Hot Valley (36 page)

Mick stood up and raised a glass of claret. He took a swig, and then very deliberately poured the remains down the front of my shirt.

“Now look what's happened,” he said.

I allowed him to remove my shirt. “You're hairier than you used to be,” he said, running a hand over my chest and stomach. “Thinner on top, but a lot thicker down here.” He started sucking on my tit, which was wet with wine. I looked over at Aaron, who was now barefoot; Sandy was helping him out of his pants, and James was kissing him. I decided to throw caution to the wind one more time, grabbed Mick's head, and pushed it downward.

Over the course of the next hour, we tried just about every combination that five men with dirty minds can come up with. Mick fucked me on the table, pouring wine into my mouth and over my chest, licking it off. Aaron had two mouths working over his cock and balls, then allowed James and Sandy to take turns sitting on his prick, while he sucked and fondled the other to keep them both hard. Then the two older men made James, Sandy, and me lie in a circle, each sucking and being sucked, while they watched and jerked off, occasionally pressing their own thick dicks together for comparison. There wasn't much to judge between them in size, but the contrast in color inspired us all.

When dessert was served, we all ganged up on James, who had proved once again that marriage doesn't necessarily mean an exclusive preference for women, and pelted him with the cream, custard, jam, and sponge cake confection that had been so carefully prepared by Mick's chefs. It seemed a terrible waste of good food, but it was worth it to
see James naked and messy, laughing hysterically, his hard cock bobbing and his hairy ass and legs slicked up with the sticky mess. Then we four licked him clean—and I mean clean. There wasn't a crevice in his body that our tongues did not go.

“I've just realized,” I said, as I lapped hungrily at his ass, “that I never did get around to fucking you, James.”

“You never did,” he replied, disengaging himself from Mick's mouth; his face looked sore from stubble burn, a feeling I knew well.

“I don't think I can leave Vermont without remedying that.”

“I don't think you can.”

And so I pushed my hard dick into him; a handful of cream made a very efficient lubricant. The others watched and encouraged us for a while, and then got down to the serious business of getting two very large cocks into one very tight asshole. And so we fucked each other for the rest of the night, pausing only for a recuperative brandy before repairing to the bridal suite. I very much doubt that it has seen such a honeymoon since.

 

The rest of my tale is quickly told. Aaron and I said our farewells in the morning. We set off in a horse and carriage to say farewell to my parents, and to collect Margaret—she had decided, after all, to travel west with us, and to find out if she could begin a new life. There were tears and painful silences as we took leave of our mother and father, but we all knew in our hearts that it was a relief to part.

We rode south with our few possessions, the roads getting clearer and the air warmer with every passing mile. Hotels and inns along the way accepted us as a married couple with a servant and allocated rooms accordingly. We did not argue, but made our own arrangements discreetly and to everyone's satisfaction.

We reached Richmond within two weeks and were greeted by Captain Chester and Billy, who joined their wagon to ours and prepared for the difficult, dangerous journey west. We knew that the road was fraught with dangers, but after what we had all experienced before, it seemed like an adventure rather than a threat.

There was one more addition to our party. We paid a call on the hospital and found Jenny Wallace struggling to run her wards under the bullying eye of a doctor who seemed disposed to make as much money as possible out of her hard work. It did not take much to persuade her to abandon her post—particularly not when she clapped eyes on my sister Margaret.

And so we set off west, three men, three ladies—Billy was at least as ladylike as Margaret, and a good deal more so than Jenny—and left it all behind us. But we would never forget, least of all Aaron and I, the ties that were forged in the heat of that burning hell of the Shenandoah Valley.

JAMES LEAR WAS BORN IN SINGAPORE, EXPENSIVELY educated in England, and has worked in the theater and the British intelligence services. After a misunderstanding with the authorities, he has lived quietly in London, where he devotes his time to writing and helping local youth.

Hot Valley
is his fourth novel. Other titles include
The Back Passage
(Cleis Press 2006),
The Low Road,
and
The Palace of Varieties
. Find out more at
www.myspace.com/jameslearfiction
.

Copyright © 2007 by James Lear.

eISBN : 978-1-573-44481-1

 

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Published in the United States by
Cleis Press Inc., P.O. Box 14684, San Francisco, California 94114.