Pulse: BBW Contemporary Rock Star Romance (50 page)

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.

Stetson's anger exploded and he lost control of himself. He hurled the tray at the small guard was laughing now. The tray cracked over his head and he fell to the floor of the cell unconscious. The lights flicked on, and three hulking guards came from the door with nightsticks. They cracked the batons over his back and fingers. Stetson grabbed one by the throat and threw him against the wall, just as he lost feeling in his body. He knew this time they had paralyzed him. He just knew it.

II

Carter Simmons had sex with Michael Ingrams several more times after that day in the office. Ingrams was planning to leave his wife for Carter.

“I love you man,” he said. “I haven't felt this way about anyone--ever.” Carter was appreciative for the guy's affections, but his own heart was somewhere else. The thin layer of betrayal underlying his sexual liaisons with Michael Ingram started wearing on his psyche after several weeks. Carter held onto any semblance of hope that he could get Stetson off death row before it was too late. If that meant he had to fuck one thousand other people to accomplish that, he would do it.

Ingrams pulled off his shirt and sat down on the bed, awaiting Carter, who was already naked. The guy was definitely forceful in bed and showed it when he took Carter by the waist and hoisted him upside down so they could perform mutual oral stimulation. Carter was on top of Ingrams, who had his pants down by his waist and sock still on. They continued to pleasure each other, as Ingram analyzed every physical blemish, no matter how small or seemingly trivial about Carter. He took a big woof of the boy's anus to memorize how smelled, which was definitely vaguely sweet, like roses just blossoming on a summer's day. The sunset outside of Ingram's bedroom reminded him of the first time he had sex with his now wife. She was originally a prude, but there was definitely a difference between the experience of having sex with a boy and a girl. Carter, though somewhat dainty and effeminate, had definite boyish qualities, like when what Ingrams was doing to him down there felt good enough, he responded by increasing his stroking frequency on Ingrams member. The mutual pleasure formed a cycle of response between the two lovers and he was certain Carter must have feelings for him. After spending the next few minutes continuing the cycle of pleasure, Carter slipped off onto his side and Ingram licked his toes and feet, the skin of which was untouched, perfect almost. He never liked feet before, but then he never liked boys before either. So all of this was new. Ingrams then took Carter and placed him on top of his waist to ride him, while Carter braced himself against the headboard. Carter could see a small toy Ingrams must have kept from his chldhood, twirling around, near falling on the edge of the shelf of the headboard, while Ingrams himself watched Carter's rocking back and forth on his penis through the mirror on the opposite wall. Ingrams placed his hands on Carter's waist, feeling the soft skin, which ran along the side of his torso. He was still so young, Ingrams though. How could someone so young have already suffered so much. His empathy levels skyrocketed at this moment, coupled with the sexual ecstasy of physical communion with him. Ingrams ran his hands down Carter's legs and thighs squeezing the ever so small piece of fat on the inside of his legs, observing the small fuzz on his lover ankles and feet. In the mirror, Carter's ass seemed far more voluptuous to Ingram than he originally noticed. He grabbed both cheeks with his hand and squeezed firmly, in the same way he did when he first made love to his wife. Soft, fleshy parts of people were almost the best bits to hold onto during lovemaking. Carter slipped off his pens and lay back on the side of Ingram, who took a break but continued his erection by stroking aimlessly. Carter looked Ingram, who for near 40 seemed like he was in the best shape of his life. His skin was tan, red with the heat of testosterone, and his shoulders were broad, somewhat out of proportion for the rest of his body. By far the most beautiful part of Ingram were his blue eyes. The man had the eyes of the most compassionate human being to walk the face of the earth, somehow able to communicate all the stirrings of his soul through a single part of his body. He was proof the eyes truly are the window to the soul. Another beautiful part of Ingram were his distinct masculine lips. They were unchapped, a soft pink from regular Chopstick use. Carter ran his thumb along his lips as Ingram continued stroking his own penis to continue the passion between the two men. After a few seconds it was clear he was ready and he took Carter's face into his hands, laying kiss after kiss on the guy, everywhere he could find, on his lips, his cheeks, the edges of his mouth, along the ridge of his nose, his eyelids, his eyebrows, his forehead. He ran Carter's blond through his face, taking in the rich, soft, clean smell of his hair. It was heaven. He then pinned Carter's arms above his head, and wrapped the boy's legs around his waist, finding his entrance with the tip of his penis. He then pushed a little for a few seconds and Carter's entrance opened for him. He pumped slowly at first, then faster and faster. The boy took the pounding like a champ, moaning in the right places. He was happy for the moment, Ingram thought. He could feel the softness of the inside of Carter's canal, happy that he could make Carter happy. He ran his hands along the top of Carter's slight chest and over the soft belly. There was a soft smack of skin against skin as Ingram pounded his waist against Carter. Then he pulled out and turned Carter around so he could get a look at rear-entry intercourse, smiling as he ran his hands up and down the outer edge of Carter's behind. He sat up, put his penis near Carter’s hole, and used his partner's waist as a brace to push against. When he entered from outside he moaned on the other side of the bed, and, for a second, he worried that he had hurt the guy.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Carter's head nodded forward in comprehension. Ingrams continued pumping away, and with every pump coming closer and closer to completion. Miraculously Carter himself came at the same time, and they both mutually grunted in satisfaction.

