Page 33 of Tommy

Hardin brushed the back of his warm hand against the inner thigh closest to him. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not a big bruise. I find that when I don’t do something for a while, when I go back to it, there’s an ache in those muscles. So, my guess is, that’s even worse for you right now.” He pushed his hand into the bruise, causing me to flinch and nearly kick the tray. “Careful.”

“That was all you,” I said, continuing to push the onesie at the throb of excitement in my cock. “If you know how to get rid of bruises faster, I’ll be happy to try and do it.”

“Massage might help,” he said. “I don’t have any oils, so I don’t even know why I suggested it.”

Clenching my legs slightly, his hand still there, I closed in on him. “Oh. That’s ok. I don’t want you to ruin that rep of yours.”

He smirked. “We’re way passed the point of me needing to keep up a so-called rep around you,” he said, slowly pulling his hand away from my legs. “I actually have some coconut oil somewhere. It’s good for cooking with. If you want a massage. If not, I’m happy to keep playing in other ways.”

I nodded. I didn’t know what I was nodding for. Option C, all of the above. “As long as you know, massages usually make my body act weird.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure we can deal with it,” he said, winking at me.

“Just so we’re in the same page, I am talking aboutdown there,” I said, gesturing to the way I was jamming the balled up onesie on my crotch.

“I’m a Daddy, of course, I know how to deal with all types of problems,” he said. “Including that one down there. I can take that from you and add it to the wash basket. Or are you hiding something already?”

I could only nod. My stomach was a mix of nervous and excited, and both of them wanted me to vomit.

He went off, pulling the tray and drinks out, alongside my books. He was making room. My cock had a heartbeat, twitching and throbbing until he came back into the fort. He had a glass jar in hand, and as my eyeline drifted south, I spotted his dick print pushed up against the gray sweatpants. The full tip could’ve been cast in a mold from the print alone. “It’s solid right now,” he said.

“You’re telling me,” I mumbled, his wasn’t, but mine was.

“I’ll warm it up in my hands,” he said. “You wanna lay on your back, or front?”

“Front,” I said. There were many reasons. I didn’t want him to see my erection, and I didn’t want to be staring deep into his eyes while I was massaging my thighs. I feared that would’ve been enough for me to experience my first hands free orgasm, and I didn’t know if I’d ever mentally recover from that.

On my stomach with my cock poking out of the briefs by my belly button, I couldn’t make any sudden movements or end up simulating masturbation motions. Hardin spread my legs from behind, going between them. His warm hands occupied both of them, up and down.

“I think a little massage will help you,” he said. “Plus, this is full of vitamins.”

“A cowboy concerned with vitamins,” I giggled.

“A cowboy looking out for a little, vitamins are very important,” he said, a cold sensation hitting my thigh as I nearly constricted him between my legs. “Relax. It’ll warm up.”

“Mhmm.”

I couldn’t recall the last massage I’d had, but whenever it was, this one blew all of those out the window. He went from my thighs, all the way down the backs of my legs and my calves. His firm hands squeezed and cupped at my muscles, up and down. I planted my face into the onesie to muffle the moans he was coaxing out of me.

“You really like that, huh?” he asked, getting further up my inner thigh.

“It feels nice,” I let out, trying to control my labored breaths.

“Want me to go any further?” he asked. “Your back, your arms, they must be sore after working.”

Now that he mentioned it, my arms ached a little, and my back wasn’t in the best of shape after sleeping on the hard mattress in the cabin. But that meant getting more naked, and it wasn’t like I was trying to keep any modesty I front of him, but those nerves and anxieties that told me I was misreading the situation reared their ugly heads.

“It’s ok, if not,” he said. “I’ll admit to selfishly wanting to get my hands on you a little more.”

No, this wasn’t a case of misreading a situation. He was into me, I was into him, and one way or another, things would be inside other things eventually.

I turned my head to look over my shoulder. He’d removed his tank top to show off his furry chest of black hair and his pink nipples. His hair, whether manscaped into that shape, or naturally formed from his physique showed off a series of abs and a connecting treasure trial. My eyes followed the path, meeting a more prominent print now. He was a lot more harder.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” I said.

“You want me to take control?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I offered up in a breathy gasp.

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