Title: White Party '99 - Sunday
Author: Paul Plesko
Email address: pplesko@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: White Party '99
Character/Pairings: Brian/Ben; Brian/other
Category: Drama, POV, episode-related
Rating: NC-17
Date: Dec. 17, 2002
Summary: This story depicts four days in late November of 1999 …the 15^th annual celebration…and Brian Kinney's first visit to the party he had heard about for the entire gay portion of his 28 years. It was like a pilgrimage to Mecca…a child's first visit to Disney World…or an itch that cannot be scratched. It was a compulsion, pure and simple, for a man who followed wherever his compulsions led.
Spoilers: Episode 212
Warnings: None
Author Notes: Sunday is the final day of White Party Week, culminating in the White Party itself. Often the color white denotes purity; but at the White Party, the only purity is pure self-indulgence! It’s a time for Ben and Brian to pair-up again… this time as a "team." And the White Party provides only the introduction…

White Party '99 - Sunday
by Paul Plesko

He was gone when I awoke… he didn’t like extended farewells, perhaps.

We had fucked again, in a bed this time… seeking the pleasure and solace in extended contact, unselfish sharing, and languorous embracing.

I remembered that his name was Michael. He told me in the quiet hours before dawn… and I told him I had a friend back home with that name who was nothing like him, but who always told me that Michael meant "who is like God." "Now I understand it," I said. "You know me as well as I know myself." His only response was to look deeply into my eyes, without a smile, as if he could read what was inscribed on my tombstone.

I had slept until noon. Michael had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door as he left, apparently, because the maid had not awakened me. I ate breakfast in the hotel… Sunday Brunch for the Queens in their white suits. And I made a dinner reservation for two in the magnificent Blue Door, the hotel’s most luxurious restaurant. I could afford it; I had barely eaten a complete meal in my entire stay in Miami. The White Party would have an elaborate buffet… but I wanted to spend some time with Ben… to thank him for his help and to share a quiet meal. Fighting with elbowing-queers at the buffet table was not an attractive alternative. The hectic pace of South Beach was getting to me. I was looking forward to the solitude of the loft.

I spent the afternoon by the pool… a little more sun to retain some tan that would be expected upon returning from Florida. It was a lazy day. Guys were worn out from a week of celebrating, and were saving their remaining strength for the final fling.

I pulled my Speedo low to maximize the exposure; it drew a little extra attention, but I didn't mind. I was proud of how my body looked. Lying on my belly on the lounge chair… with just the top of my ass-crack showing… I was dozing, I believe, when fingers traced a trail down my back and slipped quickly under my suit. My startle-response triggered a laugh from my "assailant." "It was just too tempting," Ben said. "I’d been wanting to get into that ass-crack all weekend, and it was just lying there for me to explore." He settled down on the adjacent lounge chair.

"You surprised me," I said. "I musta been dreaming…"

"Well, I hope that fulfilled your dream. It didn’t fulfill MINE." We both laughed.

"What brings you to the Delano?" I asked. "Our dinner isn’t until 9:00."

"Can we eat earlier?" he said. "I met a hot number on the boardwalk, and he said he’d see me again at the White Party… a cute blond guy from Atlanta with the sweetest southern accent you’ve ever heard… and apparently, an ass to match. The party starts at 6:30 and ends at 11:30, so if we eat at 9:00… and then go…"

"You may not get his ass ready for bed by midnight?" I conjectured.

"You got it!" he said. "I’m not quite as fast as you are."

"Sure, we can eat earlier," I said. "I’ll just change the reservation. But if it’s blond-boy-ass you want, how about the one in the pool?" He turned to look over his shoulder at the boy I’d spied while we were talking… probably 20, long blond hair, angel-face, wearing a semi-transparent white Speedo that clung to his hips and cock like a coat of paint… fair, smooth skin… broad shoulders, narrow waist… perfect, except for the blond hair.

"An exceptional hors-d’oeuvre," he said. "Care for one before dinner? But he seems to be having too much fun by himself. He doesn’t look that ‘available’ to me."

"I’ll bet I can get him in five minutes," I said. "And so could you."

"I’ll take that bet. So… what’s the wager?"

"Dinner?" I said. "I’ve been planning to buy your dinner tonight… but, if I get him, dinner’s on you. And you have to sit out here by the pool until I’ve done him so I can tell you the details."

"And if you DON’T? I get your ass?" He was raising the ante by a whole order of magnitude. "You were planning to buy my dinner anyway. There’s gotta be some kind of penalty if you can’t "pull-it-off"… so to speak," he said, nodding at the white Speedo.

"I’m sure-enough of my abilities to take that bet," I said.

"But how will I know that you don’t just invite him into your place for a drink?" He was thinking of all the angles.

"OK. If I fondle his cock and ass in the pool… before taking him to the bungalow… will that satisfy you that ‘one thing leads to another?’"

"It’s a bet!" he said. "But I need a good view of this… no cheating."

"The five minutes start NOW," I said. I smiled as I arose from the lounge chair. I loved a challenge… and a bet. I would do almost anything on-a-dare. Blondie got a good view of me as I paused by the edge of the pool. He was swimming lazy laps after almost an hour of floating on a plastic, blow-up raft. I could see bright blue eyes peaking out from beneath water-damped blond hair. His ass-crack was clearly visible through his suit.

I walked to the diving board. I hadn’t done much diving since high school, but the brain and body remembered the movements like a computer program. I didn’t try anything too difficult, just a double forward, single-twist in tuck position. It turned out OK… but not competition level. A few people applauded as I surfaced as swam toward shallower water. I smiled at Blondie who had stopped swimming to watch. He stepped toward me. "Good one," he said. He smiled with perfect teeth.

"Hi… I’m Brian," I said.

"I’m Gabriel… or Gabe" he said. He was close to me now.

"Do you dive?" I said.

"Not like that," he replied. "Not yet… but I’m learning."

