Closer to Heaven

Grandbabies, Lucas Stuart worried, Grandbabies.

He was standing in the mirror of the sterile bathroom of the twenty-sixth-floor splashing water on his face to get his mind right.

Today was a new beginning for him in many ways. He no longer had the freedom to work whenever he felt like it. He no longer had the luxury of job-hopping at whim because of this flaw or that flaw or because it caused him to get out of bed at a certain time. Now that he understood that he had to “man up”, he was not about to throw this opportunity away because of some feelings he thought he suppressed eons ago.

He came across this job by happenstance. He was spending the bulk of his last few dollars at the Burger Joint trying out the new seasonal burger. The one they advertised on television. Instead of taking his meal to go and listen to his grandmother complain about him wasting her money like that, he sat down at a table to eat his meal in quiet. He barely had two minutes of quiet in the empty restaurant when a group of businessmen decided, in all the open places to sit, to sit behind him and conduct an impromptu meeting. He tried ignoring them at first, thinking neither had one to do with the other, but the way they kept on racking their brains over a simple problem they wanted to make complex, he voluntarily gave them his opinion given they failed to give him his space.

He thought his idea was worth its weight in gold, and so did the young man, who turned out to be the head honcho. He offered Lucas his business card and asked him to call him if he was ever in need of a job. Lucas was always in need of a job. Wanting one was a different story. He always said he wanted one. He often talked himself out of one when he saw that the operative word was work. Ironically, it was never the task at hand he had problems with as it was the semantics that came with working. It was already a chore to ask his brother Bobby to borrow one of his suits and find a way to get some more money out of his grandmother for bus fare to get to the job. Then on top of that, he would have to start a routine of getting up in the morning and head to work, getting off work and head home. Before long he was like a hamster in a wheel going in a circle becoming one of them instead of one of him.

He would have never thought to call the business card man if it hadn’t been for some extenuating circumstances at home. So, he got the suit and got the bus fare and got to work, only to discover he was extremely good at what he did. Although, for the most part, he hadn’t a clue of what it was exactly outside of running his mouth and sounding professional in accord. He had done such a magnificent job his temporary gig was upgraded to a permanent position.

He was nervous but excited about his new promotion. That was until he saw who he was working under—or at least wanted to.

Ron Barkley was not just an extraordinary handsome man. He was the perfection Lucas assumed male models aimed for, with his beautiful angular face outfitted with the thick flavor savor that ran from the bottom of his lip over the tip of his chin. His skin was very fair, like peach fuzz with a fleck of darkness that gave him his exotic, sun-soaked look. Most of the paled-faced white folks in the office peg him for being European, at the most. But it was apparent to Lucas the boy had too much urban American soul. At the minimum, Ron could have been a white boy with black swagger, but Lucas was sure there was some black hiding in the woods.

While Lucas had to work close with the man, he refused to froth over him like he did whenever he was out of sight of him. It was totally unbecoming of Lucas, given that he only had vague cravings for men in years past. It was nothing that kept him from acting like a man as he was suddenly growing hot and bothered like he was. The last thing he needed now was to find a way out of another job when things were finally going his way. The money was a great motivator, but it was more than that. He found what his grandmother called his “purpose in work.”

Thankfully, Lucas always found a way to play it cool with Ron. Why wouldn’t he? In many respects, outside of the sexual attraction Lucas had for Ron, the two men were like peas in a pod, sticking together. Both were viewed as sort of the renegades, the corporate thugs within the company because neither one conformed nor in turned produced the best of the better results. Of course, this was saying a lot for Lucas sporting his ratty cornrows and lost-cause goatee and stubble he anxiously tried to groom into a beard that he could one day trim, an otherwise mess he somehow managed to make very appealing against his rich mahogany skin.

Their working relationship had gotten so close that a friendship was slowly in the works. Lucas vowed it couldn’t be anything more. All his grandmother ever wanted for him was to get on his feet and give her some great grandbabies, believing that constant responsibility would force him to grow up.

He spent enough of his life disappointing her. He wasn’t going to do it again.

Eventually, with his good looks and well-paying job, Lucas knew it was only a matter of time before he was going to find a nice girl to settle down with and father a few children.

He was not about to go there with Ron, Lucas reminded himself, splashing more water on his face.

