The Shearing Gun (17 page)

He glanced at me from under those ridiculously long lashes. “Well, don’t just stand there. I’m here having a party by myself. You’re welcome to join in.”

I scooted onto the bed, lay beside him, and leaned down so we could kiss again. The urgency was gone, and we explored with leisure. I figured he had something about nipples that aroused him—he’d gone for mine and now he was touching his own—so I tried it out. I placed my mouth over his dark nub and sucked him in.

“Oh, fuck! Yes, Hank!”

I couldn’t believe how sensitive he was, so I tried again, this time going for the other side. He cried out, squirming underneath me, gripping my head, and forcing me to take more.

“Harder?” I whispered, and he nodded eagerly. I sucked until I was sure I was creating a hickey on his chest, but he loved it. I found that pinching his nipples would make him buck with pleasure, and rubbing them both at the same time would make him almost weep with gratitude.

Finally he pushed me away and forced me onto my back. He reached out and touched my dick, squeezing the head and fingering the wetness he encountered there. I saw him lick his lips and I knew what he was planning.

He was panting as he looked up at me. “Your turn. Are you clean?”

I blushed. Man, he was going to think me a total loser. I’d be lucky not to be in my car driving home in the next five minutes. “I dunno. I’ve never been tested.”

I saw the return of Doctor Elliot Stockton-Montgomery. He frowned in concern. “You know you should really get tested regularly, Hank. We’re talking about your life here.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“Have you been at least practicing safe sex?”

Now I was offended. “I know I’m just a woolly-headed country boy, Doc, but I know to cover my willy.”

He was immediately contrite and reached up to kiss me. “Good boy. I’ll save my lecture for another time. Right at this moment, I have a different plan for my mouth and my attention, so if you could reach into that second drawer over there, you’ll find something that will help us out.”

And I did —a box of unopened condoms and an extra-large tube of lube. We had to stop for a minute to unwrap the plastic from around the box of condoms, open the box, and then find one of the bloody things (the stupid box had more layers than a game of pass-the-parcel), but it didn’t cool our ardor. I chuckled as I watched Elliot fumble with it. He dropped the plastic wrapping over the side of the bed, so I asked, “Would you like me to go and put that in the recycle bin, Ell? I wouldn’t want to mess up your clean bedroom.”

He glared and pushed me back on the bed. “You are not moving from that spot for at least the next ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes? I don’t think I’ll last two.”

“Oh, well. Practice makes perfect. We’ll time you, and if you don’t make ten minutes, then you’ll just have to come back another time and try again. You’re a good mate, and I’m willing to work with you over and over until you get it right.”

I grinned. “Man, you must be a good mate, then. I wish all my mates would help me in that way.”

Laughter filled the room as he finally pulled that piece of latex out and rolled it over my flesh. Then he went down on me, and my eyes spun backward into my skull as I sank into the glory of it. Sensation came from all around. He was using both hands and his mouth as he knelt over me on the mattress. I could feel lips and tongue and fingers and wetness over my cock and my balls, and even underneath my ball sack. No one had ever loved me so thoroughly.

I opened my legs wider to give Elliot more access, which meant he scooted around on the bed a bit more, his arse closer to my head. I stared at that arse. I didn’t know if I wanted to come from Elliot’s sucking, or whether to pull him off so I could plunge into his hole.

I wanted to see it. Elliot had told me before that he preferred to bottom, so I assumed he would be receptive to my explorations. I placed my large hand over the curve of his buttcheek and marveled at the difference in skin tone. My hand was brown against the white of his flesh. I gave a moment’s fleeting thought to how a red handprint would stand out, but I decided that could wait for another day. Elliot was doing remarkable things to my nether regions, and I didn’t want him to stop.

I swallowed to stop from spurting in his mouth, and tugged him toward me, spreading the cheeks of his arse. He was such a sensitive fucker, and me simply doing that had him moaning and groaning around my dick. Of course, that sent delicate vibrations up my shaft, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut for a moment to ward off my climax. I touched one thick finger to his rosette and he jumped a mile, coming off my penis to yell loudly.

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

I smiled widely. I couldn’t get used to how sensitive to everything he was. I tapped my finger a couple of times on his hole, just to watch him writhe in rapture—then pushed in. He dropped his head and rested against me, as if the sensation was too much to bear. I could feel him panting on the base of my covered shaft. He had stopped moving and was concentrating completely on my movements.

“You should see yourself, Elliot. Fuck, man.”

“Use the lube,” he instructed breathlessly.

The tube was next to my body, so I squeezed a decent dob onto my finger and watched my finger sink into him. I used only the tip, pushing in to the first knuckle and back out again. I was mesmerized by the sight. I kept pushing in and watching him take my finger, then pulling it back out with a pop.

I was just about to go back in for about the twentieth time when Elliot exploded into movement. He sprung off my body and grabbed the lube from my lax hand.

“Ell…?”

“I never took you for a fucking tease, Henry Woods. You are in deep shit now.”

He squatted next to me, giving me a clear view of what he was doing. He poured some gel onto his hand, and without hesitation, plunged two fingers into himself. It was better than the best porno I had in my collection.

I was spurred into action. I grabbed the lube back and dumped it on the entire length of my dick. I was going in, and I was going in deep. Elliot was still pumping two fingers into himself but I couldn’t wait even a second longer.

“Sorry about this, Quackle. Things are about to get a bit rough.”

I was a man who was used to handling three hundred-plus sheep a day. I was strong, and I could make the strongest ram behave himself and lie still while I cut the wool from his back. I threw Elliot face-first into the bedding and pushed his head down while I drew his hips into mine. He groaned, and I bucked a few times at his crack, smearing the lube before I aimed and moved in hard.