"I could tell you were a diver," I said. "You have the perfect body for it… lean, graceful, not too tall."

He smiled. "That’s what Coach tells me," he said.

"College?" I said, checking his age.

"Yeah… I’m a freshman," he answered.

"And you’re here for the White Party?" I said, pressing for more information.

"Yep. I’m here… with my coach." He hesitated a second before continuing. "He’s here for a conference in Miami… and I’m supposed to be there too…that’s what he told my parents… but I didn’t go to the meeting today… it’s a lunch for just the coaches, before they go home. But he wanted me to see what the White Party was like… sorta my ‘coming-out’ party…"

The time was ticking away. "How about showing me what ELSE that body can do," I said stepping closer, stroking the back of his arm with my knuckles. "He shouldn’t leave his boy alone…"

He smiled. "He’ll be back in about two hours, until then, I…"

I stepped forward, turning his body toward Ben who was sitting upright on the lounge chair now, watching intently. "We could give THIS some attention," I said as my fingers stroked over the bulge in his Speedo. "It looks like it needs it…" I gripped his shoulder and turned him around… "Or this," I said, running my palm over the valley of his ass-crack.

"Now?" he said, almost pleading. I gave Ben a victorious glance and put my arm around Gabe’s shoulder as I took his wrist in my other hand and pressed his hand against my stiffening cock.

"Right now," I said. "Before this dick rips my Speedo." He shivered as his hand touched it. "This way," I said guiding him to the stairs. We purposefully walked past Ben’s lounge chair on the way to the bungalow. He gave me that combined look of admiration and disappointment. Not only would he not have this boy’s ass, he wouldn’t have mine either.

"Oh, let me get my stuff," Gabe said as we reached the bungalow. He ran back, almost childlike, to retrieve his towel and small duffel bag. And he was back at my door in a flash. We stepped out of Ben’s view; the last thing he saw was my wave.

The fuck was almost perfunctory; I had not been on-the-hunt… and he was not my ‘type’… and he was inexperienced. But he was tight and responsive. He knew why he had come with me. He was new to casual sex, so he trembled as I stroked him and entered him. "Go easy," he said. "You’re kinda big." But he moaned just like a whore-boy as I increased the intensity and speed of my fucking… and at the end, he stroked himself to a climax simultaneously with mine. I held him tightly as he convulsed in my arms.

"God… you are GOOD!" he said when he regained the power of speech. "I’ve never felt anything like that. I just felt like you were gonna turn me inside-out. And I’ve never cum so hard." He snuggled against my chest and stroked my shoulder with a soft hand. "I think I love you," he said.

"No… you love fucking… you love man-sex… you love ‘the act’… you love the cock, not it’s owner," I said.

"But it’s never been like that before," he argued. "I want it… you… over and over again."

"That doesn’t happen," I said.

"Really?" he said. There were tears in his eyes. "I thought…"

"It was just a fuck," I said… "for the pleasure of it… pure hedonism… nothing more."

"I’ll spend the rest of my life looking for someone who can fuck me that way," he said.

"If you’re lucky," I said with finality.

He snuggled against me and gripped my arm.

"So… you want to fuck again?" I asked.

"Sure!" he said, rolling into position again.

"Well, my buddy is out there by the pool… big guy… you probably noticed him. He’s really wanting some blond boy-ass, so I’ll bet he’d come in here and show you a good time. OK with you?"

"I was hoping you meant with you," he said. "But if that’s not possible… and if he wants to… I’d go again."

"Wait here," I ordered as I pressed him into the mattress with my palm as I got up from the bed. I slipped into my suit and found Ben at the pool.

"I loosened him up a little bit… if you don’t mind sloppy-seconds," I said. "He’s ready for you."

"Me?" he said. "You couldn’t satisfy his needs?"

"I could," I said… "but if I fucked him again, he’d be out buying an engagement ring." Ben laughed and headed for the bungalow. I lay in the sun, imagining what was happening in my bed.

About an hour later, the two of them left the bungalow. The boy headed-off to meet his coach, and Ben returned to the lounge chair.

"What a smart-alecky little shit!" he said. "He had the balls to tell me that you were a harder fuck than I was. So I tied him down and fucked him a second time. His ass should be plenty sore by now."

"What is it with these inexperienced twinkies?" I complained. "You give them a little attention and they think it’s the start of a meaningful relationship. Don’t they know that a fuck is about as intimate as a handshake?"

"I think this one was starved for attention… male attention," he replied.

"And this falling-in-love crap… if someone falls in love with the way I fuck, I almost take it as an insult. They don’t even know what love is. Loving someone doesn’t happen in a flash… or even overnight. On the other hand, I suppose I should take it as a compliment if I fuck him stupid-enough to say something like that."

"Did he say it when he came?" said Ben. "Or afterwards? It makes a difference." He laughed.

"Afterwards… in the soft glow… the melt-down… the mooshy-phase these boys experience. Such romantics! Everyone’s looking for a life-partner."

"Aren’t you?" said Ben.

"No. Not now. Maybe never."

"Well… that sounds as if you’ve almost made-up your mind. Is it true? You’re not even looking? I mean… don’t you ever get the feeling that someone just might be the person you could spend the rest of your life with? I’m not meaning ME… so don’t get up-tight."

He apparently noticed a wrinkle in my brow or some change in my facial expression. "So I suppose you want to adopt Blonde-Twinkie-Boy there… and set-up housekeeping… and put him through school… and pickup his underwear…" I gave him the lowered-eyebrow stare that expressed my skepticism.

"Not him… that’s certain… but I haven’t ruled-out the possibility… no, more than that… I’m actively looking for someone. There’s a guy back in Pittsburgh… I’ve just seen him a few times… but there seems to be something there… maybe not… but…" He paused because he knew I wanted to say something.

"Relationships are ten-percent pleasure… and ninety-percent bullshit." I said.

"Define ‘bullshit,’" he countered.

