Email address: pplesko@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel:Part 10 of "Rumors," Brian's back-story.
Pairings: Brian/OMC
Category: Angst, Drama
Rating: NC-17
Date: August 12, 2003
Summary: There's something new in Brian's life...compulsion.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Un-safe sex
Author’s Note: The change from "hunted" to "hunter" occurs slowly. But "Rumors" and Liberty Avenue have had their influence.
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for a living,
And the child that's born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
Monday’s-boy was a guy I met in the shower at the gym. The face of an angel, but the body of a devil…looking much better without the baggy soccer shorts he’d been wearing in the dressing room when I arrived. Just a few additional soapy strokes of my cock caught his attention. I caught him staring at it. He was embarrassed, at first, but he moved to an adjacent showerhead to get a better look and to strike-up a conversation. We went back to his dorm room…a rare single room with a balcony… to smoke some grass and to fuck into the wee hours. He said he occasionally met guys in the gym, but that he’d never had a night like this one. I walked back to my small apartment at 2 am, still invigorated from the rambunctious sex-play.
…………………
I met Tuesday’s-boy in the gym also. He was walking through the hall with one strap of his tank top draping over his shoulder revealing the most perfectly formed pec. He rubbed the bare shoulder with a chalky hand…a gymnast, I guessed. He looked upset. The blond hair, dampened and darkened, clung to his forehead like crude bangs.
“Shit!” he said as he passed me.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Are you OK?”
“I just popped my shoulder,” he said. “Hurts like Hell and I need a trainer…but none are around. Think you can shove this back into alignment?”
“Just tell me what to do,” I said.
He explained how to press on his shoulder from behind while pulling on the crest of his trapezius with the other. Every time I touched him to practice, he winced.
“Will this hurt?” I asked…already knowing the answer.
“It’ll hurt for a split second…very badly…but not as much as the cumulative pain of waiting for someone else to do it,” he said. “Go ahead…my teammates do it all the time. It’s just one of my many weak spots.”
I rehearsed the move a few times in my imagination and then gave him a quick jerk. He reacted with a reflex shudder, and when I turned him around his face was ashen and his eyes glazed. “I’m OK,” he whispered, then bit his lower lip.
I talked to him for a few more minutes about how he had dislocated it…and how it was happening more and more frequently.
“How can I repay you?” he said, glancing down after the word “repay,” so that I might not read the real meaning of his question. But I had seen the look in his eye as we had begun the conversation… the eyes like stroking fingers caressing my body… the unconscious tongue-swipes on open lips… the body language of desire.
“When you’re feeling better,” I said. “When the pain is gone.”
“Nothing takes my mind off the pain better than a…” He didn’t need to say the words; I knew what he wanted. The smile that developed before our eyes met again said more than words.
“Where?” I asked, placing my hand on his muscular forearm.
“The gymnastics arena is too big…too many doors,” he said, thinking on his feet. “But,…I have a key to the gymnastics equipment room. I’m the team captain…and the coach is out-of-town, so…”
“Lead the way,” I said with a return-grin. “Maybe you can show me a little floor exercise routine…maybe a little Thomas Flair…but definitely a perfect landing.” We both laughed because the images were athletic and sexual at the same time.
He was quite a bit smaller than I, with the gorgeous, lean musculature of a champion. Broad shoulders with accentuated deltoids, pecs like slabs of beef, abs that showed the striations of individual muscle fibers, and the trim, square ass that showed that he could do things with those legs that no mortal had ever imagined.
“We can leave the light on…or turn it off,” he said as he opened the door to the equipment room. The small, square, wire-mesh-imbedded window would provide sufficient light to find the appropriate anatomical parts. I could have done it in the dark.
“I’ll be careful with the shoulder,” I said, pulling him close.
“Don’t treat me like I’ll break,” he countered. “You can’t do anything worse to my body than I’ve done to it myself…a hundred times.”
I laughed. “And I only get one try. Unlike the Vault.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said with a faint smile. I knew this would be the only time we would be together…despite his beauty…despite his grace…despite his agility…despite his intensity of desire.
He stood relaxed, waiting for me to make a move. I reached to his shoulder and slipped the remaining strap over the muscular hump. The tight lycra bunched across his pecs. I reached into his shorts then, one hand on each side, and grasped the shirt tail, stripping it upward as he raised his arms above his head in the most elegant way. His torso was hairless…pits, chest and belly, just the way I liked it....so that every muscle would show when he did his routine. Even in the dim light his body looked like chiseled, flesh-colored, statuary marble. His body was my toy, to enjoy as I wished.
