Clark wiped the sweat from his brow and deciding to take a break from his work, sat his ass against the tail gate of the truck, took out his book of limericks and began to thumb through the pages. "Clark!" Clark nervously threw the book behind him and looked up. What he saw amazed him. Lex dressed in a tight T-shirt, faded denims and boots. His mouth began to water. "Lex! What are you doing out here?" "Decided I was working a little too hard lately and thought I'd treat myself to a day off, so..." Clark's eyes sparkled with surprise and pleasure. "Tell me," Lex asked, "what are you looking so guilty about?" Clark's face flamed red. He reached his hand back and covered the title of the book so that Lex could not see. "You remember Byron?" "How could I forget a fellow who almost single handedly destroyed one of LutherCorp's helicopters? Something like that doesn't happen everyday. Do you know what Lady Caroline Lamb said about Lord Byron, Clark?" "No." Clark said and looked directly at Lex, waiting for the answer, which he knew would come. "She said that he was 'mad, bad, and dangerous to know'. She could have been talking about the same guy, don't you think?" "Yeah, that's him. He was into poetry and it really impressed Lana in a big way." "Ah! The virginal and untouchable Miss Lang," Lex said, dripping with sarcasm. His companion ignored the comment and went on. "Well anyway, I thought I'd give my hand a try at it; I discovered it wasn't for me." Clark reached behind his ass and took out his book of limericks and gave it to Lex, smiling as he did so like a child who'd just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar." "Well, Clark Kent, I didn't think you had it in you!" "You'd be surprised just what I've got in me, Lex." "Bawdy, Clark...Scatological, Clark...Naughty, Clark, I never would have guessed." Clark blushed vermilion. Lex lifted his sunglasses and placed them on the top of his head and leveled Clark with an intense stare, which would have cowed a lesser mortal, but Clark was very used to those gazes and secretly loved them; they made his stomach all warm and tingly. Clark turned a few pages until he found the one that he wanted: "There was a young lad from Madras, Clark collapsed in a fit of laughter. "Let me see that book, Clark." Lex said, as he joined the younger man on the tailgate of the truck, sitting so close their thighs toughed. A move that wasn't lost on Clark at all; his stomach grew warmer and his tingles grew stronger. Lex thumbed through a few pages and stopped suddenly when he found one. "Now this is a limerick, Clark" "There was a young man of Aberswith, "Oh Lex! You're so bad, I love it." Clark said as he took the book back, searching for the coup de grace. "Here's one:" "There was a young man named Blair, So he finished him off in mid air." Clark giggled; his eyes sparkled and he grinned from ear to ear knowing that he had won this round. Lex was stunned, speechless, flabbergasted. Such egotism coming out of the mouth of this supposedly pure, corn-fed farm boy made the crotch of his pants seem just a little bit tighter. "Lex!" Clark blushed and pouted deliciously. "When do you think we could try that?" "Lex's eyes flew open in surprise and suddenly he was very, very happy that he had decided to take this small, unscheduled holiday. "You name the date, time and place, Clark. "Tonight, your place, at nine." Clark said without even stopping to think. "You serious, Clark?" Clark didn't answer him, just moved his head into position and kissed Lex stupid. When Lex could get his breath back and start to think clearly, he brushed his cheek against Clark's. "You are serious?" As though to answer the older man's question, Clark's big, strong hand went to Lex's lap and rubbed his cock to an almost painful erection. Lex closed his eyes and groaned. Lex got down from the tailgate of the truck and just to make sure he'd heard what he'd heard, he leaned in and kissed Clark again; Clark joined in this game of tonsil hockey with passion. "Until tonight, then." Lex muttered and slowly turned and walked away. Watching his sultry, erotic, sex-on-legs friend walk away, Clark reached his hand into his own pants, sliding down his belly and past his boxers to adjust himself to a more comfortable position. This, and his anticipation of the evening to come, caused the skin covering the well-developed muscles of his stomach to shiver. Humming and happy little tune, he returned is attention to the bails of hay. The endEmail Riticulan |