Feet on the Ground

[Autolycus]

Thanks for another highly entertaining chapter!

 

[Kyanimal]

Entertaining, educational (on many levels), and with a generous dollop of humor!

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Fifteen - Sensory Deprivation or Emotionally Unavailable


Dr. Tucker conducted the rest of the physical, the part that supposedly required the extra five years of education to do correctly; she was very professional. There were no erections, minimal flesh exposure, only one internal prostate probe, and a lot of questions. “There is a little gratuity that goes with participation,” she said; “So we want to be certain you are what you say you are. Do you mind if I re-ask some of the questions on the form you completed?”

“Fire away, Doc,” I was aiming for amiable, but at least I sounded sincere.

“Yes …” Did I detect some skepticism? She asked some very straight forward sexual questions of a yes or no type. I answered her in the same manner. There is not much to work with when it's just yes or no. “Now, Mr, Harris, would you put on these lenses and look at some pictures.” She showed me some slightly provocative soft-core porn; there was enough showing to admire but not enough to cause an erection in anybody over twenty-one. “Alright, you qualify. Your immediate reactions were those of a man who prefers men. Except for one.”

“Yes, I know the one you mean. A very pretty girl. I thought she looked amazingly like you. You're very attractive, also. Did you put that one in as a special test?”

Totally unflappable, she said, “I assure you there are no pictures of me in the folio.” Then she paused. “What exactly do you think of women?”

“I love 'em, except I like men better.”

“So you have had successful sexual relations with women?”

“What do you mean by successful? Did they like it? Did I?”

“No, I mean did your actions include penetration that proceeded to orgasm.”

“Yes, or I wouldn't have done it the second time.”

“If you were stranded on a desert island with a woman ...”

“We would be fucking all the time … assuming she was willing, of course.”

“Um, a personal observation, Mr. Harris. Your penis is of the sort tht pleases women. By that I mean it's not exceptionally long but still quite thick.”

“Well, that's good to know, I guess.”

The doctor's expression brightened. “Mr. Harris, we are running another protocol that you might be interested in. It involves social conditioning intended for homosexual men that might dispose them to a relationship with a woman.” She sensed my alarm. “No, no, it's nothing like those old electroshock aversion treatments, which were barbarian. Truly barbarian. It's mostly about providing a supportive rationale, meditation, and encouragement. I don't know if this is anything you would be interested in; but, if it is, you would be a perfect candidate based on your age and experience.”

I'm not sure what made me say it, but I said, “I've been looking for a reason to break up with my boyfriend. This might be it. Can I give you an answer after I talk to him?”

“Certainly. There is one qualifier that could be difficult. Have you ever been in a sensory deprivation tank?” I shook my head no. “It's like a whirlpool bath, without the waterjets or bubbles, enclosed, very dimly lighted, soundproof except for what sounds we introduce. Nothing frightening. Very soothing. Comfortable. But .. maybe a little claustraophobic. Do confining spaces bother you?”

“I don't know,” I told her honestly.

“You could try a session, if you like - if that would be reassuring.”

She took me to a room with three tanks and told me to follow the instructions on the placard attached to the tank. With no additional instructions, she left. Step One. Remove clothes. Ok. Step Two … The next thing I knew I was naked and comfortably seated in a large bathtub with a roof. The water was warm and the sounds were sea-like, soothing, and random. I closed my eyes and let myself drift. It was a gentle experience that became comforting - like I felt really good. The beginnings of an erection came and quickly went away. I felt totally relaxed. The image of the pretty girl who looked like Dr. Tucker came to mind. I could almost hear her talking; there was sound but no words. I thought of a guy called Norman, the first guy I ever did anything with. The image of the pretty girl started to fade. She was much better looking than Norman, who was not pretty at all; I didn't want her to go. I reached for the picture of the woman but couldn't quite call her back. The sound of chimes rang and the top of the tank opened. “The session is ended,” a soft voice told me. Wow! Nice!

I climbed out of the tub onto a small platform with three steps to the floor. At the same time someone else was descending from the next talk. He heard me and turned. Ruslan! “Hey Hollis,” he called out. “I thought I was alone here.” Wow! Nice! Again! Naked Ruslan was flawlessly attractive. “Careful!” he called out and rushed to catch me as I slipped on the middle step. He held me steady.

