Page 67 of Marcus in Retrograde
The pad of his thumb brushed over my hole, stopping and pressing there, teasing me. It wasn’t expected, and I came hard without warning.
Marcus swallowed every drop of my cum. I could see the mirth in his eyes after the lust tampered down a moment after my last thrust. He licked and sucked his way back up my cock, and let it pop out with a lascivious sound, echoing in the room.
“Someone liked that.” He grinned, and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.
Even that was sexy.
“I’ll let you know when something you do doesn’t feel good or make me come in seconds.”
He stood and crawled up the bed. “What if it’s something you don’t likeandit makes you come in seconds?”
“I somehow think that’s not possible,” I was still blissed out and flopped back, staring at the ceiling, but I managed to find Marcus’ buckle and free him from his pants one handed. I lazily stroked his rock hard erection.
“Mmm,” he breathed. “That feels good. Just…keep doing that.”
He was happy with my lazy hand job, for a few minutes. But eventually, he had better ideas for his cock. And I was all for it.
MARCUS
THE GARCIA FARMWAS A WORK IN progress. The farmhouse in the center of the land was old. Really old, but it had an addition on the back and was well taken care of. The barn was restored and it looked like there was a ring for horseback riding. There was another smaller barn, way more modern, that seemed to hold the equipment.
And way in the back was a small house, with a dirt path leading to a porch that was just teeming with flower pots and trays.
It was clear that the Garcias were no longer farmers, save for some token acreage around the house. There was corn, as seemed to be required in Illinois, as well as soybeans, wheat, and a giant patch of vines.
“Pumpkin?” I asked.
Chase smiled at the vines on the right. “It was my Abuelita’s idea, after Abuelo died. She wanted to do something fun with the farm, not make my dad and mom farm for a living, but not give it up completely. The Garcia Pumpkin Patch is one of the county’s best. Dad rotated it through the fields each year.”
He pointed to the distance where there was more corn and soybean fields, that were more typical of farms. “That’s still our land, but dad leased it to a collective and lets them plant and harvest what they need to.” Pausing, he glanced out to the corn. “Their land. Not mine. Not ours. Theirs.”
I didn’t react to his words. “So you grew up with a pumpkin patch?”
“Oh, yeah.” Chase smiled, looking back. “I loved working the pumpkins in October. It was so much fun. Abuelita and I would go out in the middle of September and start weeding and moving the pumpkins into rows. It was a lot of work, but she and I would walk and move and sing some of the songs she remembered from when she was little in Spain.”
“So you’re Spanish?”
“Half Spanish, half Latino. Mom’s family came up from Mexico in the early 1800s. One of my greats hated the heat and moved the whole family up here. Cortez, no relation.”
I laughed. “I didn’t think so.”
“My grandmother and grandfather’s family fled Spain in the 30s, just before Franco took over. They were so young. Abeulita was just five.”
“Do you speak Spanish?”
“Only my grandmother’s Galician, which is long mangled and sounds more like Portuguese than anything else.” He laughed.
“Is the little old lady watering the flowers on that porch your grandmother?”
He spun and looked. A smile like no other I had seen lit up his face, and he popped the door open. He jumped out, and ran for the little dirt path. I shut the car off and climbed out, following at a more reasonable pace.
“Abuelita!” he screamed like a twelve year old.
She jerked her head up and I could see the shock on her face as we headed closer. She dropped her watering can and came around the pillars and down the stairs. “Chase?”
He slowed just enough to not knock the woman off her feet and instead wrap her in a huge hug. He could clearly have lifted the woman off the ground in his joy, and that said something because she was not a tiny person. She was maybe two inches shorter than Chase.
I listened as I walked closer and slowed about ten feet away from them.
