Date: Fri, 31 Jul 2020 00:38:41 +0100 From: AP Webb Subject: D’n’M Part 3 Chapter 5 Part 3 of the story of D’n’M, just like Parts 1 and 2, includes sex between teenage boys, some of it non-consensual. As before, it is the characters themselves and how they react to events that are key to whatever success the story achieves. All the characters and events in the story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional. The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org PJ D’n’M Part 3 From Chapter 4: “Go for it, bud. Cum on me.” Milo barely heard Dods’ encouragement, his concentration being wrapped up (much like his dick) in the real and amazing hotness of what was happening to him. He had no time or thought for stroking his nipples or fingering his butt hole. Barely thirty seconds after taking himself in hand his balls pulled up tight to the root of his dick and the first bullet of cum hit Dods square in the middle of his chest. The second went flying beyond the end of the bathtub and the third made a graceful arc and fell close to Dods’ tummy button. The rest of this monumental load dripped down Milo’s dick and balls, landing directly on Dods’ upper torso due to the simple fact that, after blast number three, Milo’s legs could no longer hold him upright and he found himself kneeling astride Dodd’s body at the bottom of the bathtub, desperately dragging air into his lungs. ********** Chapter 5: Milo’s gaze travelled from Dods’ wide-eyed face, down to his solid and cum-spattered chest and onwards to his sticky-coated tummy. “Wowzers dude, that was one hell of a production, but now, for fuck’s sake, stand up before you squash the life out of me!” It was only then that Milo realised the full implications of his buckling knees, i.e. that he was now sitting on top of Dods lower abs, the last of his blistering cum dribbling down the shaft of his dick and the swell of his balls onto the older boy’s tummy. To Milo, in his post-cum haze, Dods’ voice sounded as if it was travelling through fog and from a long distance away, but, on working out that he was demanding to be unpinned from the bottom of the bathtub, Milo took hold of both sides and levered himself into unreliable standing. His breath was still coming in gasps and his legs felt as unsteady as a new-born foal’s. Half his mind was back to performing a series of ecstatic, post-orgasmic somersaults while the other half, as usual, struggled to bring Milo back to sense and sensibility. Dods pulled himself upright and raised his open palm. “High five, dude.” His voice didn’t even try to hide the pleasure and admiration that he was feeling. “I officially and truly welcome you as an awesome Greenside Community High School Swimming Team CUM BROTHER! Way To Go! Not the biggest dick on the team but once I tell the guys about how you can shoot they’re gonna be queueing up to be your shave partner. High five!” Milo wasn’t sure quite how to feel. He’d just been put down because of his dick size but complimented on his impressive load. It was like being slapped on one side of his face and kissed on the other. So it was with a half-smile that he lifted his hand in response to Dods’ upraised palm. As the two of them triumphantly slapped their palms together Milo felt himself being pulled into a tight bro-hug. Dods clapped his free hand on Milo’s back, simultaneously bringing their sticky torsos together. Cooling cum squelched between them. “Hey, let’s get this shower back in action before we get stuck together.” Hot water was soon cascading over the two of them as they quickly rinsed the cum from their bodies along with the last of the shaving gel from Milo’s lower abs. As it was disappearing down the drain Milo had a sudden realisation. Hadn’t they forgotten something? “What about you, Dods? Don’t we need to get you shaved? You’ll be in trouble with Ms. Boyeda tomorrow if you turn up to practice still hairy.” “Nah, don’t stress it, I’ll get my kid brother to do it later. He’s done it before. He thinks it’s funny cos he’s only just getting going with his pubes — late starter like me – but don’t tell him I said any of that, at least, not `till after he’s shaved me. I want to keep all my jewels intact!” The trademark smile reappeared on his face. Milo smiled back. “Where is he now?” he asked. “He’s out with his friends somewhere. He’ll be playing basketball, but he’ll be back in time to get me smooth enough, even for the Ballbreaker.” “Well, if you’re sure that’s okay.” “Yeah, if I spend any more time in this shower I’ll be as wrinkly as my granny.” Milo laughed out loud at that mental image. “Let’s you and me dry off and get dressed, then we can hang out for a while, if you haven’t got to get home.” Get home? Wouldn’t that be good — to actually want to go home? To feel that there was somebody, anybody, there who would be pleased to see him. Not like Dods, who obviously shared a level of comfortable intimacy with his younger brother. Just like D and Tom, Tom who had taught D all about wet dreams and jerking off, who had driven half way across the country in the middle of the night when D was weighed down by the horrific reality of being abused by his soccer coach. Not to mention the fact of his loving and supportive parents. And what did Milo have? A useless older sister, Kate, who was pretty much never at home, and even when she was she was either avoiding him or snarling at him. A father who, all through his childhood and early teenage years, had been his second-best friend (after D, of course) but who had become almost as invisible as his sister in recent months, always with an important reason to be at the office or away on site somewhere. And why did his dad feel this over-riding compulsion to be out of the family home? All because of his oh-so-transparent need to spend as little time as possible in the company of Milo’s mother. Milo’s mother. Even thinking about her was painful these days. When had she stopped being the loving wife, the devoted mother, the accomplished home-maker, the dependable friend, the trusted confidante, the perfect hostess etc. etc. etc., the person that everyone in the neighbourhood looked up to and tried to emulate? When had she started to see the world as alien territory and everyone in it, especially her family, as enemy personnel? When, in particular, had she fixed her sights on her only son as the particular focus of her bitterness and disapproval? Why had she become the negative, belittling, complaining and critical woman who seemed determined to destroy the family she had put so much creative effort into building? What had driven her to daytime t.v. and secret drinking (that wasn’t a secret at all)? Yes, Milo knew all the questions, witnessed all the problems and lived all the consequences, but did he know any of the answers? No. Did he understand any of the reasons? No, not really. Could he identify any of the causes? No, definitely not. Did he want to go home? No, especially not if the alternative was the chance to hang out with one of the coolest guys on the team, one of his new Cum Brothers (Yay!) and someone he was beginning to think could be a real friend. Milo and Dods took minimal time getting dried and dressed, Milo taking just a few seconds to run his hands over his newly-smooth body for the first time (he’d give it a proper, much lengthier examination later he thought). “Feels weird, huh?” asked Dods. “Yeah. I’d only just got used to it, the hair. You know?” “Yeah, but now you `ve got a new normal. You’ll get used to that too,” Dods sounded reassuringly confident. “Though it does feel odd when it starts to grow back again — bristly and itchy. Now let’s go see what we can find in the fridge. I’m starved.” Two pairs of teenage legs stampeded down the stairs and into the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, with two triple-decker ham and cheese sandwiches, two bottles of spring water and a precariously-balanced plate of Dods’ step-mum’s home-made oatmeal cookies, the same legs made a slower and more controlled journey back up to the bedroom where Dods settled himself on the edge of his bed. “Make yourself at home,” he instructed Milo, indicating the desk and armchair in opposite corners of the room. Milo chose the desk. Silence followed as the boys’ post-swimming practice, post-monumental cum hunger was fed. Dods was the first to reach the `filling the corners’ stage. “From what I’ve seen in the pool and the times you’ve been posting since you got your place back in the squad after …” “After Mr. Roberts.” Milo filled in the gap. “Yeah, that,” continued Dods. “I reckon you’ve definitely won yourself a spot in the tournament this weekend.” “You think?” “Oh yeah, at least the freestyle relay and maybe even the individual. Final practice on Thursday should seal the deal.” Milo could feel himself blushing from the praise. “The relay would be great.” “Don’t sell yourself short, man. You seem to have the talent, so if you want the indi, you go out and get it. No-one’s gonna give it to you. Sure, there’s competition for the second spot — of course, no-one’s gonna be taking the number one spot away from me — but there isn’t anyone with their name engraved on number 2.” “Thanks Dods, I appreciate it.” Milo was genuinely grateful for Dods’ words of praise and encouragement, they also made him think that he might actually have a shot at the indi. It had to be worth a go. The corner-filling continued for several minutes, finally being interrupted by Dods’ unexpected question. “You’re best buds with Dan Reed, yeah?” Milo’s hand paused on its journey from cookie plate to mouth. He was instantly on his guard. “Yeees.” His reply was long, drawn-out and tentative. Over the past few months he had learnt to be very wary of this sort of enquiry. People, often complete strangers, seemed to think it was their right to be filled in on all the juicier details of the abuse D and so many other boys had suffered as a result of Mr. Roberts’ predatory behaviour, especially having been denied the excitement and spectacle of a full trial. So experience had taught Milo to be slow to respond to any questioning involving Dan. He waited to see how Dods might continue. “You helped him out, with the Roberts business?” This was half question, half statement. It left the door open for Milo to either walk through or walk away. “I was there for him, yeah.” His answer was typically evasive, discouraging further discussion. “His brother Tom was team captain when I joined the squad. He’s one of the good guys. Helped me a lot.” “Yeah,” agreed Milo, “he’s one of the best.” “So because his bro helped me, I’d like to repay the favour and help out Dan.” This was a surprising conversational change of direction. Milo wondered where it might go. “How?” “Beth Harper.” Now this was a surprise, completely out of left field. “Huh?” “I’ve seen how he looks at her when she’s around. Everyone has. The puppy dog eyes?” Milo knew that look only too well, knew exactly what Dods was talking about. But he wasn’t about to betray D’s confidence. “Hmm?” “Just tell him from me, he’s had enough hurt and doesn’t need any more from that direction. She’s really not worth it, and not just because she’s been with pretty much every jock this side of the Himalayas. She’s toxic.” It sounded to Milo as if Dods was struggling to keep his voice steady. Was there more he wanted to tell? “Sounds like you’ve got reasons to be pissed off with her.” “Yeah, well, like I said, Tom Reed is a good guy. It’d be good to be able to help out his brother, especially after everything he’s been through. Let’s leave it at that, dude.” Clearly there was more that Dods wasn’t saying but Milo felt that here was a likely ally as far as Beth Harper was concerned. Maybe he could afford to lower a little the protective shield he habitually threw around Dan. “I’ve been telling D forever to stop wasting his time with her. There are dozens of other girls who’d wet themselves for the chance of a date with him.” Dods grinned. “But he doesn’t, or he won’t, hear it no matter what I say. He’s convinced they’re going to get together and live happily-ever-after. It’s sad, man, so sad.” “Yeah, well you just keep on trying to get that message through to him, for his own good. Now, how about I load up the PS? Assassin’s Creed?” “Odyssey?” “Of course!” “Then what’re you waiting for? Load up!” So the two boys spent a happy, bloody hour, lost in the world of ancient Greeks and Spartans, shields and javelins and, from where Milo was sitting, screen after screen of bare, hunky warrior flesh. For that hour he was in a world, light years away from whatever waited for him back at home. They’d been slaughtering their way across the ancient world for a while when Dods announced that he was desperate to pee. Having emptied his bladder, he made a brief return visit to the kitchen, returning minutes later with fresh supplies. “So,” began Milo, pausing between gulps from his water bottle, “how come you chose to be my shave partner?” “I didn’t,” Dods replied. “Huh?” “Us senior swimmers take it in turns to take on each new virgin. It just happened to be my lucky day. Who knew I’d be the first with such an amazing cum machine? The whole thing has been a good way of bonding the team together and, besides, you’ve been a member of the squad for a while but we’ve never really hung out before. So it’s win-win all round.” Dods picked up his controller. “You ready to buckle up your armour again?” Milo nodded and the bloody slaughter in the sand began again. The time passed effortlessly and companionably by, so maybe it was the effect of all that toned and oiled flesh or just the feeling that Dods could be trusted not to jump to uncomfortable conclusions that allowed Milo to ask a question that had been bouncing around in his head for most of the afternoon. “Do you know if there’s ever been a gay guy on the team?” There was a pause. A long pause. Two more muscled Spartans bit the sand, blood oozing from gaping wounds. Milo could feel his own heart beating faster in his chest. Dods remained silent. Small beads of sweat started to form on Milo’s upper lip. Crap! Had he got it wrong? Had he blown it? Was Dods the standard, closed-minded, prejudiced jock after all? ********** Thanks to all those who have taken the time and trouble to write to tell me how they feel about this story. As ever I am very grateful for all feedback and promise to respond. 