“Sorry, I suddenly felt dizzy,” I told him.

“Yeah, it happens for the first few sessions when you get out.” He started to release me but I wobbled. He held me again. “You'll get used to it.” He held on. “Feeling better?”

“I must be feeling better. I'm suddenly aware that I'm up close and very personal with you.” I looked up at him and realized that he was taller than me. Quite a bit taller. He slowly backed away, watching to be sure I could stand. OMG, I thought; he's got a semi. “If I push down on your hands, does it go up?” I asked him.

He chuckled and said, “Try it.” I didn't push down on his hands, instead I took hold of his cock and slowly jacked him. He got hard – I got hard. “Sit on the steps,” he said. He knelt in front of me and began sucking my cock. It didn't take long for me to come. I reciprocated; he warned me, “You have to take all my cum. Tucker goes batshit if any traces are found in here.” I did my best, which Ruslan said was an “Awesome blowjob, dude!” We got dressed and arrived at the awkward see-you-around part. I hesitated. It turned out not to be awkward at all. He said, “You want to come home with me?”

We went in his car. It was an older BMW 3-series. We talked. The nice part was when he would squeeze my thigh to emphasize a point.

“I'm taking the conversion therapy. It's vital to me that I marry and have children. I just don't want to live that other kind of life. You know? I can't imagine living with all the show tunes and goofy clothes and bitchiness tht gay guys bury themselves in.”

“Ruslan, being gay doesn't mean you have to be part of a high-maintenance drag show. There are gay guys with all kids of interests. My friend Euie fishes. Brandon runs a landscaping business. Steve is a butcher. Richard, well, yeah, I guess Richard is what you're trying to avoid.”

“I guess, but I don't know any of those people. All the gays I meet are … real gay, if you get what I'm saying.” He turned and looked at me. Those blue eyes again. I just about melted. He took some back roads to avoid Leesburg and we got to Great Falls in a little over a half hour. The house was on the river in a neighborhood of McMansions, all of them very new on five-acre lots and winding roads. He left his car in a circular drive and said, “Come on.” Once in the door he said, “Upstairs.” I felt his hands on my butt and paused. “Don't stop here! We can't fuck on the stairs.” He pushed me onward. We got to his bedroom – I guess it was his – it was full of pictures of him and trophies and ribbons, book shelves, a desk, a couple chairs – but no bed. “No need for a shower, huh? We're all clean from the immersion tank,” he said as he pulled off his clothes. He stood waiting with the confidence of a naked athelete. “Come on! Get 'em off!”

I did, leaving my clothes on the floor. He grabbed me and held me, a combination hug and cuddle. Warm and fuzzy, but no kiss. I tried to kiss him but he said, “Tucker says we all stray now and then, but no kissing. Save that for the girls.” He kissed other parts of me, but not my mouth. And then he picked me up and carried me through a door to his real bedroom with a bed and not much else in it. He was passionate and thorough. And those eyes! “I want to fuck you,” he half asked and half stated. “Yeah,” I gasped. We moved fluidly from him lying on top of me to him fucking me. He was pretty quick to come. And then he gave me another blow job. When we were done, he sighed. “I like giving blow jobs. I hope you like getting them. You're very responsive. I can tell exactly when you're gonna cum – your balls pull up tight and your sack gets all wrinkled and your muscles tighten. You come nice. Not like some guys who just wimper a little - spurt a little.”

What do you say to that? “Thanks ... So, are you dating? Girls, I mean?” I asked him.

“Dating?” he chuckled his usual chuckle. “I'm engaged! To Tucker's daughter! We're getting married in the summer.” He played with my dick a little and then looked at me and said, “Hungry?” Those eyes! God, I wanted to kiss him.

We went out to the first room, what he called his study, and got dressed. He huggd me briefly and we went downstairs into the biggest kitchen I'd ever seen. “I can make pasta or something,” he offered. I said whatever he felt like was good with me. He put a stick of butter, a big can of tomatoes, and a half onion into a pot and then looked at his watch. “Let's go for a walk. Get some air while this cooks.”

His no-kissing rule didn't include hand holding. It surprised me when he took my hand, but he made no big deal out of it. He just held on while we walked and talked. “I'm glad you came home with me. Oh, careful,” he pulled me back from the edge of the path. “It's a couple of bumps and then straight down to the river.”

