Title: No Such Thing As Enough
Author: Paul Plesko
Email address: pplesko@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: n/a
Pairings: Brian/Justin
Category: Drama, First Time, Episode-Related
Rating: NC-17
Date: Nov. 8, 2002
Summary: The missing details from episode 101
Spoilers: Episode 101
Warnings: None
Author Notes: From the beginning of my awareness that I could write fan-fiction, I have wanted to write this story.  While QAF Episode 101 was ground-breaking in its depiction of male-male sex on cable-television, it was fairly mild compared to male-male porn that is readily available.  So my story is a gap-filler in the true sense… in this case, the "gap" is Justin’s virgin ass.  And it reminds me of Brian's motto… "There's no such thing as 'enough'."

For a full understanding of this story, readers should have read my "Requiem" series because this story relates to Brian's back-story.

No Such Thing As Enough
a QAF fiction by Paul

We climbed the stairs two at a time… I in front, and the blond twink following on my heels.  Actually I felt as if I was floating up the stairs… and my skin had that gentle tingle that let me know the "E" (or whatever that shit was that Anita gave me) had fully taken effect.  I was feeling no pain; I could have climbed another hundred flights.  We were gonna finish what I'd started much earlier that night…before the phone call… before the trip to the hospital… before holding my….my son.  I almost missed a step at the thought of holding part of my own life in my hands…how he had reached out to graze my cheek…how he had stared at me as if he could look right through me.  He was already a piece of me…a piece of my life.  And speaking of "a piece," another one was right behind me racing to the culmination we had missed earlier.  He knew what he wanted… well, not exactly… but he knew he was gonna get it.  And he was eager.

At the top we both slammed into the metal door almost simultaneously making a sound that echoed down the stairwell like a thunderclap.  We were both out of breath.  With a quick punch of the security code we were inside…facing each other finally with heavy breathing and heaving chests.  I put my hand on his shoulder and looked at him for the longest time.  His beauty still affected me as it had that first moment under the street light.  He had been looking for something... and he still had that inquisitive look, like a puppy waiting for a treat... full of anticipation but not knowing the words to express it.

"Don't you ever use the elevator?" he said with a gasp.  "You're sure fit for someone…" He paused as if he realized he was treading on sensitive territory.  "for someone who works all day.  That other guy, Michael, said you were an executive or something."  He dodged the bullet.

"I use it sometimes… when I'm not in a hurry.  It's too slow when there's boy-ass waiting."  I let my hand slide down his side and around-back to take a handful of his Tommy Hilfigers.  "But… we have all night," I added.  "You're supposedly staying at a friend's house.  Could your folks try to reach you? Will that excuse stand-up?  What's the back-up plan?" 

He grinned that big sun-shiny grin.  "They trust me," he said.  "They have no reason not to.  And, if they call Daphne, she'll cover for me.  She's cool."  His face darkened for an instant.  "The only thing is…"

"A problem?"  I was removing my shoes and socks.

"Well… I didn't bring a toothbrush… and you're really supposed to brush before going to bed or else…"

"There's a set of guest tooth brushes in the bathroom.  Help yourself," I said.  "Everyone else does."

He gave me that closed-mouth, knowing smile this time.  I pulled him close against my chest, letting him feel the heat and dampness from the "E".  I'm sure he could sense my heart beating through my chest wall; I could feel the pulse pounding in my neck.  I kissed him hard and felt him sag in my grasp.  He instinctively returned the kiss as if he were feeding from my mouth.  As we kissed, my hands slipped up his back, then pulled the blue windbreaker down off his shoulders trapping his arms at his sides.  The unbuttoned shirt followed; his shoulders were thrust back as the fabric bunched at his elbows.  I bent down to moisten one of his nipples through the soft, white, cotton fabric of his tee-shirt…then pulled the shirt free from the waistband of his jeans and slipped my hand against his warm belly.  He moaned softly from the stimulation.  I could feel his heart beating wildly…experiencing a man's touch for the first time.  The fingers of my other hand slipped to his belt and unbuckled it…then to the button at the waist…without opening his pants more I thrust my hand deep into the tightness, making sure to slide under the waistband of his briefs.  His cock was already hard and slid into my fist.  It was as if the hospital-trip interruption had never happened.  He was primed and ready.  "Get out of those clothes… get naked," I said as I released him from my grasp.  And while he fumbled to free his hands from the bunched sleeves of the shirt and jacket, I slipped out of the white dress-shirt I had donned earlier… tossed the shirt and the white scoop-neck tank-top onto the floor and dropped my black jeans, kicking them under the desk.

"Are you OK?" he asked.  "You look a little flushed… or feverish."  He was right.  My chest glowed with the redness of an E-high now, and my skin had the sheen of sweat that makes skin look like polished marble.

"I'm fine," I said, dropping my thumbs into the waistband of my thong and shoving them down my thighs.  My cock sprang to half-staff and swayed as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and stepped out of the twisted fabric.  "This shit feels great.  You oughta try it."

He was still removing his shirt as I stepped forward again to help him.  Then I dropped to my knees as I finished unbuttoning his fly and stripping his pants down his slim legs.  His gray briefs stood straight-out.  I pinched the waistband and quickly dropped the front to cup his balls, freeing his cock which sprang towards his belly.  Only the young ones can manage the eleven-o'clock-angled erection.  I licked the underside of his cock, then surrounded the tip with my lips as I had done in the Jeep.  His knees almost buckled and he reached for my head for support.  I gripped the base and bend it downward to match the angle of my throat…then swallowed him to the pubes as I watched his face transform into the angelic rapture of a pre-Raphaelite painting.  I sucked hard and pulled off him dragging the skin of his shaft along the rigid interior with my tight lips.  He shuddered again.

"Back to the bed… let's resume where we left-off," I said, guiding him with my arm around his shoulder.  I stepped straight up onto the bed platform and then onto the mattress, kicking the duvet onto the floor; no need to subject it to further "soiling."  He paused, then joined me as I lay down on the expanse of gray-blue sheets. The blue lights had been left burning; we had departed in a hurry.

He lay beside me, unsure of what to do.  He knew what would happen, but he wasn't sure how to get there.  I lay flat on my back and reached for the bottle of Jim Beam I kept beside the bed.  I took a long swig, then offered it to him.  "Want some? Do you drink?" I said, knowing full-well he was underage.

"Well, I've had a screwdriver at a school party at someone house… and my folks let me drink wine on special occasions.  What's that?"

"Meet my friend, Jim Beam," I said.  "It's whiskey."  He started to reach for it, then retrieved his hand.

"I'd better not," he said.

"No," I said.  "Take some.  It'll make this a little easier."  He still looked hesitant although he wanted to please me.  "Here, I'll make it easy for you."  With a flip of my wrist I splashed a dousing on my torso from pec-to-abs.  "Lick it," I said.  "You'll like it."  I reached for the back of his neck and pulled his face to my chest.