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Date: Fri, 31 Jul 2020 00:38:30 +0000 From: Neil M Subject: Jasper’s Tricks: Chapter Four Jasper’s Tricks: Chapter Four Hey everyone! Just a reminder that if you love all of the fun and sexy content on Nifty, please feel free to lend your support and send a donation. http://donate.nifty.org/ All characters and events depicted in this story are purely of my imagination. Any resemblance to incidents and people alive or dead is totally coincidental. This is completely a work of fiction. I made it all up. In the universe this story takes place in, the characters don’t have to worry about safe sex. But in our reality, it’s always a good idea to take precautions. Please, consider using protection in your own story, because any decision you make today may possibly affect your life tomorrow. This installment of Jasper’s Tricks contains scenes that mix religion with sex, which may be taboo for some readers. If this sort of thing offends you, please consider skipping this chapter. Now, onto our story. It had been two months since Jasper began meeting men at the rest stop. In this short amount of time, he had been able to meet quite a few guys for at least one sex date, as well as cultivate a couple of repeat clients. He had continued to meet Roger and Jerry at the rest stop every week since the first time he had met them. Though he liked to service men at the rest stop, he realized he had to start being careful when he went on dates there. A couple of weeks ago, after a sex date with Jerry, he left his clothes in the bathroom, and walked outside the rest stop to soak up some sun. It was then, in the distance, he saw a highway patrol vehicle approaching the complex. Unable to run back and retrieve his clothes, he hid in the thick of the trees behind the building. Jasper presumed both patrol men had stopped to use the restroom. When they came out, one of them was holding Jasper’s shorts and tank top. Both men had looked towards the trees behind the building. Jasper froze. He had hoped to God that they wouldn’t think to come looking in the trees for whomever owned the clothes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they got into their patrol car, taking Jasper’s clothes with them. When they left, Jasper saw something twinkling on the ground in the sunlight. Fortunately, they hadn’t noticed his phone had fallen out of his shorts. Jasper picked it up and got on his bike, which luckily, he had hidden in the trees. Jasper had no choice but to ride his bike home, naked. Fortunately, he and his father lived far enough out of town that he only had to get off the highway and hide in the ditch twice in order to avoid being seen by any traffic. Thankfully, he made it home without being spotted. After that episode, he promised himself he would be more careful in the future. That and he would stay away from the rest stop for a little while. So when he got a text from a new client yesterday, he had been happy that the man had wanted to meet him at a different place. The guys name was Paul. He said that he lived a couple counties away and that he had gotten Jasper’s name and number from a guy he had been chatting with online. He said the guy highly recommended that he ask Jasper for a date. Jasper liked that he and his services where getting good reviews. However, he couldn’t help but worry that because he was starting to get more attention, people in his little town might find out about what he had been doing at the rest stop. And what scared him even more, was that his father would find out as well. Lately, it seemed like his dad was a whole new person. He was kind and talkative; no matter what, he always seemed to be in a good mood. Very unlike the emotionally distant guy with the cold demeanor he had been. Recently, his dad began coming home with small gifts for him. When Jasper would ask what it was for, his dad would say he just thought it was something he would like. It was for these reasons he didn’t want his dad to find out about what he was doing. Jasper needed the connection he and Brian had lately, and he didn’t want to lose it. The one thing that Jasper had not been able to change about how he viewed his father was his intense desire for him. Jasper recalled a very erotic dream he’d had about Brian. He had been naked, lying on a large white bed. There was a man standing at the foot of the bed; he was naked too. While Jasper lay stretched out on the bed, the man began to slowly crawl towards him from the edge of it, kissing and caressing his body sensually as he climbed on top of him. At first, Jasper couldn’t see the man clearly. But once the two were face to face, he saw his father’s familiar facial features, as well as his black hair and blue eyes; he leaned in and gave him the most passionate kiss he’d ever had. Jasper woke up sweating. He had loved that dream, but deep down he knew that whatever romantic feelings he had for his father would have to stay buried inside of him. The next day, Jasper jumped in his pickup, and set off to meet his new client. The trip to Paul’s place was almost an hour away, right off highway 12. Paul’s house was a little ways off the highway, meaning Jasper had to take a small dirt road to get there. As he was pulling up to the building, he was sure there had been some mistake. The house he was looking for wasn’t a house at all. It was a church. Jasper turned off his truck and grabbed his phone. He was certain somewhere along the way, the map had given him bogus directions. Just as he was pulling the app up, a man, roughly around his mid-fifties, dressed all in black walked out of the front door of the church. As he descended down the stairs, he waved at Jasper. Jasper waved back, trying not to stare. As the man got closer to Jasper’s truck, he realized something, the man was wearing a white collar around his neck. Jasper was taken aback; this guy wasn’t just a man dressed in all black clothing, he was a priest. The man walked up to Jasper’s passenger window. Jasper leaned over, manually rolling it down. Once the window was down, he offered his hand to Jasper to shake. Jasper leaned over, grabbing the priest’s hand. Jasper began to speak, “I’m sorry Father, but I think I’m lost. I’m looking for 339…” At that point, the priest interrupted him. “339 Durango Drive? Don’t worry, son, you’re at the right place.” Jasper was even more surprised. Had he been contacted by this priest? He thought maybe he had found out about what Jasper was doing, and wanted to try and turn him against it, or something. The priest continued to speak. “You must be Jasper. I’m Father Paul.” Jasper looked at the man, puzzled. “Hi…Father Paul. Look, I’m not sure what you were told about me but…” For a second time, Father Paul interrupted him. “Would you like to come inside and talk?” Jasper wasn’t sure if he wanted to or not. But, he also knew it would be rude of him to just drive off. Smiling at the priest, Jasper climbed out of his pickup. As he walked into the church with Father Paul, he began to admit he was curious about what it was the priest actually wanted from him. When they got to the first row of pews, Father Paul offered Jasper a seat. As he sat down, Father Paul took a seat immediately beside him. Jasper couldn’t help but notice the large wooden alter just a few feet away from them. The two sat quietly for a minute, then Father Paul began to talk. “I know you probably think I called you here in an attempt to…I don’t know….maybe convince you to be contrite for what it is you do, and to make a confession, yes?” Jasper looked directly at the priest and responded. “That thought had crossed my mind.” Jasper couldn’t help but notice how handsome the priest was. His hair was brown and greying on the temples. He wore wire rimmed glasses. These made his brown eyes look just a little larger. The priest, in turn, responded to Jasper. “Well, I didn’t. I invited you here because I would like to partake of your services. But only if you feel comfortable offering them to me.” Jasper felt conflicted. On one hand, he wasn’t a religious person anymore; so for him, this wasn’t something he thought to be a big deal. But, on the other hand, he didn’t want to feel responsible for steering a holy man away from his path. Finally, he told the priest how he really felt. “Father Paul, I’m okay with this if you’re okay with this.” The priest smiled, placing his hand on Jasper’s knee, massaging it gently. Looking at Jasper he made a request. “Would you remove your clothing for me, please?” Jasper complied with the priest’s wishes. It didn’t take him long to slip out of his t-shirt, cut off jeans and running shoes. There he stood, naked in front of the priest. Once his clothes were off, Father Paul reached out and touched Jasper’s bare torso. “Your body is exquisite,” said Father Paul to Jasper. Jasper blushed. What a flattering thing to say, he thought. Jasper reached down, placing his hand on Father Paul’s, guiding it lower to his genitals. Father Paul fondled his cock and balls with vigor. After a few minutes, Father Paul couldn’t resist asking for what he really wanted. “Jasper, climb up on the alter for me.” Jasper turned, walked toward the alter, and climbed on top of it. “Lie down on your back,” said Father Paul. Jasper, wanting to appease the priest, did what he asked. While he was lying on the alter, he heard the soft noise of papers being rustled. When he looked past his shoulder, he saw Father Paul walking towards him, carrying a few sheets of paper. He walked over to Jasper, lying on the alter. Looking down at him, he handed him the sheets of paper. “I want you to read these for me.” Jasper looked at the papers. They were filled with Bible versus. Jasper wasn’t sure what to make of all this, but regardless of how he felt, he began to read from the pages. “John 3:16, For God so loved the world, he gave…” As Jasper began reading the scriptures, the priest had started to rub his foot. While he continued to read, he felt the priest put his toe in his mouth. Jasper concentrated on reading as the priest wantonly sucked and caressed his foot. Father Paul continued to suck Jasper’s toes as he softly rubbed his legs. Jasper couldn’t help but notice how strong and sensual the priest’s hands felt on his body. For a moment, distracted by Father Paul sucking on his toes, Jasper forgot to keep reading the Bible versus. Father Paul noticed quickly. “Jasper…keep reading please,” he said. As he was enjoying his interaction with the priest, he again tried to focus on reading the scriptures. While Jasper continued to read, Father Paul shifted his attention away from his feet, putting them down gently, then walking up next to his face. With his crotch right beside Jasper’s face, the priest unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock and balls. “It’s my turn to read now, Jasper,” he said. “Why don’t you attend to my extremities for awhile.” Jasper handed the papers to Father Paul before rolling over on his stomach. As Father Paul began to read, Jasper took him in his mouth. Father Paul’s dick felt so smooth in his mouth as he sucked it. The priest continued to read, transferring the papers to one hand. With the other, he began to massage Jasper’s back and ass cheeks, making sure to seek out his hole with his fingers. As Jasper had his mouth on him, Father Paul gave him some instruction, “Don’t forget the testicles, son.” Jasper made sure to be diligent about putting the older priest’s balls in his mouth as he generously sucked on them. Placing two of his fingers in his mouth, Father Paul licked them thoroughly, then put them inside Jasper. As usual, Jasper enjoyed this, pushing his ass up in approval. After reading for about ten minutes, Father Paul instructed Jasper to climb down off the alter and bend over the side of it. Now, bending over the alter, the priest handed the papers back to Jasper, then positioned himself behind the young man. Dropping his pants completely, the priest spit on his penis, then carefully inserted it in Jasper’s hole. The priest started fucking Jasper in small, quick thrusts. Jasper, feeling the priest’s cock inside him, went back to reading. “Romans….uuh….one, verse…uuhhh…twenty-ssssix. God gave them…uuhh…over to…their…uhh… shameful lusts.” Father Paul kept thrusting himself inside Jasper for a few minutes. Finally, with a calm, quiet exhaling of his breath, he let go and came inside of the young man. He then lay on top of Jasper, resting his chest on his back. Placing his lips to his neck, the priest gave Jasper a few soft kisses. He stayed on top of Jasper for a few minutes, just holding on to him. This gave him the sense that the priest was a lonely man.Eventually, he stood back up, and pulled himself out of Jasper’s body. Father Paul had let Jasper clean himself up in the bathroom. When he came out to put his clothes back on, he saw that the priest had folded them neatly for him. Jasper walked over to the pew and got dressed. The priest walked Jasper to the front of the church, then opened the doors. He turned to face the young man. As he was about to say goodbye, he realized he was forgetting something. He pulled a fifty dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to Jasper. Jasper looked at the bill. For some reason, it didn’t feel right to him to accept it. He gently pushed the priest’s hand down. Father Paul was about to protest, but decided against it at the last second. ” You have a kind soul, Jasper. Don’t ever lose that,” he said.” Jasper reached up and put his arms around the priest, hugging him. The priest hugged him back. That following Saturday, Jasper awoke to a tapping on his bedroom door. It was his father. “Buddy, you awake?” Lately, Brian had been addressing him by an old nickname he used to use for him when he was young. It didn’t occur to Jasper to mind. “I’m awake dad, you can come in,” he said. Brian entered the room. Jasper sat up in bed, exposing his bare torso. Brian was quick to notice. Smiling at his son, he walked over to the side of his bed and sat down. He looked at his son with a big grin. This made Jasper wonder what he was thinking. “Dad, why are you smiling like that?” Brian couldn’t hold back. “I have a surprise for you,” he said, still smiling. “But, in order to get it, you gotta get up and get dressed!” Brian playfully mussed his son’s hair. This made Jasper giggle. Jasper couldn’t get his dad to tell him where they were going until they got to their destination. He had taken his son to a larger town a couple of counties away. Pulling over to the curb, Brian parked his pickup. Jasper looked confused. All he saw was a laundry mat. “Well,” said Brian, “What do ya think?” Jasper gave his father a strange look, “We’re gonna do laundry?” This made Brian laugh. Gently, he grabbed his son’s chin and pushed it to his right. “See it now?” He said. Jasper did see it. It was a tattoo shop! Jasper had been wanting a tattoo for a couple months now, since his eighteenth birthday. “No freaking way!” He said. Brian smiled big. “Way,” he told his son. Jasper was so excited when he jumped over to hug his dad, they both nearly hit the door of the truck. “Okay, easy buddy.” Brian was happy that his son was so excited. But, he remembered to set a ground rule before they went in to the place. “Okay, I will pay for whatever tattoo you want. But! It can’t be too big. No half sleeve or anything like that, got it.” Jasper responded to his father with glee. “Yes, sir! And don’t worry dad. I already know what I want and it’s not huge.” Brian smiled at his son, hugging him one more time before they got out of the pickup. A little while later, they were sitting at a cafe, having lunch and talking about their tattoos. Jasper had not only gotten one himself, but he convinced his father to get one too. Though they were in different places, they had both gotten similar designs. Jasper had gotten a band of small stars wrapped around his right ankle. Brian had gotten three medium sized stars tattooed right below his left shoulder. In the truck they had taken a selfie together, showcasing their new ink. At the cafe, Jasper and Brian talked and laughed about the experience they’d just shared. “It didn’t hurt that bad,” said Jasper to his father. Brian looked at his son like he was crazy. “Speak for yourself, dude. Mine hurt a lot!” Jasper kept teasing his father until he excused himself to go to the bathroom. While his dad was in the bathroom, Jasper grabbed his phone, looking at the pic they’d taken together in the pickup. As he gazed at the pic, all he could think about was how happy they looked together. Jasper had been concentrating so hard on the photo that he didn’t see the man standing over his table. “Hey kid, how’s it going?” Jasper looked up from his phone startled. It was Roger, one of his clients. Roger started talking. “Whoa, sorry kid. Didn’t mean to scare ya. You on a date or somethin?” Jasper was instantly nervous. He wasn’t expecting to run into one of his clients when he was with his father. Jasper answered the man, sounding confused. “What?” He responded to Roger, nervously. “The tall guy, with the dark hair. He a new client?” Roger was looking at Jasper with a shit eating grin. “Oh,” said Jasper. “No. That’s my dad.” Roger nodded his head at the young man. Nervously, Jasper tried to move things along. “Roger, what are you doing here?” he asked. Roger responded, looking vaguely insulted. ” I live here. What’s your excuse? You miss me?” He said. Jasper kept glancing at the bathroom, hoping his father wouldn’t see him talking to Roger. “Roger, I don’t mean to be rude, but my father’s here and…” Roger interrupted him. “Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a bunch. I just came over to tell you that I gave your number to this guy I’ve been chattin with for awhile. Turns out he’s got a porn site he produces. Boys and their toys dot com, or some shit like that. Say’s he records young men sticking big toys up their butt. I told him I thought you’d make a good model.” Jasper was getting more nervous by the second. “Okay,” said Jasper. “I’ll make sure to watch for his call. Look Roger, my dad’s gonna be back any second now.” Roger, finally taking the hint excused himself. “Yeah sure, I’m goin.” Roger said one more thing as he left. “See ya Thursday, kid.” As Roger was walking away, Brian was walking up to the table. “Who was that?” Brian asked his son. Jasper tried not to stammer. “Oh…h-he was nobody,” said Jasper. “He had me confused with somebody else.” On the ride home, Jasper pretended to fall asleep. As he closed his eyes, he thought about how bad he felt lying to his father. He also thought about Roger, and all his other tricks. For the first time since he’d been meeting these men for paid sex, he felt embarrassed about what he was doing. He worried about people in his small town finding out about what he did for money. But mostly, he worried about how his father would react, and if he would understand and still love him.
