Little Squirrels Can Climb Tall Trees Michael Murphy (acx book reading TXT) 📖

thinking. Well, maybe not the exquisite part, but that’s only because he hadn’t had enough time to really take in the work of art that was my ass. Kyle’s fingers worked deeper and deeper between the two muscles. When he noticed what he was doing, he jerked. “Sorry.”

“I’m not. You can put your hands on my ass anytime you want. Just one question: what would your mother think?”

“She wouldn’t be surprised. You are a Northeastern heathen, after all.”

“Oh really? She has no use for Northeasterners?”

“No. But I do.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I mean, where else could I put my hands at the moment?”

I did my best to give Kyle my version of an evil smile as I moved my hands down to lift Kyle’s shirt. “Are you perhaps ticklish?” I asked as I conducted an experiment.

Kyle jerked and laughed and yelled, “No!”

“I hear ‘no’ but I see ‘yes’!”

“Back! Back, you heathen!”

And Kyle proceeded to dump me unceremoniously onto the floor. I really had to remember this for some future time when I needed leverage—and to have a more firm footing. As I rose from the floor, I put one hand on my decidedly aroused penis. “If I go, so does my penis.”

“He can stay.”

“Sorry. We’re a package deal.”

“Damn! Foiled again.”

“It’s we Northerners, you know. We all take classes in how to lure you innocent, virginal Southerners into a life of ill repute. Smacking you around with our big ol’ hard dicks and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“Sure. Stuff. Trust me. Your mother would probably rather think of ‘stuff’ than penises.”

“True. Why are you talking about my mother while you’re stroking your dick? Are you perhaps more twisted than I initially thought?”

“Probably, but not in that regard.”

“Good.”

The couch was comfortable but not big enough for two. “You thinking about taking a nap? If you come into the bedroom, we could both lie down together.”

“You just want to have your lust-filled, wanton way with me again, sir!”

“Hell yes! But not at the moment. A nap would be nice.”

“But you will fuck me again later, won’t you?”

“If you want it, I’ll make the ultimate sacrifice and do you again. I’m there for you, babe!”

“Good. I may be late to the game, but I think I may turn into a star player for the team.”

“Good. I’m a good coach.”

As we napped, Kyle lay on his side, wrapped tightly behind me. For all of the sleeping around that I had done—no, it wasn’t sleeping around; I had fucked around—for all of the men that I had been with, it was rare for one to sleep over or for me to sleep over at some guy’s house. But that afternoon, with dappled sunlight coming through the bedroom window, as I lay wrapped in Kyle’s arms, listening to the man’s rhythmic sleep breathing, I thought that Kyle wasn’t the only one who had missed out on an important experience in life. I, too, in my own way, was late to the game.

While Kyle slept, there was an active and ongoing debate in my head about keeping my walls up to keep myself safe versus letting those walls down a little to let someone inside. As if sensing the debate raging in my head, Kyle hugged me a bit tighter for just a moment. Damn, I thought, and I had painted those walls such a nice color, too!

Chapter 11

THE next day was Saturday, so I was off work anyway. Even if I hadn’t been, I would have taken the day again without any hesitation. Kyle didn’t sleep as late on Saturday morning as he had on Friday morning, but he had certainly earned the right with the way we had fucked before going to sleep the previous night. Damn, but the man was enthusiastic about getting plowed by a hard dick. And I was only too happy to oblige. I was considerate, always willing to extend a hard dick to a horny man—and fuck him until he couldn’t see straight.

Saturday afternoon I introduced Kyle to an experience he had reportedly never had—I took him to a movie theater! In broad daylight! With people around! Watching! And lightning didn’t strike. No pitchfork-wielding demons appeared to wrestle his soul to the underworld. Still, he was a bit nervous until the movie started.

The task of taking someone to his first movie was a heavy responsibility. I had carefully considered the choices and had deliberately selected a very funny romantic comedy for the virgin’s deflowering. I was delighted to watch his reaction as he became totally captivated by the story, the photography, the acting, and the overall movie-in-a-movie-theater experience.

Afterward we took a long walk in the park. The day wasn’t as sunny or as warm as the previous day had been, but it was still pleasant—good walking weather, as my mother would say. And personally, I’d rather listen to my mother than the crazy nutcase Kyle had described as his mother. Talk about demons with pitchforks! That was all I could picture when I thought of Kyle’s mother. I kept picturing a demonic woman shoving her pointy pitchfork into her sweet son’s ass, making him dance like some marionette doll.

Despite how commonly people say we hate something or someone, I didn’t really hate anyone. I hadn’t been raised that way and just wasn’t a hater, but I thought that I might have to make an exception for that woman, even though she had given birth to the gorgeous man who sat across the table from me at the moment, laughing at some stupid thing I had said unintentionally. I hadn’t set out to make a joke—it had just happened. And I didn’t care, because whatever I had said let me see Kyle’s smile, listen to his laughter, and watch his eyes dance with delight. And those were all good things.

Without planning or discussion, Kyle again spent the night at my place, and again on Sunday, we spent the day together. Sunday was gray and overcast with drizzle off and on all day—a perfect early