and squeezed my arm when I pointed out the garden bench where Vincent had proposed to me. Then she got quiet for a bit before speaking.
"Sean, I want to talk to you about Katie and Matt."
Oh, Christ, I knew I should have kept a better eye on them. "Listen, Paula, I . . ."
"It's okay," she interrupted me. "I know Katie is . . . what? . . . forward, to say the least. She's told me a few things that have happened while she's been staying with you. I just want you to know that I'm glad she's fooling around with Matt, rather than some high school jock who'll break her heart."
"'Fooling around'?" I croaked. "What do you . . . ?"
"Sorry," she laughed. "I didn't mean they were having sex, although I wouldn't put it past her to talk him into it. I just meant kissing him and playing touchy-feely. I know she's curious, and it sounds like maybe Matt is also." She paused, and then asked me in a hesitant voice, "Has he ever been with a girl?"
I shook my head, and then glanced at her. "Me neither."
She absorbed that in silence before asking, "Are you ever curious about what it's like? How it's different?"
I shrugged. "Not really. When I hug a woman, her body feels very different from Vincent's - but it doesn't excite me at all." I looked at her. "Are you sure you wanna hear this?"
"Yes, if you don't mind talking to me about it. You're the only gay man I know that I'm comfortable enough to talk to like this, and I'm interested."
I nodded. "Okay. Well, one morning I looked at Katie in her t- shirt and undies, and tried to get aroused by her, by the thought of being with her, but nothing happened. I'm just not wired that way. Then Vincent shifted in his chair, and I could see his, uh, penis, and I started to get hard." She was staring at the ground as we walked, her face unreadable. "TMI?"
She laughed. "No, no. I was just trying to imagine feeling like that about another woman. But I guess I'm wired for guys, too. Something we have in common." She looked up at Jack strolling ahead with Vincent. "Do you think Jack's cute?"
"Oh, God, Paula." Actually, I thought Jack was adorable. He was about Vincent's height, a little heavier built, with light brown hair and brown eyes. His face was open and friendly, and I could easily imagine him as a pediatrician or the local dog and cat vet, instead of the airline executive I knew he was. I watched him walk for a few moments, his round ass shifting in his jeans as he strolled along chatting with Vincent. "He's got a great ass."
Paula let go with a hoot of laughter, causing Jack and Vincent to turn around and look at us. "Yes, he does," she agreed. More soberly, she added, "Katie and Matt will do what they want regardless of what we think about it. I just wanted you to know that I don't expect you to watch them every minute."
I nodded glumly, feeling more responsible than ever for what went on under my roof.
Sunday was busy. First of all it was Father's Day. Vincent and I kept up a tradition we'd started years ago by taking our dads out to an early breakfast. The four of us got along well, and we had a good time, getting home around nine.
The second gymkhana was that day, and it went really well considering that I had done absolutely nothing to get ready for it. Teresa and Alejandro had it all under control, so I just strolled around enjoying the kids and their horses. Katie won a class, and Matt did well in a couple, but didn't win anything.
Julia and Daisy were there. Daisy looked nothing like her shaggy portrait, but the bond between the two of them was neat to see. We had added an event where you rode bareback to the opposite end of the arena, hopped off your horse to toss a big bag of Styrofoam peanuts across his neck, then got back on however you could, and rode like hell back to the starting line.
Kids with taller horses were in trouble, because it's tough to get back up on a slippery, jittery horse while keeping your slithery bag of peanuts in place. Several of the horses wanted nothing to do with the bag of peanuts and were eliminated. One went so far as to gallop around the arena three times, kicking up his heels as he evaded all efforts to be caught until Cody finally got a rope and lassoed him, much to the crowd's delight.
When it was Julia's turn, she cantered to the end of the arena, slid off Daisy, who stood still as a rock while Julia flung a bag of peanuts over her neck, then dropped to her knees in front so that Julia could clamber back on. As they dashed back across the line - clearly the winners - the crowd broke into cheers and applause. When they accepted their first place ribbon, Daisy bowed down on one leg. Obviously, Julia had spent a good deal of time teaching that pony tricks.
Mrs. Branson saw Matt and me tacking up Ginger, who was making her gymkhana debut, and stopped to talk with us. She was a friendly woman around our age, who put her arm over Matt's shoulders when he introduced me to her.
"You have no idea how much we love that portrait," she told him with a smile. "We hung it over the mantle in the family room where we can enjoy it every evening. Thank you again. I recommended you to a couple of my friends, so be expecting their calls."