Date: Thu, 30 Jul 2020 17:01:41 -0800 From: Boris Chen Subject: Crossing Panama, chapter 16 Chapter 16: Epilog. Friday night. A few weeks after our visit to Washington, Carlo and Dave started talking on the phone a couple times a week. Carlo told me Dave was slowly healing and had started riding a bicycle on the streets around town, and lowering his weight. He said he still heard sadness in his voice, and he never once mentioned the name Carly. I asked him if he thought the similarity between their names could be a factor, but he said he had no idea. One day without any text I got a photo on my cell, it was a shot of Carly’s new headstone. Her grave was starting to grow grass and the dirt pile was gone. By late May Carlo had finally convinced Dave to visit us. Carlo met him the next day at LAX and they went directly to the motorcycle dealer on Venice Boulevard and got Dave a helmet and gloves. With his new gear in hand they walked home along Venice Boulevard. Dave was mesmerized by all the new sights, the people, and the traffic. Our weather was much hotter than he was used to up in Washington. After they got back he took Dave on a rather relaxed ride to Oxnard on the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) and showed him all the tourist stuff near the oceanfront in Santa Monica. He told me that he took off his shirt so Dave had to hold him around his bare stomach, that way Dave had to touch him for hours. Carlo said while they were on the PCH Dave leaned forward into him like he was a girlfriend snuggling up to the driver. They hung out on the boardwalk waiting for my text so they could stop for carry-out then cruise home about the time I landed in the garage. Carlo said he tried to get Dave to take off his shirt too, but he just ignored those suggestions. Dave and Carlo were on the sofa watching YouTube videos. There were four foot long Italian hoagies on the kitchen counter and I was starved, I even missed lunch that day. After nuking mine I sat in a chair by the sofa so I couldn’t see the videos and wolfed down an entire sandwich. I think they were watching motorcycle reviews online. There were already four empty beer cans on the table by the computer. When I asked about their plans for tomorrow they simultaneously announced they were going to Disneyland, then they laughed. Carlo said he got Dave a helmet, then Dave said Carlo bought a heavy duty chain lock for the bike. Dave added that he loved the motorcycle and wanted to get one too, he’d only had dirt bikes before. As soon as those words left his mouth Carlo reached over and ran his hand across Dave’s pale white back, “You’ve never owned a street bike? You should ride my bike back to Washington.” Dave never took his eyes off the computer but just mumbled, `Cool.’ I grabbed my cell phone and did a travel search, I entered our two towns then told Dave: “Seventeen hours home from here at the posted speed limit, factor in five pee breaks and stops for gas. You’d spend about thirty bucks in gas and be home that night, super easy.” “Really, just take my bike. We can notarize the title tomorrow, the office lady here is a notary.” “Just take it?” Dave asked with a look of disbelief on his face. I doubted he actually would, while they were talking I got up, took a shower and went to bed. Carlo told him, `It’s not new anymore, and the first service was done last week.” In my mind I pictured them fucking on the living room floor that night. Saturday. The next morning in the bathroom Carlo whispered to me that Dave still wore his palm leaf wedding ring she made for him during their hike across northern Spain. A few seconds later Dave walked in the bathroom in his underwear. I asked to see his ring again and told him he should go to a jeweler and have it sealed inside clear acrylic or something. It might not last much longer without that. I told him the last time I saw his ring we were sitting at the dinette parked in the harbor in Gamboa. Standing in front of the toilet Dave said he barely remembered our trip across Panama. Dave peed in the toilet while Carlo and I brushed our teeth and shaved. Having three guys in the bathroom reminded me of college, but I kind of liked the intimacy and informality. They left at 8am Saturday for Disneyland, I stayed at home to read for work, I sat on the balcony in a comfy lawn chair and fed my brain with the accident investigation summaries from the incidents where workers died when warehouse shelving units collapsed on top of them. Carlo texted me nine photos of them in the park and a few of both of them shirtless eating lunch near Splash Mountain. I was glad to see it, they both needed Disney therapy. As much as I disliked Disney Corp I was glad they had time together. He said the place was elbow to elbow crowded with people from across the Pacific. After they got home from Disney we walked down the street to eat at a sidewalk café with a great menu of Asian classics. It was kind of 1960s Asian-American style. But I broke with tradition and ordered a pork Saint Paul Sandwich which was a deep fried Egg Foo Yung patty on white bread with mayo and tomato. Actually, I ordered two of them, but Carlo snatched one so I finished his Banh mi sandwich with spicy BBQ pork strips. Carlo wanted to buy two bottles of Sake to take home, none of us tried it before. I think Dave was a little bothered by how we grabbed each other’s food. Carlo told him we had no barriers between us, then he asked Dave if he was that way with his wife. Dave sort of said he never considered it but, yes that’s exactly how they were. Carlo just motioned at him and me to say we were the same way. We were almost halfway home when Carlo asked if we’d mind turning around and walking to the motorcycle dealer again, so that’s what we did. When we got there ten minutes before closing but they let us in and took a second long look at the 2019 CBR-500 he wanted. The difference in size and weight was perfect for him, I almost wanted one myself. I had almost the same bike in college, mine was a CBR-350 if my recall was correct. I thought Carlo’s weight would be fine with a 350cc engine, they’re so much more efficient and powerful now, a 350 today was like a 500 was ten years ago. So I got them to roll out a 350 for us to sit on, Dave sat on four different sport bikes. Before we left I bought myself a helmet and gloves, then we walked home talking about bikes the entire way. Carlo took off his shirt in the elevator and handed it to me knowing I’d be tempted to sniff it. Back in the apartment Dave repeatedly said he had a wonderful day but he was exhausted, I made a direct line to the bathroom and took a cooler shower. While I was in the shower Dave walked in without knocking and asked if he could stay `til Tuesday, I told him again he could stay as long as he wanted. He pulled open the shower door and motioned for me to lean over and he kissed me on the mouth, which triggered my dick but he never saw that. I jerked off in the shower then went to bed. —- Carlo told me the next day that he blew him on the living room floor and was most impressed by his skinny but very long boner. Carlo also told me the details about their ride up the PCH and how he forced Dave to ride on back while he had no shirt on, so Dave had to hold his flesh the entire time. He said after I went to bed he gradually got closer to Dave, first sitting close with knees touching, then it turned into patting backs, and knee slaps. Then it escalated to back scratching and finally Carlo leaned over and pulled Dave’s shirt off over his head. They ended up at opposite ends of the sofa with their legs in a tangle, with a foot on each other’s crotch which triggered talk about sex and caused obvious boners. Carlo started to stroke his down in his shorts and Dave was clearly turned on. He said on a gamble he just started to full-on jerk off in front of Dave, then came on his stomach and after that Dave couldn’t control himself and when Dave was stroking his Carlo moved over and took him in his mouth, which was when Dave willingly came with a series of deep groans. Carlo said he briefly sucked hard on his tits while he was still swallowing Dave’s rather thick load. Sunday: When I woke up Sunday morning I immediately detected the scent of a foreign body in the room. I rolled over and saw Dave’s pale white back facing me. Last time I saw that was on Clarence. By the time I was done in the bathroom Carlo was sliding out of bed. We all sat at the table for breakfast. Carlo cooked omelets with thick slices of salt pork. The subject of Dave riding home on the motorcycle came up again, and Carlo said they could get the title notarized today, the office was open seven days a week. There was more discussion and it finally clicked in Dave’s head that Carlo wasn’t kidding (I think he’d never owned an actual street legal motor vehicle before). They looked online again for the distance and time to drive; seventeen hours with five rest stops, and three more to fill the gas tank. Carlo said the first service was already done and they could lube and re-check the chain right after getting the title stamped. He said he should seriously check oil level and chain slack at every stop, rain or shine. Dave showed Carlo he already had a motorcycle endorsement on his Washington license. “The internet says its 1,115 miles from Atkinson to Venice.” I added. “That’s sixteen hours at 70mph.” Dave was still feeling awkward about accepting a $20k gift but I think Carlo saw it as a way to get the bike he really wanted. When Dave stood to shake his hand beside the table Carlo stood and pressed his mouth into Dave’s and they deep French kissed beside the table for about two minutes of soft moaning, I enjoyed the show and started to get turned on. Being nearly the same size they fit perfectly together, unlike me and Carlo where there was a six inch mismatch. While I watched them, a classic line from the end of one of my favorite movies crossed my mind, “Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” One hour later they went down to the office and came back with the title notarized and Dave’s name entered on the back. He could ride it home with Carlo’s plates and insurance. Then they went down to the garage so he could teach Dave how to lube the chain and check the slack, and the engine oil level too. He made Dave swear he would check both, when he stopped for gas. After he got home it was his to do as he pleased. He was all set to leave Tuesday morning very early, hoped to make it home around 11pm Tuesday night. Dave gave him a tiny spray can of expensive chain wax and a metallic metric ruler to measure the slack. Dave took the bike for a ride down Venice Boulevard and back to the garage and said it was like his father’s that he rode during high school but Carly made him stop, but this one was heavier and more powerful, but he said it was great. The excitement was printed all over his face, I think he got a boner riding around. That afternoon (Sunday) Dave drove Carlo on the bike over to the UCLA campus to tour the place and locate the admissions office and parking lot. They were going to ride there on Monday for information and booklets. I sat on the balcony to read while they were gone and heard them return via the same route. Dave was a rather cautious driver even with an open stretch of road in front of him. When they got back Carlo whispered to me that he slipped his hands under Dave’s shirt to hold on during the ride but he never objected. He said he fingered his belly button even when they were stopped at a traffic light. Sunday afternoon they got Dave a weather proof jacket to wear to keep him warm on the way home. There was no rain in the forecast but fog was possible. They washed and waxed the bike down in the garage that evening. Monday: I woke up the next day with the alarm at 6am, to find both of them were (naked) in bed with me. I did my normal morning routine and went to work. They drove over to the admissions office at UCLA and got course catalogs, maps, and a list of campuses and degrees they offered. They wandered around the campus and had lunch at an Indian buffet place near the campus, ate outside, and watched the boys walk by, they saw lots of hand holding too. Since they were one block from the law office where I worked they popped-in unannounced and visited me in my tiny office where I had the lower windows covered with sheets of colored poster board. I think Carlo was a bit startled by my appearance and lack of focus on their visit. My desk was a sea of folders, two computers, stacks of papers, and classical music playing softly. We shook hands and they left after ten minutes. My secretary wanted to know if they were clients, I told her the Mexican guy was my Fiancé and the other guy, the one with the limp was a close family friend from Seattle. After they got back to the apartment Dave got out his backpack and started to pack his stuff, they went down stairs and washed all his clothes and ours. “So what are you?” Carlo asked him while they discussed sex in the basement Laundromat. “I suppose I’m a person that will have sex with whomever I want. I don’t care about titles or names.” “I think that’s called Pan Sexual, isn’t it?” “Who cares, I just love people and some of them I have sex with, I’m not hung up on names and communities.” Carlo said he didn’t know how to respond, then Dave admitted to him that I made a huge impression on him, after he got home from Guatemala he had the Cable-TV wire disconnected and started to think about going to college and writing a book. “Who’s given you the best sex?” Carlo asked trying to get his mind back pleasures of the flesh. “Hmmm, I’d say probably guys. Not too many girls really know how to work a dick,” Dave explained, then added that his was a little unusual which made it even worse for girls. Again, he never mentioned Carly. “I’d say I had the same experience.” Carlo replied, then he said, “Come on,” and gestured for Dave to follow. They grabbed their helmets and stuff and went back down to the garage to ride out to get dinner, I was due home in about one hour. They rode north about ten blocks and parked on the sidewalk by a Korean restaurant and got BBQ beef ribs, rice, and more spring rolls and got home seconds before I drove into the garage. We rode the elevator together and it smelled like something meaty and covered in sauces. It was a nice dinner we had at the table, Carlo played music on his laptop and they told me about the UCLA campus (forgetting I attended law school there). I was happy to hear they did that instead of going to a mall or an arcade near the boardwalk. They had a very productive day. Dave asked me why I drove an old Toyota and I told him that it was rare collectable and I liked it. My car was in great shape for being twenty one years old. I told him it was a 1998 Toyota Rav4, two door hard top. And it had all the fake brush guards and a winch on the front that had never been used. He said he couldn’t believe his parents actually spent almost two hundred thousand on their two cars and had them imported from England to Seattle. Carlo looked at me and rolled his eyes. Dave said he needed to consider a major, then Carlo suggested English or Journalism, with all his adventures and travel he’s got a good foundation for being a travel writer. We could see the gears turning in his brain after Carlo said that but I think Dave had other plans he kept to himself. I decided to keep quiet on that topic. Then Dave suddenly looked all excited and said he just remembered something he wanted to tell us, there was a new trail he saw videos about online that looked physically challenging but safer, “I can show you online. You fly from the US to Sydney, Australia, then on a smaller plane to the town of Ghan which was almost in the center of the outback, then you hiked two hundred miles across the Northern Territory to Ayres Rock, there’s small towns along the way but it’s desert, mountains, rivers and small lakes all the way across. It usually takes people two or three weeks but if you wanted to quit there’s lots of tour busses that ran down Highway 4 so there’s always ways to get rescued.” “You sleep in your own tent at night and eat MREs the tour company stored in lock boxes along the trail or catch your own fish. The trail boxes were packed full of food and water. But the hike was hard, lots of hills and relentless sunshine and very little shade. Most of the reviews said it was harder than Kilimanjaro but much safer. This hike was a real outback adventure with no risk of terrorism or kidnapping but wild animals and snakes were everywhere.” Carlo said it sounded neat, I agreed. Then I said, “Let’s all go!” Dave set down his rib and wiped his hands and got Carlo’s computer and opened a video. He said after resting at Ayres Rock each group kept going to the actual end of the trail at a place called Valley of the Winds. The trail was rated by Hiker’s Magazine’s difficulty scale a five of ten and they rated the Camino in Spain as being a six because few that did the Camino were properly prepared. —- That night I went to bed early, but right after my head hit the pillow Dave quietly opened the door and came in and climbed in bed beside me, he said he was leaving early in the morning. He thanked me for our generosity and that he realized the motorcycle was actually a gift from me. He settled down half on top of me and hugged me for several minutes while I rubbed his back. Then he whispered in my ear that he loved me and rolled off the bed and at the door he waved bye and softly shut the door with a click. That was one of the few times in my life I fell asleep with a smile on my face. During his good bye I really felt a sense of love that emanated from him. I don’t feel those very often. Tuesday: At 4am Carlo woke Dave and they silently dressed and took turns in the bathroom, then went down to the garage and did one last check on his belongings and his cash. He said he’d ride I-5 all the way to State Route #18 in Federal Way, Washington then to the town of Maple Valley, then back roads the rest of the way home. He said he lived 20 miles east of I-5. Dave still had the same three hundred bucks he arrived with. The bike roared to life and he slowly motored to the garage door to wait for it to fully rise, then he motored slowly up the ramp and out of the garage and turned left towards the 405 Freeway just three blocks away. He’d hit some morning rush traffic but he was going the opposite direction, out of town. He’d be on the 405 until it joined I-5 and that would take him all the way home. In six hours (10am) he’d be near Sacramento. By 3pm he’d be in southern Oregon and by 7pm back in Washington. He’d roll into his own driveway around midnight. Dave texted Carlo from a truck stop in Eugene, Oregon where he stopped to eat and stretch his legs, he said the bike was great, engine oil and chain hadn’t changed one bit. He was eating a burger and two cups of coffee then it was back on the highway. On Thursday morning he emailed, that he was home and in own room, the bike ran like a watch the entire trip, he was very happy and really appreciated our gift and our love. He said this was the happiest he’d been since Guatemala. He said he was going to take flowers to Carly that afternoon and show her his new bike and was going to put some dirt from her grave into his tool kit that stayed on the bike always. I asked Carlo if they fucked and he said no, but they blew each other. Then he said I was right, his tits were nice to suck on, they were really stretchy and almost the perfect size too. We spent some time at dinner Tuesday evening looking at the web page about the cross country hike in the Northern Territory. We looked at maps and Carlo commented that it was odd, but the trail crossed the very bottom of the Northern Territory, which was a state in north-central Australia, but it sounded funny to say `the bottom of Northern Territory.’ I told him if he really wanted to go I would pay, but they should decide soon, the fall semester was getting closer if they wanted to start school this fall. It’s only nine weeks to Labor Day Weekend, UCLA Opens right after that. There was no way to cross the outback and attend school this coming semester. Dave and Carlo spent a lot of time texting and talking on the phone about the hike, and he finally got the nerve to ask his parents to fund his trip and explained he was going with another guy, the one they met back in May. He showed them countless videos about other hikers that took the trip and how safe it was, no terrorists, no drug lords, just sand, rock, cactus, snakes, and warm weather, with cold nights and they would have the satellite phone all the way, Dave texted after he had permission (and money) to go. They set a date and decided not to start school this fall but maybe in January. Despite the fact that he had enough cash to pay himself I paid for the trip on my credit card, $9,500.00, included his meals, medical and evacuation insurance, and all transportation. The cost included air transport from Ayres Rock Airport back to Sydney. They were going with the second group of the 2019 season when it opened in early October. They started one tour group every week on Monday mornings, usually groups of four to six adults, men and women. They shared contact info so the group could get to know each other a month prior to the trip. They sent us a list of required and optional gear and how to ship it ahead of their trip. The required gear and round trip shipping was almost two thousand bucks. We ordered stuff from REI and CMC Rescue and built a small pile on the corner of the bedroom. He showed me videos online that explained how the trail was marked by concrete pillars all the way to Ayres Rock, 200 miles of trail that took the tour group people four years to make. They had steel boxes on posts every twenty miles they stocked with water and food. The boxes were animal and insect proof and each one had the ability to send a satellite distress call, but he was bringing my sat phone anyway. Carlo was absorbed with the preparations and all the camping gear. He was constantly talking to Dave on the phone. Dave was just as enthusiastic. I asked Carlo how they restocked the food boxes, he said each week, the day before each new group started they took off from Ghan on a 4wheel utility vehicle that was loaded with meals and water. And one person drove the trail from end to end and re-stocked every box. If any large trees fell they’d cut them off the trail and maintain anything else that needed to be done to maintain the trail all the way to Valley of the Wind. Their video said it took them two or three days to service the entire trail every week. They showed if there was ever a brush fire near the trail they’d set fire to the weeds along the trail so by the time the hikers got there the entire area had been burned days earlier. The video said the land was owned by an Aboriginal tribe and leased to the hike company for 100 years, they couldn’t kill any animals for food but they could catch fish. —- That summer we posted a sign at the marina for his boat name removal service and got fifteen calls for estimates in the first month. Seems break-ups were the most common reason to remove the name from the back of a boat. He was also contacted by another painter about a partnership since half of his business suddenly disappeared. This painter guy was Hispanic but sounded Caribbean. A week after Dave arrived safely home in Washington we went to the Honda dealer, and bought Carlo a CBR500R, same colors as the Suzuki and I purchased a CB500F that was white and red. With our customer credits I got a free backpack and retired my work briefcase and I also got a chain lock that came in a padded case that strapped on the passenger seat, even though at work I parked in a secured lot. We also ordered helmet sound systems so we could ride and talk or listen to music, but we had to take our helmets down to Huntington Beach on the 405 to get them installed, while we waited. That would take almost half a day some weekend. —- In mid-July we flew up to San Francisco and got married. Our honeymoon the next day was walking (2/3) across the Golden Gate Bridge in a very heavy fog, holding hands the entire way. We froze our asses off on that windy bridge. It was very weird to see ships pass beneath us that were hard to see through the fog. Breathing the air was like inhaling Cream of Bridge Soup because the fog was so heavy, we were soaked even though it never rained. We stood in the wind and fog staring down at the water, I told Carlo this bridge was a famous place for suicides. “How?” he asked. “They jump. There’s a documentary about it (The Bridge, 2006, Director: Eric Steel), they’ve had a lot of people jump.” He bent over the railing and looked straight down at the choppy water then asked, “What kills you?” “The impact with the water is fierce, that kills most people. Its over 220 feet to the water so that’ll break bones and snap your neck if you’re lucky, I read some people went down deep enough, like maybe fifty feet, and got caught in the deep tidal currents and either sucked into the bay or spat out to sea. And the deep currents through the narrows were strong enough to hold you down deep until you got away from the bridge. Some jumpers never resurfaced and were never seen again.” “In that documentary they caught several jumpers on film, actually they caught their splashes under the bridge. They just ran video and caught some every week. Sometimes they filmed people climbing over the railing. The bridge people tried really hard to stop them, but the bridge was too big and too famous. It attracted a specific type of suicidal person that wanted to end their life in a dramatic way. A few survived but most jumpers died. And they came from all over the world to jump off this bridge. Even the ones that jumped off near the ends still died from the impact.” “That’s crazy.” “Yep, it’s sad. Despite all the fences they installed to stop jumpers they still came from around the world to jump off this bridge.” After that downer conversation we looked over the side at the fences, then we turned around and walked back to get a ride to the hotel. That was most of our honeymoon. When we finally got back to our hotel room near the airport and hung our clothes on hangars by the air conditioner so they’d dry then we spent the time in bed giving oral pleasure to each other. Once again my left tit was sore and my nuts ached from coming three times in ninety minutes. I treated Carlo like he was a free buffet, I helped myself to any part of his flesh as much and any way I wanted. At dinner in the hotel restaurant that evening I told him I had just under seven million bucks in the bank in Florida. Carlo told me when he left Florida he had seven thousand bucks in his pocket, which meant his parents were paying him just over minimum wage to run their business. When I asked if he knew what his parents estate was worth he said he had no idea but he knew they were far from poor but they never spoke about money in front of him. I felt sorry for him when he said that, but now he could have anything he wanted, but not a sailboat or a motor yacht. I asked if he was in her will and he said he had no idea, she won’t discuss it. When he said that I got the impression he was going to get screwed out of his inheritance for being gay. —- In late July we went to the BIG week long Los Angeles County Boat Show, this was the one with the high dollar boats on display (outside), indoors they had smaller boats and accessories. We toured ten large sailboats and I pointed out cost cutting things that differentiated Clarence from the boats built today. We looked below the decks and saw signs of much lower quality overall workmanship, after I showed him things to look for it really opened his eyes and he started to understand. Even the quality of the sail cranks was visibly cheaper. Where they had a bead of caulk, Clarence had heavy rubber gaskets. Where they had air gun nails ours had glue or stainless steel screws, where they had thin paneling, ours had natural sheets of hand stained hardwood veneers. Ours was oak, theirs were cheap plywood made in China, covered by a photo of hardwood. We used our knuckles to knock on panels, ceilings, walls, floors, fiberglass exteriors, sail masts, and countertops and he started to make funny faces as time and time again we found evidence of cheap cheap cheap construction on boats costing nearly half a Mil. Even the smell inside the cabins of these new sailboats was like new plastic and solvents, ours smelled like oak inside. These boats all had signs taped to kitchen counters about out-gassing of formaldehyde from the paneling and cabinets. The good part was the boat show was a real education for both of us. We decided to take Clarence out around the Channel Islands next weekend and show him our appreciation for taking us around North America safely. I needed to install the new mainsail, and with two people would go much faster. I needed someone to help me remove it from the crate and carry it from the car to the boat, then pack the old one and carry it to the harbor master’s building. —- The thought crossed my mind a few times about him and Dave going on that trip together, that I might lose Carlo but I wanted him to see and learn and find his way in life, and be happy too, to me it was worth the risk. He showed me online videos of other hikers that completed the trip across the Outback and showed me it’s a well marked footpath all the way, except they’d have a few knee deep rivers to wade across, but it looked really neat. They were taught how to treat injuries and make their hike nicer by using plants to ward off biting insects and how to deal with snakes and wild animals. They wore tiny bells on their backpacks to warn animals they were approaching. There was little danger from wildfires where they were going because it had been burnt off several years in a row recently and the dry weather kept the vegetation down. I told him after they got to Ayres Rock they were no longer allowed to walk up on top. He said he didn’t care, it was a magical place and he just wanted to sit near the base and close his eyes and pray to God about his life and me and Dave. He said they will tent camp one night nearby at a campground with showers and bathrooms, then leave early for the end of the hike, half the normal days distance. After arriving at Valley of the Winds they were given an hour to shower and pack, then they’re loaded in a car and taken to the airport, loaded on a small passenger plane and flown five hours to Sydney for their flight back home. Since we had talked a lot about Dave I told him everything Dave and Carly did on Clarence with their clothes off, I’d blown Dave once on the V-bunk. Carlo was surprised but not bothered. I reminded him I thought his dick and tits were way better than anything Dave had, and kissing his thick lips were way nicer than Dave’s too. I asked him to tell me how he really felt about me shaving him on the roof of the sailboat and he said he didn’t care either way, it wasn’t fun but he understood I did it for myself, and it didn’t matter because it grew back. —- Over time we bought furniture we both liked and returned all the rental stuff. He got enough clothes and shoes to fill his side of the closet and dresser. He thought my collection of six identical business suits looked ridiculous. After that I had two pairs of shorts and jeans, two shirts, one jacket and that was all that hung on my side of the closet. The suits were from a rental service that were picked up weekly and returned (to me at work) seven days later, ready to wear. I kept encouraging Dave to move down here and go to college with Carlo in January, but he’s reluctant to leave his family. But I’d wager that after they got back from Australia the answer to the moving question would change from maybe to yes. —- By mid-July I was back into a time routine almost the same as I had in Saint Pete, worked five or six days a week, 8am to 5pm-ish. Carlo is well adjusted to being married to someone that was married to his career. Carlo’s mom and her best friend sold their houses and moved into an apartment in Saint Pete and were doing fine sharing expenses and walking their dog twice a day with the rest of the retired Mexican ladies. He talked to her twice a month, and he talked to Dave after he got off the phone with his mom, he said she put the business up for sale. Five weeks after their Australia hike Dave had won approval from his family to attend UCLA’s business school starting in January. They spent hours on the phone every week. Dave applied and was conditionally accepted at UCLA and will live on campus only three blocks from my office. Carlo applied for the same school and degree program, Bachelors of Business Science and was still waiting on his acceptance letter. Carlo and Dave never took the SAT, students like that were accepted on academic probation for two semesters, but I doubt either would have any problems, the campus was only six miles from our apartment. —- One night we were on the sofa watching a porn site called Chaturbate, the guy we watched was supposed to be twenty two years old in Columbia. He did an erotic dance thing for his audience that was really hot, Carlo said he could do it better, so we dropped offline and Carlo put on a shirt and tie, slacks and skimpy undies and did a strip show for me (to slow dance music) that was really hot, now it’s a thing we do every month. After his performances we ended up in the shower and use a lot of soap but its great fun and it gave me a chance to rim him, since I knew he was literally squeaky clean. I’m too much of a germophobe to do it any other way. —- Carlo hired an artist he knew (that got busted years ago for graffiti on train cars) to paint `LOVE,’ on our bedroom wall in floor to ceiling letters. It’s highly gay but it helped keep us focused on each other instead of ourselves, just like Dave said in Panama, Carly was his goal in life. In August Carlo got emails from a married couple in their 30s from England, they were the other two people in their hiking group. They shared photos and talked about their physical condition and got to know each other before their 200 mile hike that fall. October. On October 7th Dave flew down to LAX, we met him and had lunch. After lunch I went to the bathroom and seconds later Dave got up and followed me, we stood at urinals. He looked at me and softly said, “Yes, I’d love to get even with the bastards that killed my wife.” I told him I’d need to know where it happened. Dave reached in his pocket and pulled out a small scrap of paper, on it were two long numbers. I just nodded yes and went to the sink to wash my hands. Soon after that tiny conversation they went back through the TSA checkpoint and got on a flight to Sydney, Australia. Wheels up to wheels down, their flight was supposed to take fifteen hours and forty minutes. —- They were picked up at the airport in Sydney and stayed at a nearby hotel, the next morning the couple from England arrived. He said the four of them went to a meeting room in the hotel and everyone had to unpack their gear and run through the required inventory checklist. Everyone passed. They flew out of the airport at 4am on a seven passenger airplane for a 1,200 mile, four hour flight to a dirt air strip in the tiny desert town of Ghan. Carlo called me with very brief updates. I recorded each one by holding my cell near the satellite phone. After they landed in the outback they stayed on cots inside a large army tent and would start the hike tomorrow morning before sunrise. He said Ghan was a `tiny’ town with twenty residents, 150 miles south of Alice Springs. The town had a truck stop, a motel, campground, and a bar. There were very few trees, but lots of desert plants and rusty red sand. The place was full of flies and small lizards that ate flies. He said the four of them went to the bar for beers and loud country music. Outside along the highway were semi trucks that pulled three or four trailers of cargo, like a mini freight train. And he said they were the only men in the entire town not wearing cowboy hats. So far, no Kangaroos have been sighted. He said the town was a fenced-in property about half a mile on each side, it sat at the intersection of two highways, Lasseter Highway (Route 4) and Stuart Highway (Route 87). He said Route 87 ran from Adelaide to Darwin. Ayres Rock was on Route 4. He said his fake Australian accent was improving but some of their words he could not pronounce correctly, like the word `home.’ He said they threw a letter `i’ into it somehow. They had thick grilled burgers and beers that evening around the campfire, the great hike starts at first light tomorrow. —- The group was assembled before dawn for final checks then walked across Route 4 to a simple footpath that was marked by a tapered three foot tall concrete pillar. After a round of photos they started hiking west into the desert, everyone was lively and talkative as they began their 200 mile trek across the outback. The goal was to stay on the trail and make it to the next supply box and set up camp before sunset. Carlo called me during their first few hours of walking on mostly flat hard packed weed covered desert soil. He said he’d try to call every other day, he said Dave said hi, and everything was fine, they were having fun and focused on marching west and staying on the trail. He said the trail was very well worn and covered with knobby ATV tire tracks from the guys that maintained the trail all year long. They told him it was inspected and re-stocked every week, even in the off season. There was a cleaned and flat sandy area by each box where they could pitch tents and start a fire if needed. —- While they were hiking I went to the public library and used their computer to search for the string of numbers Dave handed me: 14.4115466,-91.3178366. The map showed an intersection of two roads, highway CA2 and a local dirt road, with a large industrial building on the southwest corner. My blood started to boil. I used the payphone to call a guy I knew in Miami and sort of discussed costs and timeframe, I said as soon as possible, about 1 kiloton, air dropped, high energy device. He mentioned a price and told me to buy a gift card and purchase two specific items on Amazon as payment. I had that done within the hour. I hoped it was finished while they were in Australia. Two days later Carlo called and said the terrain was still flat but they could see hills up ahead, everyone was fine, he’d call back if there was something worthy of reporting. He said he was talking lots of photos and that the outback was a beautiful place most of the time. —- On their seventh day he called and said they were in hilly country, the hills were red and white rock, there were creeks and ponds, the bugs were bad in places but he wore his netting and gloves and tied his pant legs shut, it was almost eighty degrees, sunny and dry every day, got down to fifty two at night. On the tenth day he called and said their steepest climb required them to basically crawl up the side of a very smooth hill. They had miles of flat land ahead of them everyone was looking forward to. He said they were invaded one night by an entire herd of something that may have been a wild hog of some type but they just rooted around then moved on. Their food in the boxes was tolerable but luckily he packed a bottle of Tobasco. Nobody was injured or sick but it was a lot of work, a lot of talking, he said it was slowly turning into a group therapy session for four very different people. He said the two from England were very wealthy and somewhat uninformed about life outside their country clubs and servants. He also said he was going shirtless a few hours every day if the bugs were down, his skin was slowly turning the same dark red color as the desert. He said Dave was quiet but liked to be the in the lead, did a good job keeping us on the trail. Then he whispered into the satellite phone that after being within fifty feet of Dave for all these days now he thought Dave was kidding himself if he thought he wasn’t 100% gay. He said he wasn’t crazy about the Brits but was being pleasant and respectful, and everyone stunk badly despite washing off in two rivers so far. —- On their day #13 they were 25 miles from the Ayres campsite and really excited about having running water tomorrow. He’s taken nearly 600 photos, his memory card was 60% full. At 7pm on day #14 the four hikers arrived at Ayres Rock and sat down at an ancient Aboriginal ceremonial spot, a place where the vertical sandstone wall penetrated the ground, it had an tremendous echo and they set up their tents nearby, everyone knew tomorrow should be the last day. That evening I watched the news online and saw a story about a rare astronomical event in Central America, a meteor exploded in the atmosphere about twenty miles south-west of Guatemala City near a small industrial park. The air blast flattened the entire area and the surrounding forest, nearly a half mile radius. Every structure in the blast area was destroyed and there were no survivors or witnesses to the event, unlike the famous one in Chelyabinsk in 2013. According to local officials everyone in or near the factory was killed instantly, reduced to bones and dust in a flash. The blast broke windows as far away as ten miles and was heard over most of Guatemala. In my mind I pictured a helicopter flying at 9,000 feet. The door was opened and a 35 gallon drum pushed out. On the side of the drum was written: Have a Nice Day, signed: David Davis ;-). At an altitude of 2,000 feet the parachute deployed slowing the descent to 50 feet per second. At an altitude of 1,000 feet the device detonated a large quantity of high energy explosives that sent a heat wave followed by a high velocity blast. The men that murdered and sodomized Carly and stabbed Dave would have been reduced to piles of ground meat with bone fragments in less than one second. I found an article about the meteor in a Mexico City newspaper and printed it on paper. I mailed the article to his address in Atkinson, Washington. —- On day #15 Dave called from a tiny paved airstrip near Ayres Rock, they were loading their gear and getting ready to board for a five hour flight back to Sydney. He described the airport as a paved runway with painted lines and a fence around the property but there was no building, not even a chemical toilet. He said they were filthy even after taking a real shower last night. Then he whispered, “…and guess what I haven’t done since I left California?” At 12:15am two days later I picked-up Carlo outside LAX, when I asked where Dave was he said Dave literally had to run with his gear to meet his connecting flight to Sea-Tac, they’d already called for late boarding. We drove home and ended up in the shower where I scrubbed him twice from head to toe. Carlo had a layer of dark red dirt that had deeply penetrated his skin. His ass crack and parts of his feet were pale white but the rest of him was dark brown, but the more I scrubbed the more dark brown I found on the washcloth, so I scrubbed him over and over while he leaned against the shower wall. After half an hour in the shower we dried off and went to bed, I was on my back and offered myself but he said no, he just wanted to hold me. So we spooned and fell asleep. He whispered thanks for sending him to Australia, it was well worth the cost. —- However, the next morning while he started breakfast Carlo became super horn dog crazy and even asked me to call off work and stay home with him. Since I’d only had two hours of sleep I agreed and called the office while he made a big breakfast spread for us and after the dishes were in the dishwasher we stripped down and wore no clothes the rest of the day. That day I was his sex toy, I lost count of how many times he came in me or on me. I think if he could have asked a Genie in a bottle for wishes he’d want to lie in bed and have one guy to kiss, another to suck his tits, another to sloppy French kiss his belly button, someone on his dick, someone to tongue his ass, and someone on standby in case one of them needed a break, or maybe the spare guy could suck his toes or his fingers. He seemed to be fully satisfied that evening but I was exhausted and bruised. He connected his cell to the video projector and we watched nearly 900 photos on the living room wall with his favorite radio station, country oldies played on the speakers. I told him as long as I didn’t have to hear any CB radio songs I didn’t care what station he played. We sat on the sofa and watched as his phone changed the picture every five seconds. During part of the two hour show he had his dick in his hand, slowly stroked his five incher. I wasn’t sure if the images of Dave were what turned him on. I asked if they did anything and he said no, but Dave pinched his tit when he hiked with no shirt on and the Brits weren’t around. After I asked he described them as being a nice couple, she had ugly saggy breasts and he was pale white and looked worse than Peter O’Toole with his shirt off. But worst of all he said after a few days they turned into whiney nasal Brits that were painful to listen to sometimes. He said at their nightly campfire on the night before they arrived at Ayres Rock he told them he thought the royal family should be in prison for the massacre of un-armed civilians in India in April of 1919, but neither of them knew much about it. Carlo said his heart pounded in his chest when he said it and afterward he didn’t dislike the Brits as much. November. In November Dave flew down to tour UCLA again and look around the area at all the stores and restaurants, see the campus book store, and tour the dorm where he’ll be living for four years. Dave told us he had made friends with a girl he met at Starbucks in his home town but it’s not serious, they spent time together a few times a month to read poetry and take walks together. Carlo just bluntly asked if he’d fucked her and he said no, she wasn’t that kind of friend, he said it took him a long time to get to know someone before that could happen, it took him four years before he let Carly see him naked. Later on I whispered to Carlo that the first time they got naked together was before puberty in 6th grade, so his four years started in 2nd grade, his story was basically bullshit, and if you asked Carly she gave a different timeline. Carlo whispered to me, “You mean to tell me he’s got a foot long dick and it took him years to get to know someone well enough before you’ll let them see his miracle boner? That made no sense, especially after he told me he jerked off hundreds of guys in Argentina?” Then I whispered, “What’s the sense in having a record breaking dick and keeping it tightly locked away?” Carlo chuckled and said he felt with a dick that long he owed it to humanity to make at least a few porn flicks. While Dave was visiting he told us about his business plan he intended to develop at UCLA. He talked about opening a business on his grandparent’s vineyard property so wine drinkers and foodies could stay in cottages and work the vineyard, help with the harvest, ride the horses, and get hands on experience at a real working organic farm. He said he could build the cottages himself and expand it by adding a restaurant and guest pavilion so guests could work too, so it was a combination working farm/restaurant, winery, and guest ranch. They could grow and eat totally organic foods. He said it would be super popular with the baby boomers. “I thought your grandparents were in the lumber business?” I asked him as we sat around the dining table eating breakfast the morning after his arrival. “Well, it’s complicated. Yes, they own four thousand of acres of trees and lease the timber rights on many more, but closer to home they have a vineyard and winery too but that’s newer, only fifteen years old. The vineyard used to be part of the tree farm until they found out the soil was ideal for growing grapes. You could see Mount Saint Helens from the spot I want to build the ranch. It’s about seventy miles straight south of the vineyard, Mount Rainier Park is forty miles to the east.” Carlo asked, “How many other grandkids are there aside from you?” “I’m it, they already accepted Carly as part of the family but that’s gone now.” It clicked in my head that this kid will be super wealthy some day, his grandparents are in their late 80s, his parents in their 60s. Twenty years from now Dave would be living on a 150 foot yacht and sailing around the world, eating caviar in Monaco and calling his mate: Lovey, after he learned to speak through clenched teeth and talk like Thurston Howell III. I could also see him being under some pressure to produce a few sons to carry on the family business. As far as I could see, his plan to improve the winery was fantastic. I almost wished I hadn’t pressured him to go to college down here. But getting away from his family should help him rebound and return to a totally new situation and a family more willing to listen to his new ideas for keeping the family companies going into the new century. It would thrill my heart to see him recover from his tragedy and turn his life around. I just hope Carlo didn’t decide to move to Washington too, but I doubted that would happen. Dave was very much a small town boy, very idealistic, and locally focused. Carlo was born and raised in the city in a traditional Catholic Hispanic family, which was very different from Dave’s upbringing. We both felt obligated to stay involved in Dave’s second upbringing and his future, watch him grow into a successful and ethical businessman, maybe someday head of the chamber of commerce or even become an elected official. I felt Carlo could also have something of a renaissance too as he discovered long hidden talents and found his purpose in life. As for me, I’ll be autistic `til the day I die. I too sometimes felt the need for a mentor, someone that had fought their personal battle with autism and won. I dearly loved Carlo and would gladly spend the rest of my life with him, I’d love to be with him the day he sprouted his first gray whiskers and I’d love to be with him the day he learned his mother passed away so I could comfort him. I’d love to see him retire early, and I’d love to take him to a place where he felt our lives were like the evening we spent on the back deck on Clarence in Key West when he said he wished he could spend the rest of his life that way, totally relaxed on a sailboat in a harbor without a worry. With only the fear of how the journey might go we still have full lives ahead of us and I’m eager to live each day to its fullest with Carlo by my side. The end. #### Boris B. Chen, Yuma, Arizona.
Date: Wed, 29 Jul 2020 22:47:06 -0400 From: Rubber Butt – Ride a Rubber Butt Subject: Rubber Lust: Loosing Virginity Again – Chapter 1 WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS A SEXUALLY EXPLICIT FICTIONAL STORY. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, OR IF YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED IN READING ABOUT SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SITUATIONS AND ACTIVITIES OF GAY MEN. George was at his bathroom to get ready for his first date with Herb. It all started a couple of days ago. He was annoyed with the past experience. The guys told him they like rubber and leather. Of course, they were all total tops. But most of them didn’t even have a rubber or leather armband, and the top thing was a totally different story. He mostly ended up to fuck them. He liked to use his tool but he felt it was not what he wanted. Time to change. He wanted to be a total bottom and please a top in gear. He had posted a classified on one of the gay sites that existed then. Short and sweet “Looking for a real rubber/leather macho fucker with a big tool to make me his boy. I am not into role play, scat, or pain. Photos available and expected before the first date.” As so often, nothing happened. George expected it. Then on Wednesday evening he received an email from Herb. He sounded exactly the guy he was looking for. Rubber, leather, top, tall, furry , and well endowed that was what Herb wrote. The attached photos were hot. Then, they didn’t reveal a lot. Regardless, George agreed to meet. He suggested his place for the first encounter. Herb was OK with it. George finished the cleaning, and got into rubber. It was late fall and he didn’t want to crank up the heating because if something happened, it would get hot and sweaty. So he put on sweatpants and sweater over the rubber. It didn’t take long and the doorbell rang. George answered the door. He was nervous and began to shake. It was the last he wanted. He took a few deep breaths. Still it did not help. He heard Herb the steps coming up. A moment later, he stood in the door. George’s jaw dropped. He could not believe such a hunk would be interested in him. In black tight leather. A big bulge that stretched the front of the leather pants, and the buttons barely could keep it back. “Can I come in? Or am I not your type” Herb asked. “Yes.. No… sure… sorry. Come in.” Herb smiled while he blinked with his piercing blue eyes. Herb pulled off his leather jacket and he wore a shiny black rubber shirt. George started to breathe heavy. Herb smiled and said “Man take it easy. We are getting to know each other and see what happens. ” Herb’s voice calmed George. He smiled and the shaking disappeared slowly. “That’s how I like it. Start to relax. ” was Herb’s reply. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Coke? Coffee? Juice… Juice…. Beer?” “We take care of the juice later. Just give me what you have, George.” George went into the kitchen and poured some water into the glasses as Herb stood behind him. He pressed George onto the kitchen counter. George couldn’t move and felt how the bulge was pressing against his butt. Herb’s hands slipped under George’s sweater. “Nice.” said Herb and pulled it off. He released a bit of the pressure that fixated George to the counter and his big hands found their way to George’s bulge. His manhood was almost hard so was he turned on by this leather hunk. Herb massaged his package and one hand slipped under the rubber. “Mmm, shaved balls and a rubber cockring. A lot of precum.” noticed Herb. “You know how to please a man and make him hot.” “Yes. I do what I can to please my top.” “That’s the right attitude. I like it.” He stepped a little further back and kneeled in front of George’s round and firm butt. His hand squeezed it through the sweat pants. Then he yanked them down and a moment later they were off. “Your ass looks great in rubber chaps.” Herb pulled the cheeks apart. “A hot shaved hole.” He sniffed on it. “And clean.” Herb’s face dived into this bubble butt. He rimmed it. His tongue and fingers worked to open it up. This top hunk knew what he did. George moaned and Herb seemed to like it. His tongue licked the shaved butt intense. He pushed two and then three fingers in this eager ass. As he stood up the hole was dripping wet. Herb pushed George again towards the counter. George realized that Herb freed his manhood. He pressed it between his boy’s butt cheeks. George didn’t see it. But it felt it was massive, wet, and rock hard. Herb licked George’s neck and ears. His big hand had a firm grip on George’s hips. He whispered “At the end of the weekend you will be my boy.” “Yes. I will be all yours. I need a strong man to show me my place.” Did George just say the last sentence? He was surprised what this guy did to him. There was no way George could move. Next, Herb pushed the boy’s legs wider apart. He put him into the right position for a deep fuck. He bent over and George felt the body heat and smelled the warm rubber. “Inhale deep. I want you to enjoy your first real fuck in life.” George sniffed long and deep. The poppers took effect quickly. His knees were a little weak. But he wanted so badly to be hammered by a real top. Herb pushed the willing boy down on the counter with one hand while he spit in his other. His rod was big. The head was as thick as the rest of the 21.5 cm cock. It was meaty and veiny. The balls were shaved, heavy, and low hanging. Herb’s fat dick, 6.5 cm in diameter, shined after he rubbed his spit and precum over the tip and shaft. Herb has a lot of precum and he liked to use it as lube when fucking his boy. He pressed the head into the warm and wet hole. It slid in millimeter by millimeter in. As it hit the sphincter George tried to pull away. “Shit. That hurts as hell. Stop it. Please. My ass explodes.” was the boy’s reaction as he was filled with the man meat. It was as if he lost his ass virginity a second time. He didn’t know that he would lose it a third time very soon. “Boy, no pain, no gain. Take more poppers. You will be in bottom heaven in a few moments.” and Herb pushed further his manhood into this tight pig hole. George had never taken this much poppers in such a short time. It went right up into his head and he felt how his ass opened. “It burns. But I want to be your hole.” Herb had pushed the full length into