Time became blurred.
I can’t…can’t…can’t recall being turned around and told something like, “Hang on to the maple’s trunk, Barker. I’m going to have you here and now.” Or how a pre-lubricated condom was applied to his d**k and he pushed all of his seven inches inside me with a single, harboring, and painful thrust. Or how his consistent and numbing and hurting and desirable thumping against my bottom persisted for the next ten…twelve…thirteen minutes. Or how he dug his fingertips into my hips, pulling my rear towards him, grunting behind me. Or how we huffed and puffed, sounding like animals in the wild. Or how we came together: Cal inside the prophylactic that separated our sweaty bodies, and me without my swollen and vibrating joint between my legs being touched, stroked, or manhandled
