Randy was sound asleep at 5:45, on his side, knee up when Rod slipped into his room, lifted the light blanket and crawled into bed beside him. He stirred slightly as Rod fingered his crack, slid his hand between his legs and began to gently fondle his balls. His morning wood flexed in response to Rod’s touch, which added to the normal morning stimulation experienced by eighteen year old men. His nads slipped out of Rod’s fingers as he threw off the covers, rolled on his back and stretched. He cock was rock hard – aimed directly at his navel. He flexed it a couple times as he stretched. “Hey…mornin’ man – how long you been here? What time is it anyway?”
“Quarter to six…I just came in…had to make sure ‘my man’ had a good night’s sleep and was up and ready for the new week…and I can see you’re definitely ‘up!’ You doin’ ok?” Rod grasped Randy’s rigid pole and squeezed several times, relishing the feel of Randy’s “attempted” flex, which his grasp prohibited.
Randy put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, making no move to push Rod’s hand away. “I’m doin’ great, man…your hand on my dick feels so good!”
“You like to get off in the morning?”
“Every morning…!”
“You need to take a leak first?”
“I can wait…” Rod began to squeeze and release Randy’s hot member rhythmically. His breathing became more rapid, punctuated with soft groans of pleasure. “Oh, yeah…man, that feels so fuckin’ good! Oh…I’m close, ahhh…oh, oh…ohhhhh!” Rod stopped all motion as he tightened his grip on the blazing poker. Randy shot his hot morning load all over his chest. “Shit, was that ever great…what a way to wake up!”
“Might have to do that again tomorrow…you never know!”
“OK by me, dude…whew!”
“You ready for a shower?”
“Yeah…I’ve got to be at school by 7:30, and it’s a half hour drive from here…guess I’ve got time.”
“You got plenty of time…I’ll put some coffee on while you shower…and, oh yeah…this afternoon after you get back from school I’m takin’ you to the Rocky Mountain Saddle Company.”
“Like I need a saddle?”
“Smart Ass! The owner is a leather craftsman, and I’m goin’ to get you ‘leathered’ for your birthday, remember?”
“Cool!” Randy showered, pulled on his 501s and a sweatshirt and headed for school, taking coffee and a bagel “for the road.”
Rod was waiting when he got back to house about 3:30 in the afternoon. “Ready?”
“Yeah…guess so – do I need to change or anything…I mean, are my 501s and sweatshirt ok?”
“Perfect…you’re not going to keep ’em on long anyway!”
“Really?”
“This isn’t an ‘off the rack’ leather shop where you pick up something and try it on in a dressing room…this is custom, made to order, ‘perfect fit’ stuff!”
“Like your harness?”
“Exactly!”
Roscoe, the owner of the saddle company, was waiting for them. He was tall, lean, good looking, mid-thirties, wearing a tapered denim shirt tucked into his snug 501s. He was showing a very pronounced bulge in his left leg. “Hey, Rod…long time no see…you needin’ some new leather stuff?”