"Rules of behavior, schedules, expectations, dealing with someone’s irrational fears, jealousy… and that’s when things are GOOD! And then come boredom, lack of spontaneity, deception, cheating, and rejection. How’s THAT for bullshit?"

"I can see why you’re a loner, if that’s how you feel. Were your past relationships like that?"

"Yes." I wasn’t planning to tell him more than that. I did a push-up off the lounge chair and stepped to the edge of the pool. "It’s getting a little warm here. I think I’ll take a swim." He smiled, realizing he’d touched an exposed nerve-ending.

And when I returned from ten hard-stroked laps, the conversation returned to normal White Party conversation… sex and lust. I told him about last night… in the mangrove. And he told me, in-turn, about an evening spent on a yacht anchored off the Vizcaya Museum… drugs, booze, and boys. And he had heard about the mangrove orgy from several of the guys at his bed-and-breakfast. If he hadn’t gone for the more-classy boat-bash, we might have met in the dark for a re-match. Some things were just not meant to be.

We parted then with plans to meet again at 6:30 in my bungalow. I showered and shaved… then lay down for some rest before the final night at the White Party.

=====

When he arrived, I was still getting dressed. I had brought a few white things to wear, even though my usual wardrobe tended toward darker colors. Ben had dressed casually… white jeans, a white tennis sport-shirt, and white running shoes… so I did the same. White jeans, white dress-shirt, unbuttoned, over a white tanktop, and white shoes. Understated, but appropriate. I rolled the sleeves up to my elbows as we headed for dinner.

The Blue Door had the classic elegance of South Beach mixed with a bit of Island flavor… dark wood, large tropical plants, white tablecloths, and floor-to-ceiling white cotton draperies separating the tables. The fabric billowed in the breeze from the terrace making the room seem alive, but intimate. Candles danced and guttered on each table. The smell of the sea… and wax… and tropical spices wafted through our intimate cubicle.

I ordered a double Jim Beam, which raised the eyebrow of the waiter who was accustomed to serving more elaborate rum-concoctions to gay guests, perhaps. Ben sat back sipping a Planters Punch and looking relaxed and inviting. There was a genuineness about him that I found attractive; his smile was warm and open. His broad, bare shoulders glowed warmly in the candlelight.

"So, have you accomplished what you wanted?" I said after a long, burning sip. "With your research, I mean."

"For someone specializing in Gay Studies, Life is research, I suppose," he said. "I just needed to get away from academia for awhile. Being around a bevy of newly-out gay students is sometimes volatile. I attempt to be a mentor while still trying to stay out of entanglements. Professors fucking with students is a "no-no", even in Gay Studies. So the temptation is always there, but the guard is always up. My "research" involved mixing with the grown-ups for a change. I’m writing a book, so everything is potentially a part of my narrative."

"Even ME?" I said looking at him over the rim of my glass.

"Even you," he said. "Your attitudes are atypical, but certainly valid. Particularly valid for YOU, I imagine. I just wish I could get into that head of yours and figure out what really makes you tick."

"I stopped trying to figure that out long ago," I said. "My philosophy is straight-forward: If it feels good, do it; if you’ve come this far, go a little farther; if you haven’t tried something, do it until it loses its interest; work hard, play hard; keep life simple, but elegant; speak your mind, but hurt no one intentionally; celebrate achievements; be self-sufficient and you’ll never be disappointed; rebel against authority, particularly people who tell you how to think; and finally, use sex, drugs, and alcohol to maintain balance."

"You sound amazingly like an ancient Greek warrior," he said. "Perhaps that’s why I’m imagining you as a nude statue." He smiled. "Sophocles would have loved you… literally." We both laughed and sipped our drinks to bring that discussion to a close.

Dinner arrived, and we ate hungrily like athletes preparing for the big game. "I have a plan for tonight… to celebrate our last night in Miami Beach," I said.

"Now I’m thinking S-E-X," he said.

"You said you were planning to meet someone… the guy from Atlanta. That’s fine. And I’ll scout the crowd for a trick, too. And at the end of the party, we’ll meet and come back to my place to fuck ‘em in-tandem and trade partners. What do you say? A glorious end to a glorious week."

"It’s a deal," he said with a nod and two thumbs up. "I’ll skip dessert and eat some boy-ass, a la mode, later."

=====

The Vizcaya Museum is the restored summer home and formal gardens of the industrialist James Deering. It was built in 1916 along the South Miami coastline in the Italian High Renaissance style. Its broad loggia and stairway lead directly to the water of Biscayne Bay. A substantial portion of the original 180 acre estate is maintained as formal gardens for daytime viewing and nighttime entertaining.

The 34-room house filled with 400 years-worth of antiques and art was open for viewing that evening, but the primary location for the party was the balmy outdoors… the inner courtyard, the outside terraces, and the torch-lit formal gardens. Twinkling white lights were everywhere. More than 2000 guests, some in elaborate costumes, strolled the grounds, eating and drinking… and occasionally stepping into the shadows for more intimate recreation.

Everyone was in white, of course… every imaginable white image that comes to mind… winged angels, brides and bridegrooms, sheep, birds-in-feathers, snowmen, ladies (male and female) wearing long white gowns and dripping with diamonds… or rhinestones, almost-naked boys painted totally white, men and women in white linen suits, white-leather-clad leathermen, white patent-leather Capri pants, lace shirts showing tanned chests… it was all there. Looking was required; touching was encouraged; public displays of affection were common. White tents covered white-clothed tables laden with food and ice sculptures. Waiters in white jackets - and occasionally little else - scurried about delivering trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Music of all types emanated from the various gardens. The air was thick with the smell of after-shave and orchids.

Ben and I traveled together for awhile… two novices in fairyland. But scouting for tricks was not a two-man job; most guys assumed you were a couple and kept their distance… excepting the forward-types and those who were already drunk. We split at the grand staircase and agreed to meet at 11:30, with tricks in-hand.