“I think I have what you want...in here,” he said putting his thumbs in his skimpy shorts.
I took a handful of the thin fabric in my fist and pulled. “Yeah...” I said. “If you’re talking about that slim ass.” As I pulled, the fabric ripped into three large pieces dangling from the waistband like plates of armor, suddenly useless. He dropped to his knees.
“Let me suck you first,” he said. “I know what to do.” He reached up my inner thigh and gripped my semi-hard cock sequestered in the fabric of my exercise shorts. “I knew you didn’t wear a supporter,” he said. “Or any underwear. I’ve learned to judge the bounce-and-the-bulge. Those of us who spend our time in the gym are experts at this.” He pulled my hard cock out of my shorts, pressing the gathered rayon onto my hip. “There,” he said with a smile. “I’ve got what I want.”
He leaned forward, gathering cock and balls into his mouth as my cock sprang to attention. I gathered the blond hair into my fist. The curls splayed out of my fingers like yellow cake frosting squeezed in a tight fist. His hungry mouth gulped on the column that would soon violate that sacred temple.
He looked up at that moment, ready to swallow my whole member, but realizing that it would not be enough. He smiled, knowingly. “You want the Olympic version of my routine,” he said as my cock slipped into his lips.
“You can score a ten...maybe,” I said, tightening my grip on his hair. “But there are no medals for this.”
“I can wear this medal in my heart...forever,” he said, diving onto my shaft again.
“That’s not where you’ll wear it,” I said, beginning the in-and out thrusts that showed him I meant business.
I let him pleasure me with his mouth until the urge was too great. He knew he was preparing me to more.
And, in the end, the gymnastic equipment provided the perfect position for fucking....because I bent him over it, at the last minute, and gave him the most sensuous pommel horse routine he had every accomplished....the Splayed Penetration... the Ass-grinding Pirouette, The Y-Spasm, the “Fuck-Me” Flail, the Back-arching Shot-to-the-Heavens, the sensuous “I-am-Yours”-finale. The impact of my thrusts lifted him onto his toes as his belly crept over the saddle of “the horse.” Was it my imagination, or did his toes point in just the perfect position to define his gastrocnemius? As the “routine” came to an end, I filled him with my cum as if he were a jelly-doughnut.
“You didn’t use a condom,” he said when it was over.
I know,” I said, feeling guilty. “I know that I’m not positive...so sometimes I forget. It’s not PC, I know...”
He said “That’s OK, but next time...” His voice trailed off as he sank into that deep relaxation that only hot sex can trigger. “I wanted to feel you inside me... I wanted to feel you fill me. I could have used Tylenol...but you’re a hundred-times better.” He was covered with a thin film of sweat, and draped over the horse like a wet towel. “I feel like I could do my routine now...with a perfect score of ten. You’re incredible.” He reached out with limp arms to gather my neck and shoulders into his grasp. “How about doing the whole team?” he teased, pulling me down onto him. “They’re all closet gay-boys who do all this exercise just to appeal to guys like you. Even the married ones....” he said, pulling me down onto him as if he wanted to start again. As I gathered my clothes, I looked back to see his perfection still draped over the horse like a Michaelangelo Pieta. Or like Saint Sebastian bristling with arrows. The look of satisfaction on his perfect face said it all.
............................................
What is it they say about Wednesday’s child? “Full of woe”? Well, he was full of something, but the woe probably came the next morning when his stretched ass finally regained some sensation.
Wednesday’s-boy was someone I met walking across campus that evening. I had been studying late and needed some exercise to take my mind off fucking. But when we passed on the dark sidewalk, our eyes met,… and I knew there was a spark of interest. I waited until he had taken several more steps which would put him under a street-light…and then I turned. Yes, he had turned, too. I took a few steps backwards, never removing my eyes from him, until I, too, was in the circle of an overhead lamp. And then I stopped and turned away to lean against the pole to light a cigarette. I heard his footsteps approach without turning. “Don’t I know you?” he said. “I’ve seen you before.”
“Do you want to know me?” I asked. “Maybe I was in one of your classes…or maybe we’ve nodded at the gym. I’m there quite a bit.”