He was very much passionate about women. He often had a girlfriend and possibly her friend whenever the mood struck him. Yet, there always existed flares of his lust that were geared towards men. He even toyed with the idea a time or two but put it to pass when his religious grandmother warned him about the ills.

He only heeded this advice after he acted on his infatuation twice: first with George and the second time with Harp.

George was an older kat from around the way that manipulated Lucas to delve into his deepest curiosities. As he did that, George lured Lucas into the possibility of forever with him. After George got what he was after a handful of times, keeping Poor Lucas and his puppy love on a well-trained leash, he pretty much ignored him for someone much easier to play.

Harp was different, however. Their relationship was much more innocent, in a great respect. Harp was genuine about happily ever after; except he wasn’t ashamed to share it with the world. Lucas was ready. He was in love. He just had his grandmother to think about, her future grandbabies. She lost the bulk of her children to some sort of tragedy, be it accident or overdose. The two that were still living were making their way to the cemetery by way of failing health and reckless behavior.

His brother Bobby should have bailed him out of his family obligations by the three children he already had. Sorry to say that with his budding success he was becoming self-absorbed and blatantly neglectful to his three children, something that his grandmother often prayed that Lucas never does.

“Ah,” Lucas groaned to his itching left side. “This shit.”

He desperately wanted to hold it or scratch it. He came awfully close and saw in the wall-width reflection he had on his dark blue shirt and his hands were still wet. If he went right for it, it would have certainly left a spot that he would have had to hurriedly dry with the hand dryer.

He grabbed a couple of paper towels at the end of the counter, wiped his hands, and proceeded to undo his shirt from his pants and unbuttoned it, exposing a large white bandage that ran parallel to his abdomen covering his tattoo.

He got the tattoo the day before. It was sort of his last rebellion to the oncoming rat race of full-time employment. He was determined to have something left of his former self, along with it being an innovative way to stay motivated at his job. Being that it paid for this.

Lucas was undressing it, checking where he could scratch if he could scratch where it itched. He was finding certain spots where the ink didn’t mark the skin and scratched along the edge of the two where he felt the most discomfort.

He scratched for a while, and then decided to admire the work that was done.

He was apprehensive about letting his boy Doc talk him into getting a crown in the center of angel wings. Doc convinced him it was a bit more universal. He could mean he was a king with wings, and if he ever decided to be one of those self-righteous churchgoers, he could also say it has some sort of pious meaning.

Lucas thought he was alone in the restroom when he heard the toilet flush from one of the numerous stalls behind him. He was already startled but surprised to find a familiar face emerge to the counter.

Lucas was never formally introduced to the paper-brown man in blue work overalls. He happened to catch him in passing, in and out and around the building. He would have said hello then instead of his signature nod but feared it might lead to a handshake. He was glad the man practiced good hygiene, but still, he wasn’t all that keen on shaking a wet hand even if it was dried, knowing where it could have been a moment earlier. Moreover, Lucas was unacquainted with the proper etiquette of being half-clothed in a lavatory attempting to make a formal impression.

“Hey,” the man said, wiping his hands and looking over at him. 

“Hey,” Lucas said.

“Checking out your tat or is it itching the hell out of you?”

“A little bit of both,” Lucas simpered. “It itches but not nearly as bad as they told me it would.”

“Give it a minute. My first one wasn’t so bad. But my last one didn’t start itching like a fool until I went to bed.”

“You have two?”

“More like five. I got a long sleeve here” he said pulling up the sleeve of his left arm to reveal a dark image of roots submerged in water rising into a half-human on the surface “and a short sleeve here” showing off a building surrounded by a variety of skulls.

“Whoa,” Lucas said shocked at the detail.                                       

“And these are just the two I can show you right now.” The man laughed.

“Okay,” Lucas said, not even wanting to entertain where the other three tattoos could possibly be.

“Not like that.” The man added softly.

There was a brief pause as the two men casually exchanged looks as the man unrolled his sleeves.

“Moor,” the man mouthed with a soft smile.

Lucas was taken aback, looking directly into his eyes, and proceeded to shake his hand, “Lucas, man.”

Moor Duval was no Ron Barkley. He didn’t have the influential job title or the exotic good looks. Nevertheless, Moor was still a comely man in his own right.

He was sturdy and plain in stature, much in the way people used to think of a manly man, especially one that worked with his hands. Something that was quite apparent in his broad chest and burly arms and a slightly protruding belly that was more solid than fat than anything else.