I decided to stand at the top of the stairs to view the crowd coming upwards toward me. With my shirt open now (the tanktop had been left in the car because of the warmth of the evening), I leaned with one elbow against the huge, stone railing.

"Marvelous, Darling… show me those abs." He looked like a cross between Truman Capote and Mae West (but both were long-dead)… a white suit, white Panama hat, and a thick white-gold watch chain. "I’m not sure I could have you just for myself, but I could certainly SHARE you," he gushed.

I smiled and declined the offer.

"Can I buy you a drink? No, the drinks are free. Can I buy YOU?" It was a 50-year-old man and his wife… or perhaps a very convincing cross-dresser. She hit him with her white feather fan, as they continued into the garden.

Over a thousand gorgeous men milling about like a Saturday night on Liberty Avenue. Well, actually it was nicer than Liberty Avenue… "fresh pickings," so to speak.

I saw him after ten minutes of putting-up with the corny come-on lines. He was about 5’ 11"… slim, but muscular with the 8-pack abs that most guys crave… smooth, tan, oil-glistening skin… almost-black hair spiked in front… full lips and dark, arching brows… wearing the same white jeans I was wearing with a powder blue tanktop tucked in his waistband. He looked at me as he approached, but looked away as he got closer. I stepped in front of him, blocking his way. He looked at me as if he knew me… or as if he wanted to get to know me.

"I’ll bet you’re looking for someone," I said.

"Excuse me," he said, stopping on the stairs as a few people paused behind him. "I am," he continued as he took another step forward, thinking I’d move. We were chest to chest on the top step.

"You found him," I said as I put my hand behind his neck. He gazed into my eyes as if he were going to ask a question.

"Yes," he said… "well… well, no… I mean… I’m looking for the guys I came with."

I stepped to the side and pulled him along with me, clearing the space at the top of the stairs so other climbers could continue. There was a narrow space between the pillar and the tall hedge. I took two more steps pulling him into the darkness of the adjacent garden. "Are you really?" I murmured in his ear as I inclined my head toward his cheek.

"I’m not in any hurry," he said, placing his palm on my bare chest. He paused and looked up into my eyes. "I can feel your heart beating," he continued softly… "like you’re excited about something." His nostrils were flaring; he was excited too.

"I know what I want when I see it… and I go after it," I whispered in his ear.

"And I had this really strong attraction to you when I saw you standing at the top of the stairs... like you were waiting just for me." His arms circled around my waist as he pulled himself closer. His pecs fit nicely under the overhang of mine. I repositioned my arm so that his neck rested in the curve of my elbow. My other hand slipped up his back, feeling him tremble slightly. "Can we… go somewhere?" he asked plaintively.

"There are lots of places we can go," I murmured. "…some now… some later. I can take you lots of places." I looked down into his eyes. He looked young, but afraid of nothing. My hand stroked from his back, over his hip, to his groin trapped against mine. His cock formed a hard mound in the left-upper-quadrant of his pelvis indicating that he had good size and heft… and that he probably was not wearing underwear. I traced its shape through the white denim; he was cut, with a pronounced mushroom-head. He sighed as I stroked him. I removed my fingers and took one step back, breaking his grip around my waist. His hands moved immediately around to my basket, clutching and surveying my ample erection.

"Do you want that? I said. "Go for it!" He slipped two fingers into my fly and began fumbling with the buttons. "On your knees," I ordered. He started to drop to the ground.

"My pants will get dirty," he said desperately. "Hold on." He kicked off his running shoes, undid his pants, and slipped them off. His cock swayed as he folded them and lay them in the grass a few feet away. On his knees, he stroked gently up the outside of my thighs; then he returned to the metal buttons with both hands. As it spilled out, he paused to examine my cock, turgid and upward-curving. "It’s a beauty!" he whispered as he licked his lips unconsciously. My jeans sagged onto my thighs. With one hand on my ball-sac and the other around the base of my shaft, he guided it between his lips. I guided his head with my hand.

"Slow," I said. "We have all night."

He cast his eyes upward, with the tip between his lips… begging to know if it was really true. I stroked my thumb across his forehead, damp with sweat, then closed his eyes with my thumb pad to let him know he was the chosen one. He took another inch of my cock to seal the bargain.

We were only a few feet away from the stream of party-goers ascending and descending the great garden staircase, but the foliage and the shadows provided by overarching palms and eucalyptus gave us our own little world of privacy. The murmur of voices and the sounds of footsteps simply heightened the danger-level; but we were risking no more than countless other couples secluded in the garden’s hideaways. Salsa music made this seem a long way from a Pittsburgh back-alley.

He sucked me like a hungry child eating an ice cream cone… long tongue-swaths along the base, compressing my protruding urethra… tongue-swirls around the head… darting tongue-licks at the ridge of the glans… surrounding lip-compression as he took the shaft deep into his throat… gentle tongue-swipes along the thin, veiny skin covering the crus… the pointy tongue-probes of my terminal slit. He caressed it in every way he could.

"Hot mouth… ooooh, more, Babe… show me what you can do." I swayed and took a short step to the side; his ministrations were making me lose my balance… and the tight jeans around my thighs didn’t help.

His hands massaged my abs and pecs as if to convince himself there was more to my body that just a cock. He moaned softly on my shaft as he felt me tense the muscles to hardness in response to his touch. On the outstroke, he paused; "I love your body," he said. "I want to get to know every square inch." His mouth lunged for my ball-sac as he suctioned both testicles into his wide-open lips. I reached for his head to steady myself. He released them… wet with his saliva and suddenly cool in the dry night air. "I want you to fuck me," he said in a hoarse whisper followed by an inarticulate outpouring of pleasure.

"Later," I said, stroking his head. "There will be plenty of time for that," I continued. "This will be my farewell to South Beach, and I plan to make the most of it."

He smiled and took my cock again. I would be the climax to his week, too.

