By pwnedpuppy
Getting Ready for the Move
It was late Thursday night as the train pulled into the station. my phone buzzed – it was Pete.
“you can ride up front,” He wrote. (And, yes – the you was lower-case.)
As i left the platform, i could see Pete’s truck off in the parking lot. He flashed His headlights to let me know He saw me. i scampered over quickly, able to move nimbly since i had absolutely no luggage with me.
Visiting Pete on weekends was really an exercise in minimalism. i spent most of my time at His place naked, and anything that i would be allowed to wear was stored there. All i had to bring was myself, my ID and my phone.
i got to the truck, opened the door, and saw Pete sitting in the driver’s seat in the glow of the golden interior light. He looked great as always.
Pete’s dark brown hair neat in a high and tight, with a week’s worth stubble covering the lower part of His face. His square jaw shined in the gleam of the overhead light. An unzipped black leather bike jacket hung from His big, broad shoulders, covering His torso. He had a tight black t-shirt on underneath. Wranglers hugged His bubble butt, and He was wearing those goddamn riding boots that i’ve given a tongue bath to too many times to count over the last couple years.