Let the world tell it, his station in life as a maintenance engineer wasn’t that high, but the pay often exceeded those persons that wore power suits. That was beside the point, however. Above all else, he was quite happy with his life—as much as he could be.

The divorce father of two still had to dole out sizeable alimony and child support payments. Most men cringe at the thought, but he did so willing as sort of the price for his inner peace. Everything was out in the open, and he could finally live life the way he wanted. His life, he often beamed.

Much like Lucas, Moor felt the confined pressure of being everything and nothing at the same time. Because he was the oldest of fours, he was expected to set the ultimate good example for his younger siblings. Something, in which, he did with flying colors. He sustained the best grades and played high school football when he was afforded the chance in his small country town. Although he was always in the fray, a friend to everyone and an enemy to none, he always felt like he was left out of the private joke, particularly when some of his teammates bragged about scoring with some of the girls from around the way. He wasn’t naïve. He knew exactly what they were talking about. He just never caught onto what the big deal was. What was so special about scoring with the girls? As he saw it, where he hailed from, it was just another way to get them closer to motherhood and matrimony. He didn’t have the vocabulary back then to articulate it, but deep down he knew more than anything he wanted to score that way with a guy. In part, it was sexual. For the most part, however, he thought it was such a cool way to prove his macho bravado all the while forcing one of his fellow comrades to succumb to his dominating manhood. Albeit, what he was thinking was quite taboo.

Moor lacked the luxury of experiment and headed off to trade school without a clue. When his parents asked him about a girlfriend, he got one. When his parents asked him about getting married, he proposed. He hadn’t the foggiest of ideas of what to look for in a wife. He thought because she was pretty that would do.

On the night of his bachelor party, on the eve of his small wedding, Moor and his friends watched porn and got drunk in a motel room. He slept like a baby after the party. He woke up surprised to find his best man bobbing on his dick. Rather than push him away, he grabbed his head and rode out the feeling. When it came time to cum, Moor pulled out of his mouth and shot a huge load all over his face, dribbling from the top of his forehead to the bottom of his pointy chin.

Moor knew he was wrong. It was just that never in his life anything felt so right. To have such a beautiful man between his legs taking care of him like that was like a slice of heaven. There was no doubt in his mind he deserved to be with another man.

He wouldn’t have gone to the church later that morning if he didn’t think it was such a cowardly move not to show up. He already prepared his speech on the way over there to tell his fiancée it was over. That was until he overheard his mother-in-law let it slip his soon-to-be bride was pregnant. Against his better judgment he went through with the ceremony and vowed to honor his commitment.

He obliged it for about six years. Then, one morning, he woke up one morning and decided that life was way too short for this kind of charade. He knew it was unfair to him. Certainly, he felt, it had to be unfair to his wife and kids.

His divorce was as amicable as one could be, given the circumstances. He was totally upfront about his need to separate and his prior esteem of remaining faithful during their nuptial. Deep down, he knew she knew about him although he never acted on his impulses after that. She just wasn’t ready to face it. Plus, she loathed the idea the world might think she wasn’t woman enough to keep her man.

Moor barely stepped foot out into the scene before he fell knee-deep into a relationship with a man. He would be lying if he said he knew the man well enough to have loved him. But the only thing he loved was the newfound sex, and the ability to do what he wanted when he wanted from a guy always willing and able. In this respect, he was like a kid in a candy store.

There had to be more, he reasoned.

He tried to make a go of it with the guy he was currently with. As luck would have it, that fell flat as soon as he began putting the brakes on things.

Moor wasn’t as lucky in his next go around as he was in his first. Rather, he was still in search of his next go-around. Most of the men he was stumbling across weren’t bashful in their hunt for primal sex. He wanted more. Others agreed, others said they wanted a relationship. But, again, they too were wanted sex. Just in the name of a commitment. He soon discovered there was another class of men. He quickly uncovered though he was not a man with enough class. This group was caught up in elitism, caught up in the prestige and job titles, although he was gainfully employed and owned property. Nothing fancy, but his. He was then mentally body slammed to find that none of that mattered. Some men would settle for a night of stunning trade than a lifetime commitment with someone real.

He was a simple man. He just wanted to be happy.

He wasn’t because he wasn’t coming across somebody that wasn’t going to get pass this issue or that. He wasn’t above a plunge into a one-night stand or two. But it just seemed he was the only one that understood there was more to life than getting laid.

