Boomhauer rolled his eyes as John Redcorn firmly squeezed his cock. “Are you ready for this?”
Boomhauer’s response was so quickly spoken that John couldn’t follow the words, but his hands didn’t need to. One hand freed his cock from the confines of his jeans, the other lead Boomhauer’s hand to his fly.
Redcorn never admitted to this side of himself in public – the part of him that needed to be stroked and touched by another man. The fact that he was jerking off a friend of a friend in a dugout to relieve some stress after baseball practice
Nancy flitted through his mind – the way she always did when he was turned on. Sweet Nan-nan, with her blonde hair and soft lips. If he squinted, he could pretend it was her jerking him off and not Boomhauer’s strong workmanlike paw.
But it was her that brought him off, even as Boomhauer’s hand worked firmly along his cock. “Nancy!” he muttered.
“Woah man,” Boomhauer said, shoving him away. “Dang ol playing like I’m Nancy…”
Boomhauer often said a lot – and much of it far too quickly – but John Redcorn understood him too well this time, and let go.