Later, in another dark part of another garden, seeking hands reached out to us from the darkness of a jasmine hedge in full-bloom. "Join us," they said wordlessly. "We have eroticism to share… mouths to fill… muscles to subdue… skin to caress. Use us." We stepped into the darkness. Together we took the other couple… like two wolves feeding together… spurred-on by the other’s urgings… aroused by the other’s primal utterances. We stripped them wordlessly and pressed them to their knees. We fucked their mouths in unison, turning occasionally to kiss each other as the arousal spread throughout our erogenous zones. Poppers were thrust into my hand and I took a long, lung-searing inhalation, then handed the bottle to my partner. He inhaled deeply, then, as I was about to exhale, he clamped his mouth over mine and sucked more air from my lungs. I felt the buzz… the numbness… the racing heartbeat… the inevitable climax. I reached for his shoulder and found him clinging to me. We shot simultaneously into gulping mouths. When we recovered, we were standing alone, supporting each other.

"Oh, my God," he groaned. "I was saving that for later."

"Don’t worry," I said. "There’s plenty more where that came from. I have my ways."

We walked through the gardens, talking about ourselves… the basics, that is… enough so that the memory of him wasn’t just a shadow in the darkness. His name was Paul, and he was a law student in D.C., but originally from New England… an athlete… a balanced top-and-bottom. We walked side-by-side… my arm over his shoulder so that I could occasionally pull him closer to smell his hair and to feel his warmth. He put his hands on my torso in a casual, friendly way… as if he knew it pleased me. I enjoyed how people looked at us together. We visited the food tents and drank more champagne. We talked with another couple who passed-out joints like business cards. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and each other… and we enjoyed the anticipation of what was to come. In quiet moments, he gripped me as if to say "I’m ready."

As we approached the mansion, I felt him tense. "Wait here," he said, pressing me backward with one hand on my shoulder. "I need to talk to someone. Don’t make a scene. I’ll take care of this."

Facing us about twenty feet away was a muscular hunk in white Everlast boxer’s trunks and a white tanktop that said "Sucker Punch." He glared at Paul as he approached. They spoke quietly for a moment and then the boxer hit Paul’s shoulder with an open palm. I stepped forward, but the blow had turned Paul toward me and he signaled for me to stay out of it. He turned again, trying to explain. Voices raised; the discussion was heated. And finally the big guy turned and stormed off.

Paul returned to my side. "He’s just someone I met here in Miami," he said. "Nothing permanent… and he knows that. He’s just being an asshole. No one made any promises to anyone."

"And that’s how I want it to be," I said, ruffling his hair with my fingers. "No promises. No regrets. Just tonight. Just the pleasure."

He mussed my hair in reply. "You got it," he said with a sparkle in his eye.

When we arrived at the base of the great staircase at 11:30, Ben and his new "buddy" were there waiting. He introduced Les, from Atlanta… blond… sparkling eyes that looked perpetually surprised… a bit more muscular than I expected, knowing how well Ben liked the slim blond from earlier in the day… and Ben was right… he had the sweetest southern accent that made you want to grab his cock and yell "The South Shall Rise AGAIN!" I liked him immediately… a keen sense of humor with a good dose of raunchiness. He could charm the fur off a polar bear. It was stacking-up as a glorious evening.

Les handed his camera to a passing young-man. "Y’all take our picture, please? I want the folks back home to see who I met here." We linked arms over shoulders. "Say ‘penis,’" said the photographer, making us break into big smiles.

We headed for the parking lot. I was feeling fine… beating drum rhythms on the fenders of cars as we passed. Too much steel-band music can do that to you.

"I’m the designated driver," Ben said. "Bongo-boy here probably couldn’t find his hotel… and that’s where we’re going." We all piled into the car and I bent down to blow Paul next to me. His fingers in my hair showed that he was enjoying himself, although he kept pulling me off when I got him too close. "Save it," he said.

Back at the hotel, we tumbled out of the car, pumped-up from the party and ready for the finale. We stumbled into the bungalow. We plundered the mini-bar, everyone taking his favorite… and I retrieved the drug supplies and spread them out on the table. "I’m not planning to take any of this home," I said… "so we need to finish it all… or I’ll leave it as part of my "tip" for room service." Eager hands reached for a variety of capsules… and we lit two joints.

At that point, Ben pulled Les into the bedroom. I decided to enjoy Paul in the living room… for awhile. There was plenty of time for trading and sharing.

He’d already taken his shoes off… and when I sat on the couch, he knelt before me and removed mine… then pulled the long, white socks off too. His hands massaged my feet one-at-a-time. His touch was gentle; he stroked them softly. I leaned forward to run my fingers through his hair. He twisted his head to kiss my wrist, then rocked forward to kiss the soft skin just below my navel as he opened my fly with eager fingers. With my cock exposed and growing by the second, he rushed to open his own jeans. He shoved them down and stripped them off his legs. Then he returned to my waistband, gripping both side and pulled them down. I lifted my ass to accommodate him. We were naked now. I sucked the smoke into my lungs, held it there, and offered the joint to Paul. He sucked it from my fingers and looked up at me with begging eyes before exhaling.

"I don’t want this night to end," he said.

"Fuck," I said. "We haven’t even started yet."

Still crouching between my spread thighs, he leaned forward to catch my swaying glans in his lips. He looked up to watch the pleasure wash over my face. "Suck it," I said. "Show me what you can do… here in-private."

He began to bob up and down on my shaft letting the warm moistness of his lips skim along the protruding veins on the down-stroke, and then tightening and suctioning on the up-stroke. Over and over again… the sensation was divine… I could never tire of the oral stimulation. He looked up at me occasionally to check the level of my arousal… and I urged him on. While he sucked me, his hand slipped behind his back and descended to his ass-crack, where he began fingering his hole as if preparing it for the juicy cock in his mouth. Watching him finger himself was a real turn-on. I wanted to use it for my own pleasure. "Get it ready," I said.

"It’s twitchin… just for you," he replied. His other hand descended to his cock and he began working it in-rhythm with his sucking. He was pulling out all the "stops"… his hormones were humming.