There was always someone catching his eye. Aside from the usual junk, there was always the question is he or isn’t he? Will he or won’t he? Mainly because the guys Moor was looking at weren’t bouncing around in some club or tucked away in some dark corner of the bar. The men that appealed to him were men that were a part of the outside world. Not those that lived in plastic bubbles.

Moor was back on the job after his restroom break, moving from floor to floor, wherever his boss informed him of a problem. While he often did his job flawlessly because he was steadily focus, for the rest of the day he was mainly focused on the brief conversation he had with Lucas and the silly questions that ensued with engaging someone new. Moor wondered if he sometimes goes by Luke. He wondered if Luke or Lucas were two different names. Was that his only tattoo or was there more? What was he like as a man? What was he like as a serious lover? What was he like in bed?

One question after another kept rolling through his head as he completed one more task for the day. He was so caught up, so unaware, he was back on the twenty-sixth floor later that evening. He was so lost in his new infatuation he didn’t take his usual detours to avoid a certain office.

“Hey, Moor, step up in here for a minute!”  

Because if Moor Duval had he would have avoided him, his first flame after his marriage, his best man, and perhaps the best cocksucker in the world, Ron Barkley.

“You wanted to see me, Ron,” Lucas said sticking his head into his office a couple of days later.

It wasn’t like Lucas was avoiding his pal after he came to the revelation, he was feeling him more than he should have. It was just he made sure he stood out of the way.

“Yes, Lucas,” Ron beamed. “I hadn’t seen you in a while. Everything’s alright? Okay?”

“Yes,” Lucas responded. “I’ve been caught up with work and hadn’t had time to catch up with you. What’s going on?”

Lucas said seeing the concern in his face.

“I need your help.”

“What do you need, bruh?”

“You got plans this weekend?”

“Nothing special,” Lucas added. “Why?”

“You mind coming to work for me for a few hours on Saturday?”

“Sort of,” Lucas said bluntly. “If I must, answer me this. Why?”

Ron meticulously explained that an ongoing family emergency from earlier in the week distracted him from his work. Adding fire to the flames of already doing a lousy job, Ron also somehow messed up on some of the previous work he’d done, now needing his fellow consultant Lucas to help him out, repairing the work that was loss.

That was what Ron said.

In truth, Ron did what he supposed to have done. He did like he always done, long before time, well under budget with the reports and thorough side comments to back him up. Like always he was anxious to hand in his work to his cantankerous boss at the time he asked for them. He done his work so long ago and was ready to fork it over to his cantankerous boss when he reached over and saw his hard work was laden with smeared ink caused by dried streaks on the top and on the side, obviously left by the last man he sucked off in his office.

It was nothing to reprint the whole thing. He would have instantly done it if his boss hadn’t come in so pissed, wanting to see his work, then and there. Backed into a corner, a beautiful lie just rolled off his tongue. And because Ron had always been a diligent worker, one of the best in the company, and had a tear attempting to stream down his face for effect, his boss gave him the chance to catch up on his work.

It was nothing to reprint the whole thing after the fact, except work like that took some time, the better part of a day. There was no way Ron could viably explain reworking everything and then give the time and attention needed to the important account he was working on.

“It might help if you get an early start around eight or so. That way you can finish up around noon or so and get on with your day.”

Lucas came in early that Saturday morning.

Instead of eight, he came in at seven-thirty with the goal to be done with whatever by noon. He wasn’t upset he had to get up super earlier nearly as much as what he got up early to do, which by standards wasn’t nearly as pressing or urgent as he originally thought. Ron wasn’t leaving him to finish up some kind of report or anything. Lucas was practically twiddling his thumbs on work that had absolutely nothing to do with this quarter.

He was tempted to leave after the first hour. But the way the busses run on Saturday, plus the long commute, and having nothing else to do when he got back home, he sat and played on the internet, checking up on several dating profiles in search of “Miss Right”.

Lucas was quickly disturbed from thought by some loud squeaking coming from the outside. He wasn’t sure what it was and walked over to the wall-length window to see what was going on. He saw nothing, at first. Yet, he kept on hearing something. It was bugging him where its origin was coming from. Before long, a long flat board appeared just above his window and soon after that, the board revealed Moor Duval washing the windows.