George. “Yes. That’s better for a boy. Your pig hole is fucking tight. There had never been a true fucker in. I love it. But I might come too quickly. ” “I can get the silicone lube.” “Boy, I don’t want to pull out and get some lube. That just screws the mood. We are in your kitchen. Kitchens always have some greasy stuff around.” He reached over to the cooking oil. “Yeah, that will do it.” He pulled his rod out, put some of the oil onto the shaft and head. Then he pressed the cock into the boy’s hole. While pushing in Herb let some more oil drop on his cock. “Man that looks fucking hot how your boy cunt sucks in my boner and the oil.” “Yes. It feels fucking hot your macho dick in my tight cunt.” Herb increased the thrust. His low hangers slapped the shiny and oily butt. Slowly, the pressure built up in his full bull nuts. Yet, he was experienced enough to not let it come too early. “Now you will really lose your virginity the first time. Only a macho fucker can take it from a tight cunt as yours is.” He grabbed George’s hips and pushed him on the floor. The boy wanted to go into doggy but Herb pressed his chest down. “Ass up, boy!” His meat was dripping from the oil, his precum, and the ass juice. Herb squatted right in front of the wet hole. His hands on the hips of the boy to keep the ass in position and spread the butt cheeks even more. “I fuck it open. Take it all, you pig.” he aimed a little from above and pushed hard his meat into this bubble butt. He pulled out slowly and pushed again hard into the hole, and again, and again. This fucker was working hard to open the boy’s tight pussy. The poppers did its part to widen and loosen it. Each time hitting and rubbing the prostate. George was not sure if he was about to come or just more of his precum came out of his hard dick. He moaned louder. “I am in bottom heaven!” “Good! I like it when my pig boy enjoys his macho fucker. Your cunt is open. Now another step of losing your ass virginity. You will get my bull sperm of the last 7 days.” “Yes please breed me. Pump it in my wet open cunt, please.” Herb kneeled behind George and ploughed his ass deep. “Take a couple of poppers sniffs and give the bottle to me.” He was already high from all the poppers. But he wanted to be loose and wide open. He passed the bottle to Herb and pulled his ass cheeks apart. “Yes, show me your sloppy pussy. I want to see it when I fuck out all the oil, precum, and ass juice.” Herb sniffed a couple of times. He pulled George’s balls out of the rubber jock without freeing the boy’s dick. Herb was ready. He felt the popper rushing through his body. On the contrary to many others, poppers made his cock rock hard, almost as it would explode in the next second. He grabbed his boy’s hips and jackhammered that hole. “You are my cunt and you take whatever I pump and shoot into your ass.” His lower hangers clashed on George’s balls. He looked at his shiny veiny cock as it pushed into the open hole. The ass juice mixed with oil and precum squeezed out the harder he drilled. Despite his full nuts, this fucker had remarkable endurance. George lost the sense of time and how long Herb was wrecking his ass. He wanted to be hole, cunt, be bred, and flooded by bull sperm. Then Herb erupted. 5 or 6 shoots and his thrust were forceful each time. George could feel how his love tunnel was filled with all the bull juice Herb had in his balls. After he calmed down he pulled up George so the boy sat on his still hard cock. “Boy, this was one of, no, the best ass I have fucked so far.” “So it was OK? I could give some pleasure to you?” “You did and for that I will give you the final pleasure.” Herb pushed his legs a little more outwards in order to ensure George slid fully onto his boner. Herb put the poppers bottle under the boy’s nose. “I like your cock. A nice man size and you have almost as much precum as me.” One arm pressed the boy on his strong chest and the other jerked him off. It didn’t take long and George’s butt tightened. “Yeah, let your hot boy juice out.” Herb intensified the grip around George’s cock. Then it hit. In three massive shoots, he pumped his sperm out and blacked out. “You are OK? You seemed to have a lot of pressure on your balls.” Herb grinned. “Yes, I am. Thank you. I had a lot of pressure. I didn’t jerk off for a couple of days.” George stood up, still a little shaky. Herb’s half mast slid out and with it some of his thick, white sperm. George turned around and for the first time he saw what took his virginity again. “Wow, this was all in my ass?!” “Yes, and for a macho fucker virgin you did an amazing job.” “Thanks, you are a perfect teacher. Lets clean the mess, have a shower, and something to eat. Do you want to stay for dinner? Nothing fancy, though.” “I was hoping I could stay overnight.” Herb had a big smile on his face. Who could say no to such a hot guy? “Sure. Of course. I would love it.” George’s pole got back to life. “I see that you would love it.” Herb wore a white Biker jock straps and George had a rubber short put on. They ate and talked for hours. Both could not stop to hear more from each other. Herb lived only down the street in one of the new more fancy condo buildings. He is a biker and he suggested that they take a tour when spring comes. George thought it’s nice that he thinks this far. But they had only one fuck. Who knows if they still will fuck next spring. On the other hand, he found this guy interesting on many levels so he decided to go with the flow. After they emptied the bottle of wine, George asked with a slight nervous voice “Do you want to fuck me again before we fall asleep?”. Herb laughed. “Of course, I can’t let my boy go to dreamland without another bull juice filling. Before we go to bed, I’d like you to pick what I should wear for the night.” Herb got up from the sofa and walked to his backpack. George looked, no, stared at his ass. It was a firm big round butt. You could see he was playing soccer. He came back and put a few gear items on the table. George screen through and his attention focused on a black shiny short with a silver zipper in front. “What material is that?” He touched it. Still, he was not sure. “It’s a vinyl short. I like it, it can get even more slippery than rubber.” “I like this idea. Please put it on.” Herb got out of his Biker jockstraps and put on the vinyl short. His cock was hard within a couple of moments and filled the short completely. George kneeled in front of this growing bulge. He licked it. His hands massaged Herb’s butt. Herb pressed George’s head against the bulge. George’s cock was at full mast. Herb pulled George up. “Can I now pick what you will wear?” “My pleasure, hot fucker.” They went into the bedroom. The rubber sheet was still on the bed. “Hot, you have a real rubber sheet to play on. Not many have that. We will test this tomorrow.” Herb removed it while George got a few briefs, jocks, and shorts. Herb spotted the jockstraps that had a translucent cod piece which was tagged on to a second black rubber layer with a hole for balls and cock. “That it is. Your boy pussy is free and I can see your cock and balls.” George dimmed the light and Herb’s finger tested his hole. “Nice still wet and loose.” Herb was between George’s legs. He spread them even more. Herb pulled the zipper down. “Look boy, what you do to me.” George could see the big tool shining wet of all the precum. As the zipper stopped between the strong legs the wet balls dropped out. Herb pulled out his rod. “Mmmm, I can’t get enough of your bull cock and juice.” “That’s my boy. The more. The better. Your hole deserves it to be fuck often. Take some poppers.” George took a couple of deep sniffs. Then he pulled his legs back towards his shoulders. Looking at this still half open and wet hole Herb’s dick was now rock hard. Still, he lubed his cock. He wanted to make sure that the boy would not have an soared ass the next day. The day will come rather sooner than later when he will fuck this tight hole only with his spit, precum, cream, and the boy’s ass juice. His cock slid into the boy like a hot knife into butter. George enjoyed it and Herb liked it to see the boy’s face while he was fucking him. Slow. Deep. Demanding. Herb took George’s legs on his shoulders, and the boy could put his hands on this hot soccer butt that felt even hotter in the vinyl shorts. For the first time ever, Herb began to kiss the guy he considered his boy. Both became one. This fucker knew how he could extend the pleasure for both. The boy was moaning and pulled his ass cheeks even more apart. As Herb came closer to his climax he increased the thrust. The lower hangers slapped this tight ass and the boy pushed his legs as far back as he could. Herb looked down and saw that every millimeter of his rod was in this hot, wet, open boy pussy. When he pulled out this ass sucked on his shiny wet meat. “Boy, you drive me crazy. Get ready for my cream.” Herb grabbed his boy’s shoulders and pushed as deep as he could to get into this cunt. His hairy six pack rubbed George’s boner. They almost shot at the same time. Herb flooded his boy’s fuck tunnel and George just empty his balls into the rubber jock. They spooned for the night and Herb pressed his still semi-hard cock into George. He laid his arm around his boy. “Good night my boy. Sweet dreams!”. Both fell asleep quickly.
Date: Wed, 29 Jul 2020 01:00:41 +0000 (UTC) From: David Auslander Subject: Tim’s Summer Vacation Part 1 TIM’S SUMMER VACATION PART 1 Little Tim was with the Coach at school, all day! Little Tim lived with the Coach! His entire world revolved around the Coach. As he grew the Coach wondered if they were together too much. Yes, there was love there, but the old saying was: “Familiarity Breeds Contempt!” The Coach concluded that they were together too much. The Coach’s plans for the summer were set! He could use Little Tim’s help on the vacation trip, but the Coach was willing to function without Little Tim to prove another old saying: “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” There was another reason: all his life, Little Tim had had an adult protector. His Uncle Mark had raised him, then the Coach had taken over. Tim had to be independent and stand on his own two feet. As this small town was a County Seat, there was a YMCA in town that had connections with a summer camp. The Coach made arrangements for Little Tim to be a Junior Counselor at that camp. So Little Tim packed his trunk with “summer wear.” The parting was tearful and passionate. Tim got on a bus to upstate New York. The Camp director would pick him up at the nearby bus stop. Little Tim was going out early to help get the camp ready for the arrival of young campers. He would arrive before the rest of the staff. Needless to say, Tim was apprehensive about the summer. He was on his own and would play the summer by ear!
Saturday 6th April 2019
Since that Monday evening three weeks ago life had been hard for me. How it had been for Jill – well honestly, I wasn’t sure, but more about that later.
When I’d walked out of our family home back in mid-March it hadn’t been a planned thing, and I knew I could hardly pull my sobbing and desperate wife around me and calmly walk upstairs to pack bags. So, when the receptionist at the Palm Homes Motel, seemingly remembering me from my short stay last Christmas time, checked me in I was decidedly short on clothes and toiletries. Only equipped with the bare minimum from the local Wal*Mart, just enough to get me through the next few days.
Even on the Monday night I left, Jill had called me incessantly. Somehow I found the strength to pick up and talk to her the first couple of times, but when Jill’s answers about trying to return to a more conventional marriage were evasive and non-committal, I gently but firmly declined her repeated requests that I come back home so ‘we could talk about it’. I just told her we were done with talking, it was time for her to now reflect deeply and take actions to show me where our marriage really sat in her priorities.
On Tuesday I still had the patience to pick up and talk to Jill, again having to tell her that I wasn’t coming home for now. When she rang again on Wednesday and the conversation headed in the same direction as the previous night, in the calmest voice I could muster I cut the call short, telling Jill she should only call me back when she had some concrete news about actual changes she wanted to make to how we were living our lives. That I didn’t want to waste my time or her time with never-ending discussions about how things weren’t so bad really and couldn’t I just come home so we could talk.
From that Wednesday onwards I ignored her calls – switching over to just texting her that we could talk when she had positive news about changes.
This was really hard for me, because I still loved Jill with all my heart, and I desperately wanted our marriage to be intact and back on an even keel at the end of all of this. I’d never had the misfortune to experience it for real, but I imagined this must be how a parent dispensing ‘tough love’ to a drug-addicted child must feel. For so long you love and indulge, before, in the end, you realize your indulgence is just facilitating and deepening the problem.
It was made doubly hard as I vowed to stick to what I’d told Jill on the night I walked out – that I wasn’t going to see Veronica. I’d given Jill the freedom to do what she saw fit in terms of Malcolm and Callan, but I’d wanted to send the clearest possible signal to Jill that I was putting her and our marriage first. Hence the promise to steer clear of Veronica, even though I knew this was unfair on my Latina girlfriend and her young daughter.
I knew the conversation with Veronica would be hard, and in the early part of the week, the good thing was that she didn’t expect to hear from me as Mondays and Tuesdays were normally Jill-Dave days and then I’d head off to L.A. and only return on Friday to spend time with her and Haley.
Even if I’d wanted to talk to Veronica on Monday and Tuesday, which I desperately did as she was my only real port in this storm of my own making, with all the phone calls still going on with Jill I just didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for what I knew would be a painful conversation with V.
So, it was finally Thursday when I found the strength to FaceTime with Veronica from my hotel room in L.A. As Veronica was working that night, it wasn’t until she got home from the club at 3 AM that we managed to hook up properly. Of course, Veronica was tired so it wasn’t really the ideal time for a conversation. But as our normal weekly schedule would have Veronica expecting me to be waiting for her at her apartment just twenty-four hours later, delaying wasn’t really an option.
Aware of just how much my words would hurt her, I tried to put the most positive spin I could on the conversation. I explained to Veronica that I loved her deeply, but that I also still loved Jill and that I owed it to her and our family to fight for our marriage. I told her that this was why I’d decided that until things were clearer between me and Jill, it didn’t feel right for Veronica and me to keep meeting up. I told her how hard this was for me too
, and how much I’d miss her and Haley. Telling her that this was the only way that Jill and I could start working out whether or not we still had a future together. Telling Veronica that both she and I needed an answer to this question if we were to know what kind of relationship we could allow ourselves going forward.
On the phone, Veronica took the conversation well. I’m sure she could see from the look on my face that I was telling her nothing but the truth, and just how much I’d miss her with the next few days and weeks being as hard for me as it was for her. But I’m sure that to her friends she maybe didn’t hold it together so well, and I wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d have cussed and cursed about me to them. I could hardly blame her – she’d given so selflessly and unselfishly to me and now she was paying the price.
But knowing her as I did, I think the thing that helped her deal with it was the kernel of truth in what I’d said. That until Jill and I worked out where we were heading as a couple, it was hard for Veronica and me to think further ahead than the next few days. And with major life choices racing towards us because of new employers being headquartered in L.A., this was a far from ideal situation.
So that first week after I left to give Jill some space to work out what she wanted, had been a pretty intense and full-on week. When I climbed into my plane seat Friday lunchtime in L.A. and started powering down for the weekend, it was weird to think I’d not be seeing Veronica and Haley that weekend. Weird and depressing. They’d so much become part of my life.
I had one of those moments of lucid perception, and it frightened me. If I was finding the pull of my life with Veronica and Haley such a strong and powerful force tugging at my heartstrings, then surely Jill would be going through equally difficult feelings. As she tried to make life-defining decisions about how she felt about me and our marriage compared to how she felt about Callan and Malcolm.
Maybe naively, when I thought back to how she’d clung to me and cried on that Monday evening I’d left, a big part of me thought it would be a slam dunk for her to choose me and our marriage over Callan and Malcolm.
But with the five-hour flight home ahead of me, reflecting on how I myself felt about Veronica I suddenly felt a shiver of fear run down my spine. Just how sure was I that Jill, now that all her tears and shock of my Monday departure were over and just a memory, would actually choose me and our marriage over the other two men in her life. Her longtime boyfriend from her college days, her first real true love, and the man who’d saved her from Chris when he’d shown up to cause trouble.
Arriving back just before ten at night, it felt odd and very lonely to not be heading back to either our home or Veronica’s. Collecting my luggage from the carousel and realizing that only a sad and soulless motel room awaited me, I began to wonder if this was a taste of the life that lay ahead of me. No warm and welcoming woman awaiting my return, just the type of life that I thought I’d left behind me in my twenties when Jill and I had married and set up home together.
Finally, back in the broken-down little motel room, even though I was tired I couldn’t stomach the silence and loneliness and so I headed out to a local restaurant for a late dinner. At least this way I could surround myself with the sounds and sights of normal life, that and a half bottle of the house red did wonders for my spirits.
That weekend was the worst. So many times I nearly caved into one pressure or the other. Resisting the pressure to call Veronica was the more difficult task I faced, because I felt bad as she’d done nothing to deserve this break in our relationship. And much less selfishly, I knew how happy it would make me to hear her voice and spend an hour or two talking to her.
