Abandon: Chapter 2
The Abernathy Trilogy
Abernathy, Abandon, America
by Kristen
Abandon
Chapter 2
April, 1772
Brian
Spring approaches quickly, the snow melting deep into the boggy heath. Better weather spells a resumption of outdoor chores, and for the past several weeks, Justin and I have been careful not to be overt in our attentions to each other. But today, when Josephine hands him a pail and washrag, sending him upstairs to clean the floors, I know I will not be able to resist for much longer.
After a reasonable time has lapsed, I rise from my position at the table, claiming that hours of poring over financial charts have given me a headache.
"I think I shall go upstairs and lie down for a bit," I announce, with all the innocence I can muster.
"The boy is up there cleanin'," Josephine mutters, not looking up from her knitting.
"'Tis no matter," I reply. "He shan't disturb me." And with all the ease of a man pure of heart, I put away my ledgers and climb the back stairs.
I come upon him in the newly appointed guestroom--my former bedroom. He is on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with his back turned to me. How could even the most pious of men resist this?
Justin notices me as I approach him, and sits back on his heels. He wipes at his brow with a wet sleeve and smiles up at me, a picture of unequalled beauty. I kneel behind him and place my hands on his shoulders, kneading the tight muscles there. He purrs happily, letting his head loll back against my chest as I work over his arms. Slowly, I reach for the hem of his shirt, my fingers dancing along his tight waist.
But he surprises me suddenly and twists out of my grasp, standing and pulling me up with him. Within seconds, he has my shirt cast aside, my breeches down around my ankles, and is pushing me back against the wall. Without preamble, he drops to his knees before me and swallows the head of my cock.
"Justin...ahh..." I whisper, even as my aching organ is being nursed by his ravenous mouth. "We must be quiet..."
But I know it is a warning more to myself than to him, for I tend to lose all control when I am under his sway. I have found Justin to be not only an innately talented lover, but also a very eager student. His curiosity--and his stamina--are almost unquenchable. And he devours my cock now with the unbridled appetite of a starving man.
Gradually, he changes his pace to a slow, tortuous building of pressure. I can feel my muscles pulling and the liquid heat of my pulse throbbing in my veins. He uses his mouth only--a talented play of lips and tongue and throat that has even me astounded. He is utterly masterful; the vision of his blonde head bobbing up and down upon me is almost too gorgeous a site to bear.
Even as I watch him, my eyesight is growing hazier, but I can tell that his right hand is working to free his own cock from his breeches. Looking down again, I can see his shoulder begin to bounce with a steady rhythm that matches that of his mouth. And the knowledge that he is pleasuring himself in time with me is so intensely arousing, I feel my end rapidly charging upon me. I want to wait--wait for him to catch up--but my control is slipping from my grasp.
Now I feel his other hand at my cock, and he slides one single finger into his mouth. He works it in alongside my shaft, until it is fully wetted with saliva. He pulls the finger out again, never missing a beat, his lips still working my swollen, burning cock. My release is in sight--so brutally close--every inch of my body on fire.
I feel his left hand again, cupping and caressing my sac, feeling behind it... when suddenly that finger slips inside me and I gasp--that blissful pinch of intrusion--my hole clenching, fluttering around him. In a flash of burning heat, a sea of hot sparks explodes behind my eyes. I hear myself moaning--shouting--his name as my release pours into his mouth.
Before I am even recovered, he stands and kisses me, tongue probing my mouth as his right hand still works his own anxious cock. I struggle to break the kiss, needing to watch him-- watch this private, gorgeously erotic act he is willing to share with me. Within seconds he grasps at my neck and moans, and I feel warm streams of his semen bathing my stomach.
When his emission finally abates, I pull him to me, pressing my forehead to his as we pant together, weak-kneed and weary.
"God..." I whisper, overwhelmed by the magnitude of sensation. I can still hear my heartbeat, pounding ceaselessly in my ears.
Justin pulls back suddenly. "Brian, that pounding..."
"I know," I reply sluggishly. "You can hear it too?"
He is scrambling to re-tie his breeches now, and finally I realize that the pounding is not coming from my own head, but from the hallway. Someone is knocking on the door to the master suite.
