A Store in Pride Valley

“I’d marry you yesterday if I could,” I replied.

“How about tomorrow? I’ll make some calls.”

John made the calls, and we’d have to make a trip to the county seat with our birth certificates to prove citizenship. I guess the people in that office didn’t realize that birth certificates don’t always prove that someone is a citizen. We had to schedule an appointment as well, which meant more coordination.

John checked his schedule since he was the one with more conflicts, and I talked to Abigail Shelton about watching the shop. She was open and flexible. So, John got everything scheduled; I ordered pink underwear from Amazon for us to wear. No one in town had teeny-weeny pink bikini underwear. Everything was set in motion.

The following Tuesday, John was already in my kitchen making a salad. Steaks were on the grill with some corn on the cob and potatoes. “Any decisions?” I asked.

“I made a million today.”

“Dollars, or decisions?” I asked.

“Ugh. There’s a package on the chair for you. I thought you had everything sent to the store.”

“Not sure why I didn’t; oh, wait.” I opened the package. “Yeah! It’s our wedding underwear.”

“That scares me.” John turned and walked toward me.

“Here’s yours.” I held up the neon pink undergarment.

“Fuck no, you didn’t.”

“Yep, I did.”

He began to laugh.  

I pulled the other pair from the package. “And here are mine.”

“They’re the same.” He started to tear up.

“Of course they are. We’re a match, aren’t we?”

“Fuck you, Aaron. You’re always making me cry.”

“True. But they’re good tears.” I kissed him. “And just to remind you, I don’t care whose house we live in. We can keep both. We can rent both and get another one.”

“Like we can afford that.”

I sighed rather deeply. “Actually, Johnny, my love, we can. I’ve been keeping secrets.”

“About your on-the-side escort service?”

“You know, I think you need more practice deep throating,” I was nodding my head.

“I’m never going to swallow your monster dick. It’s just too big, and I don’t want you telling me how ‘average’ you are. You’ve got a big dick.”

“Wait. Did you just deflect?” I poked his chest with my index finger. “You fucking did. Well, here it is. I’m rich. Got it? Now go check on the steak.”

He went to the door. “How rich?”

“Check on the steaks. You are driving me crazy.” I laughed. “How rich?” I caught myself. Don’t talk to yourself, I thought. At least not out loud.

John came back in with food loaded on a platter. I saw him struggling at the door. I walked up to it. “Need help?” I shouted.

He looked up at me and began to mouth something. I slid the door open and there was no sound coming from him.

“You were not saying,” I inquired.

“When I am done with my corn, I’m going to hold you down and fuck you with the cob.”

“Like I haven’t had that done before. Make sure you use real butter. I hate the greasy ass that margarine leaves behind.” I put my arms out to take the platter. “Let me help you with that. I know you elderly men have trouble balancing heavy loads.”

“You win,” he said. “I’ll be quiet and listen.”

I placed the platter on the kitchen table and pulled down some plates. He brought the knives and the drink. We sat down. I made no moves. He divided the food. “I’m listening,” he said. “You said you have lots of money, and we can afford to get a house together and rent these.”

“That’s right.” I took a bite of steak. “Hey, babe, this is really good. It’s perfection.”

“Thank you.” I could tell he was fighting to maintain his emotionless demeanor. I knew that once his true self broke through that we would banter back and forth and end up sucking or fucking or both somewhere in the house. “So how much were you thinking we would put down on a new place.”

“The whole thing. Like I did when I bought this one.”

“You paid cash for this house?”

“Yeah, it’s easier that way I think.”

“So, if we do get a house together, what were you thinking for a budget?”

“I don’t think we should spend over a million on it. Do you?”

“No. Of course not. That sounds like a reasonable limit.”

He didn’t believe me. “I’m not yanking your chain, Johnny.”

“OK.”

“Most of the money is in a trust, and since we’re getting married, I added you and Susy. If something happens to me, I want you to be taken care of. Oh, and just so you know, if you knock me off, you are automatically disqualified from getting any money.”

“Entirely reasonable.”

I finished my corn. “Did you want me to save my cob to use on you?”

“I’m sure you can manage without it.”

I put the cob to the side and finished the steak. “I’m not going to have room for the potato.”

“Yeah, I made too much.”

“You are too much, but I love all of it.” I wiggled my chair until I was next to him. “Let’s put the extra food away.”

“And…”

“Whatever you want to do,” I suggested.

“I want to put this house thing to rest while we put away the dishes.” John stood up and took the platter to the counter.

“Foil for the potatoes or would you prefer a dish?”

“Let’s dish ‘em. And I’m going to toss these cobs.”

“But there such cheap sex toys.” I made a pouting face.

“I realized that I can just smear butter on my dick and use it. I’d have fun; you’d have fun. You know, killing two birds with one stone.”

“I wonder if that would make your ass taste better?”

“You don’t like the taste of my ass?”