Calling Jill would have made me equally, or maybe even happier. But that call would have been a mix of pleasure at hearing her voice and pain that she’d not yet done what I’d asked and started making some of the hard choices necessary to repair our marriage. Also, I reckoned that if I called Jill, she’d see it as a sign of weakness and a sign that despite everything I’d said I might be okay to let her keep up with her current lifestyle. Knowing this, of course, provided me the perfect incentive to stay strong, however much I still loved Jill and would have loved to hear her voice or be with her.
If the first week had been bad enough, the second was hellish. I’d stopped picking up her calls a couple of days after I’d left to give her space to think, and Jill had continued calling me through the following day. But not getting any response from me she stopped calling. And with every passing day with no call or meaningful contact from Jill I got more and more frightened.
The way I looked at it there were only three possible reasons why Jill hadn’t contacted me on Friday, or during the weekend, or now into the early part of the second week of my absence from her life.
Option one was that Jill was calling my bluff, waiting for me to cave, not exactly a great thought in terms of the prospects for us. Option two was that Jill had already done her thinking and had decided that in a toss-up between me and the new men in her life, she’d rather give me up if I forced her to choose. This was the option which really scared me – as if it was true it meant my marriage was already over, it’s just I didn’t know it yet.
The third option, and the only one which held out any hope for me was that Jill was taking my ultimatum seriously and was having a long hard think about what her life had become. But even this most optimistic of scenarios frightened me to death. Because if Jill was having to think so hard about her choice, then what did that say about the depth of her feelings for me, her husband and father of her grown children compared to how she felt for one guy she’d known less than a year and a man who’d once broken her heart and who had been nothing more than a good friend since then.
As we moved through our second week of being apart, the continued lack of communications from Jill was driving me crazy with fear. I tried to stay strong, but when I was alone in my hotel room in L.A. on Thursday night I gave in to my fears and did the only thing I could think to do. I rang Charlotte – being as certain as I could be that Jill would have used Charlotte as a sounding board and that she’d be up to speed on what Jill was thinking.
Although we’d been friends for years, Charlotte had a naturally spikey and contrary personality, but to her credit, she was sympathetic and kind as soon as she knew why I was calling. As we talked the first thing she did was put me out of my misery – confirming that it wasn’t ‘Option Two’ that was the explanation for why Jill hadn’t called me. Jill hadn’t already decided to ditch me in favor of Malcolm or Callan.
She also reassured me that Jill wasn’t playing some kind of game of chicken, telling me what I knew deep down, that this type of behavior just wasn’t Jill – it wasn’t in her DNA, who she was.
Which left only option three, with Jill’s best friend switching between empathy and sympathy for me and pleading her friend’s case. “Dave, honey, after everything I went through with Callan, I know how hard this is for you. I get it. But please, for Jill’s sake, for the sake of you and your family, stay strong for Jill. Don’t give up on her.”
Hearing nothing but a painful silence from me, Charlotte continued. “Dave, Jill’s not hidden from you the feelings she has for Malcolm and Callan. You know she has deep feelings for both of them, but I also know she loves you more than she loves them. But you’ve asked her to choose, and that’s not easy because she loves all three of you.”
“Why’s it so damned hard for her to choose?” I shouted in a fit of exasperation, only slowly cooling down and then apologizing. “I’m sorry, Charlotte, I know it’s not your fault. It’s just I don’t get it. If she really loves me more, like you say she does, then why’s it taken her so long? After all, it didn’t take her anywhere near this long when Chris asked her to go to L.A. with him. She was back home with me just a few hours after he asked her. Why’s this any different?”
Charlotte didn’t answer immediately, I think she wanted to let my temper calm a little further, so my mind would be more ready to listen than to shout. But then she tried her best to help me understand. “Dave, you might not want to hear this, but Malcolm and Callan aren’t Chris. Chris was charming, handsome, and sexy – and a great lay. But when all was said and done, he was an arrogant and pretty self-centered guy. However much fun Jill was having running around with him, at the end of the day, it was a pretty easy decision for Jill to make. Between a fun but ultimately selfish guy, and you – a guy who’s been the rock of her life. But with Callan and Malcolm, it’s more complicated…”
‘More complicated’ is one of those annoying phrases that just shouts out that something’s been left unsaid. Something the speaker’s scared to say out loud, and I knew well enough what Charlotte was driving at, so I didn’t pick at that particular scab and force Charlotte to spell it out. Both for her sake and for the sake of my bruised and wounded ego, which really didn’t want to hear out loud an inventory of all the positive things any woman could see in Malcolm or Callan.
My call with Charlotte on that Thursday night ended shortly after Charlotte’s softly spoken explanation of how ‘it was complicated’ – her final words to me being a final appeal for me to be more patient with her best friend.
It took me a good hour or two to settle down after my call with Charlotte. At first her explanation of how hard it was for Jill to make a decision really unsettled me, but as I played back other parts of the conversation, I felt more reassured. Reassured that Jill hadn’t already made her decision – and simply not told me. Reassured from Charlotte’s words about Jill loving me more than the other two men in her life.
The other thing that helped me settle down (apart from a couple of whiskeys) was a text from Veronica saying how much she missed me. I felt that a short reply saying I felt the same wasn’t breaking my word to Jill about staying away from Veronica, and the simple exchange of communications with V made me remember that even if things turned out bad, at least I had a woman in my life who loved me and only me.
It wasn’t until the second weekend that I weakened and gave in to temptation.
It started harmlessly enough, with a call from Veronica’s phone which turned out to be Haley calling. Within about one sentence she’d gone straight to the moral blackmail as the seven-year-old told me how she loved me and missed me, saying her mommy had explained there were some difficulties between me and her mommy, and then asking me if I could meet them to take her to the movies.
Having heard the sadness and pleading in the little girl’s voice, I felt there was no way I could turn down her request. Telling myself I wasn’t breaking my promise to Jill that I’d stay away from Veronica until we’d worked things out, because I was really going to see Haley, and it just so happened her mother would be there also. If I was honest with myself, I knew that at best this was a half-truth.
Armed with my fig-leaf of self-justification I duly turned up at the movie theater, limited my contact to Veronica to the kind of hug that you’d give a longstanding family friend, and spent a platonic two hours plus watching the trailers and the Disney main event. Despite the sad emptiness inside me, I was even controlled enough to sit with Haley between us – which earned a strange look from the little girl who was used to a Mommy-Uncle David-Haley seating arrangement.
I like to think that Veronica hadn’t coached her, but when the movie was finished little Haley asked if I could go home with them, as they were having her favorite for dinner – Spaghetti hoops and cut-up Sausages. The way she looked at me, again I felt unable to resist. The final nail in my coffin being accepting the two large glasses of wine that Veronica served up for each of us.
With teeth brushed, and bedtime books read and kisses on foreheads handed out, before I realized what had happened Veronica’s warm and soft body had slumped down next to me on the sofa. After nearly two weeks without any kind of feminine closeness, the mix of her perfume, the smell of her hair, and the feel of her body next to mine was just too much.
At first, it was just me accepting the soft nuzzling of her body into mine as she burrowed herself under my arm. But then when Veronica turned her head towards mine and tilted her face upwards, I knew I was lost. Within seconds we were both kissing each other with a hunger and an urgency that took me right back to my first days of dating in the back of my Dad’s old Ford. The two weeks of total denial had supercharged our need for each other – something you can’t have always being a thousand-times sweeter than something that’s on the approved list.
With a joint age in excess of ninety years, With more than ninety years between us, we were soon tearing each other’s clothes off like a couple of horny teenagers. Veronica just about having the presence of mind to drag me by the hand into the bedroom before we got to stage that would have been embarrassing if Haley had popped back into the lounge as she sometimes did.
With the bedroom door safely shut and locked there was no need for control and we each stripped off remaining clothes and jumped on top of each other as if we were being measured against the clock. My cock soon as deep as I could within Veronica, her legs seemingly locked and loaded around my back before I was even fully in her. The mechanics duly in place, key in the lock, our heads, and bodies thrashed around the bed as we kissed and fucked, fucked and kissed.
I knew it was wrong, that I was breaking a promise to Jill, but I didn’t care, telling myself she had almost certainly fucked both Callan and Malcolm during the time we’d been apart, while accidentally forgetting to remind myself that I’d not asked her to make any promises to me.
Feeling my climax starting to build up, and amazed I’d lasted this long given my abstinence, I was pleased to see from Veronica’s face that she wasn’t far behind me. The flesh just above her full brown breasts flushed red and her eyes half glazed over – both sure signs that I was hitting all the right spots and that she was close. Re-doubling my efforts, I slammed in as hard and as deep as I could, V’s reactions telling me she wanted it this way after so long apart. My face finally contorting with pleasure as my cock pulsed and jerked, my seedless juices spurting deep into Veronica as she moaned and groaned, struggling for breath as her body rocked and spasmed. Her nails digging into my ass and drawing blood in a way that I’d happily own and wear as a mark of pride.
Slowly, slowly we came down off our teenage high – each just smiling and gazing at the other, each feeling naughty and wicked, knowing we’d done something we ought not. When she sensed a slight look of guilt on my face, she just kissed me and smiled like a High School temptress. Squeezing and stroking my cock as she giggled.
“In for an inch, in for a mile,” her smiling lips intoned, as those same lips stopped smiling and started kissing their way down over the light hairs of my chest and belly, down further and further until she was encouraging me to get ready for round two and a second breaking of my word to Jill.
Throughout the next twelve hours, I did occasionally feel guilty about my broken promise, but mostly I just felt happy. And if ever my guilt got up to storm force two or three, I just did a whack-a-mole job on it by telling myself there was every chance Jill had allowed herself to be fucked by her two lovers many times over during our temporary separation.
But even armed with my whack-a-mole moral mallet, by mid-morning Sunday I was feeling decidedly guilty, not to mention emotional and sexually fed, and so I gave Veronica a tender and emotional kiss and finally dragged myself back to my lonely motel room.
Once back in that monk’s cell of a motel room, denied the warmth and companionship of either of the women I loved, my emotions started spiraling, and not in a good way. First up was the guilt – which was better able to breathe and grow now that I was away from my partner in crime. I knew I’d needed the warmth, comfort, and companionship of Veronica – but nonetheless, I felt bad that I’d not kept my word to Jill.
As the guilt-edged its way up like some poisonous climbing vine, it met and fed a nagging question I just couldn’t get out of my head. A question I’d not had the courage to ask Charlotte when I’d called her just three days ago – with me out of the picture, where was Jill overnighting? I’d told her that I’d not be seeing Veronica, but I’d not laid down any expectations or rules for her while we did our thinking. I’d simply told her that what she chose to do was her own decision.
But with every day that had passed since Jill’s last attempt to talk to me –now up to around a week and a half – my fears about where she was and who she was spending her time with just got worse and worse. And as the minutes and hours ticked by on that slow and lonely Sunday my resistance slowly dissolved until finally at eight that evening I gave in and called Charlotte again.
I tried to sound casual and to make small talk to hide my true intent, but not surprisingly Charlotte soon took the conversation where she knew I wanted it to go.
“Dave, it’s always lovely to hear from you and to hear all about L.A. and John, Becky, and little baby Julia. But would I be right in guessing that you’re really calling to get an update on how your sweet wife is?”
My silence followed by the shortest of yeses told her all she needed to know.
“Well, Dave, I don’t want you to get ahead of yourself, but I think Jill’s making some real progress, I think she’s working through her feelings. And I can’t make any promises, but from how she’s talking to me, I think she’s coming around. Starting to see what you meant, about how the lifestyle’s started to eat up your marriage.”
“That’s great, wonderful,” I let out in a spontaneous burst of relief and joy.
“Hold your horses there, Dave. I stand by what I just said, but don’t get ahead of yourself. Things are heading in the right direction, but we’re not totally there yet, okay?”
I took the hint. “Sorry, Charlotte, I understand.”
“That’s better,” she said, sounding happier, for the first time I wondered where Charlotte stood in this whole thing. I knew she was my friend, but she was also Callan’s ex-wife, shot through with all kinds of emotions, including those to do with her inability to give him offspring. Was I being a fool bringing my concerns to Charlotte, expecting her to be on my side in seeking a reconciliation with Jill?
I shook my head, pushing the thought away, took a deep breath, and asked the question I’d actually called to ask.
“Charlotte, last time I was too frightened to ask, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I have to know. Where’s Jill spending her nights? Who’s she with?”
There was a notable pause at the other end of the line, a pause that filled me with dread as I knew Charlotte was struggling to find the right words, to put lipstick on the pig and do her best to defuse the hand grenade she was just about to throw at me.
“Well, honey, before I answer that, remember what I just told you, about Jill making progress, working out her feelings, and remember that feelings and sex are two very different things.”
She might just as well have stabbed me through the heart with an ice pick, because that’s what it felt like her words had done.
I think she was waiting for me to say something, knowing I’d have taken her strong hint. But when I said nothing, she picked up the baton and took it forward as carefully and slowly as she could.
“Sometimes she’s at home, and sometimes she sleeps over. But more and more I think it’s just about the sex, because I know how much she misses you and wants you back home.”
“Really?” I said, finally finding my voice, trying not to shoot the messenger, softening my tone and volume as I repeated the question. “Really, Charlotte, or are you just saying that to try and save my feelings?”
“No, really, Dave. I’m being totally straight with you. If I’d wanted to lie to you, I’d have told you she’s home most of the time, and that would have been a lie.”
I think she’d let slip a little more than she meant to, and I pounced on the unintended fact. “So, she’s not home most of the time, then? So, what would you say, she’s home just the odd day, or not even that, or maybe more than that? ”
I’ve always been obsessed with numbers – to me there’s a kind of honest purity in them. Words can be manipulated to mislead and lie. But numbers generally don’t lie, and so I knew Charlotte’s answer would give me a window into the reality of Jill’s behavior. An unvarnished and non-distorting window.
And so, I waited somewhere between frightened and hopeful for Charlotte’s answer. But the moment I heard Charlotte’s deep intake of breath my heart knew what I was about to hear. “The odd day, that would be the most accurate description. Jill’s home the odd day.”
But something in the way Charlotte had formed her sentence made me suspicious. She’d chosen her words too carefully.
“Home the odd day? I don’t mean to give you the third degree, Charlotte, but when you say home the odd day, do you mean sleeping there the odd day, or do you mean popping home the odd day for a change of clothing or stuff like that?”
Another deep intake of breath from Charlotte, followed by the shortest answer she could give. “The second of the two.” Followed by a painful silence between the two of us.
“Sorry, Dave,” she added, sounding like she really meant it, the silence then returning.
“That’s okay, I was the one who had to ask, had to know,” pausing so she’d know I meant it and didn’t blame her. “Thanks, Charlotte. Thanks for being a good friend, to me, to Jill.”
“Don’t mention it, sweetheart. I’m just sorry you and Jill are going through such a difficult patch.”
That conversation with Charlotte was right at the end of March – Sunday the 31st March I think, just a day shy of the couple of weeks I’d told Jill we needed to be apart for her to think through how important our marriage was compared to the other parts of her life.