“Ruslan, I don't get you. You're taking a course in how to be straight but you take me home and we have hot sex. Shouldn't you be doing this with your fiance?”

“I'll have all my life to do it with her. Maybe only tonight to do it with you. Tucker said we're only human; we can all expect to fail now and then. And I'd rather do it with you than anybody else I know.” He stopped and hugged me. “You're very sexy. I want to kiss you, believe me.” At that point I thought he would; but, again, he didn't.

The walk got more rugged and we proceeded single file up to a promontory above the river. Looking up the Potomac the last of the sunset was fading. Looking downstream the lights of Washington were starting to come on. He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my chest. “I like it here. I like it better when someone like you is with me.” He squeezed and I felt his pelvis against my butt. “That doesn't happen very often ... someone like you.” I could feel the start of his erection. The moment was too brief. “Time to go. Sauce is almost done.”

Some kind of broad noodle pasta, Ruslan's tomato sauce, a ready-made salad, and a small glass of wine. “You make a good dinner,” I told him.

He put the dishes in a machine and looked at his watch again. “Carbs after seven o'clock. We better go burn them off. Come on.” I thought he meant more sex; but he took me to a home gym. We stripped to our underwear. There were threes of everything. “I have two older brothers,” he explained. We pedaled stationary bikes while watching TV news, we worked on weight machines, we did some free weight lifting. “Lie down on the bench,” he said. The sex part, I thought; but, no. He got out a large padded disk and gave me a vibrator massage. Awesome. So soothing. I rolled over and displayed an erection. He smiled, “You're getting ahead of me.” I gave him the same massage he gave me and still had the erection at the end of it. But now he did, too.

We carried our clothes back to his bedroom. He knelt again and gently sucked my cock again, I thought he was going to give me another blowjob, but he was just warming me up. “Fuck me,” he whispered. We didn't bother with the bed; we did it on the floor. “There's some lube in that desk,” he pointed. He knelt and waited for me to enter him. I went slowly at first, but he wanted more. “Harder,” he said and I ramped it up, pumping deeper and faster. “Yes! Yes! Do it!” He rolled over and put his legs in the air. I reentered him and gave it to him hard. I started to cum and grabbed his cock. He exploded, too. Messy. He puts out a lot of cum. I licked and slurped cleaning him up. We lay next to each other out of breath.

“Wow,” he said sounding satisfied. “For a little guy, you are a great fuck. I was expecting just ...”

“A pity fuck? That's what you were doing for me?” Between gasps I tried to sound hurt.

“No! I mean … well … maybe a little. It was your turn and I was planning to fuck you again tonight. So I thought ...”

“A pity fuck for little Hollis.”

He grabbed me, pulled me on top, and wrapped his legs around me. “The pity is we can't do it every night.” His hands roamed around my back and my butt. Sex hadn't been this good for a long time. He held me for a while, lost in his own thoughts. “One time my brother Ty caught me just like this with some guy.” He chuckled his little chuckle. “The other guy totally freaked. I didn't give a shit. 'Hey, Ty,' I said. 'You want seconds?' The guy screamed and ran naked out of the house. Ty's even bigger than I am. A week later the guy withdrew from school and nobody ever saw him again.”

“He went crazy? Ran away?” I asked.

“No. Boarding school. My brothers, my dad, too, know I'm gay. They don't make a big deal out of it. In fact, they try to ignore it. And since I'm taking Tucker's course, they keep trying to fix me up with chicks. My engagement isn't public yet. Tucker knows. And of course, Mila knows. That's her name. Ludmila. Sometimes I think Tucker hired me just for my name.”

We talked for hours and then he fucked me. Gently. No violence, but no kiss either.

He drove me to my car in the morning, holding hands as much as steering and shifting gears would allow. One last look into his beautiful eyes and I reluctantly got out of his car and into mine. I drove to the office still feeling his dick in me and reliving the last fourteen hours with Ruslan.

Fishy-eyed stares when I got in. “Same clothes,” Mac commented. “Dreamy expression,” Euie said. “You think?” Maron left his question unfinished.