Matt accepted her thanks with grace, and I gave him a warm hug when she walked away. "You're an amazing kid, you know that?" He smiled at me, pleased with my approval, and I once again blessed Vincent's instincts in bringing him home to us.
Matt rode Ginger in the pole bending, coming in second to a skinny boy on a skinny horse that darted through the poles in record time. I tracked him down afterward, and saw that both of them were thinner than I'd thought, knobby bones showing here and there. The boy looked to be about 12 or 13, and had the wary look of a survivor, not quite meeting my gaze as I got closer to him.
"Good run," I told him, as he eyed me from the back of the horse. "You claim your prize yet?" He shook his head, so I continued. "Free lunch. Come on."
I turned to walk toward the concession stand, and after a moment, I heard his horse's hoof beats behind me. As we passed where Ginger and Zena were tied for the day, I stopped.
"Let's leave . . . what's his name?"
"Rascal," he muttered, giving the two sleek, well-fed horses an envious look.
". . . Rascal here to have his own lunch." Rascal was eyeing the pile of alfalfa with interest, and I wondered when the last time was either of them had eaten a decent meal. We unsaddled Rascal, tying him across from Zena with a spare halter. As we walked off, he was ripping mouthfuls from a thick flake of hay and making eyes at Ginger.
"What's your name?" He was walking slightly behind me and off to the side, careful not to come into contact with me.
"Kelly."
Every word seemed to be a real effort, so I quit trying to get him to talk and just aimed for the food stand. When we got there, I walked in the side door, holding it open until he edged in next to me. There was a little back room where they stored extra supplies and where the workers ate. I pointed at the small table and went up front to get us some lunch.
When I put a tray loaded with food in front of him, he just sat there until I picked up a burger and took a bite. In twenty minutes, he put away two and a half hamburgers, carefully wrapping the final half before shoving it into his pocket. He also ate a big pile of fries and chugged down a large soda. If he thought it odd that no one else was claiming their free lunch, he didn't comment on it.
I talked with him a little more as he ate, discovering that he lived a few miles away in a ramshackle farmhouse set back from the road. I'd never paid much attention to it, but he said he and his mother had lived there for about five years, since his dad had run off. He was fifteen, much older than I'd thought, and now that I saw him up close, he looked more his age. His dark brown hair needed a trim, and his brown eyes set in his thin face darted up to mine and away again. His clothes were clean, but old and mended here and there.
We walked back to Rascal who was still eating, so I talked Kelly into going to the barn with me to see the donkeys. We hopped into my car, and a few minutes later, he was being snuffled and licked by four curious donkeys. Ollie butted him in the stomach, knocking him on his butt, and when he landed, he laughed. It was the first emotion of any sort I'd seen from him, and he finally looked like a normal kid.
After he got up and brushed himself off, we walked around the stables. He was silent as he took in the stately old buildings, the well-cared for horses, the gleaming saddles. When we drove back to the show grounds, he said he had to leave, so we got Rascal tacked up and he climbed on. He hesitated before riding off, finally looking me in the face for a second.
"Mister, you got any work for me?"
I figured Tommy could find something to keep him busy, so I told him to come after school tomorrow. I jotted down his phone number and told him I was gonna call his mother before then, to make sure it was okay with her. From the look of the kid and the horse, I doubted she'd say no to a little more money coming in. I told him to ride Rascal over each day - that way I could fatten up the horse, too.
When I got home that evening Matt was acting a little odd, smiling to himself now and then, and hurrying us through supper. As we neared the den, he went in first, and then turned to look at us as we entered. I was behind Vincent, and bumped into him when he stopped dead just inside the door.
"Goddamn it," I complained, juggling coffee cups just as Vincent breathed, "Oh, my god," in a hushed voice.
I stepped out from behind him and followed his gaze. Propped on the mantel in a large frame - probably three feet by five - was a pencil drawing. Three men lay sleeping, and as I looked at it more closely, I realized it was Vincent, Matt, and me, naked, the sheet crumpled at our feet as though we'd kicked it off on a warm night.
"Oh, Matty...." It must have taken him months to complete a work so large.
I'd loved every drawing Matt had given us, but this one stopped you in your tracks - literally. He'd done it on a deep cream- colored paper, so that it was warm and rich. It was so detailed that from across the room, it looked like a black and white photograph. Matted in gray with a wide black frame, it was an impressive piece of art.
The point of view was from my side of the bed, looking down at us. I was on my back, one knee bent out sideways like I always do, so that my balls hung down into the dark valley of my ass. My dick was lying against my thigh, soft and sleepy. My face was turned slightly away, toward Matt.
