Good Monday morning, Orgiasts! And Happy New Year’s Eve! I hope you have something fun planned for midnight tonight, but make sure you’ve set aside some time to sit back and read the conclusion of my sexy Christmas Flash based on prompts sent in by the lovely Dawn Roberto: retired bull rider, snow storm, candy cane.
A big announcement before we get to the conclusion of my third and final Christmas flash story, Stew Brannigan Rides Again.
The following is from your Story Orgy writers:
Hello faithful orgiasts who bounce between our blogs every week… we love you. We really, most whole-heartedly do. You are the reason we six became a group in the first place! We wanted to post free gay fiction that was sometimes spooky, often smexy, and always romantic, and we have done some pretty amazing things in the last two years. The Story Orgy has self-published three anthologies—And the Prompt Is… Volume One, And the Prompt Is… Holiday Edition, And the Prompt Is… Road Trip—and one anthology through Breathless Press, Word Play. We’ve donated hundreds of dollars to charities from the sales of these collections, and all because of you! On our blogs, we’ve posted thousands and thousands of words, introduced you to dozens of characters and any number of dramatic scenarios, not to mention lots and lots of hot, steamy sex scenes. Oh yeah, can’t forget the steamy sex scenes!
And so, with the start of a brand new year, your Story Orgy writers have to admit something. We’re tired. Really tired! We’ve been writing so hard and so fast to keep our weekly posts interesting and sexy and surprising, that often times we don’t have time to write other stories for our publishers. Some of us have Evil Day Jobs (EDJs) that eat up a lot of our time as well, and then we need to make time to spend with families and friends, as well as a bit of sleep now and then. So, yeah, we admit it: we’re a little used up.
Which brings us to the classic line: It’s not you, it’s us. You see, a little while ago, the Story Orgy met in our secret Story Orgy room and hashed some things out, and we’ve decided that we’re not going to post weekly reads on our blogs for the foreseeable future. We know! It was difficult for us to say it ourselves! However, while there will no longer be guaranteed weekly posts, keep an eye out for posts from time to time as we try out new stories or characters, or ask for prompt suggestions from you for a new anthology, or maybe even let you know about some fantastic give aways. This new arrangement will also give us more time to work on some exciting new Story Orgy anthologies we hope to have available throughout the year.
So, while the weekly posts will no longer be there waiting every Monday at 6:00 AM, we certainly won’t forget about you, our faithful readers. We hope you’ll still comment on our Facebook posts and follow each of us not only in our future Story Orgy collaborations, but also our individual publishing events as well.
Thank you, you wonderful readers who have come to feel like family to us, for an amazing two years of fun and hot, sexy stuff. We look forward to expanding on the Story Orgy name in the years ahead and hope you’re as excited about the things to come (hee hee) as we are.
The Story Orgy
Okay! As I wipe a tear out of the corner of my eye, on with the conclusion of the story! Once again, this sexy little story, Stew Brannigan Rides Again, is based on prompts sent in by the lovely Dawn Roberto: retired bull rider, snow storm, candy cane.
Stew Brannigan Rides Again
Stew picked up the clothes he’d left lying around the trailer, his cock throbbing and his mind conjuring up endless positions he wanted to explore with Jarrod Gammon.
If the man showed up, that was. Might be Jarrod would chicken out at the last minute. But just in case he didn’t, Stew hauled the vacuum out of the folding door closet and ran it over the worn out, beaten down carpet in the living room, down the hall, and into his bedroom. He noticed that the sheets on the bed were a crumpled mess, and he stripped them off and stuffed them in the hamper in his closet. As he looked through the sheet sets he’d collected over the years, he found a set of red satin sheets and, with a grin, pulled out them out of the back of the linen closet.
Finally might get a chance to use these.
After cleaning everything as best he could, Stew took a long shower. He ran the water heater out, and finally, shivering in the sudden blast of the cold spray, twisted the faucets off. His fleece robe, best gift he received last year, mailed to his trailer from his niece Hannah in Gainesville, warmed him up and he padded into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, stopping in surprise at the blizzard outside the window.
“Good Lord, it’s snowmaggedon,” Stew whispered, and right on cue a blast of arctic wind rocked his trailer.
For the next few hours Stew watched Christmas specials on TV, paced, stared out at the heavy snow fall, and kept his hand away from his cock. If Jarrod didn’t show up by midnight, Stew was going to ring in Christmas Day with a hearty wank and then slip into those red satin sheets alone. Again.
