Dirty Laundry: A Tucker Springs Novel #3

and Adam wasn’t talking about the fact that he was buck naked and ass up in the flatbed of a pickup truck, his glasses tucked safely in the cab. It was being out in the woods. In the mountains. On a dirt road where he had just—God help him—peed. It was that he wasn’t in civilization in any way except the truck, and nature and its chaos and dirt and death surrounded him.
    But so did Denver.
    He didn’t literally surround Adam at the moment. Rather, he knelt, fully dressed, behind Adam. With a laziness that implied he had all damn day to do it and he’d take it, he explored the exposed and pulsing pucker of Adam’s asshole.
    “So pretty and pink, baby. Flex it again for me. Yeah. You like me looking at you like this, don’t you, all naked in the middle of nowhere, playing with your hole. Making you show it to me. That’s a good idea, actually.” He slapped Adam’s rump like he was a horse. “Reach back and pull yourself open. Play with yourself and give me a good show. I’ll squeeze some lube in there for you to grease yourself good. You gonna do that for me, baby? You gonna fuck yourself so I can watch?”
    Adam almost couldn’t speak for his arousal. “Yes, sir,” he rasped at last, and leaned forward to balance on his head.
    Denver grunted and took a healthy pinch of his ass cheek. “I like it when you call me sir.”
    Adam liked to call him sir. It felt like surrender. It felt like saying, “Yes, you’re in charge and I will do whatever you ask me to do.” He would have thought that would be scary, but it wasn’t. It was freeing. Like all the doubt got washed away, just for a few minutes, and he could be okay. The opposite of standing in front of his mirror and scolding himself into safety. Denver didn’t scold him.
    He just fucked him.
    Except for right now when Adam, apparently, was to fuck himself, which he did with abandon. Resting his weight on the soft, clean mat Denver had spread out, Adam reached around and dutifully played with his asshole for Denver’s enjoyment. He pulled his cheeks apart and flexed his hole. He held himself open to be filled with lube, and then he greased himself with it, first fucking himself and then fucking and spreading himself, encouraged by the appreciative noises and occasional slaps Denver gave his ass and thighs. They never hurt, but they jarred him, reminding him this was for Denver, that he was for Denver, that his ass and its spreading and fucking was all for Denver. Adam wanted to be like this for Denver forever, the world simplified and held away by the iron sides of the truck and Denver’s size, strength, and softness. Because he wasn’t hard, not right now. He was soft, relaxed, enjoying the porn show Adam gave him, commenting on how good he looked with his hole stretched and his three fingers fucking hard in and out. Adam whimpered and gave him more, gave him what he wanted, what he seemed to need, but mostly what he asked for.
    The world had become simple, straightforward, and erotic. Adam never wanted to leave.
    “Here,” Denver said gruffly. He moved Adam’s fingers out of the way, positioning them, as best they could when slicked with lube, to hold himself open and still. Adam complied.
    Something cold, stiff, and huge began to push inside of him.
    It wasn’t Denver’s cock. It was some object, a dildo he presumed, but for a moment the spell broke and Adam began to panic, imagining a host of insane, idiot things Denver never would put up inside him and yet could . The pleasure it gave short-circuited under the weight of doubt.
    “Please.” He gripped the sides of his ass to keep from reaching for the object. “Can I see it?”
    Wordlessly, the object was removed. Through the pornographic tent of his own legs, Adam saw the large, black silicone cock and balls that Denver held. Large . Large and long and fat, obscenely so.
    “This okay?” Denver drawled. Carefully. Concerned.
    It was a strange, odd moment to do so, but as he stared back at that obscene monster cock, Denver so kindly asking if it was okay to fuck Adam with it, Adam fell more than a little bit in love.
    “Please,” he said again, this time relaxed, this time full of entreaty for Denver to go on.
    The dildo was big. It felt like a mountain inside Adam, and it made him grunt and push back against it, his body at war with whether it wanted to swallow or reject it. Denver insisted, though, and so inch by terrible inch Adam took it in until he was panting and shaking