She hired me for my name, I recalled in my head. “Ruslan and Ludmila?” I questioned aloud.

 

[Kyanimal]

I drove to the office still feeling his dick in me and reliving the last fourteen hours with Ruslan.

WHOOF!! THAT was HOT!!

 

[highflyer99]

Agreed! Such an enjoyable chapter, in many respects.
HF

 

[bs29697]

I enjoyed reading the last 3 chapters. They were very HOT to say the least.

Brian

 

[EasyRory]

I enjoyed reading the last 3 chapters. They were very HOT to say the least.

Brian

I appreciate the kind words from everybody. Writing is fun, knowing somebody likes it is priceless.

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Sixteen - Mac


“Ruslan and Ludmila?” Hollis sounded bewildered.

“It's a poem by Pushkin, post-Napolean, nifty knights, distressed damsels, and stuff,” I told him.

“It's an opera by Glinka,” said Euie and he hummed a tune Hollis didn't recognize.

“It's at least three Russian films in the twentieth century. I've seen two of them,” Maron contributed.

“Ruslan and Ludmila? Really? How come I've never heard of it?” asked the mystified Holllis.

“Even accounting majors took World Lit,” I said. “Were you asleep that semester?”

“I didn't major in accounting. I majored in Phys, Ed. If you recall I was on the lacrosse team. The Dukes.” Everybody went quiet. “Why does saying I was a Phys Ed major bring every conversation to a complete halt? It's like saying I have leprosy or something.”

“But you hung around with all the accounting guys,” I said.

“You mean I fucked all the accounting guys … most of them.”

“I don't remember that part,” was all Euie said.

“Alright, several of them.”

“JMU must have been a lot more exciting than GMU is,” Maron sounded wistful. “Nobody much is fuckin' anybody at GMU. There really isn't much campus life.”

“George Mason is a city school. JMU is in a small town in the middle of nowhere. What you're calling 'exciting' got to seem incestuous after four years,” Euie said.

Hollis took a deep breath and said, “Well, here goes.” He opened George's office door, looked in and said, “Have a minute?” He entered and closed the door softly.

“Does anybody want to hear about my night at Feet on the Ground?” I asked. Maron, of course, was chained to his pile of tax returns and had no choice; but I did hope Euie would hang around to hear about it.

“Sure,” Euie said. “Keep talking while I make a cup of tea.” He went to the break room which was still within earshot.

“Well, it was country night, which meant everybody just dressed casual; and everybody being more or less country, we were authentic by definition. Monica, figuring Roger should feel right at home on country night, brought him with her so he didn't have to wait outside and maybe wander off. There was some dancing. Line and two-step stuff. Which was fun. Nobody cared I was dancing with Carlos and you can't even tell in a line dance who's with whom.”

“Wait, you were dancing with Carlos??? Carlos the Penwood gardener???”

“He has come to be more to me than a gardener, to me Euie.”

“Explain.”

“Well, I told you we were having to practice a little to keep Penwood interested. And he's been stopping by my place to practice. Well, one night it got to be late and he asked if he could stay. And I said sure. And he stayed. And the next time we practiced he stayed again. And in the morning he asked if he could stay the next night, too. And the next night he asked, 'What if I never leave?' And so he's living with me now; I had to take him to Feet on the Ground.”

“But what about La Señora and the three little niñas?”

“The Penwood business got Carlos feeling horny all the time and La Señora got tired of being fucked so much and was afraid of having another girl, after promising Carlos she'd have lots of boys, so she moved back to Louisiana where her sister lives.”

“Lots of boys? I'm having trouble keeping up.” Maron said.

“She pestered Carlos a lot to get married and when he said 'I like boys,' to put her off she misunderstood and said, “Yes, I will have lots of boys for you,' meaning male babies and not fuck-buddies. At least I think that's what Carlos said. His English … my Spanish … a lot gets lost. So anyway she doesn't want another girl and apparently isn't into sex with Carlos as much as she first was and now she's filing for divorce. In Louisiana.”

“So he's living with you. And you're ok with that?”