“You said you could help me,” Carter said, taking a breath. “What did you mean by that?”

Ingram seemed disappointed Carter remembered what he said. “I'm Presley Watkins partner in crime. He doesn't know about us.”

“OK.”

“The guy is a bastard. You don't know the shit he committed trying to get your boy in the chair. He would do anything if he thought you were guilty. I wouldn't be surprised he if he has murdered someone himself in the past. I just wouldn't put it past him.”

“What did he do?”

“So many things with the jury, to make sure you wouldn't get in his way.”

“He rigged the fucking jury. I knew it.”

“Well yeah, but he's smart Carter. He did it right on the edge of the law, where it would be hard to pin him down.”

“But you could testify.”

“Do you know what he'll do to me, Carter? He'll find a way to frame me. God forbid he find out about us.”

Carter sighed. “You knew all along and you didn't say anything.”

“What was I supposed to do, stand up in court like a fool and vouch for the outcast? I'd lose my job.”

The words stung more than Carter was used to, and he turned away, his cheeks hot with shame. “Look,” Ingram said, standing up to put on his underwear, “I'm sorry I didn't do what's right. Just give me some time to think about how to help you.”

“You already know how to help me. You're just too chicken shit to do anything about it.” Carter got up from the bed and closed the door to the bathroom, ready to take a shower.

Ingram sat down on the bed, his shoulders rolling over his chest, thinking. Then he got up and knocked softly on the door. “Carter. I've got an idea.”

III

Showers on death row are almost as dangerous as eating the food sadistic guards give you. Stetson walked to the edge of the shower, the steam making a dense fog he could not see through. He was naked, in full glory, and he feared the Pops the Queer was waiting for him in the back of the showers, where no one could see him. Stetson didn't doubt that the guards would schedule his shower time with Pops, so he was extra ready, as Pops was known to bite various appendages off in a tussle. Fortunately Stetson was about three inches taller and 20 years younger, so he had a chance to keep from getting raped then.

There was a light window which opened into the courtyard next to the shower doorway. The only sound anyone could hear was the soft hiss of the water. Stetson removed his towel and stepped onto the tile, making sure to stay next to the edge of the wall so as not to get lost. He lathered some soap from the dispenser and began washing his body. He heard a young guy laugh from within the tiled chamber, then a figure emerged from the middle of the room. Stetson's heart jumped as the 20-something walked away from him toward the exit. Then everything got quiet again.