"Josephine is looking for you!" Justin cries, tossing my shirt at me. I battle with the sleeves, my pants still around my ankles, when the knocking stops and I hear Josephine's shuffle approaching the guestroom. For lack of quicker thought, I dive into the bed and cover myself, just as she opens the door.
"Mister Brian!" she shouts, surprised. "Why are you not in yer own room?"
I ransack my brain for a plausible excuse, but Justin pipes up. "I thought I'd disturb him less if he rested in here," he explains. "There's less furniture I must move around in this room." A genius, this boy!
"Aye," Josephine replies, apparently convinced. "Then get to it. You might have finished the job by now, were you worth what you ate."
"Josephine," I scold, "he's doing a fine job." I can't stand for her to berate him so, as though he were still a slave and not an equal member of this household. But she will never grant him any respect. "What is it you were looking for?"
"There's a postboy downstairs needs to see you."
"Right away," I respond curtly, hoping she'll see fit to leave. She does finally, but not without casting one final glower in Justin's direction. But he is already back to work.
Now able to get out of bed, I redress myself and walk over to Justin, who chuckles at the sight of my shirtfront--conspicuously stuck to my semen-covered chest.
"She treats you terribly," I lament. "I'm sorry for it."
"She is an old woman," he replies, simply. "It does not insult me."
"You're a saint." I crouch down to cup his cheeks in my hands, planting a firm kiss on his lips. He gazes up at me with those miraculous blue eyes. "The most beautiful saint to adorn the heavens."
"And the least deserving," he replies with a wink, giving a final poke to the front of my pants.
"Perhaps," I chuckle in agreement. "But in your wickedness I am so very, very blessed."
I kiss him once again, breathing my sated gratitude against his lips, and go downstairs to see what the post has brought me.
My dear cousin,
With immense shame, I realize that it has been almost three years since last we saw each other! An unforgivable offense on my part, as you are not only my cousin, but a cherished friend.
So, if it be not too great an imposition, I should like to pay you a visit. City life has become so tedious of late, and I am aching for some of that unspoiled country air that you seem to favor. Besides that, I have a matter of great import to discuss with you. But I shall leave you in the dark until you agree to see me!
I eagerly await your response.
Ever your loyal friend,
Timothy Kinney
Abernathy, Abandon, America
by Kristen
Abandon
Chapter 2
April, 1772
Brian
Spring approaches quickly, the snow melting deep into the boggy heath. Better weather spells a resumption of outdoor chores, and for the past several weeks, Justin and I have been careful not to be overt in our attentions to each other. But today, when Josephine hands him a pail and washrag, sending him upstairs to clean the floors, I know I will not be able to resist for much longer.
After a reasonable time has lapsed, I rise from my position at the table, claiming that hours of poring over financial charts have given me a headache.
"I think I shall go upstairs and lie down for a bit," I announce, with all the innocence I can muster.
"The boy is up there cleanin'," Josephine mutters, not looking up from her knitting.
"'Tis no matter," I reply. "He shan't disturb me." And with all the ease of a man pure of heart, I put away my ledgers and climb the back stairs.
I come upon him in the newly appointed guestroom--my former bedroom. He is on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with his back turned to me. How could even the most pious of men resist this?
Justin notices me as I approach him, and sits back on his heels. He wipes at his brow with a wet sleeve and smiles up at me, a picture of unequalled beauty. I kneel behind him and place my hands on his shoulders, kneading the tight muscles there. He purrs happily, letting his head loll back against my chest as I work over his arms. Slowly, I reach for the hem of his shirt, my fingers dancing along his tight waist.
But he surprises me suddenly and twists out of my grasp, standing and pulling me up with him. Within seconds, he has my shirt cast aside, my breeches down around my ankles, and is pushing me back against the wall. Without preamble, he drops to his knees before me and swallows the head of my cock.
"Justin...ahh..." I whisper, even as my aching organ is being nursed by his ravenous mouth. "We must be quiet..."
But I know it is a warning more to myself than to him, for I tend to lose all control when I am under his sway. I have found Justin to be not only an innately talented lover, but also a very eager student. His curiosity--and his stamina--are almost unquenchable. And he devours my cock now with the unbridled appetite of a starving man.