He was on his side next to me, one arm across my chest with my hand covering his. His knees were drawn up touching my leg, and his head was curled down to rest against my upper arm. His cock and balls were visible in the shadow of his crotch, and he had either the beginning or the end of a nighttime hard-on, his dick full and lifted slightly away from his leg.
Vincent was also on his side, his body tucked up close behind Matt's, his arm across him to rest on my belly. His other arm stretched above Matt's head with his fingers in my hair. You couldn't see Vincent's crotch, but his leg was shoved between Matt's, pushing Matt's nuts forward under his chubby cock. Vincent's other foot was under the sheet.
A shaft of moonlight slanted across us illuminating my face, Matt's shoulder, and Vincent's hip before fading away. It's impossible to convey in words the feeling of that drawing. To me, it felt of everything that was good about the relationship the three of us shared - trust, friendship, love. Most of all trust, I think, as we lay there sleeping in each other's arms.
Vincent was still planted where he'd stopped when I'd bumped into him, his mouth open slightly as his eyes roamed over the three of us. He reached for my arm, pulling me to his side when he finally spoke.
"Matt." He stopped and I looked at him in surprise. He was blinking and breathing a little fast as he tried to get his emotions under control. "Matt," he tried again, "that is..." He shook his head, at a loss for words.
Matt glanced up at the drawing, and then looked back at us. "Father's Day hasn't meant anything to me in a long time, but this year it does." He walked over to us, looking back and forth between our faces as he spoke. "I couldn't love my own father more than I love the two of you. You saved my life, and gave me a chance to... to heal, and to find out if there was anything good left inside me. I wanted to give you something that showed how I felt about what you've done for me." He turned to gaze at the drawing, speaking quietly. "I thought about it a lot, and the times I feel safest and most loved are when we're all tangled up together in that big bed, so that's what I drew. I hope you like it."
There wasn't a sound in the room until Vincent gave a great big sniff, followed by a sigh as he pulled Matt to us. I was shaking a little with the intensity of the moment. What do you say when someone presents you with something so meaningful, so important, that your guts quiver with the power of it? I didn't say anything; I just held onto Matt and hoped he could feel from my physical reaction just what his amazing gift meant to me.
I don't know how long we stood there, but finally Matt pulled away slightly, and took us to the couch. We drank our coffee and ate our desert, but I have no idea what it was. I couldn't take my eyes off the drawing until Vincent said it was time to go to bed. Before I left the room, I walked over and looked closely at it. 'Full Moon' was penciled in the lower left corner, and just below it, 'MATTT' - Matt's name plus his last initial. This drawing was the first time he'd used what would become a well- known signature.
Vincent and I made love to Matt with a tenderness that eventually brought him to tears. He cried for a long time, quiet sobs that would have broken my heart under any other circumstances, but tonight I knew they were a release and a closure. We settled down to sleep in much the same pose the drawing had us - Matt in the middle with Vincent and I arranged on either side.
Matt slept through the night, and was clear-eyed in the morning, going to his own room to shower. That evening Adam showed up for dinner. Matt didn't offer to show him the drawing, so I assumed he'd already seen it. When we went into the den, Adam spotted it immediately, and turned to Matt with a look of surprise. Matt met his gaze evenly for a long moment, and then Adam walked closer to study it in silence.
As I watched them, I realized that Matt was saying something to Adam with that drawing. I hadn't given any thought as to whether or not Adam knew that Matt still had a physical relationship with Vincent and me. I'd assumed they'd discussed it, but maybe that was part of the reason the two of them hadn't developed a more committed relationship.
We all chatted for a while, and then Adam stood and looked at Matt with a raised eyebrow. After a moment of holding his gaze, Matt rose, kissed Vincent and me goodnight, and left with Adam. He didn't come home that night, and when he stopped by the barn the next afternoon, it was to tell me that he'd be spending the week with Adam. He was a little defensive about it, so I was careful to keep my comments neutral. He said they needed to talk.
I could feel the day approaching when Matt would leave us, and I was dreading it. Selfish, I know, but I felt a connection with him much like I felt with Vincent - not as strong, but very similar - and I knew I'd miss him terribly when he was no longer a part of my daily life.
Vincent and I spent a quiet evening. He helped me clean up after dinner, but wandered away before I was finished. I found him later in the den, standing in front of the drawing with a distant expression on his face. I walked up next to him, my shoulder brushing his, and he took my hand.
