I Love Corey, Chapter Twenty

Downey’s Market has a good deli section. I bought a chicken, some potato salad, some baked beans, and other miscellaneous items. With that we were off to the woods.

I was pleasantly surprised with his shooting. I hadn’t realized he was nervous the other night. Today he did quite a bit better. We had lots of time and spent it with me coaching him and he, practicing. We shot about half of the ammo and then had lunch.

During lunch, we talked about what he needed to do to improve. He seemed real serious about learning to shoot well. After lunch I suggested relaxing a little on the blanket I’d brought before we resumed practice. I told him he would probably do better after his lunch had been allowed to settle a little.

I haven’t decided. That was either a brilliant suggestion or a stupid one. As soon as we stretched out and relaxed he couldn’t seem to think of any thing except for the fact that he’d gone to sleep last night without making love to me. The fact that I’d made love to him didn’t count. You know, it’s kind of hard to take a nap when you have this wonderful boy crawling all over you and kissing you. I finally gave up and let him have his way. I felt kind of guilty. I wondered how good the government’s satellite system was. Would they be able to see what we were doing? Could they identify us? I’d heard somewhere that they could read license plates. Nonetheless, when he managed to get my pants open and got his hot mouth on my pride and joy, I quit worrying about things like that. I just laid back and enjoyed it.

He took his time. That made me want to wring his neck. He had me so hot I was shaking all over. He kept alternating between sucking and then licking. When he’d shift his licking to my testicles, it made me shiver all over. He really knew how to play me. I guess a couple of months learning what turns someone on makes for that kind of a situation. 

It was one of those beautiful days you get in the Fall. The sun was shining and a few clouds drifted overhead. Unfortunately, I couldn’t take in the beauty, I was too busy enjoying the sensations that Corey was causing. Then, wouldn’t you know it. I was just about there when the sound of a vehicle intruded. Not only that, it appeared to be coming closer.

“Corey.”

“Ugmnh.” He didn’t seem to be able to talk very well with his mouth full. I’ve warned him about that before.

“Corey stop. There’s a car coming.” 

“Ugmnh,” he responded again. I had no idea what he was trying to say but if he didn’t get his mouth off of me soon it wouldn’t matter.

“Damnit Corey, quit. We’re about to get caught.”

“Oh shit!” He quit sucking and started trying to help me get my pants back in place and closed. I finally got his hands out of the way and buttoned my pants just as a patrol car drove into sight. 

“Good Lord, it’s the CHP. Act like were talking,” I told him. I hoped the officer wouldn’t notice that Corey was blushing a bright red. I suppose I was also. It sure felt like it.

The patrolman pulled up by my pickup and parked alongside it next to us. He looked around and finally got out of his patrol car. He looked a bit nervous, kind of like he didn’t trust us. I suppose he had a right to be on guard. He could see the targets set up which would let him know we were armed. I wondered how he would handle things. He kept his hand close to his weapon.

“Good afternoon.” At least he wasn’t so upset that he forgot his manners.

“Good afternoon Officer. What can I do for you?”

“I was driving along when I noticed someone had used the road leading here. I thought I’d check things out. Normally the gate’s closed and locked.”

“Well, we were just doing some target practice and stopped for lunch. Would you like some coffee or a soft drink?”

“Would you mind showing me your weapons?” He was polite. 

“Not at all. They’re in the back of the pickup. We laid them there when we broke for lunch.”

“Could you show me?”

“Sure.” With that I got up, and making sure I didn’t do anything suddenly, I started walking towards the back of the pickup. When we got around to the back of it, there lay the Colt and my Smith and Wesson along with several boxes of ammunition. “You might want to check them so you can see they’re unloaded,” I offered.

He seemed to relax a little. He still was alert, but some of the tension was gone. He asked to see my driver’s license for identification. After looking that over he relaxed even more. In fact, he even accepted a can of Coke.

“So, what are you doing up here? I thought this was private property?”

