Your Take On Forever

John started dreaming... a wet dream. He twisted against the sheets, sweating and panting like crazy. He bit his lip, still fast asleep and flipped on his stomach. He rubbed his achingly hard cock through his boxers against the sheets, desperately trying to get some friction.

Randy opened his eyes when he felt John move. "Baby?" he asked.

John was stuck in his steamy, wet dream. Randy tongued him, sucked him off, fondled him... it felt so damn good, he didn't wanna wake up. He rubbed harder against the bed, wanting so badly to release, whimpering and panting Randy's name.

When Randy realized what was happening, his eyes went wide. He flipped John over, pulling down his boxers and taking John's cock in his hand, stroking him slowly.

John panted and sweat harder as Randy stroked him. "O-Oh R-Randy!" He squealed, still asleep as he bucked his hips against Randy's hand. He spread his legs wider, as if asking to have something inside him. Anything would do, he just needed something in him.

Randy smirked and sucked on his finger a bit to lube them up before sliding them in John and stroking him in time with the thrusts.

John moaned louder, his muscles tightening and his hair laced with sweat. He couldn't hold it back any longer. "Randy!" He squealed as he came long and hard all over Randy's hand. He panted, his body sagging against the bed as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep again.

Randy chuckled and got up, washing his hands before coming back and fixing John's boxers.

John smiled slightly and cuddled up to Randy, sleeping peacefully now that he as relieved.

Randy chuckled again and geld John close.

John awoke the next morning, still feeling exhausted. It was Sunday... he hated Sundays. He just wanted to sleep in and that's it.

Randy was awake and down in the kitchen, cooking John breakfast.

John heard Randy cooking downstairs. But he was too lazy to go down so he just rested in bed. He was still sore from his gymnastic practice anyway.

Randy finished breakfast. "Johnny!" he called, plating the food.

John groaned loudly. "I dun wanna get outta bed!!!" He whined like a child.

"Then starve!" Randy replied, setting the plates on the table.

John groaned and trudged downstairs. "Bitch..." He muttered and sat at the table, still half asleep. "But thanks for breakfast... you didn't cut your stomach open again, did you?" He teased and started to dig in.

"Nope. No one to impress and I don't need to practice, so nothing flashy,: Randy replied.

John nodded tiredly. "Good. I don't need blood all over my house." He chuckled and continued to eat. "It's tastes amazing though."

"Yeah, I cut my finger a bit and didn't notice so there's some blood in there. Adds flavor in my opinion," Randy said with a straight face.

John blinked, gagging and dropping his fork and ran to the sink, chugging down water as if it were the last water source on earth.

Randy busted out laughing, doubling over and squeezing his eyes shut.

John looked at Randy, cocking his head to the side and pouting, looking like a lost puppy. "What's so funny?"

"I... didn't... cut... myself..." Randy got out between his laughs.

John looked at him, jaw open. He hit Randy's arm. "That's not funny!" He said, though he was chuckling a little. "You're so mean to me." He said, kissing Randy's cheeks before sitting down and continued eating.