It was something about seeing him like that, seeing him in general, that always brought a huge smile to Lucas’s face. He smiled even more foolishly every time he saw him in passing from then on. But it was something seeing Moor out there washing the window with his body slightly pressed against it that made the unnecessary three-bus, two-train transfer to work Saturday morning well worth it.

If Lucas wasn’t convinced, he was sprung before, going through all of that, he was when he put his hand against the window for Moor to do the same. It wasn’t the hand touching through the window that got him. It was the way Moor looked at him, and the way he damn near melted over a guy he barely knew.

 

Grandbabies, Lucas reminded himself. Grandbabies.

 

Fuck grandbabies, he fleetingly thought.

Lucas laid low for a couple of Saturdays to get his thoughts together. Though, it did nothing to curve their brief interactions during the week. Moor tried talking with him, but Lucas always came up with a reason to excuse himself.

Then on one resuming Saturday morning, Lucas waited for Moor to come down pass his window. Lucas participated fully in their little cat and mouse game. He took it a step further by going up on the roof, waiting on his return.

“What’re you doing up here?” Moor said.

“I want to wash some windows with you.” Lucas smiled in his Saturday casuals.

Against better judgment, the two men descended the other side of the building and began to wash it.

“You work on the building and clean it?” Lucas after several sparks of subtle conversations.

“Yeah, I earn almost as much cleaning its outside on a Saturday morning as I do making sure its insides are good during the week. It’s cheaper to pay me than to contract the work out, seeing that most folks are afraid of heights. For this black man, however, this is the closest I’ll ever will get to rock climbing.”

“I take it that you like it real well?”

“Yeah,” he beamed proudly. “It feels like it brings me closer to heaven, you know? Either one way or another.”

The two men continued to work, with Lucas making a sad attempt to impress Moor with his window washing skills, believing that it was as simple as ‘wipe on and wipe off.’ Mildly afraid he might get excited, Moor got behind Lucas, teaching him the most efficient strokes. Lucas enjoyed the crisp Old Spice scent lulling around him, coaxing him to turn around and press his lips against another full pair.

It was the way Moor reacted or didn’t react that Lucas feared he misread the signs. He thought in an instant his life might be over if Moor decided to toss him over the edge for doing what he did. Rather, Moor was in the moment, enjoying the kiss, and finally reacted by grabbing hold of Lucas by the top of his butt bringing him close to his pulsating thing growing in the front of his pants, kissing him again.

Moor was all about doing this right this time.

He took things slow against the backdrop of the sexual electricity that was sprouting between them. Moor wanted to meet his lover in his best friend, and Lucas agreed wholeheartedly, despite the brewing conflict in his being.

To remedy that, Lucas moved away from the only real home he had ever known to think things through. He managed to keep Moor close, but a reasonable distance at the same time. He didn’t know what to do or what to think. He just knew he didn’t want a repeat of the situation with George, getting what he wanted and moving on; nor was he interested in doing Moor like he did Harp, promising the world and cowering to his fears.

Lucas was enjoying life in the middle. Love without the sex. He knew after seven months however that Moor, with all his restraint, wasn’t above pushing the envelope to the next level. His hugging and his kissing and his groping had grown much more passionate, more orgasmic without the bodily fluid. He felt his dick on brick, always and forever, with a condom rattling in his pocket nearby. It was clear Moor wanted to be inside of him, and yet he always remained respectful waiting on the green light.

Lucas was enjoying the middle. Moor was not. He was commanding more, and in the least it wasn’t about sex. He wanted to know if they were moving forward together, with each other. He wasn’t asking for a lifetime, but at a minimum a tomorrow. This led to a series of small fights. Those small fights led to a series of major fights, leading to bouts of them not talking to each other for days at a time. Even to the point of sometimes passing each other in the building without so much of a glance in the other’s direction.

Moor was close to calling it quits. Feeling like if he couldn’t beat them, join them. He felt like he should just unzip and plug his dick into some willing mouth, some willing asshole and leaving them feeling as empty as they were before, if not more.

Moor had reached the boiling point in this stalemate. He gave it one week, two and three, for something to change. He loved Lucas but wasn’t getting anything out of him except for the same runaround. He made up his mind to break up with Lucas on Monday but hadn’t found the nerve until Friday. Moor figured he could break up with him that afternoon and perhaps the following evening might be able to start his new life.

His plans unfortunately fell through. He had to work the following Saturday and wasn’t expecting to catch Lucas diligently working in his office. He would have wrapped on the window but chose not to. Lucas wasn’t acknowledging him, anyway, Moor reasoned.

