Page 97 of Catching Kyle
Michael Cunningham, the man who knows how to turn me on. Who knows what to say. Who is always patient with me. Kind with me. There’s no way in hell I’m letting him go. Hell, I might even just quit in the middle of the season. Just so I can be with him.
No, I won’t do that.
But I will make it to the end. ‘Til after the Championship Game. And then we won’t have to be a secret anymore.
“I’m gonna fucking cum,” I say. “Don’t fucking stop.”
He keeps fiddling with my nipples, his tongue and mouth pure ecstasy on my dick.
And then I let out the fattest load.
I pin Michael’s sweaty forehead down as I thrust my spurting dick into his mouth, letting out a low, inhuman groan.
Once I’m all out, I sit there on Michael’s chest, my own chest heaving and sweat dripping down my body. I would get up, but Michael now has his arms wrapped around my thighs, holding me in place, with my entire shaft down his throat.
He moves one of his arms under my leg, down to his dick, and starts stroking. He looks up at me, my cock still deep in his mouth, his eyes shining with pleasure. I pull my cock out for a moment, and Michael balks at me.
“Patience,” I say. I take the spit and cum on my dick, lean back, and lube Michael’s dick up with it.
And then he greedily puts my dick back into his mouth like it’s his pacifier.
“Now cum again for me,” I command.
And it doesn’t take him long. Once he’s finished, I grab a towel and clean us both up. Then, both of us sufficiently exhausted, we get back in bed and I hold him tightly in my arms once again.
I kiss him gently on the neck as I feel sleep taking me on.
“I can’t wait for Thanksgiving,” he says.
I breathe him in, then sigh contentedly. “Me too.”
Chapter 33
Kyle Weaver
SinceMichaelhadtowork at Ruckers up until Thanksgiving, I fly down to Glamour Springs a couple days earlier to get everything in order and help my ma out.
“For the last time,” my ma says while I hover over her shoulder at the stove. “I’m good. I prefer to handle all the food anyways. You know that.”
“I know, ma, but sheesh.” I gesture to the kitchen counter covered in nearly a dozen different aluminum containers. “Do you plan on feeding the whole town?!”
She shrugs. “I make extra to give away,” she says. “And I’m having Jimmy over, along with Silas from the bookstore.”
So Thanksgiving dinner is going to be me, Michael, my ma, Jimmy from the diner, and Silas. “I met Silas, I think. The guy with the linebacker build at the bookstore?”
“That’s the one,” she says. “Martha and Llewellyn are headed to Jackson to see Martha’s parents. They’ll be leaving Thanksgiving morning, so I wanted to give Silas a place to eat.”
“Well that’s mighty kind of you,” I say.
“You know what would be mighty kind?” she asks. “Clearing out some boxes in the guest room so you and your friend won’t have such a cluttered room.”
I cringe at the word.Friend.Michael isn’t my friend, but she doesn’t know that.
“Wait,” I say, confused. “We aren’t sleeping in the same room. He’s gonna stay there. And I’ll be on the couch.”
She looks at me like I’m the dumbest person on the planet. “You’re one of the most important players in the NFO, and you want to sleep on a couch? You have any idea what sleeping on that thing will do to your back? Believe me, I’ve tried it, and it’s not good.”
My ma’s hairless cat, Miss Beautiful, prances into the kitchen, meowing up a storm.
