Still so very unbalanced. Sweat as heck storyline. Glad it was made into a comic. The two stars are for the story written by Mary Calmes, and I am chagrined to rate it so low, but this rating is about the manwha itself.
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I was so close; I could stop or just catch another bus depending on how he sounded on the other end. He was probably at a club or a bar or even dinner. I was interrupting.
Meet me there. I always showed up looking like hammered shit, in clothes I had slept in for a week. He deserved better. Are you… where exactly are you? Just let me come get you… please. Stay forever or go and never come back. I had actually forgotten the fight until that very moment.
I tended to remember only the good times with him and none of the bad. Talk about a needy bastard. So sure. I was never mad. I reckon I put you through enough. Really nice of you to not let me feel like an asshole for the rest of my life. I went after you, but you were already gone. God, Weber, I really am so sorry. Because when I said I would see him, it could mean either today, tomorrow, or before I died.
You have no idea. He and some friends had come to hunt quail, and the guide was held up with another party, so my boss at the time asked me to run into town and pick the men up and drive them out to the ranch. I never thought the brown-eyed, chestnut-haired, golden-skinned man would take a second look at me. Crisp, polished, pressed, the tailored dress suit and shirt that cost more than all my earthly possessions put together clung to the long lines of him and accentuated the muscles underneath.
I could barely breathe. In the SUV, I stared at the road, kept quiet, and concentrated on not fidgeting. When they all piled out of the car after I rolled up to the huge ranch house, I exhaled a deep sigh of relief.
And then almost came out of my skin moments later when there was a hard tap on the glass. I rolled down the window, swallowing hard, my mouth bone dry. I coughed. Cyrus Benning. He had long, dark, feathery lashes; chiseled features; and broad shoulders. The man was just mouthwatering and by far the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. He nodded, and I watched his eyes narrow as he wet his lips.
Looking at him, I got brave. He nodded, his smile wicked and wide. But it would be well worth it to crawl into bed with a man who would fill my daydreams for the rest of my life. He nodded. Until tonight then. Everyone else was inside, and the SUV sat parallel to the drive and was big enough to obscure every view from the house. So I leaned forward out of the window. I had a second to smile before his lips met mine, open-mouthed and greedy, crushing and rough, just how I liked it.
My gasp of pleasure was cut off, leaving me to moan deeply into his mouth, a sound that brought a rumble of desire up from his chest. He took what he wanted, and I let him, the kiss demanding and hard, his tongue stroking, tangling, pushing in deeper as he tasted and nibbled, ravaging my lips like I belonged to him.
When I shoved him back, we were both panting. As he moved to allow me to open the door and get out, I remembered that I was actually good at this part, the fucking part. Long-term commitment? Forget it. But right now, hot-and-heavy, living in the moment—that I could do. I took a left and shoved him up against the side of a smaller shack where the hand tools were kept. No one came down there in the middle of the day, in the heat, even though it was shaded where we were.
I would hear anyone to the left walking over the gravel, and to the right was thick brush. We were safe. The second I saw his hard, sculpted body, chiseled abdomen and chest, and watched the long, beautiful, cut brown cock bob free, I sank to my knees before him and took him down the back of my throat. I smiled around his shaft, and he moaned looking down at me, his eyes fluttering shut as his head fell back against the wooden slats of the tool shed.
I had no idea it could just be so…. When he started to move, his body jolting hard before he began a slow thrust and retreat in my mouth, I leaned back, letting his throbbing cock slip from my lips before I stood up. I shoved him to the ground, and he opened his mouth for me, but I just squinted before I walked around him and pushed him forward onto his palms in the grass. He looked back at me over his shoulder, on his hands and knees in front of me. I spit into my hand several times and then leaned over and did the same to his pretty pink quivering hole.
Spit was not my favorite lube, but I had been ambushed by passion so was not prepared. The condom I pulled from my back pocket was slick. I only ever bought the lubed kind, which I was thankful for, but there was no sound of anything but whimpering need as I slid a finger inside of him. Saliva seemed like it would work just fine. I scissored gently, made circles, but kept the pressure constant, loosening him, stretching him, even as I bent forward and kissed up his spine.
His skin was like silk, and as I was rarely allowed to indulge in my favorite parts of sex, the nuzzling, kissing, and caressing, I was taking my fill of my friend from the city. Normally, on the rodeo circuit, sex was rough and fast—never lovemaking, only rutting done in bathrooms or stables, not even in hotel rooms because what if somebody saw you go there in pairs? Small towns with people with even smaller minds kept everyone wary and discreet and frightened.
Without vigilance there could be a beating or worse. I did not want to end up with my brains splattered all over the highway with not enough of me left over to identify. But this, on the ranch where I was working for the summer, a place that catered to rich men who wanted to pretend they were outdoorsy for a weekend, this was a place I could indulge in some spontaneity, at least briefly. When my hands reached his hips, he started to beg me. Spreading my legs, lowering myself since I was taller than his six one, I rolled forward and slowly, gently, began pushing my way inside of him.
As many times as I had been treated to pain in my own life, I would never be the cause of it in others. I especially would never hurt the men who trusted me to top. I was ready to ride him hard. How strong was I supposed to be? My control was annihilated by the man with the warm, willing body, the melting eyes and golden skin.
Grabbing hold of his hair, I yanked back hard, bending him into the most beautiful arch of submission, his back curved, ass angled high, and the sharp hiss of breath sending me into a frenzy of movement. I plunged in deep, and he yelled loud, his channel clenching around my cock as I let him go, allowing his head to drop back down to the grass.
I clutched his hips, pounding into him hard, grinding against him as he pushed back at the same time to meet each new hammering thrust. This ache has been there for so…. My hips pistoned fast, and I nailed his gland, as I could tell from the high-pitched cry that tore out of him. It was like his breath caught, and he froze for a moment as I felt the length of my cock squeezed tight in a hot, silken vise.
He screamed out his climax, and I hammered him through it as my own orgasm built and crested and finally drowned me. I could not remember the last time I had come so hard, so violently. Dropping forward, draped across his back, my chest pressing down on him, I realized, finally, as the cloud of passion lifted, that I was probably crushing him. I want to see all of you. Sex without bites and bruises and scratches was no fun at all. He looked good, lying there sated, ravaged, all that sleek golden skin just ready to be touched again as I tied off the condom and put it gently on the ground.
He just lay there, not moving, watching me, cock lying flaccid against his smooth, flat stomach, one arm bent behind his head, the other on his chest. I smiled at him, finished tucking in, zipping up, and buckling before I stepped over his legs and sat down across his hips, straddling them, leaning over so my mouth was hovering over his.
He opened for me instantly, and I plundered his mouth, kissing him breathless, kissing him until he was arching up under me, and kissing him even as I took his cock in my hand and stroked him over and over. When I felt the silky length hardening again, I chuckled and broke the kiss, sliding my thumb over the flared tip, into the slit and under. He was vibrating beneath me, just shivering with fresh need. Who the fuck are you? Spitting into my hand, I grasped his hard cock tight and started to stroke him.
Letting him suck my fingers as I worked his cock brought him fast to another release. He tried to shove his tongue down my throat, and my rumbling laughter made him shake in my arms, which were wrapped tight around him. It had to have looked strange if anyone had come upon us.
Frog by Mary Calmes
Frog (graphic novel)
Frog by Mary Calmes (1)