After eleven o’clock, just as he’d poured the burnt coffee down the sink, Stew heard the scrape of a plow on the road outside and the heavy rumble of a truck. He squinted through the kitchen window to watch a massive four wheel drive pick up truck fitted with a plow blade on the front pull up in front of his trailer. The engine cut out, the lights went dark, and the driver hopped down from the cab to trudge through the heavy snow to his door.
Good God, he actually showed up.
Stew’s heart seemed to leap in his chest at the sound of the knock on his door. Was this really going to happen? Was he actually going to have a man here with him and not a porn DVD?
He hurried into the living room, paused to count to ten so it would look as if he wasn’t waiting to pounce on the door, and then pulled it open.
Jarrod stood on the tiny wooden porch, snow collecting on the brim of his Stetson as it blew through the frigid night. The younger man sported a big smile and held a paper sack cradled in one arm. Stew’s cock twitched at the deliciously dirty thoughts spiraling through his mind.
“Evening, Stew,” Jarrod said, still standing on the porch, his drawl layering sex on each word. “Plowed my way out here at the end of my shift, thought I’d drop in with a bag of fancy canned goods, wish you a Merry Christmas.”
Stew smiled at him. “You going to sing me a Christmas carol, Jarrod?”
Jarrod laughed. “I might need to warm up my throat before I tried something like that.”
Dear sweet baby Jesus. Thank you for this gift I am about to receive.
Jarrod shifted his weight on the porch and squinted up at Stew through the snowflakes. “So, you gonna invite me in?”
“Well, Hell’s bells, my manners have up and run off.” Stew stepped back and waved his hand as he said, “Please come in.”
Jarrod stepped up into the trailer and Stew took the bag from his hands. He set the bag on the coffee table and tried not to stare as Jarrod removed his jacket and Stetson, and then leaned against the corner of the wall to pull off his boots. The man was sexy brought to life, and a sudden rush of panic sent chills zipping along Stew’s spine. How was he going to break this seriously hot cowboy? He’d been retired much too long.
“Nice tree,” Jarrod said with a nod toward the small decoration.
“Got it last year on sale,” Stew said, and then flinched. What the fuck is wrong was wrong with him?
They looked at one another across the room for a moment, and then Jarrod asked, “You nervous as I am?”
Stew smiled. “More.”
Jarrod raised his eyebrows. “Got any beer?”
Stew grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. When he returned to the living room, he found that Jarrod had turned off all the lights except the small Christmas tree. He sat on the couch beside Jarrod and handed him a beer.
“Cheers,” Jarrod said, and clinked their bottles together.
They drank, Stew chugging half of his beer at once, and when he turned to ask Jarrod how his shift plowing the city’s roads had gone, the man stopped his words with a kiss.
It was better than Stew had fantasized about. Jarrod’s lips were soft and warm, still wet from the beer, and his tongue pushed into Stew’s mouth with an arrogant familiarity that made Stew even harder. The kiss was hungry and sloppy, mouths open, tongues wallowing together, hands squeezing and clutching each other through their jeans.
Finally, Jarrod pulled away and stood up. For a moment, Stew was afraid the man was going to storm out of the trailer, unable to finish what he’d started. But the heated look in Jarrod’s eyes put his anxiety to rest, and Stew watched as Jarrod unbuttoned his flannel shirt.
“Get naked,” Jarrod instructed. “I gotta be skin to skin with you now.”
“I like the way you talk,” Stew said, and stood up as well.
They stripped in the multi-colored blinking glow of the Christmas tree, and when both of them were nude, they stepped together for another hot, tongue heavy kiss. Jarrod’s cock was big, mighty fucking big, and Stew thought the man might not have been lying back in the store when he’d made a joke about Stew handling twelve inches.
Good God, what had Jarrod eaten when he’d been growing up? Had he been raised under high tension power lines?
Stew pulled back to catch his breath and his gaze dropped to the faded scar that ringed Jarrod’s left shoulder, souvenir of his bronco busting fall. He placed a gentle kiss on the scar, and Jarrod let out a quiet breath.
“Ain’t a day goes by that it don’t ache me some,” he said, his voice soft and sad.
Stew nodded, took Jarrod’s hand and placed it on his hip. “Same goes with me here.”
Jarrod leaned in for another kiss and shifted his hand to take hold of Stew’s cock.
“I’d like to ride this bronco,” Jarrod said, giving Stew’s dick a playful tug.
Stew took hold of Jarrod’s monster prick, grabbed it with both hands side by side, and said, “This here is one mean bull just waiting to be broken.”
Jarrod kissed him. “Ain’t found a man yet who could ride him three times in one night.” His eyebrows lifted and he grinned at Stew. “Think you might be able to break that record?”
