Chaos: Contemporary Biker Romance (50 page)

“You okay, man?” Ingram asked, himself somewhat on edge, although he did a good job of hiding it. This was his first time with a guy, but he assumed it wouldn't be categorically different from his relations with women. You like someone, you get close to them in any way you can. It's that simple, he figured.

“I'm okay.”

Carter reached over the back of Ingram and untucked his shirt, and he could see down into his pants at his ass. He ran his hands up through Ingram's back and pulled the shirt off, revealing the man in all his glory. He had gigantic shoulders, even bigger than his chest, but the thing most perfect about him (other than his eyes and lips) were the sculpted wrists, the area of the arm that met the hand. His wrists were strong but proportionate to the rest of him, and Carter squeezed them in the heat of the moment, letting out a sigh. Ingram took his long, rectangular fingers and dug through Carter's pants, revealing his erect penis. Standing over him, Carter looked down at Ingram kind of embarrassed but still managing to smile. Ingram took him in his mouth and sucked him as firmly as he had other parts of him. Despite Carter's worry, he could still recognize a part of him that would simply enjoy having sex with Ingram for only physical reasons. The man could make love, that much was sure. Carter placed his hand on the back of Ingram's head, as he had Stetson, imagining for a moment the man performing fellatio was his real love. But Ingram pulled away.

“Don't force me. It's demeaning.”

Carter didn't say anything but apologized instead with his eyes. Ingram immediately felt bad about getting angry and stood up, unbuckling his belt. He instructed Carter to stand up and drop his pants, turning him around like he would a tiny dancer, against the back window of his office. Carter could see through the slits in the blinds the outside world, two policemen walking to their cars after work. They were clearly joking about something as they shook hands and headed off to their vehicles. The sun was setting beyond the trees and the clouds moved visibly across the orange ball of light in the sky. Carter traced the clouds against the outline of the sun as Ingram rubbed Carter's tummy from behind, telling him with his hands it was time to relax and let him enter him. He could hear Ingram unzip his pants and almost immediately, he could feel the man's erection wag between Carter's cheeks. In anticipation, Carter reached around to feel Mike Ingram's erection, throbbing and tumescent, and he ran his hand up and down his dick, feeling the shape to imagine just how big it was in his mind. He took his other hand and pulled Ingram closer by his waist. The guy was wide, Carter could tell from what he felt with his hands.

“I've never done this,” Ingram said from behind Carter. “Don't we need lube?”

“If you could.”

Ingram grabbed a bottle of aloe vera from the shelf next to Carter. “This might work.”

“That's fine,” Carter said. He then felt cold fingers rubbing around his anal canal and then pushing their way into him. He was still nervous, in spite of Ingram's warm caresses, so it was little longer before Ingram could push himself into him. But the feeling was pure ecstasy in his body when Ingram succeeded. Watching the sunset he couldn't stop thinking about Stetson, it was true, but his body was enjoying the sex for sure. This gave the experience a dual-sidedness for Carter.

Ingram was whole, though. He thought not of his wife, whom he suspected was probably cheating on him, but of the connection he was sharing with this boy physically. He could feel the softness of his ass squeeze on his dick, and every thrust brought him closer to heaven. Carter flooded his thoughts--Carter's blond hair, Carter's frail frame, Carter's sad eyes, Carter, Carter, Carter.

He was fused with this kid physically and spinning out of control. He lost a little bit of himself in the moment and replaced it was Carter. He could no longer figure out where he stopped and Carter began. But this wasn't something that he could tell him aloud. This kind was already going through enough without having to deal with another straight guy falling for him. But Michael Ingram couldn't help himself. He was in love, and as anyone who's ever felt the emotion in an authentic setting, the heart has its reasons invisible to the mind. He rose higher and higher until he was practically levitating in the room, suspended in the air, free of all nature's laws. He felt nothing but communion as he ejaculated inside the boy with a soft grunt.

Carter held his forehead against his arm, still leaning against the wall. He lifted his gaze when Michael stopped pumping into him.