“Here’s the thing, John. When I watch the videos, the guys always say how much they like the taste of the guy when they’re licking his ass…”

“It’s called rimming, remember.”

“The point is, when I rim your ass, it tastes like clean skin. Sometimes there’s a soapy taste, but mostly it’s just tasteless. You’re moaning your head off because I do such a great job, and I get nothing.”

“Except a bit of a soapy taste. Sometimes.”

“Exactly.” I pushed my finger in the air to emphasize my point. “Now, with a bit of butter.”

“I was thinking…”

“Uh-oh.”

“I eat plenty of good-tasting food. I could just push a little out…”

I slapped his face. “Snap out of it. Don’t even think about suggesting that your fiancé eat shit. I will ride your dick and fracture it and claim it was an accident. Got me?”

John made the boy scout salute. “Yes, sir.” He said nothing for a moment or two. “I thought we were brainstorming ideas. I thought all ideas were good when you’re brainstorming.”

“Well, whoever told you that was telling a fucking lie. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes, sir. I’m going to take a shower. You bring the butter.” He reached down and pinched my ass cheek and took off toward the bathroom.

I started to follow him but stopped. I walked toward the refrigerator and opened the freezer compartment. A few minutes later, I joined John in the shower. I quickly lathered my body and rinsed.

“Why so fast?” he asked.

“I need you, Johnny. I want you to fuck me.”

“Turn around, baby.”

“No, on the bed. I need to see your face, to watch your eyes.” I pushed my face against his and gave him a hard, passionate kiss. I licked his chin as I pulled away. “Come fuck me, baby.”

I toweled quickly, got on the bed, and lubricated my hole. When he came into the bedroom, my legs were up, silicone lubricant glistened around my manhole, and I had a finger inside me. “I need you,” I begged.

John positioned himself. I wrapped my lube-covered hands around his stiff cock while I continued to finger myself.

“Push it in.” I pulled my fingers away and reached to hold his ass.

I felt the head of his dick against my hole. He applied pressure and popped inside me.

“Oh, yes.” I grabbed his thighs and held him inside me.

“Shit,” John jerked. “That’s fucking cold. What the hell did you do?”

“Fuck me, baby.”

John struggled to pull out, but I remained steadfast. He was able to pull away, and two ice-cubes plopped out. “What the hell did you do?”

I started to laugh.

“Are you stoned?”

I laughed harder.

“That was fucking cold.”

“You said that,” I snorted.

“I think my dick is dead.”

“I’m sure he’s just stunned. I’ll give him some mouth to mouth to revive him.”

“You sure?” asked John.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Go rinse him off, and I’ll suck him all night. The look on your face was priceless.”

“I’m marrying an asshole,” he muttered as he walked away.

“You already knew that.”

“Yes, I did,” he called back as he started the shower again. I cleaned up the ice and when John came back into the room, I sucked him slowly and made him forget all about my cold ass. His dick was a little cooler than usual, but that could have been my imagination. Up and down I went while listening to the pattern of his breathing. Most often, his breathing would become shallow and rapid just before he would grunt like a pig and shoot his load, or he would say something really sweet such as how much he loved me as he slammed into me with a lot of force and then deposit his load.

Today, I expected a grunt. I timed things out and when I thought he was about to deliver the goods, I pushed against him, burying my nose in his bush and shoving the head of his dick into my throat. He gasped, grabbed my head, and shot a ton of cum down my esophagus. It was a completely different experience for me. Almost all his seed bypassed my mouth. The only taste I got was from the small dribble that came as an afterthought.

I sat up and looked at him, collapsed on his side on the bed.

“You’re a crazy bastard, aren’t you. I can’t live without you. I’m going to have to tell Susy about you when she first gets here so she knows why a strange man is living with us.”

“And,” I added, “we can get her a really pretty dress and a big bouquet for the wedding. Maybe the bouquet will be big enough to hide our pink underwear.”

“I’m wearing pants over those, you know.”

“Somehow, I knew you’d say that.” I grinned. Are we going to do rings? There’s a cute pillow I can make for her to carry.”

“We’ll have to buy rings.”

“A member of the team runs that new jewelry shop across from the Teacup. We can shop there.”

“A member of the team?”

“You know, he’s queer, like you,” I said.

“The fuck you say.” John sat up, indignant.

“The fuck I do say. I’m just gay, but you, my man, are queer.”

John scoffed. “If anyone’s queer in this house, it’s you.”

“Queer denotes an extra level of strange,” I nodded my head toward him.

“Yeah, and which one of us stuff ice cubes up his ass?”

Fuck, I thought without saying anything. He was going to win this argument. “Wait, which one of us talked about fucking the other one with a corn cob. Huh, pervert?” I smiled like the cat who ate the canary.

“I think it was NOT the guy who suggested using butter for lubricant.” 

I paused for several moments. “OK, we’re both queer.”