"I want to see that ass I’m gonna fuck," I said. "Up here… on your hands and knees… on the couch." He stopped sucking and scrambled up onto the cushions with his ass in my face. It was perfect. His gluts were firm, with that slight indentation on the sides. The soft skin in the expanse above his crack was marked with two delightful dimples. His cheeks were smooth and blemish-free. I pressed his crack open with the heel of my hand. He had a prominent "well" at his opening; all thrusts would be guided into his sphincter, even if they missed the mark. The pink skin of his valley darkened to a rosy-brown at the margins… and his tightness was evidenced by the twists and folds in the center of the target. I pressed a finger into him and he gave an audible moan. Twisting my hand almost 360-degrees, I reamed him open with a screwing action, delving deeper with each twist. His natural lubrication was working well.

From the next room, I heard the moans of the other boy. He was apparently being penetrated too. And then the moans turned to louder whimpers as he started to move his ass on the invading object… a finger, a cock, or a dildo. Ben had brought his bag of "toys."

"That feels SO good," my boy moaned. "Give me two fingers. Open me up." I obliged with two straight fingers in a slow, but firm, thrust. He rocked forward, first… in surprise… but then settled back down onto my fingers, pressing his warm ass around them. "Finger-fuck my boy-ass," he murmured as he tried to twist far enough to see what I was doing.

The sounds from the bedroom indicated that Ben was already fucking his boy… the slap of thighs on ass… the guttural grunts as Ben surged forward… the higher-pitched whimpers as his ass was pummeled. "Save some for me," I shouted. "Share-and-share-alike."

"Come and get it while it’s hot!" Ben’s voice shot-back from the bedroom.

"Hold on. I need a condom," I said to Paul. I slipped my fingers out of him and started to get up.

"Just slip it in me once…this way," he said, reaching back to feel that there was no pre-cum yet. "I want us both to remember how it feels," he murmured. I knelt on the couch and gripped my shaft with both hands. He reached back to spread his ass. I pressed it into his atrium. As he released his grasp, his ass closed around my column; his hands reached back further to grip my hips in an attempt to pull me into him, but before he could get a grasp, I pressed into his un-lubed hole. He felt my cockhead spreading his sphincter and leaned back to meet my pressure. I watched it slide in, a millimeter at a time, as I gripped it tightly, making it swell inside him to smooth the folds and push-aside the muscular rings.

"Oh, my God! You’re gonna tear me," he moaned. "I didn’t know you were so big."

"Maybe this’ll help," I said, pulling out until the tip was barely exposed and letting a string of spit descend to bathe my shaft. I thumbed it around the mushroom head, then leaned into him again. This time it slipped in more easily.

"Ooooooohhhhhh," he moaned. "Give it to me… all of it!"

I dug my knees into the sofa cushion and leaned over him adding my weight to the pressure. As it passed his tightness, it slipped in more easily now. I released my grip as the shaft continued it’s inward plunge. Residual saliva bubbled around his trembling ass-lips. He moaned again; the volume increased to a roar of ecstasy. My cock increased its girth as his muscles spasmed around the hardness. He gripped the couch cushion with white knuckles and twisted his head from side-to-side as if to say "I can take the pain. Give it to me."

I leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "If I stay in you like this any longer, we’ll be breaking one of my rules. I’ll be right back." I pulled out of him slowly, watching his hole close slowly as the tip exited. He was covered with a thin sheen of sweat that glimmered in the dim light. I wanted to fuck him senseless at that moment.

Quickly, I stepped into the bedroom to retrieve a condom from the nightstand. Ben was already pumping into his boy with the focus that made him oblivious to my presence. As I departed, I traced a line down his back with my fingers; he opened his eyes and paused, smiling. Les was still humping on his shaft, unaware that the thrusting had stopped. Ben tossed his head toward the living room… a signal which I interpreted as "Bring your boy in here, and let’s make it a foursome."

"Give me a few more minutes," I murmured… "to get him ready." Ben smiled. His boy was already ready… and half-way to Paradise.

When I returned to the living room, Paul had rolled onto his back on the couch and was lying with his legs raised in a wide "Y" with his hands on his knees. His ass hung enticingly, open and ready, over the front edge of the couch. He smiled invitingly... such a seductive smile with eyes cast up in supplication. "Fuck me," he whispered.

I slammed the condom onto my tumescence in a little over two seconds and knelt into position. "I want you to take me in one thrust," he said. "I can take it. I’m ready."

I gripped his wide-spread ankles and pressed them backwards against the back of the sofa, bending him almost double and raising his ass to the level of my cock. Slipping the head into place, as before, I watched him close his eyes and drift off into that relaxation-fantasy he used to prepare for forceful penetration. "Yes," he murmured.

I pulled back a few inches, to gain momentum, and then thrust into him with one plunge. The stretching-sliding feeling I had felt in slow-motion earlier was now compressed into a few seconds. His body tensed as I entered him, then relaxed as I filled him. The hint of pain disappeared from his face as he reached between his spread legs with open arms and gripped me around the neck.

"Here’s something I’ll bet you’ve never done," I whispered in his ear. His eyes opened in anticipation. I released his ankles and slipped my hands behind his shoulders. I stroked down his back, both hands down his lats until my fingers met at his waist. I pressed my fingers together, interlocking… then began to straighten up, lifting him off the couch… his spread thighs resting in my elbows and his ass skewered on my up-thrusting shaft. He supported his upper body with his arms. Once upright, I bounced him a few times to let him feel my cock buried in him all the way… as gravity forced his body weight onto my pelvis. His head lolled back, mouth open, eyes rolled upward. I could feel him tightening his ass-muscles on my shaft… holding himself in-place and milking my shaft at the same time. In this position, I carried him into the bedroom.