“Yeah…it looks it,” he said, taking in my chiseled torso accentuated by the overhead light. He brushed his hand subconsciously over his own chest, giving the nipple a flick through the thin tee shirt with his thumb. “You got a place to go?”
“Right here,” I said. We were standing near the clump of rhododendrons in front of the Carnegie Building… where John had sucked me the first time just a little over a year ago.
“Here? Under the street light?”
I have him one push in the center of his chest that pushed him into the darkness. “No, Dickhead,… in the bushes.” I pulled aside a branch and brushed past him into the interior of the clump… just feet from the sidewalk, but ever so secluded. He followed, almost stunned. “Get outa those shorts.”
In the darkness, he gave me a puzzled look, as if this was not what he’d intended. But his hands moved to his belt buckle and the shorts were at his ankles in one second. He stepped out of them as I pushed him backward a step, then opened my jeans. “Against the wall,” I said. “Do it.”
He looked afraid momentarily…as if he had intended a handshake, and was now being expected to deliver a blow-job… or he had intended a blow-job, but now was expected to… my intent was sinking into his consciousness. He turned to the brick foundation of the building as I pulled off my loafers, tee shirt, and jeans, retrieving that condom I carried at all times for “emergencies.” This would be a quick one…just enough to satisfy my urge for danger and his urge for sexual contact. I pushed his tee-shirt up his back as I approached. My chin tucked into the juncture of his shoulder and neck as my hand pressed the other shoulder against the rough brick. With the other hand, I stripped the condom onto my already-hard shaft. He felt its size against his hip and he tried to turn his head to say something, but before he could, I growled “I’m gonna fuck your boy ass right here where you’ll remember it every time you walk by. Roll that ass toward me.”
He did it… pressing his chest against the sharp brick and digging his fingernails into the mortar-joints. I slipped the tip into the hotness of his crack without even a guiding hand. Its upward curve found the target without a second try. His shape guided me right to the spot. The sphincter spasmed against my tip as if trying to suck me. Some guys were just anatomically meant to be fucked.
He moaned as I pressed into him, tight an unprepared for this. With my weight against his back, and digging into the dirt with my toes, I felt his gasp for a breath. If he shouted or even talked loudly, we might be discovered. I move my hand from his shoulder to his face to cover his mouth and to prevent an outcry. He tensed on my cock, more in fear than arousal, but I began the in and out motion which would bring us both to a climax. “Keep quiet,” I whispered in his ear, “or the campus police will have both our asses.” He nodded…and I removed my hand.
“God! You’re so big,” he said.
“It gets bigger,” I hissed. “Just wait.” He moaned softly, now in-control of the pain and beginning to enjoy the ride.
We sidestepped three feet to the left, dragging his hard cock against the Running Bond of Carnegie. “Put your foot on the pipe,” I instructed… “Open you up.” The large pipe came through the foundation at a height of about 2 feet, then dove into the dirt. With his foot atop the pipe, his hips rolled wider giving me just the added depth for full-stroke fucking. And, standing on one foot, he needed my help to maintain his balance. He felt the difference immediately as my cock-tip made the curve and surged into new territory. He was frantic now… alternately clutching the wall for support, then pushing himself away for comfort…rolling his pelvis downward to lift his ass, then driving back onto my shaft for more stimulation… groaning with pain, then moaning with pleasure.
We came simultaneously. Without touching himself, he shot his cumload over the brick then smeared it into a gleaming sheen with his belly. His ass tightened with each expulsion, heightening my explosive power. We trembled together in the aftermath like boulders shaken together by an earthquake.
He was still clutching the wall for support as I retrieved my clothing and got dressed. I left him there, shirt draped over his shoulders and legs still trembling. I remember wondering whether he would recognize me the next time our paths crossed. He’d certainly remember this night.
……………………
Have you ever become suddenly aware that someone is watching you? The intensity of his gaze gave me a burning sensation on the back of my neck. It was like a sixth sense... like taste, smell, or touch... I’ll call it Lust... the physical awareness that someone is getting sexual pleasure from observing you.