“Carter, I--”

“What?”

“I think I am--” Ingram stopped. He couldn't say it. He couldn't tell the kid he loved him.

“What's wrong?”

Ingram sighed. “I think I can help you.”

Guarding the Stallion

Death Row

I

Visitation for death row inmates was nonexistent, especially in the small, insular town of Baggs, Wyoming. Stetson Carthswaite, who was just wrongfully accused of murder by the town's much-worshipped grand prosecutor, coped with the mental delirium, blurred days, and near-constant fear of reprisal from other inmates and guards by fantasizing about having sex with Carter Simmons, the 20-something blond boy he fell in love with two months before his life was ripped to shreds. In one dream, he and Carter were lying in a tent somewhere in Alaska. The wolves, who were not afraid of human presence, watched casually with their fellow pack members. Stetson was asleep and Carter had his head on his chest, rubbing his stomach softly. It tickled him in the dream and he leaned up and kissed Carter on the lips, after which he pulled his own shirt off, revealing his massive, manly chest. The child east wind make his nipples so hard he could cut glass with them, but the excitement of the situation was more than enough to heat up the tent. The early morning dew left sweet dripping nectar from the tip of the sheepskin tent as Stetson dry humped his body against Carter's pelvis. Stetson took his big hands and draped them over Carter, and for the first time mashed his boyish head onto his lap, suggesting without words that he wanted head. Carter willingly obliged, unbuckling the stallion's pants, unzipping his jeans to reveal the largest penis many people may have witnessed.

“I've never done this before,” he said. “Not with something this big.”

“It's okay. Your throat will stretch and it'll feel nice.”

Carter nodded his head in approval and began sucking him off. Stetson, normally thoroughly forceful, found himself turned on by Carter's sweetness, and the gentle licking and blowing he performed all the base of and head of his penis. The feeling behind the actions mattered to Stetson because he didn't believe anyone had ever loved him, truly loved him. He pressed gently on the side of Carter's side, running his index finger along the ridge of Carter's ear. Carter moaned quietly, and Stetson pulled his head for another kiss, this time going along his neck and down his front. Carter tasted sweet to Stetson, his aroma an airy but unforgettable saccharine. He ran his fingers under the band of Carter's underwear and pulled them off. Carter's penis took some time to get hard, given the temperature outside the tent, but it wasn't long before he was raring to go. He laid on top of Carter, careful, so as not to smash him, as Carter used his toes to kick off Stetson's pants, revealing his rock-hard and round ass. For someone so strong and athletic, Carter found himself surprised by the parts of his lover that were undeniably soft. He couldn't forget that men were human too. He rubbed his face against Stetson's facial scrub from not shaving for several days. The facial hair tickle and then he ran his hands along Stetson's massive arms and shoulders. Despite the fact that Stetson had a perfectly manly body, his skin was blemish free and hairless. Not a single stretch mark, pimple, or blackhead. His smell was musky and his sweat intoxicating. When his hair got wet, the blondness darkened to spectacular yellowish sheen. Carter ran his small, spindly fingers through it as Stetson continued rubbed his giant member against the inside of Carter's leg. Carter could feel the thickness of his cock head rubbing right next to Carter's pubic hair as Stetson continued along and down Carter's arms. A moose from behind came running up, about to charge and Carter's heart skipped a beat.

“It's ok,” Stetson said. “I'm here. I'll always be here.” He then unzipped a bag lying next to the pillow on which Carter's head rested and pulled out some lube. They were completely naked and Carter could see goosebumps form, like chicken skin, on Stetson's abs. Carter continued rubbing Stetson's nipples as he lubed up, and then Stetson wrapped Carter's legs around his waist, his dick ready for action.

“Go gently,” Carter told him. “It's been a while.”