Ben and his partner had changed position, but the action was just as intense as before. I settled Paul on an open space near the foot of the king-size bed. As he bounced on the mattress, his ass milked my cock in the most delightful way. Ben turned to see what we were doing, then turned back to his vigorous fucking of Les’s ass.

"Before you wear him out," I said to Ben, "let’s allow these boys to get to know one another."

Ben smiled. "Sure. I’d like to watch that myself." We pulled out simultaneously and rolled the two into the center of the bed in a jumble of arms and legs. They were startled at first to be empty so suddenly… but they were so aroused that the touch of another body started the exploration, kissing, stroking and jacking that let us know their libidos were on auto-pilot.

Ben and I stood beside the bed and watched their ministrations to each other. I stroked his back and ass… just wanting to touch his hot skin. We nodded our approval as the two boys found new ways to pleasure each other… each in a mindless swirl of pleasure, unaware of the guy they were with… just using mouths as sensory organs, licking and kissing anything within reach.

Eventually they lay facing each other with pairs of hands on each other’s cocks. I nodded to Ben; it was time to join them. We approached the bed from opposite sides and slipped in behind the writhing pair… I behind Les, and Ben behind Paul. Both boys had been opened-up earlier, so we each lifted a leg to open an ass, then slipped our cock into waiting holes. There was a simultaneous moan from the boys as we started to pump in-unison… with each plunge driving the two closer together until they were chest-to-chest. Their lips met in a desperate kiss… tongues intertwining, as our fucking rocked their bodies against each other. Clutching hands, trapped between them, tried to bring the other to climax.

Ben and I linked elbows to get more leverage for our simultaneous assaults. Suddenly I tightened my biceps, squeezing his arm; I was going to cum; it was unavoidable. I had waited too long. "Cum with me?" I said to him over the shoulders of the boys.

"Yes," he nodded. "I’m ready." We doubled the power of our thrusts, trapping the boys’ cocks between them as we increased the tempo. Les was moaning now… almost shouting into Paul’s open mouth. The suctioning sounds of cocks pumping in and out of asses filled the room. I sank my teeth into the shoulder in front of me. "Now!" I shouted through clenched teeth. "Cum… with… me… NOW!!!" Our elbows unlocked as we each clamped our arms around the boy we were fucking. The jerking muscle contractions. The clutching. The catatonic clenching. The last amazing thrust. The outpouring. The second… and the third… and the fourth. Ben reached for the back of my neck as if he was fucking me. I felt the impact of his eruption through the two intervening bodies. We lay there in a quivering tangle of raw nerve endings.

As we began to relax, I could feel the two boys beginning to finger each other again as they kissed a second time. We let them play with each other as we regained our strength.

=====

Hands exploring bodies again. Arousal regained. Kissing the soft hairs on the back of a neck. Stroking the curvature of a firm deltoid. Hips grinding against ass. The taste of salt on a shoulder blade. The grasping fingers of renewed ardor. Pinched nipples. Pubic hair against my hip. We were changing positions.

Ben and I traded sides of the bed. I slipped behind Paul again, nuzzling his shoulder to remind him who was there. "Hi. Remember me?"

"You’re the wonderful guy who brought me here. I’d recognize that cock anywhere." He snuggled his ass against my semi-hard erection. "I seem to remember that you said you were going to fuck me." He twisted his head to the side; I licked his earlobe and sent my long tongue into his ear canal. He gave a wiggle of appreciation.

"Use your mouth to get me hard again… and I’ll be happy to oblige," I whispered.

He shoved himself away from Les, who was almost asleep, and rolled over. I rolled to sit on the edge of the bed, then turned around and knelt so that, as Paul rolled onto his side and lifted himself onto one elbow, his mouth approached my cock. I pressed him away for a moment and stripped the condom off my shaft. "Ya never know where something like that’s been," I said with a smile.

"I’ll bet I can guess," he said, taking the bared tip into his lips.

Meanwhile, Ben had slipped in behind Les and he was massaging his chest from behind.

"Y’all are gonna get me goin’ again," said Les as he responded to the stimulation and, in turn, began to stroke Paul’s back. His hand slipped down over the smooth, muscular ass and he gave a low whistle. "I want me some of that," he murmured. "Pass me a condom… please." The southern boys were so polite. I reached for one and passed it across the bed.

As Ben rolled Les onto his side, he lifted his knee along Les’s side; Les gripped it under his arm and locked Ben into position with his cock an inch from Les’s hole. And Les did the same to Paul… sliding his inner thigh up over Paul’s hip, then over his side… and Paul instinctively gripped the overarching leg under his arm, settling back down onto his side. I slumped lower to keep my cock within reach.

Ben’s cock found Les’s hole and began to enter. I could hear Les sighing as the shaft slid deep into him. Ben gave a quick, pulsing thrust, then paused as Les adjusted and slipped his cock into Paul’s crack. The boy hadn’t expected to be fucked in this position, so a cloud of concern passed over his face. "It’s OK," I said. "I’ll get you next." Paul smiled and settled back onto Les’s invading dick. "Get in line," murmured Paul. His mouth settled back onto my cock as he adjusted the angle so my head would slide into his cheek.

Ben began his fucking motion then, rocking in and out of Les’s ass. And Les rocked back to meet each thrust, pulling his shaft almost out of Paul’s hole. And then, as Ben retreated, Les surged forward, still retaining Ben’s tip, but driving his shaft into Paul who rocked deeper onto my cock with his hot mouth. When we all realized the complicated rhythmic motion, we fucked like a four-cylinder engine. The waves of enjoyment were accentuated by a gentle moan that moved from one mouth to the next as we sank into the pleasure-pit. The pace accelerated gradually. Arms stroked hips, thighs, and hairy calves to urge the fuckers onward. I guided Paul’s head with my hand so he wouldn’t lose my shaft.

"Fuck! Oh, fuck! Slam-fuck!" … "Fuck my boy-ass. Oh, God! Oh, God! Ooooohhhh, God!" … "MmmmmmmMMMMMmmmmmmm."