Moor was coming up from finishing the last of the building when he saw Lucas standing near the ledge.

“I’m in no mood today,” Moor said annoyed, placing his cleaning equipment on the roof.

Moor knew he was bound to say the inevitable. Lucas felt it too, scrambling to reach over and kiss him. Reminding him how good it was before it got so bad. How good it still can be, along with saying all the right things.

Their first kiss turned into fifteen more, and Lucas was coming out of his heavy sweater throwing it on the speckled gravel beneath their feet. He grabbed Moor, pulled him on top of him, on top of the sweater, parting his legs intimately to accommodate him.

“We got to talk.” Moor said in a half-hearted defense with his hands resting on the outstretched sleeves. “We can’t do this here.”

“Closer to heaven, remember?” Lucas looked up and said weakly.

“Damn, baby,” Moor surrendered.

Moor had his mouth in his mouth, working it along Lucas’s jaw line, up his ear, down his neck, around his sensitive nipples and across his proud standing pipe. Moor catered to the top of his hard pisser delicately, sucking and using his talented tongue over the coffee-colored cucumber. It was almost sensual as it was humorous studying Lucas lift his hips to this off-beat rhythm.

Moor was putting Lucas through the ropes, paying ever close attention to his trembling gasps. He brings him to the edge, and just when both were about ready to bring everything to an end, Moor stopped. He erected his torso and brought those teasing legs over his shoulder, putting his nose around his sac and scrapped his tongue around that sweet hole.

Moor couldn’t maintain this position long. Rather, not as long as he would have liked to comfortably on the tar. Moor put Lucas on his stomach and ate out his clean asshole like he was going in for his last meal.

“Fuck me!” Lucas squirmed uncontrollably.

“What you say?” Moor joked, coming up for air.

“Damn, you,” Lucas exhaled.

Listening to such labored breath was like music to Moor’s ears. Although Lucas was begging for Moor to be inside of him, Moor wanted him begging. This was not like years earlier when Moor was seeking machismo. Moor wanted Lucas to beg to have “his man” up in him, and not just another hard dick. He wanted him to crave his lover, his best friend, everything both of them always wanted.

Lucas carried on about Moor fucking him, but to no avail. Then, something, somewhere deep down, something encouraged Lucas to turn around and look into his face. “Make love to me, man. Make love to me.”

Moor pulled his face from his butt cheeks long enough to utter, “Making love is something that people in love do.”

“I do love you, man.”

“Say it.”

“Say what?

“I love you.” Lucas said pushing out air. “I love you, Moor Duval, and I want to be with you. For as long as you can, for as long as you’ll let me.”  

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” Moor said, rolling Lucas back on his back on the sweater.

Moor looked down at Lucas, into his brown eyes, finding the sincerity and staidness he sought.

“God, I love you.” Lucas said, kissing him before he could say anything else. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Moor smiled back, heavy in his breathing. “But right now I got to fuck you.”

“I’m not down with just your dick up in my ass. I need you to make love to me, Moor,” Lucas said soulfully.

Moor lingered in the stillness of the moment. He said nothing and neither did Lucas, waiting anxiously for the thing that came next. Moor begged Lucas to relax, teasing him with his heavy dick in his crack. Lucas obliged, whining at the flared mushroom head pushing its way inside of him with the help of some pocket-size lube packets Moor generously slathered on the participating parts. Despite this, Lucas was even surprised how big his simple man felt inside of him, but the operative words were his man. This thought alone was enough to allowed him to relax and grow slick back there, permitting Moor to rock them together in a perfectly nasty set, crescendoing from a slow groove to pounding into him like a jackhammer and back again, drenched in sweat.

“Oh, God,” Lucas throatily murmured, as another wave of raw pleasure washed over him.

Moor leveled a few more thrusts. “I can’t hold it much longer, baby. Not much longer.”

When his orgasm arrived, it was a powerful thing that felt like it reverberated forever, passing through the condom a long time ago and emptying out every bodily fluid he thought he ever had. And with the loss of his mighty strength, Moor clumsily fell atop Lucas.

Close to a year later, Lucas thought it was only right he brings together two of the most important people in his life.

When his grandmother saw Moor and his two kids, she immediately asked who they were. Lucas gladly smiled, “Grandbabies, Grandma, grandbabies.”