He inhaled its burning pungency first, then licked tentatively, and more enthusiastically.  "It burns a little," he said between licks… "but it tastes good."  He went back to work.

"Feed from me…" His velvet tongue on my hot skin made my cock stand at full-attention.  He made me want to fuck him immediately… but I knew I had to prepare him first. 

After he'd finished sucking the pool from my navel, I said, "Now, roll over and let me show you how wonderful that feels."  He pulled away, ready to try anything, then shifted his weight and rolled onto his belly.  His beautiful boy-ass rolled into view under the blue lights.  I sat up and positioned myself astride his thighs with my cock lying heavily in the cleft between his ass-cheeks.  I stroked slowly up his back with both hands symmetrically until I was pressing his shoulders into the mattress… and I bent down to kiss the back of his neck.  "Now, see how you like THIS," I whispered.  With my tongue as a tight point, I touched his back between his shoulder blades, then traced slowly down his spine, sliding my ass along his legs as my tongue descended into the small of his back.  His back arched beautifully to meet me.  He tasted of vanilla; or, was it simply my mind playing tricks on me?  As I descended further, my chin split the beginning of his ass crack, opening it for my tongue, which followed close behind.  He releases a soft sigh as he arched his back more sharply, lifting his head with his mouth open widely.  I pressed my knees between his calves and wedged his legs apart into a wide "V" opening him even further.  Spreading his ass-cheeks with my hands, I delved more deeply.  His inner thigh muscles quivered involuntarily; his sphincter tightened as my tongue approached. I gave it to him then… full tongue deep, countering his tightness with the wriggling tip… then pulled back to give the entire opening a wide-tongued lick… and then returned with the probing tip. "Now you know what rimming is…" I said, lifting my head.

"Aaaahhhhhh," he moaned.  "I never knew it could feel so good." 

"You've played with it.  I know…" I said in one short pause.  He nodded wordlessly and inhaled sharply as my tongue returned.

I pressed down with one hand in the small of his back while sliding the other under his groin, rolling his pelvis to improve my angle of penetration.  He moaned again, louder.  My burrowing hand found his cock and encircled it.  He rocked his pelvis as if to fuck my fist.  The boy knew the moves.  I fisted him slowly in rhythm with my tongue-work.  His entire body rocked slowly to my movements.

"Ooooh… this is wonderful!" he groaned, almost painfully as if he didn't want it to end.  "I feel it deep inside me…" To be truthful, I was only in about an inch-and-a-half; he didn't know what "deep" was… yet.  I increased the length of my broad-tongue swaths, licking him from perineum to sacrum and wetting him with my saliva.  He tasted of musk and soap… of earthiness and hygiene… of filth and purity… one of the dualities of Nature.

And then I replaced my tongue with one probing finger swirling in his whirlpool.  My tongue continued to lick around the margins as I pressed deeper into him.  He arched his back again sharply and tightened as if to exclude my penetration… involuntarily… but he knew he wanted it.  I was just showing him how it felt; my finger was small compared to what was to come.  He rolled his pelvis and fucked my fist faster now, so I released him; I wanted all of his attention focused on his sphincter.  I could have continued fingering him and rimming him all night and he would have remembered nothing more than a dream in the morning.

He clawed at the sheets in frustration; I was making him wait because he would be all that more ready when the time came.  I pressed in deeper, sliding along the front surface of his rectum until I found the firm bulge of his prostate.  I would show him its pleasures now…and use it to torment him later.  I felt his body stiffen as I brushed it with my finger-tip… a new sensation for someone who has not explored his own depths before.  I heard him inhale sharply, then let it out slowly… a long, slow hiss of utter pleasure.  I began to press it rhythmically and I felt him lift his pelvis slightly to allow his cock to expand and harden even further. 

"I never knew…" he began.  "I've never felt that pressure before except just before… I cum… I mean… it makes me so hard it almost hurts."  He squirmed.  "But don't stop!" he added quickly.

I changed my position, kneeling beside him so that I could work his ass while I kissed his neck and shoulder and whispered in his ear.  "And now I'm gonna show you what a boy's ass if for.  Roll over," I said as I removed my finger from his tightness and placed both hands on his hips to assist him.  He hesitated a moment almost as if he was unsure… or perhaps he was still half-conscious from the stimulation.  As he rolled, I positioned myself between his legs again.  Then I slid my hands under his calves.

"Put your legs up… on my shoulders," I said quietly.  I didn't want to threaten or menace; it was a pivotal moment… a momentous, memorable moment for any gay man… and I wanted to give him a feeling of assurance. 

He suddenly raised his head.  "Wait.  In school we had this lecture… about safe sex…"

"And now we're gonna have a demonstration."  As he spoke I had reached for a condom on the nightstand.  I tore it open with my teeth and spit-out the plastic.  "Put it on me."  He took it uncertainly. "Go on… slip it on my dick."  He had paid attention in the lecture.  For a moment the image of the boy pressing the rolled latex around a banana as a practice-cock flooded my brain, but the stimulation of his hands and the condom's tightness quickly brought me back to reality.  I reached for the K-Y Jelly and flipped it open with my thumb.  He watched intently as I squirted some onto my fingers and plunged them into his ass-crack.

"Aaaahhhh!  Cold!" he hissed. 

"It'll heat up."

"Just go slow, OK?"  He swallowed nervously.

I positioned myself and adjusted his legs over my shoulders to get the proper angle for penetration.  The first time was bad enough, without making it even worse.  I guided my shaft from its base, lubing the tip from the K-Y in his crack… then pressing it into the well of his anus.  He tensed as he felt me there.  I leaned forward over him as I gripped his thighs with my hands and arms… leaning forward, lifting his ass from the bed and driving into him in the same movement.

"Aaahhh!" he repeated.  "Aaahg… … aaahhh!"  His forehead creased, his eyes closed in pain.  He clutched at the sheet and arched his head back straining to take my thickness.  "It hurts," he continued in an almost little-boy voice.  "Does it always hurt?"

"A little bit," I murmured reassuringly.  "But that's a part of it."  He seemed to relax a moment as I froze in-place.  "Now, relax," I continued as I resumed the pressure.  "I want you to always remember this… so that, no matter who you're ever with, I'll always be there."  It just slipped out… that phrase… what John had said to me my first time.  And for a split-second, I looked down at the boy's bent body and I saw myself looking up at me…

Afraid, hurting, trying to please, determined to experience this rite-of-passage… wanting and fearing at the same time… experiencing the inevitability… there was no turning back then.  I had wanted it as much as Justin.  I had asked for it wordlessly.  I had cried-out, not so much in pain as in surprise.  No one is ever totally prepared their first time.  But he had been gentle with me, and I had thanked him silently on other occasions when men were not so kind… when their urgency had taken precedent… and I was a useful receptacle. 