I was in the Weiss grocery store doing my usual ritual...tracing the aisles from right to left...produce, seafood, meat, canned goods, dairy, frozen foods, bread...always the same order, always the same route. He followed me at a distance, making sure that there was another shopper or another cart between us. Tall, young, dark longish hair and dark eyes, chiseled features with a rugged handsomeness, large hands, a fit body... he was dropping items randomly into his cart without even looking at the shelves. His eyes were constantly on me...except for the moments when I looked his way. It was hard to not be conspicuous in a tight, red muscle-shirt. I decided to test him, so I suddenly wheeled my cart past him and back four aisles to the produce section again. It took a few moments... but there he was again... following me. I strolled slowly past the green, leafy vegetables... then made a quick right turn that brought me directly past his cart. I paused and leaned toward him, pointing at one particular cucumber in the ordered array. “This one,” I said. “Extra-long and thick...just right.”
He smiled. “Is that how it is?” he said, glancing down at the bulge in the left pant-leg of my jeans. “Ripe and juicy?”
I nodded my assent. “Skip the frozen food. You’re not going straight home from the store,” I said. It was then that I noticed the wedding ring on his left hand.
“I was just looking,” he said quietly so that other shoppers wouldn’t hear. “You’re very nice.”
“Look, but don’t touch? Is that it?” I reached for the cucumber and put it in his cart. “Here. Use this then,” I said turning away.
“No, wait!” he said, returning the cucumber to its place in the ordered rows. “Let’s talk.”
“Not here,” I said. “The corn has ears.”
He laughed at my stupid joke. “In the parking lot…Atherton Street exit. I’ll be in a gray Saturn.” He turned. I watched him walk away. Narrow hips in the low-slung jeans, a fine ass, thin, muscular legs. I imagined them over my shoulders.
He was waiting for me at the exit when I finished putting my groceries in the car. “Follow me,” he said, bending down to bring his face close to my window. “I know a place.”
The black Saturn roared off, south out of State College and I followed in hot-pursuit. He obviously knew where he was going, but I was struggling to remember each twist and turn so that I could find my way back to State College. We seemed to be making a wide circle to the south…through Greenwood Furnace State Park…then Turkey Hill Road…and finally a sharp turn onto a road that almost didn’t look like a road at all. The entrance was almost obscured by overhanging trees. The gravel road quickly turned into two mud ruts as it curved up and up again through dense forest. His brake lights signaled that he was slowing to a stop. I pulled up behind him and shut off the engine. He was out of his car by the time I opened my door. We met face-to-face in the silent forest.
“The road goes to my father-in-law’s summer cabin,” he said. “I don’t have a key… but no one will come up here. They’re in Florida until June.” He leaned against the rear fender of the Saturn.
“Even the fucking bears would get lost out here,” I said, stepping forward so that my thigh brushed his. “But I don’t care where we are…as long as you’re gonna give me what I want.”
“It’s what I want, too,” he said, looking away. “I don’t do this often… but…”
“You’re married.” I interrupted. “I saw the ring.”
“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I fooled around with guys when I was in high school and college… but I always considered myself to be bi-. Girlfriends for trophies… maintaining the hetero-image. And then the condom failed…and she got pregnant…and the rest is history. I’m too young…and trapped in a sad marriage …with a little daughter… and sometimes I just ache for the touch of another guy.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. I knew the ache…but at least I had the freedom to satisfy the urge when I felt it.
“Even when I fuck her,” he said, looking up with sad eyes, “…I’m wondering how it feels to be stuffed full of cock and to be pounded into submission. The fantasy makes me fuck her harder, of course... and it's probably the only thing I do right in this fucking marriage."
He swatted a mosquito. It had taken a few minutes for them to find us, but now we were both surrounded by a buzzing cloud of blood-hungry insects. The conversation was interrupted while we moved into the back seat of his car and slapped the remaining mosquitoes that clung to us.
“So much for being alone,” I said with a grin. “They’re everywhere this time of year.” The closeness of a Saturn’s back seat provided immediate intimacy for two large guys. I could smell his after-shave mixed with the sweat of arousal. The mood changed as our eyes met; dark sensuality descended like a curtain. We were oblivious to our surroundings. I put my hand behind his neck and pulled him closer. He fumbled with the buttons on my shirt until he had it open to the navel. His mouth settled onto the overhang of my pec, sucking my nipple as his hand slipped up my inner thigh to cup my basket in his fist.
“Extra-long and thick...just right,” he said softly. I pulled the back of his damp tee shirt out of the tight waistband of his jeans. His back felt hot to my touch. The indentation of his spinal column between thick ridges of muscle guided my hand, upward at first, then downward into the tightness of his jeans. He quickly struggled to release his belt, making room for my hand to descend farther. His ass-crack was hot and moist… the tight cleavage between muscle-mounds. He rolled closer to me, driving my hand deeper.