In the back of my mind, I was telling myself to slow down—to make it good for him so that I would be invited back—but instinct was taking over. His body accepted me easily enough and my dick was covered in white-hot sensation. I grabbed his hip bones and let go of what little control I had.

It was thrilling. I felt electrified and didn’t want the freight train of exhilaration to stop.

“Fuck, yes, Quackle. I can’t believe how good this is. You are so good, so good.”

“Don’t stop. I’m coming,” he huffed.

It was enough for me. I slammed my hips forward and let go. My climax kept coming and coming. I cried out loud, pulling his body roughly into mine as I emptied my soul inside him. Then I collapsed and fell hard on top of him before I could roll to the side.

We lay gasping for breath like we’d run a marathon. I was on my back, staring at the ceiling, while Elliot was still on his stomach, his legs spread and his head turned away from me. Suddenly I had doubts.
Oh, fuck. Had I hurt him? Did he hate it?
I had just had the best experience of my life, and he could be hating it.

“Ell?”

“Mmm?”

“You okay?”

With effort he turned his head in my direction, staying on his stomach.

“Huh?”

I was worried. “Shit, mate. Did I hurt you? I’m sorry; I know I was rough. Do you need me to do something for you?”

He looked up at me. “Hank? Shut up. I’m resting here and praying that my phone doesn’t ring in the next thirty minutes because I just blew my brain out all over my sheets, and I don’t even care that I’m lying in it. You did such a fantastic job of fucking me senseless that I don’t even know if I could walk, let alone deal with an emergency.”

“Yeah?” A man always likes compliments.

“Yes. Now I’m kicking myself that I didn’t track you down the first day that I saw you. You could’ve fucked me senseless months ago.”

“Yeah? You can remember the first day you saw me?”

“Absolutely. I’d been here three days. It was the beginning of March and still forty degrees outside. The flies were driving me crazy, I was missing home, I couldn’t get over how small and rural everything was, and I was about to scream with horror—when the hunkiest country boy I’d ever clapped eyes on came out of Wilson’s Stockfeeds with a huge bag of grain on his shoulder. He threw the bag into the back of his car and then went back for more. You were throwing those bags around like they were only a couple of kilos. I knew right then that I wanted you. Suddenly little ole Dumbleyung wasn’t such a bad town.”

I rolled to my side and stroked languid fingers down the length of his spine. “And now you’ve had me, what do you think?”

He paused until I was staring into his eyes, and whispered, “Now I want you even more.”

I had broken all my rules, so why not enjoy the fishing day?

I grinned crookedly. “I think that can be arranged.”

Chapter 15

I
T
WAS
Saturday before Elliot finally made it to my place to check out his surprise. I’d been smiling to myself all morning, knowing he was on his way. I was getting my shearing kit into gear since Elliot had told me I could get back to work. Despite selling off most of my rams, I was still scraping the bottom of my bank account, trying to pay the mortgage and keep myself fed.

Tom Aitkens had rung me the night before and asked if I was up and about. I told him I was not going to be able to do a lot—maybe only half a day’s work—but he told me he’d take what he could. He was crutching his lot on Wednesday and had two guys lined up. I would make a third.

I waited for Elliot in the shed, simply to observe him walk across the paddock. He was smiling brightly, and his loose hipped stroll turned me on. I was developing a
thing
for that walk. I wondered if I could persuade him to do it for me naked.

I was in the shadows of the shed, and we were alone apart from Buck, so I threw out my arms in welcome, and he stepped into them without hesitating, kissed me deeply, and ground his pelvis against mine.

“Mornin’, Quackle,” I told him as we breathlessly broke apart. “I hope you don’t greet all of your patients like this.”

He flushed red and stepped back. “Umm, no. And I need to talk to you about that, Hank.”

“Oh-oh, this sounds serious,” I teased. I picked up the oil and began applying it to the comb. I was smiling and laughing, but inside a pit of fear had opened. Was he calling it quits already?

“It’s serious and I need you to—what are you doing?” He was frowning at me as I worked my piece, fitting the combs to make sure they weren’t bent, cleaning them of dirt and making sure they were nicely oiled.

“I have a job on Wednesday. Just making sure I’m ready.”

“A job? As in shearing? Hank, are you sure you’re ready? I told you mid-August.”

“It’s just crutching. The boss knows I’m not up to full strength, so if it begins to hurt, I’ll stop. I figured that since I can take you and throw you down on the bed without it even twinging, I should be able to handle a couple of sheep.”

The blush was back again. I wondered if I could make it three blushes in three minutes. “Maybe you could throw me because your mind was occupied with something else at that moment. I don’t think you were exactly worrying about hurts and aches then, buddy.”

“You could be right,” I conceded. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Yep! Score! Three blushes in three minutes.

“What the hell is crutching, anyway?” he asked.

“It’s just taking the dags off so the sheep don’t get flyblown.”

“Dags? Flyblown?”

It was exasperating. “City wankers!” I groaned in mock frustration. Then I grinned at him. “Dags are wool that have shit stuck to them. You get them mostly around the sheep’s bum and the boy’s dicks. If you leave the affected wool on the sheep, the flies will come and breed in the muck.”

“Ew!” Elliot’s expression was one of horror.

“Exactly. You don’t want maggots in the wool and on your sheep. When they get like that, it’s called
flyblown
. Most farmers crutch at least once a year. Some breeds of sheep require it twice a year. So I won’t be shearing the whole sheep—just around their bums and a hunk off their stomach for the boys.”

His face was still screwed up in revulsion. “I think I would prefer performing a colonoscopy.”

“A what?” It was my turn to be confused.

“It’s when you stick a camera up a person’s arse.”

“Why?” My eyes were goggling.