He reached for my upper arms and pulled… lifting himself… subconsciously wanting more.  I thrust then, leaning forward and feeling my shaft slip past the tight-spot and sink deeper into his heat.  I leaned forward and kissed him hard.  Then I straightened up, repositioned slightly, and thrust again, driving in another inch or two.  He reached up to grip his own knees as he tried to open himself even more.  I thrust again.

He grimaced as I sank in full-length.  "Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!"  I kissed him again as his toes curled in my peripheral vision.  I began the slow withdrawal, then in again… setting up the tidal rhythm that prevented his tight clamping-down.  As I moved in and out strongly now, he relaxed his ass muscles and open up for the long-term. 

"Ooooohhhh, " he moaned in an almost-roar.  "Ooooooohhhhh!"  His hands slid down my lats to my hips; he pulled me on the in-stroke and shoved on the out-stroke.  He was urging me onward like a veteran trick.

"Now you know how fucking feels," I said.  "Just lie back and let me set the pace."  He opened his eyes to watch me… then shook his head "Yes."  The E was making me sweat…first just a thin sheen in the blue light, but later, as the droplets coalesced on my forehead, they matted my hair and dripped onto his face like a gentle rain.  He closed his eyes again, almost as if in a trance.  He had lost his erection at the moment of penetration, but the continuous stimulation of his prostate by my sliding shaft began to have its effect.  In his euphoria, he reached for his cock to stroke it to fullness.  Instead, I removed his hand and replaced it with mine.  "Just lie back and enjoy it," I repeated.  He opened his mouth in a wide smile.  His chest rose and fell in the heavy breathing of erotic arousal.  I leaned forward further… to kiss him again and to increase the angle of my thrusts.  I altered the speed and the depth… taking him close to the pinnacle and then making him wait… driving toward the finish line, then slowing the pace…

"I knew…" he said… but he left the sentence unfinished.  He thrust his arms up behind his head as he relaxed into the posture of total submission.  The soft hair in his pits glistened in the blue light.  His lips continued to move as if he were speaking, but no sound came out.

I was approaching the inevitable… the climax…and decided that it was time.  There would be other opportunities… even tonight.  I fucked him like a trick now…focusing on my own pleasure and release.  I let him feel the power and the dominance he would learn to love… and perhaps someday would emulate.  My only regret was that he would not feel the power of my explosion…the hotness of my eruption… the force of my cum-flood.  He would feel the fullness and the throbbing at the end, but he would miss the full experience of a bare-back climax.  My regret evaporated, however, as I shot my hot load.  His tightness provided the perfect pressure to increase my enjoyment.  Limp, stretched asses are like fucking women. The tightness of a virgin ass was a delight I seldom experienced.  I filled the tip of the condom with spurt-after-spurt of thick fluid and I felt it begin to creep up the tightness enveloping my shaft.  My hand had stroked his cock during the entire last few minutes… and perhaps I had been rough with him as I shot… because he moaned loudly.  Then his body tensed; he clamped down on my cock so hard I winced… he reached out as if clutching the air… and then he shot his jism all over his chest, his belly, and my wrist.  He shouted something at the moment… I don't remember what.  We froze in-position, both in post-climax rigor, not wanting the moment to end.  And then he reached out to me, pulling me closer.  I settled onto his cum-sprayed torso, gluing us together with his load.  And I kissed him as if to say  "Welcome, gay-boy, to the act that will rule your life from now on."

=====

We lay together until my cock softened a bit.  He seemed genuinely sad when I pulled out. I stripped the condom off and discarded it in the ashtray.

"I never knew it would be like that," he said with a smile.  "I mean, I knew it would sorta hurt when you busted through, but I didn't know how good it would feel to have you inside me.  The pressure… the fullness… that feeling of being connected to you."  He was re-living it already… as he would ten thousand times.  "I was just afraid I'd do something stupid… or worse.  There's a really strong feeling that you're gonna… that you have to… you know.  And that would be kinda messy."

"It's seldom a problem," I state matter-of-factly.

He was quiet for a few moments.  "What's a 'twink'?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?"  I'm sure I smiled at his innocence.

"Because that friend of yours, Michael, told someone I was a 'twink'… and I wondered what it meant."

"It's short for 'Twinkie'… you know… golden on the outside and full of thick cream on the inside… like you… young, and too cute"

He laughed.  "I guess I AM a twink," he admitted with a bit of the creamy evidence visible on his chin.  He paused again, waiting for me to initiate more conversation, but I was still in that languorous euphoria that follows a heavy fuck.

"How was your first time?" he asked as his fingers traced over my chest. "Were you younger than I am?"

"If you're talking about being ass-fucked, I was actually a few years older."

"And how old was he?"

"He was older than…" I hesitated.  No.  John had just been 30 when he took me to that motel.  He seemed so much older, at the time.  Everything about age is relative, I suppose.  "He was about 30."

"Tell me about him."

"It wasn't that memorable."  I lied.  "He was just an older guy who caught me at a vulnerable moment when I was learning what it was like to be a gay man." 

I remembered his face looking down at me, glowing with the blue light from the motel's sign… radiant in his anticipation. It was the culmination of many weeks of preparation and planning, although it seemed spontaneous at the time.  He had bided his time as I wrestled with my fears and hesitancies.  He had helped me with my curiosity… and it seemed like the thing to do on the spur of the moment.  I wanted him to love me… and this would do it, I thought. We both had our reasons.

I remembered his face… this blond-boy, there under the streetlight… so full of fear and determination… so determined to seek his destiny… and so vulnerable to some of the sleaze-bags who seek their thrills in the dark back-alleys.  I had immediately wanted to protect him… a strange kind of protection, I had to admit, because I knew, instantaneously, that I would fuck him… but he was not my "type" at all…a slim, blond "twink" who looked more preppy than his casual, sloppy clothes would indicate… an angel-face… not the fresh-meat I usually craved.  We were an unlikely pair, yet drawn together in-the-moment.

"I knew you'd fuck me the moment I saw you," he said, doing his mind-reading trick again.  "You looked at me like a velociraptor catching sight of his next meal." 

I admitted to myself that I had felt the same reaction at that moment.

"Thank you," he said after a pause.

"For what?" I countered.

"Well, I'm not sure of the proper etiquette… but you gave me what I was looking for… and I thought I should thank you."

"My pleasure," I said with a smile.  "I can't say 'The pleasure was ALL mine,' because you were moaning a little too convincingly."  He laughed.  "But I can assure you… it was no charity-fuck.  There is such a thing, you know." 

"A charity?"  He rolled against me laughing.  "Hello.  I'm phoning on behalf of the Virgin-Boy telethon… would you care to donate half-a-cup?" 