Charlotte had described what we were going through as ‘a rough patch’ – well our ‘rough patch’ got decidedly rougher a couple of days later when my old tormentor Luther stuck his size thirteen boot right into the middle of things. Sending me a link to a movie file with a title screen that simply said, ‘Hot Wife Jane – Choices to Make.’
The man was a sick bastard for sending me something like this at a time like this. For an hour after the link arrived, I just about managed to resist the overwhelming urge to watch it. But in the end, I caved, just as I’d always done with every other piece of poisoned fruit he’d ever put in front of me.
The bastard had excelled himself this time. It couldn’t have been more sadistically crafted had it had a Christopher Lee overdub and a lead player with horns and cloven hooves.
The whole thing was set up to have the look and feel of some kind of documentary show, with Luther inevitably playing the role of narrator. It started off with some footage of Jill shot as she floated around one of the bars doing her job – talking to staff, chatting to customers. Apart from her normal classy but slutty low-cut, short-skirted, high-heeled uniform, there was nothing overtly sexual about it. After a few seconds had passed the voice of the narrator announcing:
‘This is Jane. Jane’s a happily married forty-something-year-old mother of three. Still sexy and beautiful, the definition of a MILF, with a great job managing clubs. Jane’s got a secret. She’s a hotwife. She’s a hotwife whose husband loves to watch her with other guys. Let’s meet her husband, cucky Dan…’
And then the scene switched from Jill floating around the bar to the night Jill had danced, kissed and stripped with Dee and Veronica. Only this wasn’t the scene the film showed – the bit the film showed was my pasty white ass pumping up and down between Jill’s legs as I tried and failed Dee’s challenge of lasting more than three minutes inside Jill without cumming. The challenge that would determine whether she’d spend the night with me, Luther or Malcolm. My white ass pumping up and down as a superimposed video showed a stopwatch ticking through two minutes ten, two minutes twenty before finally stopping at two minutes thirty-one seconds. As video me threw my head back and pumped my load into video Jill, only then the narrator’s overdub kicking in again.
‘As you can see, some choices are easy for Hot Wife Jane to make. Faced with a choice between her small-dicked, three-minute hero of a husband and a real man, with a real cock, after twenty years of hunger Jane finally had a proper meal. Finally felt properly full, her belly stretched open by some nice deep black meat.’
Cue cut to the scene later that night in Malcolm’s house, in his bedroom where Jill had taken his huge cock for the first time. I’d seen it before, but even so, watching it again made a huge impression on me. And even in the middle of the marital crisis we were suffering, I’m ashamed to admit I got hard as I watched again the first time Malcolm sexed Jill with his huge black cock.
The rest of the scenes carried on showing and narrating the downward march in Jill’s depravity, as bit by bit Luther took her down into the personal underworld he’d designed for her – designed for her pleasure and seduction, and to test our marriage to breaking point.
Scenes showing Jill and Malcolm together next followed – both scenes of raw sex and passion, and scenes of tender love-making. Including plenty of scenes where the viewer could clearly hear Jill and Malcolm declaring their love for each other.
This was followed by scenes from when Jill had ‘entertained’ Luther, Malcolm, and their four army buddies for nearly a week – complete with the fake temporary tattoos and nipple rings. The narrated commentary on this making clear this was the next stage in Jill’s professional training as a blacked hotwife.
With the last reel inevitably adding scenes of Callan and Jill making love, these scenes finally petering out as the narrator said his last words.
‘But sorry to say, cucky Dan’s got a bit tired with letting his pretty wife play. He’s just gone and got too damned worried that one day Jane will leave him to be with a proper man, with a proper cock. So cucky Dan’s gone and laid down an ultimatum. Silly cucky Dan – does he really think he’s got any chance of winning…’
As the words trailed off, the last scene of Jill and Callan faded to black, leaving me with a hard cock of which I was totally ashamed and a deep fear of how prophetic the last words might prove to be.
Not content with the pain his first video had caused me, Luther sent me another video link on Thursday. At least this time I managed to resist a whole twenty-four hours before I watched. But when my resistance did finally fail, the video turned out to be just as painful and hurtful as Luther’s first stiletto blade of a movie.
This time the video was simply titled ‘Alpha, Alpha, Omega’ and was split into two parts. The first part more video footage of Malcolm and Jill making love – this time all the scenes showing genuine love-making rather than raw and heated sex. The second half was near-identical, but this time the two bodies making love and sharing sweet words of endearment were the white bodies of Jill and Callan. And the third scene – there was no third scene. It was obviously not deemed worthy of being shown, of wasting the cost of the video or the cameraman’s time. The third scene was just a still photo of me with the Greek symbol for Omega superimposed onto my forehead. The message clear and insulting at so many levels. In Luther’s eyes, I wasn’t even fit to be a Beta or a Gamma. I was the ultimate outlier – Jill could choose between two Alphas and an Omega.
At the end of watching that second video, I was so hurt and insulted that I vowed revenge on Luther. I didn’t know how I’d get it. I’d thought he couldn’t get any lower after that first ‘Hot Wife Jane’ video, the one where the actor playing me got dildoed up the ass. But with this last video, he’d plumbed new depths. Not only did I vow revenge, but I also vowed that if by some miracle Jill did come back to me, I’d never again let her within a million miles of this sadist.
Back in Miami a day later, I so wanted to head to Veronica’s. I so needed the comfort and happiness she’d provide. But it was only 10 PM and I was beat from a really tough week, and I knew Veronica would be working at the club until late. So instead I headed to my motel, promising myself that whatever promises I’d made I’d go over on Saturday to see Veronica. I owed it to myself. I needed it.
But life was never that straightforward. Because when I woke up I reached out to turn off my phone alarm, and instead I saw the first message I’d received from Jill in nearly three weeks.
‘I’ve done a lot of thinking, like you asked. I love you and want our marriage to work. Let’s meet at home and talk. Love Jill xxx’
(Thanks to cbears52 and Kite for their kind help.)
The feel of Orlando’s cock under my hand was my first taste of sex with another person. Sex with myself had been a no-go since I first began to yearn for it. The ‘Supercollege,’ the elite post-sixteen establishment which cost my parents half a million a year, was more like boot camp than the sixth form college it was supposed to be. It rang with masters’ vitriolic denunciations of boys caught ‘laying lascivious hands upon themselves’. My fellow prefects in the upper sixth emulated the masters in their zeal to put down such habits among the lower sixth; though everyone knew what some of them got up to in private. Not me though. I was far too guilt-ridden at the mere awareness of desperately wanting to. But how would I ever consider myself ‘grown-up’ if I even wanted to do things like that?
The High Masters’ weapon of choice was the cane, but lesser masters and prefects were fluent with the slipper. What they enjoyed most was bare hand striking bare ass. We upper sixths weren’t immune. There was a third year of ‘super prefects’, who’d failed their first A-levels making them all the more grudging of us brighter ones. As for those who stayed a fourth year, they were so brutalised their only pleasure was sadism.
At home, parents were only a degree less vehement. The proverbial consequences of ‘self-abuse’; blindness, stunted growth, and an inability to relate to the opposite sex, were nothing to the apocalyptic (if vague) punishments, were I ever to be caught ‘playing with myself.’
Horror, vitriol, sadism. My main memory of ‘Supercollege’ was of constant noise. Railing against offences such as wrongly buttoned blazers, unbrushed hair, sloppiness—a boy was storied to have earned the slipper by touching the banister rail while walking upstairs. So you can imagine our terror of being caught in unnameable hormone-driven indecencies.
My only moments of serenity were the literature lessons; a select class of six boys with Mr. Fothergill, a master far too much in love with his subject to care how we behaved, with the result that we behaved impeccably for him.
It was after a class, sitting alone with my friend Orlando, enthusing over Hardy’s countryside descriptions, that we realised each had a hand resting on the other’s thigh. But we both knew that wasn’t where we longed for them to be.
I’d never given a thought to doing anything like this with Orlando, and nor, I’m sure, had he with me. But I felt his hand on me, alive and electric over my pants as if it had been inside them; which of course it soon was, and mine in his.
It wasn’t at all as you might imagine. Excitement wouldn’t be the right word, and there was no ‘gung-ho, we’ve broken your rules.’ Feeling his hand inside my pants was tender, close, above all, soothing. All the tension and frustration built up since that very first ‘if-ever-I-catch-you-playing-with-yourself’ melted in the almost liquid sensation that rushed through my body from that warm touch inside my trousers.
The touch became a clasp as our hands drank in the intimacy. Mine nestled between his thighs, snugly against his balls, while his fingers teased my penis into stiffness, gently stroking it as it responded.
Everything about him seemed to say ‘Yes, you can.’ Everything about me responded, ‘Yes, you must.’ His hardening, lengthening shaft said, without any words: ‘Yes, you’re giving me pleasure I’ve longed for.’
The world was stilled into a rapturous, soothing oasis, a haven in a school that even one of the masters had described as a ‘bear garden’.
Safe where we were, but now utterly careless of consequences, we each slid our pants away and for a moment worshipped the secrets we saw and all they promised. Both our cocks were fully erect now; there was no doubting his penis was bigger, thicker than mine but the knowledge only made me, even more, yearn to hold it, stimulate it and honour it.
I reached out a hand and gently traced the skin that rippled over his ribbed shaft. I caressed his foreskin and tentatively eased it back to reveal a tip fleshier than mine with a more pronounced helmet.
In almost hypnotic delirium, I thought I was going to lose consciousness as I felt one of his hands cup my balls while the other mirrored over my cock the movements of my hand over his own dick.
How could anyone ever say this beauty was punishable?
I looked towards him. He returned the glance and we kissed, still holding on to our new-found treasure troves.
We ministered to each other, our hands instinctive in their invention of new stimuli; stroking, tapping, squeezing, loving. Now teasing a tip, now caressing the balls, ever discovering new exquisite responses. Orlando had a sensuous, heavy sac that made his treasures a delight to clasp, and it had been unimaginable to me how much love could be conveyed by the lightest touch of a finger between my thighs.
Then we could hold back no more. Soundlessly, my cock was screaming out for him. And I wanted his. Our hands obeyed our hormones. Now we were anything but soundless. We kissed again. Our tongues became as active as our hands. Until, simultaneously, we found release. What had seemed a lifetime of magisterial tyranny and parental disapprobation was blown away in a moment of pure ecstasy.
We sat back. We were happy.
It was only later that night when the guilt set in. Deep, long-lasting. For four days, I did not dare talk to him. For three nights, I tossed and turned. My sleeping dreams resounded with the barks of masters, parents, judges, magistrates, reproaching, shaming, condemning. Then I’d wake to waves of relief knowing it was a dream. I hadn’t done anything wrong; I wasn’t going to prison. A mere moment later I’d be overwhelmed by the consciousness that I had indeed done something heinous.
And yet, I longed to re-experience that hour of solace, that paradox; arousal which comforted; stimulus that soothed. Just to feel the touch of his hand on my loins again. To feel the clasp over my balls, and the feathery touch behind them. On the fourth morning I awoke, vividly imagining his presence. It wasn’t just my penis; everywhere seemed to thirst for him. Everywhere tingled. Even my ass felt strange new sensations.
I had to see him again.
He was only too pleased. He didn’t wait for me to speak.
“Justin. I haven’t thanked you for Monday. You’ve no idea what you did for me.”
“The same for me. I…”
“On Saturday. Free afternoon. Meet me at Firmount Woods. The North East bridge.”
We met. The forest is huge, and as tourists never wander far from their cars, anyone with a modicum of energy can find privacy within minutes.
And we had plenty of energy. Physical, emotional, sexual. Watched only by the trees we flung ourselves into each other’s arms. As we kissed our cocks reached towards each other, hard with longing, pressing against our bellies, making their requests known. My arms held him greedily while I felt him embrace me totally, an arm round my shoulder, the other around my ass. He clasped it so tightly I could feel both our dicks throbbing with anticipatory ecstasy.
Already, I was wondering what he would look like naked. I knew what his cock looked like. I loved his cock. He felt the same. We almost tore each other’s clothes in our desperation.
I had to stand back in stunned admiration. He looked beautiful. To me, his ass was perfect. His slender body allowed his thick, aspiring penis to show to full advantage. Neither it nor his supple, heavy sac were obscured by the setting of soft, dark curls that surrounded them. I felt his eyes over my nakedness; inquiring, appraising and then simply loving.
Generally speaking, we were well-matched in size and shape, though I would have loved to have my dick just that slight touch bigger, and to have had the succulent head that he had. But he didn’t seem to mind, and he seemed to glean as much pleasure from tending my balls as I had from just looking at the rich satin of the sack that held his heavy treasures.
Had he learnt from an expert or was it instinct when he bent and put his lips to my dick? Under his spell, it was already standing so straight that he didn’t have to hold it and could play with my balls while he covered my cock with little feathery kisses. As he delicately nibbled my foreskin my penis slid into his mouth. He played over its tip with the tip of his tongue before his tongue rested against my glans and continued to play conjuring tricks all along the length of my ecstasy. I began to be terrified I would come before we had properly started.
But he knew. Abruptly he released my penis with a gesture that said unmistakably: ‘Now, you know what to do.’
He was a good teacher, and judging by the noises he made, I was evidently a good student. First, my fingers, then lips, then my mouth, repaid all the gratitude at what he had done for me. In my mouth his cock was stiff, succulent, and sweet. At last, I was able to come close and kiss the heavy-laden satin between his thighs. His sighs of appreciation left nothing more to be said.
We lay, side by side, on the forest floor. Had he known of my dreams and waking feelings? Had he observed me and read my mind, an invisible presence in my bedroom as I discovered all those new feelings; those warm, tingling yearnings in my ass? He was stroking it now, inspiring anew the very sensations. He stretched my cheeks apart. I didn’t know why. I just enjoyed with a puzzled pleasure each new experience. He had taken control of me; laid me on my side in front of him. His fingers played with my ass. He sought out ecstasy that I’d thought could only be felt by a penis. Now it was my turn to moan, to cry out. Just as I thought nothing could be more overwhelming he withdrew his fingers and introduced the sheer magic of his cock into me. He had prepared me so beautifully that it was hardly painful. My only thought was that we were made for each other and I never wanted it to stop.
As he rode me, his hand reached forward around my penis again. Expertly he ministered to it while his own cock poured exhilaration into me. We cared not who heard the cries that echoed as we both climaxed.
For minutes neither spoke. We lay side by side. Contentment poured over me. Its balm cleansed everything that would sully this perfect moment, neutralising all the poison of vitriolic masters and caustic parents. I think for a time we both fell asleep. I felt I sank into an ocean of silence, stilling every clamour and reproach of home or Supercollege. Floating on my back in this healing ocean I was aware only of the warmth and radiance coming from this loving presence beside me.
Over the sunshine of my mind passed a fleeting cloud of doubt. What if the guilt returned?
Then the happiness flowed back, its warmth banishing every desire except one: that I should be able to do for Orlando what he had done for me and make him as happy. He accepted my offer. ‘Perhaps, next Saturday?’