“I aim to try,” Stew said. “But first, I need to relax my muscles a bit.” He gently pushed Jarrod to his knees before him, and closed his eyes when the man took him in his mouth.
Jarrod’s soft, full lips held tight to Stew’s shaft, sucking him slow at first, and then picking up speed until he had Stew right at the edge.
“Oh yeah, keep it up,” Stew said with a growl. “Right there. Right there. God, I’m gonna come.”
To Stew’s surprise, Jarrod didn’t back off. Instead, he took Stew’s cock deeper into his throat, lips tight around the bucking shaft as Stew blew his load. When he had finished, Stew slipped his cock from between Jarrod’s glistening, swollen lips and helped him to his feet to give him a long, soft kiss.
“That was fucking hot,” Stew said.
“You taste good,” Jarrod told him. “Better than I’ve imagined.”
Stew blinked. “You’ve thought about us together?”
“Fuck yeah, lots of times.” Jarrod stroked his huge cock and smirked at Stew. “You ready for round one?”
“Think I need to meet the beast first,” Stew said, and sat on the couch—no kneeling for him with his sore hips—then reached out to pull Jarrod around in front of him. He stroked the long, thick length of him and ran his tongue root to tip before taking half of it in his mouth.
The taste of Jarrod spread across his tongue, a mix of sweat and body wash and the dry, salty taste of his skin, and Stew savored it. He sucked him hard and fast, managing to take most of him into his throat without gagging a few times. His cock was back up again, and he stroked himself as he sucked Jarrod, surprised when a few moments later the man stepped back and pulled his dick free.
“Got me close, there, Stew,” Jarrod said. “But I’ve got a hankerin’ for some bronco busting, if you’re game.”
“Been a long time,” Stew said, “but I’m game.”
Jarrod had condoms—extra large, naturally—and lube, and he slipped one on, slicked it up, and then bent Stew over the arm of the couch. He moved slowly, inching his fence post of a cock into Stew a little at a time.
The familiar burn of the initial entry made Stew wince, as did the ache in his hips, but with some back and forth and a bit more lube, Jarrod was soon seated completely inside him. Stew had never experienced the feeling of fullness, of being completely filled by someone, like he did with Jarrod.
He sighed, and then flinched as Jarrod grabbed him by the hips and started to fuck him.
“Easy with the grip there,” Stew warned.
Jarrod released him, reaching up to hold him by the shoulders instead. “Sorry.”
“No worry,” Stew said, and then gasped. “Oh, God, you’re big.”
Jarrod plowed into him, faster and faster, and soon he let out a heavy grunt. He rammed hard into Stew, his cock spearing even deeper as he came into the condom.
After they’d caught their breath, Jarrod slid out of him and smiled at Stew. “You took that pretty well, old man.”
Stew narrowed his eyes at Jarrod. “Old man?” He pointed down the hall toward the bedroom. “Let’s go. Round two starts now.”
Jarrod’s eyebrows went up. “Already?”
Stew raised his own eyebrows. “Unless you don’t think you can be ready.”
“Oh, I’m ready,” Jarrod said and got to his feet, his cock already growing.
In the bedroom, Jarrod smiled at the sight of the red satin sheets. “Fancy.”
“You ain’t the only one can put on airs,” Stew said.
He stretched out on his back across the red satin sheets, the slick material cold against his bare, sweaty skin. Jarrod stepped between his legs and lifted them up slowly. Stew’s hips moaned and mumbled about the motion, but stayed mostly quiet, and he saw Jarrod flinch when he rested Stew’s ankles on his shoulders.
“That okay?” Stew asked.
“Yeah,” Jarrod replied with a nod. “Just don’t bounce them too much, if you can help it.”
“You’re in command of the bouncing,” Stew said. “Depends how hard you drive that tree trunk into me.”
“Guess I’m going to be hurting then,” Jarrod said with smirk. “Cause I plan to fuck you hard and deep.”
Stew’s cock jerked at the words and tone of Jarrod’s voice, and pre-cum dribbled onto his belly. When Jarrod slid into him for the second time, Stew’s well-used hole protested a bit louder than his hips. But Stew clenched his teeth and reached up to pinch Jarrod’s nipples as the man pounded into him until, several minutes later, he pushed in deep once again and cried out as he shot his second load.
“That’s fucking amazing,” Stew gasped. His ass was sore and stretched out of proportion after Jarrod slipped free and grinned down at him.
“Sure you can do three times?” Jarrod asked as he peeled off the condom and dropped it in the trash.
Stew nodded, though he wasn’t sure his asshole agreed.