I wrapped him in my arms and rolled, pulling him up atop me.  He looked down at me with that adoring look I have seen so many times since that night; it gave me a chill.  I released him and slid out of bed.  "Want something to eat?" I said, changing the subject.

The loft was still softly lit by some of the smaller, functional-art pieces.  He followed me into the darker aisle-kitchen.  The light from the open refrigerator hit us like a spotlight… two torsos with dried cum splotches.  He brushed his chest self-consciously.  "I made a mess," he murmured.  I ran my fingers through his hair, smoothing it into place.

"You're fine," I said.  "Here, have some sushi."  He curled his nose.  I popped a whole California roll into my mouth like I was deep-throating a trick. 

"Are you sure you're OK?" he asked as we left the kitchen.  "The E you took…"

"I'll show you that the fucking E doesn't slow me down one bit."  I stepped away, turned, then dropped into a full handstand.  I walked away from him, watching him upside-down as he stood there staring in disbelief.  A naked handstand causes certain body parts to re-arrange in interesting ways.   Suddenly my hand hit the wetness… the pool of water remaining from the earlier bottle of water I had poured over my head.  I struggled to retain my balance, but crumpled, falling onto my shoulder in a tangled heap.  Before I could start to laugh, he was kneeling beside me.

"Are you OK?" he said again.  "You coulda broken your neck."  He tried to lift me in a clumsy embrace, but I righted myself easily.

"Nothing broken," I said, stroking my stiff shaft.  He tried to smile but still looked concerned.  I scooped-up one of his socks, then stepped to the counter to retrieve a lemon and a bottle of tequila.  I began to juggle, showing him that I still had all my coordination.  It succeeded initially, but when I looked away to see if he was watching, I dropped the sock… luckily not the glass bottle… and he laughed at my attempts to entertain him.  After a few more tries, I was able to sustain it for almost 30 seconds.

"Ta-DAAAHHH!" I said as I finished with all three objects in my hands.  He applauded… appropriately, but quietly.  I quickly opened the bottle and took a swig.  "And here's another trick," I continued as I lifted one of the bar stools and balanced one of its legs on my palm.  A naked audience-of-one stood there in disbelief.  I followed the chair as its tilt led me into the seating area beyond the bar… and I stepped up onto one of the white leather chairs.  With one foot on the seat and the other on the back I tilted the chair onto its back legs and, for a moment, balanced… before the chair fell backwards with a crash.  I caught the stool, then repeated the trick on the sofa, slowly riding it to the floor in a similar manner.  I left the stool up-ended on another stool as I stepped close to him again… for my reward.  I kissed him hot and hard; his hands gripped my shoulders, letting me know my tricks were over and it was time for a re-match.

He was hard again in a matter of seconds… and so was I.  We stood together, pressed chest-to-chest with our cocks grinding together like wheat between two stone wheels. 

"I… I want you… to do it… again," he murmured head-down.  "I want you to teach me how to do it right… how to make it better for you."

"If it had been any better for me, I would have blown the tip off the fucking condom!" I replied, giving him a tight squeeze that took his breath away.  "But there ARE lots of things to learn… different positions, different techniques.  I can show you a few tonight… but it'll take a lifetime of study, practice, and hard work."  He laughed knowing that I was teasing him.

I gripped him behind the neck and kissed him as if I were eating his mouth like a juicy peach, tracing the margin of his lips to collect the last drops of juice.  He moaned into my mouth as I walked him backwards across the room.  As we approached the overturned sofa, I slid my fingers into his ass-crack and lifted him against my groin.  His arms locked around my neck as I lifted him onto his toes.  My cock left a smear upon his belly.

"God!  You just make me melt," he said as we broke the kiss.  "I go limp in your arms."

We knelt together as I forced him to the floor.  The sofa cushions had fallen into disarray; I quickly tossed some together against the vertically-standing seat and pressed him onto the pillows… on his knees, thighs against the pillows, ass in the air, and upper torso draped over the seat.  He supported himself with bent arms. 

"Now that I've shown your boy-ass what goes where, it's time to use what you've learned," I said.  "I'm gonna open you up and fuck you like a man, now."  He twisted his head to look back, afraid he might miss something.  "Just keep that ass in-the-air… and I'll do all the work," I continued as I pressed his shoulders downward over the sofa.  There was still plenty of lube in his hole and crack.  My center finger slipped in easily to the second knuckle.  I twisted my palm upward and curved my finger upward into him, then pressed it in as far as possible.  I could feel him relaxing to take it, rocking his pelvis on the edge of the sofa seat.  I stood straddling the sofa, bent at the waist and with a hard biceps to power my finger thrusts.  I worked my finger in and out, twisting and changing the angle, reaming his open.  Then I added the second finger.  He gasped as he felt the sudden expansion.  Again I delved deep into him, spreading my fingers on the in-thrust… slowly getting him accustomed to the expansion in his sphincter muscles.  And then three fingers.  I could feel him tighten as if he doubted he could stretch that far, but soon my three fingers were sliding in and out so deep that the butt of my palm was pounding into his ass.  With my free hand, I opened a new condom package and stroked it onto my stiff dick.

"Take one more?" I said. 

"Uhh… uhhhhh… uhhh… I'll try…" he grunted with each thrust.  The fourth finger went in easily.  I had already stretched him wide enough with three… and then I began to expand him further.  He moaned loudly now.  The dark recesses of his interior were visible between my fingers.  He was open; he was spasming; he was ready.  I swung around behind him and withdrew my fingers quickly replacing them with one hard thrust of my cock, full-depth to the root.  He wasn't prepared for this.  His back arched up and his head sprang back as his body became rigid for a moment.  Then, as the surprise subsided, he relaxed again as I began fucking him with the power usually reserved for the Babylon Backroom Boys.  "Slam-… fuck… that… boy… ass!" I grunted as I plowed into him.  My balls bounced against his ass.  My pelvic bone assaulted his coccyx.  I leaned over to rest my chest against his back so that my concavity engulfed him.  My arms supported my upper body and my chin rested atop his head. 

"Oh… God… this… feels… SO… GOOD!" he echoed in-rhythm.  "Fuck-me!  Fuck me harder!"

Urged on by his breathless pleading… I pulled out until just the tip was planted in him… then plunged in again with a thrust that took his breath away.  He reared-up as he straightened his arms… and I straightened up into a vertical position, gripping the edge of the sofa on either side of his hips for leverage.  The upward curve of my cock sliced into him like a saber.   Ramming in and out, I found the perfect angle, depth, and speed; I fucked him like a machine.  He arched his back as he looked for my chest with his shoulders.  I responded by sliding my arms under his arm-pits, then lifting my forearms, palms up, to grip his shoulders from the front.  Gripping him this way made it possible to piston into him with flexes of my abdominals working against the tension in my biceps and gripping of my upper arms against his lats… the "Death Grip," I called it.  I pulled him back against me forcing his chest out.  His mouth hung open, unable to make a sound.  "Your ass is MINE," I whispered hoarsely into his ear.