“It is Officer; a friend of mine owns it and told me I could use it any time I wanted to for target practice. He even gave me a key so I could open the gate.” While I was answering I could see him looking at the pistols. “Want to try either of them out?” 

“I recognize the Smith but that doesn’t look like any Colt I ever saw. What model is it?”

“It’s a Single Action Army, Flattop Bisley version.”

“No kidding. I’ve heard of them but never seen one.”

“Want to shoot it?”

“I’d love to but I really should get back on patrol. Maybe some other time.”

“If you’re free on Wednesday evening you might stop by the pistol club. We’ll be there and you could shoot it then.” When I told him that, he positively beamed. After visiting a little more, he wished us luck with our practice and left. Somehow, that visit had taken all the starch out of a certain part of me and we just went ahead and shot some more. Nothing personal, but I could have cheerfully wrung the officer’s neck. What a way to break up an enjoyable interlude.

I was quite amazed at the difference in Corey’s shooting. While he still wasn’t an expert, he showed signs that he might someday become one. I figured that with some more practice he’d at least be competent. We picked up the remains of lunch and our other gear and headed home. It had been a very relaxing afternoon. 

We cleaned the pistols when we got home. After finishing that I glanced at my watch.

“If you’ll mow the lawn, I’ll start dinner.” That was agreeable so away we went, me to the kitchen and Corey to the garage to get the mower. While I was preparing our meal I could hear the mower. It worked out almost perfect. He finished and just had time for a quick shower before dinner was ready. 

After we’d eaten dinner we were at loose ends. Bob had been coming over for the past few Saturday evenings and we had stopped planning anything for them. Tonight he wasn’t here and we had nothing planned. There wasn’t much on the TV so we wound up talking.

“Why do you have so many reloading presses?” he asked.

“Well, one is for pistols, one for rifles, and the big one on the right is for shotgun shells. It’s hydraulically powered.”

“Why is it hydraulically powered? Does it take more power to load for a shotgun?”

“No, it’s just faster that way. If you’re shooting much with a shotgun, it takes a lot of shells.”

“How many?”

“The last match I went to took almost four hundred the first day. The second day took about two hundred and fifty.” I could see his eyes get big when I told him that. 

“That’s a lot of shooting.”

“Not really, on the first day you’ve got a sixteen yard event, a handicap event, and a doubles event. Each one is one hundred targets. Throw in a practice round before each event and the total is three hundred and seventy-five targets and shells. That’s if you don’t happen to shoot at a broken target. If you do that, you have to shoot over so that adds another shot.”

“Do you think I could try that?”

“Don’t see why not. We’ll have to get you shotgun because all of mine are too long for you but there’s no reason why we can’t.”

A little more talk about trap shooting and downstairs we went. I fired up the Ponsness Warren press and we spent the rest of the evening reloading shells. By the time we were ready for bed, we had almost three cases. That figured out to almost fifteen hundred shells. Now all I had to do was come up with a shotgun short enough for him. I’d have to think about that. The biggest problem was that tomorrow was Sunday and the trap club shot on Sunday afternoons along with Friday evenings. It might be Friday before we could shoot.

Some nights are made for cuddling. Tonight was one of them. We never got past the kissing and holding. That seemed to satisfy both of us. I loved the feel of him in my arms. He was so warm and alive. Add a few kisses with a little tongue and you have the makings of a very enjoyable finish to a good day. Actually, there were more than a few kisses, but I didn’t really count. After all, this wasn’t about keeping score. It was about what made each of us happy. Needless to say, we kissed the number of times we wanted to. No more, and no less. 

Finally he dozed off. He was in his favorite position, head on my chest, one arm across my body, and one leg draped over one of mine.

I always used to sleep on my side but since Corey came into my life I’ve learned to love sleeping on my back. That allows him to cuddle up to my right side and get in his favorite position. He’d slept on the other side of the bed for a short while when his knee was operated on, but now we were back to the way we preferred. If I could just get him to stop drooling.

To be continued...