Patrick had me hooked deep and hard and all I could do was to push back into his bulk and hope for the best. It didn’t take him very long to hit my ...rigger spot and after that I lost all semblance of pretense and just used my best filthy vocabulary to express my delight. That seemed to push poor Patrick into a frenzied response because he lifted me right up off the ground and stroked me so deep that I feared he would go up into those areas where most men are unable to go. It was probably lucky. But whenshe was gone for a week on a business trip, I thought I wouldn'tbe spanked and could do anything I wanted to do. So I thought Iwould wait until she was due back in town before I cleaned up thehouse, but until then, I would live like a sloppy single bacheloragain.My wife left on early Monday morning for the airport, so byWednesday, the dirty dishes were piled in the sink and on thecounters, my dirty clothes were all over the house, and thebathroom was a real mess. There were beer bottles. At some point, the story became just a backdrop to what I was seeing. Eric and I were mostly stretched out and propped up on our elbows. A quick glance confirmed we both had flagpoles in our shorts. Hayley was sitting between our legs, with her legs folded under her and the book held to one side to capture the light.I became aware that, although certainly the temperature of the mountain air had cooled, her nipples were fully erect, their shape and size easily discerned through her shirt. Her. Hem was *always* horny. "Why?" I teased. "What would you do with it? Would you do...*this*?" With that, I slipped my popsicle between my lips, swallowing it like I would a man. I couldn't decide in that moment which was better—cold, solid, melting in my mouth, coating my tongue with the tart taste of cherry, or hot and almost spongy, hardening between my lips and seeping salty-sweet precum.The popsicle rewarded me for my efforts; I lost myself in sensation and fantasy, and I might have moaned.