After fucking him this way for a full five minutes, I released him and forced him back over the sofa seat again.  He began to slide forward, so I took a handful of his blond hair in my fingers and clenched my fist, using it to hold him in place.  As I pulled his head back, he moaned loudly like a primeval roar.   He was beyond feeling the pain; he would feel it in the morning, of course, but Pleasure was winning the battle of the synapses.  I released his hair and his chin fell to his chest.  He was almost unconscious.  I use both arms to lift him up again, so he could breath, and I fucked him with the short, fast strokes that bring the climax quicker.  There was nothing to be gained from punishing him.  I held him tightly in my arms as I rocked into him for the last few times... then filled my second condom of the evening.  He felt the thickness and the throbbing through the haze of his stupor.  Fucking a trick senseless was my specialty.  But he seldom remembered the details.

I lay over his back to catch my breath.  He was breathing heavily also.  Suddenly I realized that his cum was dripping from the sofa cushions onto my knee.  He had cum with no more stimulation than the friction of the cushion.

"You won't remember this," I whispered in his ear… "but it'll register in your subconscious memory.  No fuck will ever compare with this one… the slam-fuck of a man fucking a man.  All fucks will be compared to THIS."  He lay motionless… defenseless… vulnerable. 

I kissed the back of his neck.  "Come back to me, boy."  I felt a response… a tightening on my cock-tip still buried inside him.  I pulled out slowly, permitting his ass to adjust to my absence.  He gripped tightly, trying to retain it.  "Good boy," I continued breathlessly.  "You're beginning to get the technique."  When my shaft finally slipped free, his hole remained partially open exposing its rosy interior.  The lips gaped in a narrow "O".

As I pulled out of him and rose to my feet, he slid into a heap on the floor.  I knelt again, thrust my hands under his knees and back, and lifted him against my chest.  I kissed his shoulder and neck as his head hung back unsupported.  He swallowed instinctively as my lips brushed his Adam's Apple; I sucked it like a ripe plum when it returned.  Swaying slowly, I walked to the edge of the bed, knelt, and lay him on the sheet. His skin shimmered in the dazzling blue light.  I watched him for a while, lying there…and then, when I sensed that he was returning to awareness, I covered him to-the-waist with the sheet and joined him, pulling him into my engulfing arms.  He put his cheek against my shoulder and sighed.

We lay like this, not moving.  The ebb and flow of his breathing slowed to match mine.  He nuzzled my shoulder with his nose.  If he wasn't careful, he'd get it one more time.

"That was intense," he said eventually in a soft voice.  "I felt like I was dying and going… somewhere."

We lay quietly without speaking for several minutes.   "I was trying to respond.  I was trying to participate… and all I could do was lie there," he apologized as we lay side-by-side.  "I don't even remember it all."

"Remember WHAT?" I replied.  I was propped-up with my hands behind my head; the cool blue light behind me left my smile in the shadow. 

He chuckled.  "I'll bet my ass will remember it in the morning.  I can barely feel anything now."  He paused, re-adjusting his cock under the sheet. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, sure… and now you can ask me another one," I answered.  The E was still affecting me. 

He rolled his eyes a little, then continued.  "Am I supposed to just lie there and let you fuck me… or is there something I can do to make it better?  In that position I couldn't kiss you, touch you, or even see you…"

"You're right.  That's one of the few positions where you can't do much… but there are still a few things you can do."

"How many 'positions' are there?  I looked at a book in the bookstore once, but, by the time I found that section, the clerk was giving me the evil-eye, so I put the book back on the shelf.  But I want to learn."

"By my count," I replied, "there are nineteen positions with some having as many as three or four variations… different hand positions and angles can add variety.  So far, you've experienced Position Eleven and a variation of Position Five… the one with you bent over the sofa."

"I want to try them all," he interrupted.

"You will," I laughed.  "And you'll probably invent a few I've never tried before.  But, to answer your first question… there are things you can do, even when you can't touch, kiss, or see."

"Now I'm curious," he said, telling me the obvious.  "What should I do?"

"Instead of telling you, I'm gonna show you," I said lifting up on one elbow.  "Ready for another go?"  He started to flip onto his stomach, then reconsidered and stayed on his back… ready for anything.  "But you're gonna do the work this time."

"Hi-ho, Hi-ho… it's off to work I go," he sang softly.  We both laughed.

I slid down so that my back was flat against the bed, with just my head elevated on the pillow.  "Get up and kneel astride me," I said.  He quickly assumed the position… so quickly, in fact, that he almost stepped on my hand.  He sat astride my thighs, just as I had started with him.  My cock was already engorging, but I helped it with a few hand-strokes as I gave him his instructions.  "Slide forward, lift up and take my cock in your ass… just settle down on it at your own speed.  Get accustomed to this… it's a variant of Position Sixteen."  I could see him making a mental note of the number as if this were some type of football play.  I briefly imagined myself calling the signals with Teddy, Mikey, Emmett, and this new kid in a huddle… "The tight-end is gonna take a #16 in the end-zone…"

He rose with a determined look on his face.  I guided my cock with one hand, but he instinctively reached around behind, felt for the tip, and guided it home.  He slowly began to sheath my bare cock with his orifice.  I reached to stop him, despite the pleasure of feeling his softness against my cock-tip.  "You've forgotten your school lesson…or you're too eager to notice that my cock is bare, boy."   His knees sprung like a mousetrap.  He looked as if he'd tried to sodomize himself with a hot fireplace poker.  I slowly reached for another condom… motioned for him to slide back a bit… and then slipped it onto my shaft.  My white cock glowed like a neon tube.  As soon as I was finished he sprang back into position and took half of it with little effort.  He smiled at his accomplishment.

"Now, here's the drill," I said, laughing at my own pun.  "On the up-stroke, the OUT-stroke, you tighten your ass muscles and let them milk my cock like a tight fist… and on the down-stroke, the IN-stroke, you relax and let my cock go as deep as you want.  When I feel you tighten, I'll begin the OUT-stroke again… and we work together.  This gives you a chance to signal me, wordlessly, about what you want… and it also feels great for me."  He began to apply the lesson, almost too fast.  "There's more," I said.  He stopped.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No.  But the pattern changes when I'm close to cumming.  You can probably sense it because my cock will swell and throb a few times before I shoot.  But when I do, that's when you reverse the pattern.  Tighten on the IN-stroke, release on the OUT-stroke.  That way, the pressure of my cum builds up against your tightness… it somehow affects my prostate, and makes me shoot more… and harder.  The pressure release makes my climax like a fireworks display.  And it'll feel good for you, too… because it'll remind you of your first-time, that initial tightness, and the inevitability of my thrust.  By that time, you can't stop me."