“Let me see it,” he begged. “And then I want to suck you. I haven’t tasted cock for six months.”
“Get it out,” I said. “I like my hand right where it is.” He smiled as my fingers pressed deeper into him.
He unbuckled my belt, still nuzzling my chest, then opened the buttons of my fly. My
cock spilled-out like lava under pressure. “A beauty,” he said with a low whistle. He lunged then, pressing me backward against the car door and diving for my cock with an open mouth. His lips grazed its semi-hardness. His tongue pulled the last bit from the tightness of my jeans.
“Get me fully hard, and I’ll fuck the shit out of you,” I promised. He looked up momentarily as if to acknowledge it with his eyes, then descended again to lift the tip into his lips. His mouth felt so good. I gripped the back of the front seat with one hand and the headrest of the back seat with the other, flaring my lats as he began to suck me seriously. I tilted my head back against the cool glass, imagining my cock sliding between wet lips as I rolled my pelvis slowly in-rhythm with his ministrations. “I’ll let him get his fill of this,” I thought. “He can suck me all day if he can do this good a job.” I lay back and enjoyed the ride. “You do a good job,… for a hetero,” I said aloud. He looked up, smiled, smacked his lips, and went back to work with the intensity of a wine-taster.
His head bobbed over my open fly. His hands gripped the waistband of my jeans at the hips and began to pull them down. I lifted my ass slightly to let the fabric slide between my ass and the car seat. When they were low enough, he encircled my balls with his fingers, milking them gently. I would let him taste my first cum load, I decided. It would let me fuck him longer when the time came.
I gripped his head between my hands, arching my back and tensing my pecs. “Take me all the way,” I said, increasing his speed with the force of my grasp. He looked up then… that supreme moment when a guy looks up at you in adoration and awe… with his lips tightly surrounding your cock… and the bulge of his Adam’s apple bouncing as he swallows on the head… the moment at which his eyes say “I love you” for lack of words…the moment at which you want to fill him with your jizz… the moment at which you feel it bubbling forth from the balls within his grasp… the pressure rising to an almost unbearable level as you tighten to make it last one second longer… the gushing release as you reach the limit of self-control… the frantic grasping…the wild convulsions…the unintelligible cry… the persistent mouth wanting more, sucking the last drops from super-sensitive balls… the second-wave of expulsion racking your body with uncoordinated muscle contractions… the feeling that you could die at this moment and feel no regret. The moment seems to last for eternity… and then is over too soon.
He pulled off, then…tight lips milking the remaining drops from my urethra like toothpaste from the tube… eager tongue tasting the last drops because the earlier spurts had been ejected too deep to taste. The taste-memory of each man’s cum is never forgotten. He brought the last drops as passengers on his lips as be crawled over me to kiss me. “Share,” he said. We kissed long and hard…mouths grinding on one another…tongues dueling…noses battling for dominance. I gripped the back of his hair with my fist and pulled him backward until our lips parted. “You are SO hot,” he said. “But I wanted you to save it…to fuck my ass,” he said, tightening his lips afterwards to hide the disappointment.
“There’s more where that came from.” I said. “Meanwhile, get those pants off and get your cock out. I want you to jack off while I watch.”
He smiled. “That should be easy…if I’m lookin’ at you,” he whispered.
While he pulled off his tight jeans,… no easy feat in the back seat…I pulled off the shirt that still clung around my shoulders. I was naked now from the knees up. His extra-large nipple disks showed through the red cotton of the muscle-shirt, and below it a faint hair-trail descended over his firm abs and a denser trail over his lower belly branched into a substantial bush from which his cock rose like a great tree. He knelt with one knee between my thighs and his other foot in the foot-well at my side. His right hand gripped the swaying shaft…and he began the slow motion so familiar to every guy.
“When I saw you in the store,” he said, “I never imagined I’d be naked with you…in my car.”
“You never know what kind of bargain you can ‘pick-up’ at the store,” I said, watching his arm and shoulder muscles jack the hard cock. His free hand brushed across the small pool of cum that had continued to drip; he spread it over my abs as if he were finger-painting.
“I can’t believe I had that whole thing in my mouth,” he said, nodding toward my cock. “And you body…” he continued… “I want to shoot my load all over you.”
“Get it in my eye and you win the prize,” I said jokingly.
