Michael Broderick hottlead art

THAT SUMMER 2

Added 2024-07-21 11:53:21 +0000 UTC

A few days after our extra long motel weekend, I started my job at the the LOCAL TRIBUNE. I was a copy editor and got to work on all kinds of stories, from the plane crash at Mulford Farms, to the summer bake sale in the town square. Buck found work at Ned's Garage and worked on all the big trucks and heavy equipment for the town, snowplows, firetrucks and the like. But enough about the boring stuff.

As it happened, my mom had to go away on a business trip, and dad was off to a wedding for a college buddy of his, leaving me alone in the house for 3 days.

It was only a few blocks from the garage to my house, so Buck left his motorcycle and walked so as not to draw too much attention, and I let him in the side door. It hadn't even been a full week, but we both acted like we'd been apart for months. We barely spoke, too busy playing tonsil hockey as I led him upstairs, leaving a trail of clothing in our wake.

I pulled him into the bathroom and managed to break free from his lips long enough to turn the shower on. I then reached under the sink to pull out a large bottle of lube, setting it on the counter. Buck smiled that warm, lusty smile that could melt a glacier and pumped himself a handful, then another, and another.

By the time we were through, that nearly full bottle was all but empty.

SHOWER

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