His eyes glistened with anticipation.  He was desperate to try it.

"And one last word," I said quietly.  "This puts you in-control, so-to-speak.  So you can make it last as short or as long as you want.  Too short is pushing it a bit…since I've already shot twice… I think… and making it last too long turns exquisite torture into frustration.  The ideal situation would be to take me to "the peak" and keep me there until my brain fries… but that's something that takes years of practice."  He looked like a young squire about to embark on a quest toward knighthood.

"So far, I've tried to relax and open my hole… and now you want me to learn to tighten it?"

"Well, I could MAKE you tighten it by swatting you on the ass… but teaching you to do it is so much more fun."  He gave me that look… he wasn't sure which would be more fun… and I made a mental note.

I felt him tighten on me… testing his ability.  These were muscles he seldom used consciously, so he needed to find them and subdue them.  My cock throbbed within him as a signal that I had felt his attempt.  He smiled faintly… proud of himself.

He began to ride my cock, slowly at-first, then more vigorously as he developed the rhythm of legs and torso.  He didn't know what to do with his arms at first… but as he rose and fell he began to stroke his own chest with both hands and forearms.  His eyes closed to tight slits as his head sagged back, bouncing in-rhythm.  His torso arched with each thrust; his abs tensed and relaxed as he used them to balance himself.  His right hand slid down his belly as his left hand found his right nipple.  He pinched himself softly… again in-rhythm.  His cock stood erect now… he could become turgid so rapidly… and he gripped himself in his right hand.  Suddenly, he realized that he was not alone.  His eyes sprang open again and he looked down at me, feeling a little embarrassed by taking pleasure in his own body. 

"Stroke it," I said.  "Do it in-time with your motion.  It makes your ass contract naturally on me… and when you cum, you'll send me over-the-top."

He grinned this time.  "That I've gotta see," he said, speeding up a little.

I bit my lower lip to delay my climax.  I wanted to make him work for it.  I could hear his ass slapping against my upper thighs.  He was stroking himself faster now; his eyes were closed once more.  I reached out to touch his torso, removing his hand from his chest and replacing it with mine.  With the other I gripped his side, feeling his abs rippling against my palm.  I wanted to crush his ribcage in my hands; I was so aroused.  He leaned back farther with his hands on his ankles, pushing himself upward with his arms.  His taut-stretched belly rippled as he bounced.

"Oooooooohhhhhhhh," he moaned.  "I could do this all night."  I was almost afraid he was right.  "Your cock feels SO GOOD!  I can change the angle… and feel every vein through the condom.  It doesn't hurt at all."

"What kind of sex-monster have I created?" I moaned under my breath.  "Fuck my cock with your boy-ass!"

He opened his eyes again and looked down at me with the most determined expression… no longer the frightened novice… no more hesitancy or embarrassment.  He was doing what he could to please me… and pleasuring himself at the same time.  The blue neon on his pale skin and hair gave his image an unearthly quality… part alien, part angel.  I watched his chest redden and darken in the blue light… the blood-flush of ultimate arousal.  The narrow expanse of his belly looked like blue satin.  I wanted to kiss it.  Taking both hips in my hands, I use my abs to curl up into a rolled sit-up as I brought my lips to his soft skin.  His cock brushed my chin as he stroked it rapidly.  His abs were tight, ready for a climax.  I felt my own cock swell and throb.  I threw myself back down on the bed as my climax erupted.  He tightened, not perhaps from my instructions, but because he was cumming also… thick streams of phosphorescent neon-blue, ropey cum shooting in slow-motion in an arc onto my chest and shoulder.  A second spurt hit my chin.  The third left a trail down my center-line to my navel.  He clamped-down onto me as my pressure surged through.  In my euphoria, it almost felt as if the condom shot off my cock like the paper wrapped on a soda straw propelled by a breath-blast.  I exploded inside him like a depth-charge sending shock-waves through his entire body.  He shivered as his body froze in-place.  This time the cum dripped around the periphery of the latex and dribbled down my balls onto the sheet.  I had exceeded its capacity.

We struggled to find words.  Our hands grasped each other… explored… stroked the cum over hard muscles and hot skin.  He felt different from other tricks… fit, but less firm… smooth… young.  I reached up and pulled him down on top of me, changing the angle of his ass sufficiently to pull him off my cock, which now was subsiding into its un-turgid size.  He lay atop me, trembling in my arms.  I kissed him as he slowly slid to my side and we lay together as we fell asleep, both dreaming the same dream.

=====

Waking with eyelids closed… the blue haze of neon through thin skin… the comfort of knowing where I was.  I reached to turn out the blue lights and I felt a stirring beside me in the blackness.  Soft fingers brushing my side… then, finding their boldness, moving to grip my shaft… eyes still closed, not remembering who it was, but knowing it felt good… lips on my pec… the smell of his hair… the urgency of his stroking on my shaft, with a few fingers on my balls… the waves of urgency… a crushing desire… my fingers brushed soft skin, hot with need… I rolled onto him, compressing him with my weight.  He struggled for a moment, then resumed his encouraging.  Hands stroked my back from shoulders to ass… a hot mouth searching for mine and finding my throat… sucking my Adam's apple before licking up to my chin… his legs spread, with bent knees moving upward along my sides, then pumping against my sides as if he were fucking against my lower abs… his heels hooking the backs of my thighs… clinging… riding my hips with his inner thighs.  No words were exchanged for fear of breaking the dream-spell. He gripped my shoulders in strong hands, pushing me downward so my cock would find its position.  I felt him gulping for air beneath my weight.  He struggled to grind my cock against his belly as he pulled himself upward under my torso until my cock slid past his and dipped into position.  He begged me with his whole body.  I wanted him more than anything at that moment.  The sensations of hot skin against hot skin… the smell of his pheromones… the taste of his skin… the sound of his panting-breathing… the dream come-to-life… reality driving me forward like a whip-master… compulsion run rampant.

Between sleep and waking, I fucked him... never opening my eyes... doing it as if in a dream... feeling his sensuous body twisting in my hands... positioning him... mouthing his hot skin as we writhed together into impossible positions, occasionally recognizing where I was kissing or sucking him... hearing us moan together and cry-out in our shared dream... tasting my cum on his skin... feeling the softness of his pubic hair against my chin... conscious of his biting me like a small, wild animal... hearing him call my name in ecstasy... sensing the spray of warm cum on my face and his soft tongue licking it off... feeling him engulf my rigidity with his warm, softness... entangled legs... overpowering him with my strength... penetrating him like a sharp knife... butt-fuck... cock-suck... engulfing his mouth with mine and inhaling the air from his lungs, making him moan into my mouth... swirling images... armies of sensations marching through my consciousness… overwhelming… the panic… the desire to hurt him, momentarily overcome... the inevitability… whiteness and bright colors seen by closed eyes... a thousand tongues on my skin… the pressure…  the release… the flooding flow… the feeling of falling... 

