Page 38 of Plentywood
“We’re taking a shower, is what the fuck, Hunt. I’m fucking done with you. Now get the fuck up. Now!” he yelled.
I resisted, so he grabbed the top of my head and yanked my hair, practically lifting me to my feet. “Stop!” I raged, tugging at his hands, to no avail. “Fuck you!”
I fought, but he was too strong as he led me through the glass door, tugging at my filthy boxers. “I’m done with this shit. Mark died, dude. I fucking get it. But your stupid ass is still living, even if you do look like death.”
“I don’t care,” I screamed, flailing at him, trying to connect with his flesh. “Kill me!” I hollered. “Just fucking kill me!”
Charlie encircled me and held me tightly, both of us naked. “Stop, Hunt. Just stop this right now,” he soothed. “I know you hurt. I know you miss him, but you can’t keep this up.”
I leaned into him, resting my head in the crook of his neck. “I… I…” I gasped.
“I know, buddy. Let it out. Just let it out,” he soothed, stroking my head and holding me upright. “A day at a time, Hunt. How about we get this shower out of the way today and then we’ll take another step forward tomorrow?”
“Why do you keep doing this?” I asked. “I’m not nice to you. I chose Mark over you. Why?”
“We were fucking teenagers, Hunt. You didn’t promise me shit.”
“But we never even had sex and you still claim to love me,” I cried. “Why don’t you just move the fuck on?”
“I did move on. Remember? Even New York wasn’t far enough to move to,” he reminded me. “Turn around, Hunt. Lemme get you cleaned up.”
Charlie stuck a toothbrush, preloaded with the paste, into my mouth before spinning me around. His hands began to suds my backside while I brushed my teeth, hiccupping and crying as tears fell freely. After getting my back, my butt, and legs, he spun me around, lifting an arm at a time as he washed my pits.
“I’m sorry, Skeet,” I whispered, touching his face. “I just loved him more.”
He ignored me as he went about washing my chest, kneeling down as he sudsed his hands up and cleaned my cock and balls, stroking as he massaged deeply. I knew he was just helping me get clean, but I responded. Surprisingly, I responded.
I yanked him to his feet and dropped the toothbrush, pulling him against my chest, my mouth forcing itself onto his. He fought at first but slowly gave into my need.
“I need to feel something,” I hissed. “Anything! Please, God. Anything.”
“Don’t do this, Hunt,” he begged. “We can’t. You can’t. I can’t.”
“Turn around, Skeet,” I ordered.
His eyes welled up. “Hunt, please. You’ll regret this tomorrow.”
“I need to feel something, Skeet. Please,” I begged. “Just this once.”
I forced him to face the wall and slid my finger into his crack. At first, he resisted, but then he arched his back and pushed backward against my fingers. I turned the shower off, spit in my hand, and slicked my cock, biting the back of his neck.
“Fuck me hard, Hunt,” he breathed. “Use my hole.”
I shoved my cock into him with one surge of power. He yelped, leaning forward, placing his hands on the tile wall. “Fuuucccckkkk,” he hissed. “Fuck! You’re so fucking huge.”
“Shut up and take it, punk,” I snarled, placing my arm against his back so I could improve my aim. “You fucking want this and you know it.” Charlie remained silent, but extremely receptive to my aggression, moaning and groaning as I pounded away. “Take it, Skeet.”
Skeet was the name I used when we were teenagers. Skeeter was his nickname, but he allowed me to shorten his name because he was so into me when we were in high school. I knew it. He knew it. But we kept our mutual admiration to ourselves, always walking just on the edge of going there. I had Mark and would never have ruined that for Charlie.
“Fuck yeah!” he moaned. “I’ve wanted this shit for years, dude. I’ve jacked off about your cock a billion times. Dreamed about you in the locker room.”
“Well, now you’re gettin’ dick downed, fucker,” I growled. “Bend over further,” I ordered, pushing on the back of his head. “There we go, buddy boy. There we go.”
I slammed into him as hard as I could, trying to fuck the grief out of myself. What I probably needed was tender love and care, but I wouldn’t allow myself to feel that kind ofemotion with Charlie. I couldn’t risk that. But Mark was dead. I actually could go there.
“Fuck that hole,” he yelled. “Fuck me harder, Deputy. Dump your load in my ass.”
I gripped his lean waist and pumped my hips faster, relieving my anger at the world directly into his asshole. “Take it, fucker!” I felt the tension in my balls as my orgasm chambered up in my sack. “I’m gonna fucking shoot, Skeet. Spread that ass, fucker!” I grunted.