Stetson nodded in comprehension and then entered him forcefully but slowly. The fullness was something Carter remembered he couldn't live without as Stetson began pumping away, the tent opening flapping in the wind. There was nothing better than the feeling of being inside the person you loved, Stetson thought. He raised himself up on his front paws and used Carter's bodyweight as a counterforce to his thrusting. Every thrust accompanied a soft grunt from Carter and smile from his eyes. Stetson watched the small mounds of fat on Carter's thighs jiggle ever so slightly as he continued pumping away, smiling as his eyes recorded all the imperfections on his lover, which is to say, all the imperfections as perfections. There was a small scar on Carter's chin, from his father hit him with a steel pipe on accident. There was the area of Carter's hair that began to ever so slightly curl. There was the small of Carter's back that glowed in the early morning sunrise. They were Carter's spindly hands, fingers almost but not quite too long for his body shape, and his dainty wrists, almost feminine enough to be a woman's. Perhaps this was what really attracted Stetson to Carter in the beginning, paradoxically that his most effeminate traits were what he zeroed in on, despite the fact that he was a boy. The truth be told, it was and would remain a mystery to Stetson why he fell so hard and so fast for Carter. But the damage was done. He was in love and wanted to stay that way forever. It felt so easy and dream-like to live a life in the mountains, away from all the pressures and messiness that comes with dealing with people. He wrapped his massive hands around Carter's face as he come without warning, and he feel his hot juices flowing down his inner thigh. By the look on Stetson's face and by the feeling in his butt, Carter knew his lover just finished.

But Stetson almost always woke up from the dreams in the night, sweating at the thought of his fate on death row. There just was no way he could avoid it, and he ignored this unfortunate fact. But the subconscious was a powerful force, and in his dreams at night, he could no longer avoid the pain awaiting him. He never felt lonelier in his entire life. He expressed very little emotion through his life, not because he was incapable, but because he alienated himself from the shock his flesh was heir to. But coming to the end of the line, with only one person whom he worried about, his subdued mind finally decided it was time to face the music, so to speak.

It was nighttime, and the moonlight spilled through the tiny square window of his cell. A prisoner howled through the metallic corridor, and Stetson's heart jumped a few beats. Guards were notoriously cruel on death row. He figured other prisoners got beatings far worse than Stetson because they were far smaller and thus less able to defend themselves. In fact, most people were far smaller than he was. The guards were probably afraid of Stetson's anger, but they knew he could do nothing to escape their torments. The electronic sliding door unlocked itself down the hallway and footsteps reverberated through the prison. They sounded heavy. As the steps came closer to Stetson's cell, they stopped for a silent second.

“Lard ass. It's time for breakfast.”

He was sure the guards could not see the glimmer of fear leaking from Stetson's heart, just as he could not see (from behind the cell door) their trembling hands. He wondered why these guards continually went to such great lengths to torture him when they knew well the cost it was incur them. He guessed it just goes to show the importance sadists placed on the enjoyment of torture and cruelty.

Keys dangled from behind the door and Stetson tightened his fists, ready to fight for ninth time this month. The door opened to small man, with a crooked smile on his face, holding a tray of mashed potatoes and bread.

“We thought you'd like something better this time.” He placed the tray down on the end of the bed. Then he stood there, over Stetson's hulking body, waiting.

“Go on. I want to watch you enjoy it. Sorry about the other day.” That phrase, “the other day,” recalled images in his mind of the guards handcuffing Stetson to his bed, while they ripped his shirt off, revealing a nasty, unhealed stab wound on his ribs. He was sure it would get infected again when they knifed open the stitches and threw iodized salt into the wound. They wanted to him to scream, but he never gave in.

“Now, Mr. Carthswaite it's our job to make sure you eat. We can't keep you big and healthy for your Big Day in a week if you don't eat. The food we chose was special, as an apology for the problems we caused earlier.”

He had no choice but to eat. Looking down at the food in the moonlight he could see the white bread, which did look untouched. The mashed potatoes were clean, too. The brownie on the side was still warm, but he couldn't smell properly after getting his nose broken by the guards even two months back. He held the tray closer to his face to make sure it wasn't a cruel joke. Taking one big whiff, he inhaled the rankest, nastiest aroma imaginable. The brownie was no brownie. It was shit.