"Suck it," I said, changing the angle of insertion. "I want to feel it down your throat."

Les was the first to cum… a huge convulsion punctuated by a sharp cry. He trembled as if he were being electrocuted… and Paul stopped sucking for a moment to savor the feeling of fullness. He was jacking his cock now, wanting to cum with the others. Ben came next… a slower build-up and surge… he clutched Les’s shoulder for support as his shoulders hunched forward and then slammed back as his cum-load exploded. His face grimaced; he roared through clenched teeth.

Paul came next… a creamy deluge all over his forearm and shoulder… and I was a split-second behind him. As he gasped for air, I slammed the tip into his throat and pumped my load, almost choking him. He swallowed to avoid inhaling my spunk… then gagged as the unavoidable reflex took-over. I held his head in my hands, trying to help him breathe again as I pulled out a few inches.

Unintelligible moans of pleasure mingled in an all-male chorus. No music could ever sound as sweet as the pleasure moans of men in simultaneous ecstatic delight. Arms clenched. Hands gripped. Mouths kissed the closest patch of male skin. Like a giant organism in mitosis, we split and split again… until we were lying side-by-side… separate… in individual self-pleasure… etching the moment into our memories. I moved my hand slightly to brush the side of Paul’s thigh. He turned to smile at me in wordless, dreamy camaraderie. The pleasure fraternity.

=====

We slept then in darkness… for awhile… naked bodies clustered in twos and threes. Slow breathing in my ear… the radiated warmth of a torso so close, but not touching… a caress under the blanket… a gentle snore stifled by ministering lips… gentle fingers in my hair… a nose and lips nuzzling my neck… legs intertwined… fingers intertwined… soft breath against my shoulder blade… sweat-dampened hair against my shoulder… the back of a hand against my belly as fingers clutched me in a dream-line trance… a sigh of pleasure… too many sensations numbed and interrupted by sleep. I brushed my face with my palm to convince myself that this was real. My fingers brushed my lips like a silent kiss.

=====

Aroused again. A firm grip on my cock… stroking a dream-induced erection… wanting to plant it into some boy’s ass. I rolled onto Paul in the dim light of morning. One more time. Just one more time before going back to Pittsburgh. I reached over to run my fingers through Ben’s hair. His eyes opened sleepily as he lifted his head. "I love sex in the morning," he said with a sleepy, husky voice.

"Let’s show ‘em how we do it in Pittsburgh," I said with a wink.

Before the boys knew what was happening, we had moved them into position side-by-side on their bellies across the bed. Ben and I stood on the same side, and lifted sleepy boy-asses into a crouch… chest, faces, forearms and knees on the bed… asses in the air. New condoms were applied quickly.

"Last one to cum buys breakfast!" I said, plunging into Paul’s ass-crack.

"You’ll be buying sausage and eggs," said Ben accepting the challenge and plowing into the still-drowsy Les.

"Tighten that ass," I ordered as I slapped Paul with the flat of my palm. He jerked and tightened on-command.

We pumped into the boys for five minutes. As they awoke fully, they cheered us on; we made promises we didn’t intend to keep if we won the wager.

With a sharp pinch of my own nipple, I managed to shoot first…and my guttural moan brought Ben to completion too. Les and Paul were aroused… and they wanted more.

I pulled Paul off the bed, walked him to the other side and pressed him downward into the same position, but this time in the opposite direction. "One more time," I said. "Double or nothing."

Ben looked at me as if I were crazy, but, not to be outdone, he gripped himself tightly and plunged again into Les who almost squealed in pleasure.

Both boys were stroking their cocks; they were ready to cum, too. A night’s sleep had refilled the "tank." So I paused for a moment and pushed Paul closer to Les. Ben, recognizing what I was doing, helped Les roll over onto his back while still penetrated. I indicated to Paul that he was to climb-aboard in sixty-nine position in the center of the bed. With Les’s knees over Ben’s shoulders and his head between my knees, I began to fuck Paul again while Ben fucked Les. And the two boys sucked each other and stroked each other’s bodies with eager hands. I have no memory of who came first; we never settled the bet. The mind-blowing climax of the entire weekend drained every last jizz-drop… collapsed every seminal vesicle… blew every erogenous brain-fuse… and cramped every muscle in that cum-soaked bed. I don’t even remember breakfast.

=====

Ben and I met one last time in the airport. Although we had been scheduled on the same plane for our arrival, we were on separate planes for our departure, a half-hour apart. We laughed as we approached each other… both wearing sunglasses to hide sleepy eyes.

"Any problem getting to the airport? I asked. "I tried to call the Jefferson, but you had already checked out."

"I took a cab," he said. "I thought about giving you a call, but I wasn’t sure you’d be able to find the airport." We both laughed. I didn’t tell him I’d driven the wrong way on Interstate-95.

"When we get back to Pittsburgh…" he began.

"What? You wanta hook up? You’ve got a boyfriend. Remember him?" I said. "You’re into relationships… and I’m not. You may have found someone… and it isn’t I."

He nodded affirmatively. "I know. I should try to make it work. But South Beach will always be on my mind," he said.

"Who could forget it?" I countered with a grin. It had been, perhaps, the most sex-filled four days of my life. Someday I planned to return.

"We’ll meet again… someday," he said with certainty. "Pittsburgh isn’t that big. But I don’t go to bars much. I meet too many students…"

"Remember? That’s how you heard about me. You’ll certainly know where I am. But, as far as I’m concerned, it ends here." I held out my hand. He took it and squeezed it instead of shaking it.

"A tender end to a mind-blowing four days," he murmured, looking into my eyes. He patted the back of my hand with his other hand, then stroked his fingers slowly down mine. "Goodbye, Bri." He turned quickly and walked away from me toward his gate in the next concourse. My attention was suddenly drawn to a dark-haired Navy Lieutenant sitting in the waiting area and reading GQ. I adjusted my sunglasses… and headed for Pittsburgh.

The End

=====

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