Page 25 of Wistful in Wyoming
Dale turned the dick over, examining it from every angle. “Is this, um, carved from life?”
“What?”
“Did you have a model for this? I mean, it could be yours, since I haven’t exactly seen you in all your glory yet. Is this one of those live model things?”
Jeremiah dropped his hands between his knees and lifted his chin, steeling his nerves to meet the other man’s gaze. He didn’t think it was possible, but his face heated further under Dale’s unreadable expression. He swallowed a thickening lump in his throat. “No. I just ... whittled it. I was ... .um ... thinking about you and the next thing I knew—”
“Me?” Dale let out a snort and held the carved dick next to his crotch. “Well, the size is close.” Chuckling as amusement filled his eyes, he was like a teenage boy, playing with the dick as if it were his own.
Jeremiah moaned and stood. “Excuse me—I’m just going to go put my head in the oven. Nice knowing you.”
“Jay, wait!” Dale called out, trying to speak past his laughter. “Hang on, babe.” Tossing the wooden cock onto the loveseat, Dale snagged Jeremiah’s arm, hauling him back against his chest which still shook with an overload of mirth. The heat of Dale’s body nearly burned Jeremiah’s skin through their shirts. Arms wrapped tightly around Jeremiah’s torso, and he couldn’t help but sigh and lean back into the embrace.
“I’ve seen Shannon’s cradle, so I knew you worked with wood—I just didn’t know you made woodies too.” A snicker came from behind him, and Jeremiah’s ears felt like they were on fire. “I like it. I think ...” Dale began, before running his hand down the center of Jeremiah’s chest to where his shorts rode low on his hipbones. “... you should finish it.”
He groaned and shifted his hips. “Why? I should just burn it.”
“What? No! You can’t burn my cock!”
Now it was Jeremiah’s turn to snort with laughter. “Why would I finish it?”
“Why would you finish my wooden woodie? So, you can get yourself off with it. Sand it down, so it’s smooth as silk, seal it, and use it on yourself.” Dale’s voice had dropped an octave, sending shivers racing down Jeremiah’s back and desperate want pooling in his groin. “Damn! That would be so freaking hot to watch.”
Dale’s hand went between Jeremiah’s legs, gripping his length through the thin fabric of the shorts, forcing a gasp from his lips and making him forget his embarrassment. “You know I’m waiting for you to start saying ‘how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?’ right?” Dale barked in his ear, and Jeremiah shook his head to get that damn tongue twister out of it. “Ugh, never mind. So, let me get this straight— you want me to fuck myself with the wood cock I carved while thinking about you?”
“Hell yeesss,” Dale hissed before sucking on Jeremiah’s earlobe. The spot never failed to light him up like a firework on the Fourth of July. Moaning, he tried to thrust deeper into Dale’s hand and back against the answering hardness nestled between his ass cheeks. The nylon of the shorts was so thin, he swore he could feel every ridge of Dale’s length against him.
“O-okay,” he stuttered, any other words failing him now as Dale’s hand pumped his cock. The silky fabric between them enhanced his pleasure until he was crawling out of his skin with need.
Suddenly, Dale released him and retreated several steps. Jeremiah spun around, his eyes wide and words of denial on his lips. “Why’d you stop?” He was panting and for more than just oxygen. Glancing down, he noted the sight of himself was nearly pornographic with the loose garment doing nothing to restrain his obvious desire. There was no hiding what this man did to him.
“Because.” Unashamedly, Dale adjusted himself, pressing the heel of his hand against his erection. “We’re waiting and going slow, right?”
“What? No!” He lowered his voice, mindful that sound traveled further than one would expect on the ranch. “You want me to fuck myself with a dildo I made by accident? How is that slow?”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Well, because it’s a fake cock—not mine. If I spend one more second with you in my arms with those sweet sounds pouring from your lips, I’m going to take you inside and own every inch of you. You won’t be able to walk by the time I’m done, without everyone knowing my cock was up your ass. And trust me, I fully intend to make you walk funny for at least a day.” Dale’s intense words were only matched by the fierce look on his face.
A flush raced up Jeremiah’s neck and face as his eyes blinked rapidly. He cupped his nape, kneading it. Biting his lip, he dropped his gaze and toed an invisible pebble. After a few moments, he nodded. “All right. You’re right.” He took a shuddering breath and then bent to snatch up his jeans and boxers. “I’ll um, wash your shorts and get them back to you.”
“Keep them—I like seeing you in my things.” Dale took one step closer, just out of reach. “I want to kiss you, give you a proper goodbye, but if I do that, all my resolve will disappear.” When Jeremiah smiled, Dale continued, “I’ll text you?”
“Yeah. Yes, text me. I’ll ... uh ... I’ll be around. Can we ... when ... ” Clearing his throat, Jeremiah struggled to get a handle on himself. “When can we do this again?”
“Soon as we get a chance.” Grinning, Dale tipped his hat, descended the stairs, then whirled around and walked backward, not taking his eyes off Jeremiah’s. “Don’t forget about what I told you. I expect to see my likeness finished soon.” Winking, he did an about-face and strode to his truck. Waving one last time, he climbed into the cab and backed up before turning around and driving off in a cloud of dust.
“What have I gotten myself into?” Jeremiah asked himself. Shaking his head, he didn’t give himself a chance to rethink it and added the wooden dildo to his pile of clothes. “Looks like I’m going to have to figure out what lacquer is safe for anal sex. Oh, my fucking ...”
* * *
After dinner the next evening,Jeremiah sat on the rocking chair on his porch and rested his feet on a stripped and sanded piece of cottonwood tree trunk he often used as an ottoman. The sun was setting, painting the sky in the most majestic colors ever created, something he’d never grow tired of seeing. With a cold beer in one hand and his phone in the other, he pulled up Dale’s contact and tried to think of what to say. He’d been busy all day, catching up on the ranch’s bookkeeping, bills, invoices, and cattle logs, while trying to distract himself from thoughts of a certain sexy foreman.
It felt like a lot had happened yesterday. For both of them. It was as scary as it was wonderful. Jeremiah was closer to being out than he’d ever been his entire life. It felt ... amazing, and somehow that was overriding the terror he’d held onto for so many years, worrying if someone would find out his secret.
Unlocking the phone’s screen, he thumbed open his text app and the thread he had with Dale. Before now, their electronic interactions had consisted of things like, “On my way” or “Willow asked me to tell you ...” but now, he wasn’t sure what to say, only that he needed to connect with the other man.Is it too soon to be missing him this much?
“Hey,” he typed and then pressed send.
A response came a few moments later.