Subsequently, he swore that I said "I love you" as I expelled the lung-full of breath I sucked from him.  Perhaps he heard himself... perhaps I said it in my dream.  I don't remember.

He cried, I remember... from joy, not from pain... he told me later. 

And, as much as I had wanted to hurt him before, now I wanted to soothe him... to comfort him... to hold him in my arms and say things that only the drugs could make me say.  I kissed his face... over and over... the salty tears in his eyes... the sweaty forehead... the soft, hot cheeks... the gasping mouth.  He trembled like a frightened animal.  I held him tightly in my arms, resting against my chest with his legs entangled with mine.  His trembling subsided and his breathing slowed as he fell asleep in my embrace.  I tried to memorize this moment... as if memorizing it would continue it forever.  He would go away... and I would have the memory.

=====

Beep-beep-beep……….beep-beep-beep……….beep-beep-beep

I rolled over, mostly by instinct.  I kept the alarm clock out of arm's-reach so that I would be forced to crawl to it, unable to stop it with one quick blow or a toss across the room.  My elbow rested on a soft mound as I turned it off.  I sank back onto my pillow knowing I hadn't had enough sleep.  The soft mound moved and snuggled closer.  A hand touched my chest.  Here we go again!  I rolled onto my side and nuzzled the body lying beside me as he had nuzzled me last night.  Last night?

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"You said I could stay."

"Right... "  I was piecing this together in my struggle to return to consciousness.  "Your parents... think you're at a friend's."

I sat up then, shading my eyes from the bright east windows.  The Loft was a wreck.  Chairs and sofa overturned... a barstool up-ended... the cushions off the Corbusier... the wastebasket dumped-over...

"Jesus Christ!  What the Hell happened?"

He chuckled knowingly, but hesitated to tell me.

"Don't tell me," I said, rolling my eyes.  "I was doing handstands... "

"And juggling.  You're not very good."

"Shit!  Why do I do these things?"

He started to answer, but I cut him off.  "I'll tell you why.  It was that fucking pig, Anita.  She told me that was E.  That wasn't E... it was some shit they cooked-up in a bathtub in Tijuana."

"That's why you should never take drugs that aren't prescribed by a physician or recommended by a reliable pharmacist." 

I laughed.  "What are you?  A public service announcement?  Get dressed.  I'll drive you home."

"You can't.  Michael has the car."

"Why has HE got it?"  I was trying desperately to remember last night.

"You were too high... "

"I know what happened.  I was there.  I remember everything.  Perfectly.  What was your name again?"

"Justin."  He turned away, but I could still detect his disappointment. 

"Yeah... right." I said, as if I remembered.  After years of one-night-stands, I had cultivated an image of unconcern about a trick's name… and he was just another trick, but younger than most.  Not remembering their names kept them in-their-place… and reduced their expectations.

"Can I take a shower?"

"Yeah.  But hurry up.  It's through there... I think."  I motioned in the direction of the bathroom.  He disappeared into the bathroom, fumbled for the light switch, and pushed the door partially closed.  Meanwhile, I checked the phone messages... one from Melanie... about last night.  "Fuck! I have a BABY!"  From the bathroom came the sound of running water in the shower, and then a sharp "Owww!"  "Two babies," I concluded.

I could hear him humming in the shower.  The thought of his lithe, young body dripping with warm water began to stiffen my already-arising morning hard-on.  And I needed to take a shower anyway; I smelled of smoke, beer, sweat, cum, and God knows what else.  After rearranging a chair or two, I headed for the shower.  I watched him for a moment through the water-jeweled glass enclosure... smooth, pale, blond... a water-nymph.  I opened the door and stepped in quietly behind him as he stood face-up in the spray.  He sensed me behind him and turned.  "Why didn't you tell me I had a kid?" I said loudly enough to be heard over the water.

"You said you remembered everything."  He knew I didn't.

"It all happened so fast.  What's his name again?"

He looked at me with water streaming off his face. "Gus.  I'm the one who decided."

"Ooohhh??" I said, laughing at his pride in thinking that his suggestion constituted a decision.

 "Did you actually fuck her?"  (The insolent little beast!)

I took the soap and began washing his back.  His wet skin was like warm marble.  "Who?"

"Lindsey."

"You're awfully rude," I said... but I was sure his question was spurred by his own curiosity about women.

"Well... did you?"

Rather than give a clinical explanation, I decided to minimize the event by over-simplifying.  "I jerked off in a cup and they squirted it up her."

"Gross!  She musta really wanted a kid."  I let the possible, implied insult pass.

"Most women do," I said.

"Even lesbians?"

"Lesbians ARE women.  Sort of."  I continued to soap his back as my erection grew past the horizontal toward the vertical.

He seemed suddenly serious.  "My mom says sometimes she wishes she never had me," he said quietly.

"Probably because she's stuck with this annoying BRAT for the rest of her life." 

He turned to face me.  "So... are you gonna raise him?"

"Me?  No --- way.  The munchers are."  I soaped his smooth chest, loving the feeling of his skin against my palm.  "But I'll be around to provide the masculine influence so important in every young boy's life."

"I'll bet Melanie could do it better than you."

I swatted his ass from the side.  After an initial startle-response, he smiled. "Don't get smart, " I said, "or I'll have to spank you."

"Really?" he said, almost begging for it.  I kissed him hard, tasting the water on his lips.  My hand slid down his abs and fondled his cock, which was already hard.  He swooned a little and sighed.

"You up for one more?" I asked.  Before he could answer I spun him around against the wet glass, pressed him against it with my chest, and nuzzled the side of his neck.  I quickly rinsed the soap from my cock.  It would sting his already abraded ass.  And then I guided it along the crease in his bubble-butt.  I fucked his wet crack, not penetrating him, because I hadn't brought a condom into the shower. As my cock stiffened to full hardness, I slipped it between his tight thighs, penetrating far enough to pummel his ball-sac.  The water hit my shoulder, roared down my chest, and divided into rivulets on my abs before cascading to his ass crack. His face was pressed against the wet glass; his mouth sagged open in pleasure.  Hot breath on the cooler, wet glass left an arc of cloudy condensation.  The glass was thick enough to sustain the power of my thrusts... I knew that from past experiences in this shower.  He clamped his legs around my cock like a vice on the out-stroke, and opened to admit me on the in-stroke, just as I had taught him to do with his orifice.  Wet skin against wet skin… just enough friction to raise the temperature, but not enough to start a fire. 