“I think you need a bit of healing first,” Jarrod said, and turned to leave the room.
Stew heard the crinkling sound of tearing plastic, and then Jarrod returned to the bedroom. In one hand he held a box of candy canes, in the other he carried the small plastic Christmas tree from the living room. He set the tree on top of the dresser and plugged it in, smiling at Stew in the blinking lights.
“We needed a little spirit of Christmas in here,” Jarrod said.
Stew pointed to the candy canes. “You going to get me sugared up?”
“Not the way you think.” Jarrod took a candy cane from the box and slipped it into his mouth, sucking on it seductively as he stared at Stew. When he had the candy cane slick with spit, Jarrod knelt between Stew’s legs and slowly, steadily slid it into his ass.
“Oh, fuck,” Stew said with a gasp. “Never had anyone do that to me before.”
Stew surprised himself with a nod. “Yeah. It feels good. Cooling.”
“That’s the peppermint,” Jarrod explained. “Soothes the muscles.” He reached into the box for another candy cane and, after sucking it first, slipped it in alongside the first one.
Stew closed his eyes and held his legs up, his hips quiet for now, as if intrigued by the candy canes. When Jarrod had six candy canes sliding in and out of Stew’s well-used hole, he spit on them and stood up, his fingers holding the curved ends as he fucked Stew with them. Jarrod’s cock was hard again, standing out from his groin like a long, heavy limb.
“I think I’m ready,” Stew said.
“Yeah?” Jarrod pulled the candy canes out and, staring down at Stew, ran his tongue slowly up the length of them. He grabbed another condom and suited himself up.
Before Jarrod could get into position, Stew got up off the bed, the satin sheets slick beneath him. “Lay on your back,” he instructed.
“Oh yeah?” Jarrod nodded to his hips. “Think you can manage?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Stew said with a grin, “you just worry about keeping that shoulder in place.”
Jarrod smiled and shook his head before stretching out on his back. He lifted his cock off his belly and Stew got on his knees on the bed. He moved into position over Jarrod, and then lowered himself slowly, so slowly, onto the man’s amazing dick. The peppermint had soothed his muscles, and Stew sighed as he carefully impaled himself a third time.
“Oh, yeah,” Jarrod said through a sigh. “You’re still so fucking tight. Even on this record breaking third time.”
“Swollen is different from tight,” Stew explained, and leaned down for a kiss. “Get ready to be ridden.”
“Break me in, cowboy,” Jarrod said.
Stew closed his eyes and thought back on the days when he rode bulls. He loosened his muscles and let himself believe he was back in that time, young again, flexible, and foolish enough to believe he could ride forever. He shifted and shimmied, bounced and bobbed, rose and fell on Jarrod’s pillar of a cock.
As Stew bucked his hips, Jarrod’s cock smacked his prostate, hard, and it pushed him over the edge. Without touching himself, Stew let out a grunt just before his cock jerked and sprayed cum up the length of Jarrod’s torso.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Jarrod groaned. He put his hands on Stew’s thighs, gripping hard enough to leave marks, and bucked up into him. “I’m coming. Fuck yeah, coming again.”
Jarrod filled the condom inside Stew for the third time and Stew collapsed on top of him. He eased off Jarrod’s softening length and rolled onto his back beside the man.
“Fucking awesome,” Jarrod managed to say once he had caught his breath.
“Completely agree,” Stew said, and then a yawn snuck up on him.
It was contagious, Jarrod yawned next, and Stew sat up to grab a cum towel from his nightstand drawer. He cleaned his cum off Jarrod’s toros, tossed the towel aside, and then pulled the top sheet and blanket up over them. He pulled Jarrod into his arms and kissed him softly on the lips.
“Merry Christmas, Jarrod.”
“Merry Christmas to you, Stew.”
“I’m glad you finally plowed this section of road first,” Stew said.
Jarrod smiled and kissed him. “I’m glad I finally plowed you.”
Stew pulled Jarrod a little closer. He smiled at the small, blinking tree on top of the dresser, and, as the sticky feel of peppermint dried in his ass, Stew slipped into sleep and dreamed he was young and full of fire, back riding bulls once again.
~~ * ~~
Well, it looks like Stew and Jarrod rode each other pretty well. I hope you enjoyed my three Christmas Flash stories. Thanks for an amazing two years of posts and smexy stuff. Have a very Happy and safe New Year’s Eve. I wish you love, quiet times, crazy fun, laughter, and perspective in 2013. I look forward to getting to know you all a little bit better, and I hope you continue to check in with me on Facebook and through my website email. Now, let’s hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs for more hot, smexy reads.
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