"I still can't believe he can do that with a plain old pencil," he mused, wonder in his voice. "Did you see that he got your cowlick? And the way you sleep with that one knee stuck out? It just blows me away that he gets it so right."
His comment said it all - Matt got it so right, it was magical. Each picture he'd done had so much in it of whom and what the subject was, that you felt he'd looked inside them and caught their very essence.
I noticed how accurately Matt had drawn his own body. How does an artist make himself part of the subject of a drawing as detailed as this one? How could you know that your cheek wrinkled just that way when it was pressed up against someone's arm? Or that your balls draped over your leg exactly like that? I had no idea what my nuts looked like in that position when viewed from that angle.
The next couple days were pretty normal. Danny shoed horses on Tuesday and came home for dinner. It was a beautiful, clear evening - a little cool - and we decided to sit in the hot tub for a while to watch the stars come out. I turned off all the yard lights, and we carefully made our way through the dark garden to the tub. We undressed quietly, and this time Danny shucked off his shorts along with Matt, Vincent, and me. I was already in the tub, and looked up as he dropped into the hot bubbly water.
The upward view gave me a clear shot of his cock and balls as he stepped down onto the ledge. He just grinned when he caught me looking, and flipped some water at me with his hand. It was nice to see him so relaxed with us, but so far, I was the only guy he'd done anything with. I figured Vincent was gonna want to get in on the next round with Danny, so I started mulling that over in my head.
We stayed out there till around ten when Matt said he had to get his ass into bed to be up for an early morning of picture taking with David. They wanted to catch the sunrise through the pines or something, so we wandered back up to the house.
Danny yawned hugely before pulling me into a hug.
"I sure like coming over here - you guys are great," he mumbled sleepily.
"You're always welcome," I told him as we rocked back and forth a little. "Not just on Tuesdays."
Vincent was watching us, and when Danny let me go with a kiss, he reached for his arm. "Got one of those for me?"
Danny went into his arms without hesitation, and when Vincent kissed his cheek and began to move toward his mouth, Danny turned his head into it. Vincent didn't press his luck, and ended the kiss after a few moments. Danny just smiled at him with half- closed eyes, and I realized he was really tired.
"Why don't you stay here tonight? You can get up when Matty does if you need to get an early start."
"God, that'd be great. I'm shot. Musta been the hot tub."
We staggered up the stairs arm in arm. Vincent turned right to our room while I took Danny down the hall and got him set up with towels and a toothbrush. He dropped his shorts to the floor and climbed into bed while I was still in the room. The urge to crawl in after him was almost overwhelming, but I didn't think Vincent would appreciate that, so I thoroughly kissed him goodnight (the least I could do!), and went back down the hall with a hard-on. Vincent eyed me as I came into the bathroom.
"Thought I might have to come get you," he said around a mouthful of toothpaste foam. "Or join you," he added, after spitting into the sink.
"I don't think he's ready for that quite yet. Not like TJ was. I'm surprised he kissed you so readily."
"Yeah, me, too. I can't wait to get a hand around his dick. Gives me a hard-on just thinking about it."
"Me, too. Come to bed and let's put them to use."
I called Kelly's mother Monday morning, and got the okay for him to work after school for a few hours. He showed up on Rascal a little after three, quiet and shy, but ready to work. We put Rascal in a stall deep with shavings, and piled orchard grass into the feeder. After I sent Kelly off with Tommy, I had Sam give Rascal a quick once-over. She said he seemed healthy enough, just needed more meat on his bones. I figured five days a week of eating while Kelly worked would help a lot. We gave him a scoop of alfmo with some added supplements to get him started. As I closed the stall door, he glanced up with a grateful expression like he couldn't believe his luck.
Kelly was getting a meal, too. Tommy told him that he'd arrived at break time, and sat him down to a big plate of lasagna that I'd brought from home. He powered through it, finished a glass of milk, and spent the next couple hours helping one of the other boys detail a horse trailer we were selling for one of our owners.
I brought him leftovers every day, and although I think he saw through the 'break' thing pretty quick, he always ate his way through whatever I'd brought. Rascal got taken care of also, hanging out in his plush stall for a couple hours, eating his way through high-dollar horse feed while Kelly sorted tack, or painted the arena fence, or whatever not-too strenuous job Tommy had lined up for him. He rode home each night with cash in his pocket and a smile on his face. Rascal looked fairly cheerful as well, and I felt good about the whole thing.
The following Thursday I got a call from a rodeo promoter who'd heard about our new facility. He had an open weekend on his schedule and was looking for a site within an hour or so of Dallas to hold a two-day event. They'd been rained out a few weekends ago, so he needed to make it up before the season ended in early October. We made plans for him to come out and see the show grounds the following Saturday.