Gradually, he changes his pace to a slow, tortuous building of pressure. I can feel my muscles pulling and the liquid heat of my pulse throbbing in my veins. He uses his mouth only--a talented play of lips and tongue and throat that has even me astounded. He is utterly masterful; the vision of his blonde head bobbing up and down upon me is almost too gorgeous a site to bear.
Even as I watch him, my eyesight is growing hazier, but I can tell that his right hand is working to free his own cock from his breeches. Looking down again, I can see his shoulder begin to bounce with a steady rhythm that matches that of his mouth. And the knowledge that he is pleasuring himself in time with me is so intensely arousing, I feel my end rapidly charging upon me. I want to wait--wait for him to catch up--but my control is slipping from my grasp.
Now I feel his other hand at my cock, and he slides one single finger into his mouth. He works it in alongside my shaft, until it is fully wetted with saliva. He pulls the finger out again, never missing a beat, his lips still working my swollen, burning cock. My release is in sight--so brutally close--every inch of my body on fire.
I feel his left hand again, cupping and caressing my sac, feeling behind it... when suddenly that finger slips inside me and I gasp--that blissful pinch of intrusion--my hole clenching, fluttering around him. In a flash of burning heat, a sea of hot sparks explodes behind my eyes. I hear myself moaning--shouting--his name as my release pours into his mouth.
Before I am even recovered, he stands and kisses me, tongue probing my mouth as his right hand still works his own anxious cock. I struggle to break the kiss, needing to watch him-- watch this private, gorgeously erotic act he is willing to share with me. Within seconds he grasps at my neck and moans, and I feel warm streams of his semen bathing my stomach.
When his emission finally abates, I pull him to me, pressing my forehead to his as we pant together, weak-kneed and weary.
"God..." I whisper, overwhelmed by the magnitude of sensation. I can still hear my heartbeat, pounding ceaselessly in my ears.
Justin pulls back suddenly. "Brian, that pounding..."
"I know," I reply sluggishly. "You can hear it too?"
He is scrambling to re-tie his breeches now, and finally I realize that the pounding is not coming from my own head, but from the hallway. Someone is knocking on the door to the master suite.
"Josephine is looking for you!" Justin cries, tossing my shirt at me. I battle with the sleeves, my pants still around my ankles, when the knocking stops and I hear Josephine's shuffle approaching the guestroom. For lack of quicker thought, I dive into the bed and cover myself, just as she opens the door.
"Mister Brian!" she shouts, surprised. "Why are you not in yer own room?"
I ransack my brain for a plausible excuse, but Justin pipes up. "I thought I'd disturb him less if he rested in here," he explains. "There's less furniture I must move around in this room." A genius, this boy!
"Aye," Josephine replies, apparently convinced. "Then get to it. You might have finished the job by now, were you worth what you ate."
"Josephine," I scold, "he's doing a fine job." I can't stand for her to berate him so, as though he were still a slave and not an equal member of this household. But she will never grant him any respect. "What is it you were looking for?"
"There's a postboy downstairs needs to see you."
"Right away," I respond curtly, hoping she'll see fit to leave. She does finally, but not without casting one final glower in Justin's direction. But he is already back to work.
Now able to get out of bed, I redress myself and walk over to Justin, who chuckles at the sight of my shirtfront--conspicuously stuck to my semen-covered chest.
"She treats you terribly," I lament. "I'm sorry for it."
"She is an old woman," he replies, simply. "It does not insult me."
"You're a saint." I crouch down to cup his cheeks in my hands, planting a firm kiss on his lips. He gazes up at me with those miraculous blue eyes. "The most beautiful saint to adorn the heavens."
"And the least deserving," he replies with a wink, giving a final poke to the front of my pants.
"Perhaps," I chuckle in agreement. "But in your wickedness I am so very, very blessed."
I kiss him once again, breathing my sated gratitude against his lips, and go downstairs to see what the post has brought me.
My dear cousin,
With immense shame, I realize that it has been almost three years since last we saw each other! An unforgivable offense on my part, as you are not only my cousin, but a cherished friend.
So, if it be not too great an imposition, I should like to pay you a visit. City life has become so tedious of late, and I am aching for some of that unspoiled country air that you seem to favor. Besides that, I have a matter of great import to discuss with you. But I shall leave you in the dark until you agree to see me!
I eagerly await your response.
Ever your loyal friend,
Timothy Kinney