His Woods (MxM)

24 Jack Gets Unwanted Company

Wow. My life has hit an all-time low. 

This makes me take an even bigger swig of my beer. Tyson has only been gone since yesterday, and I am drinking beer at a bar by myself for the second night in a row.

In an attempt to not let things get weird between us, I kept myself pretty busy all week with fixing up the barn while Ty took on sanding and repainting the shutters. I didn't quite know what to say, and I was too nervous to let him back out of going to see Sean because of me. That sounds presumptuous.

It was a colossal failure, though. I only ended up making things super awkward between us. Stupid. We traded a few words over meals and then went to our separate locations to relax in the evening. Me to the back deck to smoke a cigar and sip bourbon and him to the living room to read and listen to LPs.

Now, I can actually fit the truck and the lawn equipment in the cleaned-up barn, but it's not worth what I gave up. Without Tyson around to give me a hard time about dinner or secretly crack me up with his sarcasm and wit, the place is pretty sad. Not to mention, the snapshots of Tyson's steel rod protruding from his towel and standing completely nude in the doorway of the bathroom that my mind continues to perpetuate. It's just me and my monsters now.

I am almost sure that sitting alone at a bar is one of the first signs of alcoholism. Another might be the fact that the only time I have come into town this week was to buy more alcohol or sit here yesterday and today.

On my way home from dropping Tyson off, I dug myself into a deep hole. I just kept playing the moment in the bathroom the other night over and over in my head. Then when I mixed it with the look Tyson had on his face when we were waiting for his friend in the parking lot, I thought I was gonna cry. I tried letting him know I cared when he got out of the truck, I told him to call me if he needed me, that I'd drive to Winston in a second, but he ignored me as he slammed the door behind him. I don't blame him. To lead him on and then give him the silent treatment for three days was wrong of me. I just didn't know what to do. I am not sure I can trust myself around him. 

When I got home, I told myself I wouldn't think about him. Mainly because I was the one who told him to go. When Sean called, I knew he should see if there was anything still there between them. I couldn't help but feel guilty for wanting him as much as I did.

To sidetrack my mind, I went to work on the bathroom floor since the barn was already done. My first step was to go about measuring the floor of the bathroom and started gathering some of the tile to cut. Marked off the lengths and only made it through two pieces before I was already stuck on Ty again.

I knew staying around the house wasn't going to work, so I drove into town for a drink. Which led to seven, a taxi ride home, and a hangover this morning.

Last night, I had a dream that started off with me and Kirk in the Meck-Co Prison showers. 

There were about eight shower heads that lined both sides of the communal bathhouse. Kirk and I were under the two middle ones, hot water pouring down on us. The rest of the scene was dark and steamy.

The contrast between the foamy white suds and Kirk's brown skin captured my attention as I watched him scrub his powerful chest. I was captivated by the waterfall of soapy liquid flowing down his torso, over his cropped pubes, and running off the tip of his long dick and low-hanging balls.

When I looked up, he was smiling at me. Then he pointed off into the darkness.

"You have company," he said nonchalantly.

In a slow stroll, Tyson walked out of the shadow toward me. He was already wet and naked. The tuft of hair on his chest clung to his skin in the glistening dampness that covered his body. His soft but proud cock and jewels swung with a slight rhythm with each step.