When I got to the barn that morning, Cody was working one of his reining horses, kicking up dust with sliding stops and stock horse spins. It was fun to watch, and I sat on the top rail of the arena while I waited for the promoter. A little before ten, a truck pulled in and a tall skinny guy ambled over to the arena, resting his arms on the rail next to me and squinting at Cody.
After a few moments he spoke. "That Cody Birdwell?"
"Yup," I replied.
"Well, hell, I saw him win in Amarillo back in February. Didn't know he rode outta here. His daddy was a hell of a reiner. Always put on a good show for the crowd."
After Cody finished up and left the arena, we climbed into my truck and drove down the lane to the show grounds. He walked all around, taking a good look at things, shaking fence poles for stability, poking his head into the bathrooms and the kitchen. The only problem was, he needed to buck bulls that weekend, and my place didn't have the pens and chutes required for grumpy, two thousand pound critters with two-foot horns.
I'd planned to beef up one of the arenas for rodeo use anyway, and told him I'd make the improvements if he wanted to commit to coming here. We came to an agreement and drove back to the barn to do the paperwork. In my office, he noticed the table of trophies and crystal bowls from my competitive days. After picking one up to read the inscription, he turned to me.
"What's it like, jumping one of them big old fences?"
I smiled at him, remembering soaring over the high vertical on Calvin. "Like flying. It's like flying without wings."
He gazed at me for a moment, possibly trying to imagine such a thing, then we settled down to signing contracts, insurance riders, and all the other documents required to hold a public event on private property. As he was straightening the stack of papers by thumping them on the desk, he commented, "We always give a few wild card entries to the facilities owner if you wanna enter any events, or maybe Cody might."
"I can give them to anyone?" I asked, thinking of Katie and the barrel racing.
"Yep. They just gotta have a PRCA card, and sign the insurance waiver."
Sunday Vincent and I slept late - for us - not rolling out of bed till almost nine. We hadn't made love the night before because Vincent got home late from a wedding dinner that had gone on forever. We took a long shower, soaping each other leisurely, kissing now and then. Vincent moved behind me to scrub my back, using both hands to work the muscles of my neck and shoulders. It felt heavenly and I lowered my head with a sigh.
Eventually his arms moved around to my front, and he pulled me snugly back against his slippery chest. As his hands ran up and down my stomach, I reached behind me, one soapy hand grasping his nuts and the other stroking his cock as he hardened. His hands dropped lower, also, until we both had fistfuls of each other. I leaned forward until my forehead rested against the wall of the shower, closing my eyes as I lost myself in the feel of him in my hands and me in his.
He slid a hand around my hip and into the crack of my ass, gliding it slowly up and down until I began to push back into him, asking for more. I angled his hard dick toward my hole, spreading my feet slightly as he moved forward to meet me, holding my hips as his cock head slid into me.
The water beat down on my back as I leaned further forward. Vincent gave a few short pumps to work his way deeper, easing his grip on me as his belly met my ass. For some reason, that position always seems raw and slutty to me standing up, bent over, impaled. It makes me want to grunt and thrust and fuck myself senseless on the hard cock buried in my ass. Vincent knew that, and used that knowledge this morning, shoving me further over until my hands landed on the tiled bench.
I reached for my dick with one hand, but he pushed it away and grabbed me in a tight hold as he started to thrust with long, fast strokes, making me grip the edge of the seat to keep my balance. After a few minutes, I squatted slightly to change his angle, and was rewarded with the intense sensation of Vincent's cock nudging my prostate.
As my grunts rose in pitch, he picked up the pace until his thighs were slapping against mine with a sharp, smacking sound as water flew everywhere. I clenched my ass as the tightness in the pit of my stomach descended to my balls. Vincent slid a hand into my hair, closing his fingers and tugging my head back just as I came with a shudder and a roar.
As I was shooting jets of cum into the swirling water at my feet, Vincent came to his toes for a moment, caught in those few seconds of limbo that precede orgasm. As the first load surged up from his balls, he jolted against me, arching back and growling. His climax prolonged mine, and it was a few minutes before I quit twitching.
When he'd softened sufficiently, I pulled away from him and sank to my knees to recover. Vincent came down with me, lying over my back with both arms around me as he kissed my shoulders.
"Nothing like good, clean sex to start the day, huh, baby?" he muttered in my ear, before licking my neck. I agreed wholeheartedly and we slowly got to our feet to finish our shower.
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