“A challenge …like that …makes it …even more fun,” he said with gasping breaths. His hand had sped-up and his grip had tightened, making his cock-tip glow with deep redness. “Never dare me to do anything,” he continued. “I’m a sucker for a dare. I’ll do almost anything.”
I chuckled. “I’ll remember that,” I said. “I can use that to my advantage…later.”
“Ahhhhh…I’m getting close,” he moaned. His abs tightened into knots and his pecs fluttered with excitement. With jaw open, chin protruding, and eyes cast upward he looked as if he were working intently.
“Shoot it, man,” I urged. “Look at me.”
His eyes snapped back to my chest… then widened in anticipation. “Gonna…CUM!” he said, shooting his load onto my chest. His pelvis rocked back, almost like a recoil, and then shot forward again as his second shot hit my face.
“Close enough,” I said, making him laugh as the remaining expulsions dribbled onto my belly. I gathered some of his cum on my fingers and fed it to him. He licked my fingers eagerly. I spread the remainder over my chest, marking myself with his scent. “Keeps the mosquitoes away,” I said with a broad grin.
I sat up, trying to figure out how two grown men could fuck in the back seat of a Saturn. After a few tries, positioning him, I still couldn’t find a way to get the proper angle for insertion. He started to laugh…which made me laugh…and we ended-up clutching each other, convulsing in laughter. “I wish I had a station wagon,” he said. “Or an ambulance, or a hearse.”
“Damn the mosquitoes,” I said. “I want that ass, even if it means a few bites. Come on.” I opened the door and backed out of the car pulling him by the wrist. The outside air was noticeably cooler; we had certainly heated-up the interior.
“The trunk is stronger than the hood,” he said as we tried to figure out the logistics. So I pushed his ass back onto the trunk and lifted his legs over one forearm. He sank back against the rear window as I rolled his knees forward toward his chest. When his ass rolled into view, I pressed the heel of my hand into the cleavage between his cheeks and rubbed the length of his crack, spreading him wider. As my Opponens slipped over his anus, I felt his glutes tighten vice-like on the fleshy part of my hand, wanting to hold it there. He had developed a cold-sweat of anticipation. A few strokes of my cock and I was hard again. He reached between his legs to feel it…to guide it.
“You brush the mosquitoes off me, and I’ll brush ‘em off you…and what we can’t reach will just add some sensory stimulation,” I said as I pushed forward, sliding the pre-lubed condom on my shaft while I spread him open with my shoulders.
“Fuck me,” he said. “It’s what I need.”
“We’ll see if you need as much as I’m gonna give you,” I said, feeling the head slip into the tightness of his opening. He twisted, trying to re-arrange the folds in his sphincter… trying to open for me. I didn’t wait. I shoved it into him. He gasped once, then clawed for my shoulders. “Take it,” I growled. “You wanted to feel what it’s like to take ‘The Big One.’ Well, here it IS!” I surged into him almost full-depth as the back of his head hit the window. His legs clutched my shoulders. His heels pounded my back.
“Damn!” he shouted into the silent forest.
I gripped his thighs tightly with my forearms and hands, then started to pump into him in-earnest. His ass rocked back and forth on the cool, gray metal. The car's springs creaked like distant crickets. I stepped onto the rear bumper with one foot to get a better angle, then leaned sharply over him. Deep in his eyes I could see the satisfaction...the gratification of delayed longing... the compulsion for male intimacy, realized. He moaned softly, incapable of words. “Every time you give it to her, remember THIS,” I said, finally reaching full-depth and full-stroke. “Satisfy her needs, even if it doesn’t satisfy YOURS.” For emphasis I slammed into him so hard that the back of his head bounced against the window. He reached out for me now, instead of grasping the car for support... fingers clutching at my shoulders, biceps flexing as if he were trying to lift himself off the metal, his heels digging into my back.
I came then... thinking of his wife, whimpering and crying as he was doing... never knowing that she was not satisfying his need...that she was incapable of satisfying his need... just as this boy/man was unable to totally satisfy mine. No one could.
I left him with his legs still in the air, dazed and delirious. It felt odd to be naked behind the wheel of my car, but I wanted to get out of there quickly without the post-fuck conversation. Near the end of the dirt-road, before it joined the highway, I stopped to put on my clothes. The smell of him on my body reminded me of the futility of it all.
.................................