I suddenly wanted him to taste me all day... to remember my size, my feel, and my acrid flavor while he sat in his English class... to find a few molecules of my essence on his tongue... to remember the feel of my cock in his sore ass.  "Finish me with your mouth," I said as I pulled out of him and pressed him downward onto his knees.  As he positioned himself, I stroked my cock with a soapy hand and directed a stream of water-spray to rinse off the residue.  He ate me hungrily, taking as much as he could... but not enough to gag.  He had learned the basic technique the night before, and he was performing better than most novices.  The rhythmic compression between his tongue and the roof of his mouth brought me to completion quickly after the softness of his ass-crack. I fought the urge to thrust full-depth at the end; I wanted him to taste it on his tongue.  Swaying, I held myself upright with outstretched hands against the glass.  He looked up at me with those puppy eyes as he vacuumed the last drips from my urethra.  A cock in his lips didn't prevent a smile.

"You taste like avocado..." he said, "and smoke..." like a gourmet taste-testing a new dish. 

"Now it's your turn," I said as I spun him face-forward into the spray.  I dropped to my knees and swallowed him in one gulp.  He gasped and got a mouthful of water.  I wanted him to feel the burn of hot steam searing his lungs as he panted... the sting of the needle-sharp spray... the taste of water on his lips... the roar of water on his face and chest.  Just as I had...

He positioned me with the water flowing down my chest.  He drank from the cascade that poured from my pec...

It was the weekend that Carolyn had taken the children to stay with her parents.  John had asked me to help him rake leaves on that brisk, sunny, autumn day.  We both worked shirtless in the branch-dappled sunlight.  The warmth of the sun and the heat from our labor let us enjoy the cool air.  We both knew it was an excuse for us to spend the day together.  He had made thick roast-beef sandwiches for lunch, and we had eaten sitting on the stone wall.  The yard was broad and dense with maple trunks; the leaves were almost a foot deep.  After five hours, we were ready to quit; sore shoulders, arms, and lats screamed for rest.  He brought me a beer as I sat in the leaf pile.  "Don't you want to shower?" he said.  "You're filthy."

As I removed my jeans, I realized he was right.  The dry dust and leaf mold had caked on my sweat like aboriginal mud decorations.  There were furrows on my brow and broad streaks from my pits.  The bathroom floor was littered with leaf debris that had collected in my hair.  I slipped into the shower through the pink plastic curtain and twisted the knobs until the water was just right.  The curtain parted suddenly with a screech of plastic rings along the chrome bar... and he joined me... barely room for two in the short tub-shower.  He pressed his body against me.  I felt his pubes against my hip.  His hands soaped my back and shoulders, then moved around to caress my chest with sudsy palms.  I leaned back against him, content in the feel of his chest against my back.  His hands slid down my arms then.  He gripped my wrists and lifted my arms to the pipe of the shower-head as if to tell me to grip it.  He washed my pits with vigorous soapy strokes as he kissed the back of my neck. I leaned forward as he spread my feet with his... and he fucked me with the water pouring onto my face, almost preventing my breathing. He took me quickly as he always had done, as if fear-of-failure would soften his cock at the last second. His arms locked around my chest as he slipped in and out of me, exhaling with each thrust like a steam engine.  When it was over, he soaped himself quickly, then helped me out of the tub with shaky legs.

I gripped Justin's ball-sac between thumb and forefinger, tightening as he approached his climax... and, at the end, I milked him like squeezing the whey from fresh cheese.  He came in my throat... a warm torrent... the flood of youthful exuberance.  I savored it like fine wine, keeping some in my mouth as I arose to kiss him.  "Here's how you taste," I said as I pressed my lips to his.  "I share."  I reached back to turn off the water; we held the kiss until the water droplets stopped dripping from our bodies.  Then I pushed him out the door and wrapped him in a large, soft towel.  Grabbing one for myself, we trod wet footprints into the bedroom.

"Don't use one of the 'show' towels," he said.  They're just for decoration and Carolyn would notice if one was used."  He dried me briskly, propelling me into the bedroom.  "Now it's your turn."  He pushed me backward, and the edge of the bed caught me behind the knees; I sank onto the bed he shared with Carolyn.  The rose-flowered sheets smelled of her body lotion.   He spread my legs with his hands and knelt between them as he bent down to take my cock into his mouth.  I started to lift-up onto my elbows to watch him, but he pressed me down with one hand in the center of my chest.  "Just lie back.  Let me do the work."  I gripped the crisp sheets in my fists, feeling as if I could almost float off the mattress.  He sucked me slowly, with long, slick strokes and tongue-licks around the tips as it exited his lips.  He knew how to drive me crazy with his mouth, since that first time in the rhododendron bushes.  And he teased me with every possible technique until I was begging him to let me cum... and then he laughed and finished me in one swift finale.  He liked to watch me as my abs convulsed to expel the cum in six gushing spasms.  "You shoot more cum than anyone I've ever sucked," he commented after draining me.  I wondered how many.

"I love you," he said softly as he positioned himself beside me.  "You are my reason for living... the focal-point of my career... my partner... my lover.  Nothing else matters." He stroked my cheek with each phrase as if to write them there permanently.

"I love you, too."  I said the words he wanted to hear.  He lay back, satisfied.

"Don't worry," he said as I lay in his arms while he smoked a cigarette.  "She'll never know.  I'll wash the sheets and pillowcases.  I do most of the laundry anyway."  He was a master-of-deception.  He was right, of course... she would never know... for certain... although she might suspect something... sometimes.  But it taught me not to believe him.  When he said "I love you," it always crossed my mind that he had said it to her... once... or perhaps still.  So the words came to have no meaning.  I decided that it was better to show my feelings in small, discrete ways than to say words that someone might not believe.

"Let me help you," I said as I removed the towel from around his hips and began drying his torso... his legs... his hair.  And I pushed him backwards, gently, against the bed... first to sit on its edge, then I pressed him further to lie back on the mattress. "Just one more taste," I said, taking his now-soft cock into my lips.  Even then, after everything he had experienced, he could muster an erection.  I laughed to myself at his endurance.  I remembered the speed with which my cock could spring into action.  A few more suctioning strokes... and I licked his piss-slit with the point of my tongue.  My lips pulled off with a "pop."  "And now it's off to school, sonny-boy.  Get dressed."  He scrambled for his clothing which was spread all over the open area of the Loft... then returned to my side to put them on.  Michael arrived as I was giving his ass one more caress before sliding the gray briefs over his treasure-spot. 

"Christ!  Didn't you guys get enough last night?"

"There's no such thing as enough," I said, quoting one of my own maxims.  "Besides, I couldn't send him off to school without a nourishing high-protein breakfast.  It's Grrrrrrrreat!" I growled into Mikey's ear.  He gave me the usual annoyed eye-brow raise.

Had I truly "had enough" of this one?  What about the "no-second-time-rule?"  I put the question out of my mind.  Rules were made to be broken…

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