Long arms wrap around me almost instantly. As he dives into my mouth like he’s never tasted anything so good, we sink down against the sheets, hands grasping, bodies shifting, hearts thumping.
And nothing has ever felt so right.
Roderick
After that, I give Kieran many more chances to improve his cuddling. In fact, we work on it the very next night, after I retrieve my groceries from my broken car.
We cooked that roast, and almost burned the risotto, though, because we got to fooling around on the couch while we waited for the meat to finish cooking. I forgot all about the food as Kieran pushed me down onto the cushions and blew me.
Work. Food. Sex. Cuddle. Sleep. Repeat. I’m living the dream right now. My job is going well. I live in a nice house with a hot man who can’t wait to see me every night when he gets home. And we still have Mondays off together. That means sleeping in and waking each other up with various naked activities.
There hasn’t been any full-on sex, though, in spite of the hints I’ve dropped. The sex fairy (that’s me, I guess) has left a bottle of lube on the nightstand and some condoms in Kieran’s bathroom.
He’s taking it slow, though. And that’s fine with me. Mostly fine. Except it’s midmorning on a Monday, and Kieran is stretched out on the rug in the living room, reading a magazine.
And I’m stretched out on his back, thinking dreamy thoughts of being pounded into the rug. As one does. Lifting my head, I look down at the magazine to see what’s keeping Kieran so busy. “You’re reading about…” I squint at the page. “Cows?”
“Yup,” he says patiently.
I stretch out a little more, as if he were my personal cushion. And then I kiss the back of his neck just once. Okay, twice. But not in an annoying way.
So much has changed since the night my car died, and we barely managed to eat that pizza between make-out sessions. On the other hand, a few things haven’t changed at all. A very expensive car repair has left me just as strapped as before. And apparently I’m still a needy fuck. Because here I am pestering Kieran with more kisses to the back of his neck, while the poor man tries to read a farming magazine.
He doesn’t really mind, though. In fact, after a moment or two, he drops his head, giving up on the article, and providing me with better access to the sensitive skin under his ear.
“So tell me about these cows,” I say between kisses. But what I really mean is roll over and grab my ass.
He tells me about the cows instead. “Kyle wants to breed some Angus cross cattle this spring. Up until now we’ve only done purebred Highland cattle.”
“Oh.” I don’t know squat about the Shipley family business. “Is that a good idea?”
“It’s a fine idea,” he says. “And I’m kinda stunned that he had it. Kyle isn’t much of a businessman. Or maybe he could be if everyone stops telling him what to do. My dad is a dictator. Usually Kyle just agrees with him, to stay on his good side.”
“But not this time?” I run a hand shamelessly through his hair. Touching him is my new favorite hobby.
“Well, he wants my support. Which means he wants me to fight his battles for him with my dad.” Kieran flips a page in the magazine, and I see an ad for chicken feed.
“Calcium for great laying. There’s a joke in there somewhere,” I quip.
“There’s lots of dirty jokes in farming,” he agrees. “Not to mention that I grew up outside a town called Hardwick.”
I snort. “I noticed that. And I wasn’t going to say anything, but that is the gayest sounding town I ever heard.” After the joke comes out, I wonder if Kieran will object. He doesn’t use the word gay, or discuss his sexuality. Or his feelings, for that matter.
But now he turns his head and smiles at me anyway, like he’s in on the joke. “I’ll bet you don’t know how cattle is bred.”
“You’d be right about that. But I want to hear it. Are we talking about cow sex now?”
“Yes and no. Our operation is organic, and small. So we breed by putting our bull in the same pasture as the cows. But on a big ranch they do everything artificially.”
“Artificially,” I repeat slowly, trying to decide what he means. “Now you have me picturing a bunch of cowboys jerking off bulls.”
“Well…” Kieran chuckles. He flips to the back of the magazine and shows me a whole page of listings for…
“Does that say semen?”
“Oh yeah.”
“This farming stuff is freakier than I thought. They do jerk off cows?”
“Bulls,” he corrects.
“That sounds both dirty, which I appreciate, and dangerous, which I do not. How does that work? Are cow condoms a thing?”
Chuckling, Kieran sets the magazine aside. “It’s almost like a condom—but thicker. And the funnel has insulated sides—like a warm water bottle. The heat of it makes the bull ejaculate immediately.”
I let out a whoop of laughter. “Are you telling me that bulls are two-pump chumps?”
“More like one pump. And the young ones sometimes get overexcited and jizz on the floor. As soon as they walk into that breeding barn, they know what’s going to happen. Except the older ones don’t always get it up.”
“Then what?” I demand. “Is there a channel on Porn Hub for bulls?”
“Better,” Kieran says with a naughty smile. And, wow, there’s nothing hotter than Kieran’s naughty smile. I see it a lot these days. “When the bull won’t get with the program, the rancher does this.” He reaches back and runs a hand up my thigh. “Usually does the trick.”
“Oh my fucking god. There’s foreplay?”
“Basically. And bulls are used to doing the deed on their hind feet, right? They mount the cow. But in the breeding barn, they can’t use a cow, because they can’t take the chance that the bull hits that target. So you’ll never believe what they use instead.”
“Please tell me it’s a big, bovine blow-up doll. With big tits and long eyelashes.”
“Nope.” Kieran laughs. He’s enjoying this story almost as much as I am. “They train a steer who’s particularly calm to just stand in front and let the bulls mount him.”
“A steer,” I repeat. “That’s a boy.”
“Right—a young, castrated male. A rancher leads the breeding bull into the stall. He rears up onto the other dude’s back. The breeder plops the funnel bag over his weenie and he shoots. The whole thing takes less than a minute.”
“Get out of town,” I gasp, rolling off Kieran so that I can look into those amused, light brown eyes. “You’re telling me that bulls are mounting one of their pals to bust a nut?”
“That’s right.”
“Holy fuck. The gay agenda is alive and well, so long as you’re a bull. Why are the evangelicals not up in arms about this?”
“Because.” He taps the magazine. “Quality bull semen sells for fifty bucks a pop, and they can harvest him once a week.”
“Hot damn. I’m in the wrong line of work. This is like our favorite episode of Silicon Valley. How many bulls can I jack off in an hour? Forty, you think?”