On Friday night, I packed my gear for the trip to Altoona...just the basics for hygiene and comfort. I planned to arrive late; the Labyrinth was the reason for my trip, and it didn’t open until Saturday. The backroom and the Pit were losing some of their appeal, apparently....superseded by the shower, the locker room, and the produce section.
The night had not been a block-buster. The parking lot had only six cars when I arrived at 12:00. Most guys were probably saving their "juices” for Saturday.
Troy was behind the bar, as usual. His face brightened when I entered. “How was your week?” he asked.
“Oh, the usual,” I said, trying to remember the faces of the guys I’d fucked.
He tossed me a towel. “Wipe off the tables, will ya? This place is as dead as the ship’s morgue tonight. I’m gonna hustle the hangers-on out of the backroom with the offer of a free drink for-the-road...and then I’m gonna shut down. Everyone will be here tomorrow.” He stepped from behind the bar. “I’ve hired Kenny to tend the bar tomorrow night so I can be the proper host...upstairs,” he said with a wink. “I picked a guy who doesn’t drink much. He’s pretty reliable. You get to know all their habits from behind that bar.” By the time he returned with a few disheveled patrons, I had finished the tables.
Later, upstairs, we lay together, still dressed, on the not-quite-broad-enough bed.
“I have something for you,” he said softly as he reached for an object in the nightstand drawer. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot...and I think it’s the right thing.”
It was an envelope stuffed with money. And when I pulled out the bills, a small key chain with one key fell into my lap.
“It’s the key to the front door,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”
I let the key dangle from my finger. “By the time I get here, the door is usually open,” I said with a smile, remembering the one time I had been forced to bang on the door to awaken him.
“It’s not just for convenience,” he said, rolling to face me. “It’s a symbol of ownership. I want you to be my partner. My business-partner, that is,...until...” his voice trailed off, but I knew what he was thinking. Before I could interrupt he began again. “You’ve worked damned hard on this project...which will turn this place into a real money winner. It was your idea to start with...” (I wasn’t sure that was true.) “...and I couldn’t have done it without you. I want to make you a full-partner.” I smiled at the word “full,” always looking for the sexual joke.
I could have said “no,” then. I could have reminded him that my career was headed for a big city, not Altoona... that I wanted to expend my creative talents in advertising, not in filling condom dispensers. I had tasted the life in Pittsburgh, and I couldn’t be satisfied with tired, old Altoona...even with its newest attraction.
He took my smile as assent. Looking deep into my eyes for a moment, as if trying to read my thoughts written on my retinas, he waited for further encouragement. When none was forthcoming, he turned away and rose from the bed. “Get undressed,” he said. “Tomorrow’s a big day. Last-minute clean-up upstairs… a tour for some friends before the crowds appear…then the big opening at ten…and the fuck-fest begins.” He stripped quickly and was about to get back into bed when he saw me struggling to remove my jeans while still lying down. He gripped them at the ankles, lifted them high, and poured me out like sand. As he got back into bed, I pulled the tee-shirt over my head. His hand was on my chest before my face popped from the neck-hole. With the other, he started rolling me over.
“Not tonight,” I said, sleepily. “Let’s save it for tomorrow.”
“This has got to be a first,” he said with a smirk. “The great Brian Kinney, …turning down an ass-fuck.”
“I’m tired,” I complained. “This has been a hard week.”
“Then you just lie back,” he said, lowering me onto my back again. “Don’t move a muscle. Well, technically, it’s not a ‘muscle’ anyway,” he said, gripping my semi-erection.” I’ll do all the work.” He clicked off the light while stroking me slowly.
In the darkness, I felt his shifting position, the warmth of his breath on my groin, and then the moist lips on my cockhead. I followed his instruction, not moving a muscle…total relaxation…excepting the one part of my body unable to relax under these circumstances. He could take whatever he wanted from me. It was not freely given…but not withheld, either. If he could find pleasure in my neutrality, so be it. I closed my eyes, dreaming of the faint taste of shower room soap, the sturdiness of the pommel horse, the musty smell of trodden soil under the rhododendrons, and the buzz of mosquitoes. The tight lips around my shaft mimicked the pulsating muscles of boy-ass. He could have what he wanted. They could all have what they wanted. I felt the pressure building inside, pressing against slack abdominal muscles. I didn’t try to stop it or to hold it back to increase the pleasure. Just let the physiological response occur…the unavoidable out-flow…the gushing life-fluid destined for digestion rather than fertilization. It was the least I could do.