“I'm very happy with that. So, anyway, after dancing some and drinking some, Roger who is obsessed with losing Monica to a gay guy – don't ask - asked Carlos if he was gay. Carlos said yes and Roger said to me, 'Prove it. Kiss him.' And I said no, I wasn't about to upset anybody; Feet on the Ground isn't that kind of place. And Roger says to Monica, 'See? I told you he was bisexual.' Which he pronounces bye-seckshul. 'I'm straight and Carlos is gay and he won't kiss either of us.' And Monica, long-suffering Monica says, 'Roger that's not what bisexual means.' At that Roger kisses Carlos, like WHAM! on the mouth – and it wasn't a trivial kiss - and poor Carlos doesn't know exactly what is going on. Roger says, “See. Carlos and I aren't bisexual! 'But he is,' pointing at me. At which point we were all asked to leave with notice that we were on probation. Outside, Roger surprises Carlos with another kiss and says to Monica, 'I can't understand why anybody would be bisexual.' ”

“You could argue that Roger and Carlos were in fact the only bisexuals present,” Euie said with plausable logic.

“Happy ending, though. When we got home, Carlos said I kiss better than Roger. So I guess that was my confidence boost for the week courtesy of Feet on the Ground.”

Maron moaned, “Nothing like that EVER happens to me.”

“Maron, do you want it to? Just how straight are you?” I asked him.

“Hard to say. I've never done anything with anybody, anybody male, I mean. Except with Professor Inglis and that was gruesome. But meeting y'all here at the office has shown me … I don't know what to say, exactly. You guys seem so regular, just like straight guys, except for the sex part. You got me wondering if I ever met somebody ... ”

“If you don't mind me asking, what exactly did you do with Professor Inglis?”

“I let him touch me, get me hard – I had my clothes on.”

“I'd say you're technically still a virgin. Don't let it bother you.”

Hollis came back from George's office. “Well, I just gave up a sure thing with George for a dude who is never going to see me again. But I was actually being fair to George – 'cause I was going to leave him anyway. Now, however, I have no place to live. I am officially one of the homeless. Out on the street.”

“You could stay at the corn crib,” Euie offered.

“Thanks, but it's too small.”

“Not since I moved out. And the rent is paid through the end of the month.”

“Where did you move?”

“I live with Vince now.”

“Euie … Why didn't you tell me? You just moved in with Vince?? After all we've done together? ” Hollis sounded hurt.

“That was a long time ago, Hollis.”

“But you should have told me. You know I care about what you're doing.” Hollis was looking misty-eyed. That was a first! Because of Euie or George? Abruptly he rose and prepared to leave. “George said I'll find all my stuff on his front doorstep at noon. He's already left. I better get going.”

His departure was partly blocked by Latham, who was coming in the door.

“News, guys.” Latham wasn't one to make a big deal out of minor matters. Even Hollis paused to listen. “The deal to redevelop this place fell through because Fauquier County kept screwing around with permits and zoning. Long tale short, Racer is keeping the place at least until the County sorts stuff out. We going to rent out all the vacancies to cover taxes and keep the lights and water working, So if you know anybody who needs a place, it'll be a bargain. Three fifty a month. Lease for a year, then month-to-month.”

“Me?” Hollis asked.

Latham looked at hm, “George...?”

“Just me,” Hollis said quietly.

“Absolutely,” said a grinning Latham. “One want the one over Vince? Or either of the two next to Vince? Or the one over me and Racer? We're almost never there.”

“The one next to Vince?” Hollis asked, looking at Euie for permission. Euie nodded.

“Deal! Welcome to Racer Manor. Vince has the keys. Pay us through our account here when you feel like it. Paperwork to follow. Only three more to rent. I'm going to put a notice on the CVS bulletin board.” Latham shook Hollis' hand and left.

Hollis smiled wryly. “One problem solved. Now to pick up my stuff before the racoons get into it.”

The office was quiet. “Euie, now that it's just us ...” I began.

“Me!” Maron complained.

“You don't count, but feel free to comment. So … I told you I have been noticing how Carlos, in a certain position, is quite attractive in a classical, non-porn way.”

“What position?”

“Maron, too soon for questions.”

“It's a reasonable question, Mac. You should probably answer him, plus it would help me remember what you're talking about.”

“You know … naked and kissing me. I told you … in the mirror in Penwood's library?” Euie nodded his recollection. “Well, I think it's so attractive that I would like a photo of it. Something for my old age; so I can remember that at one point in my life I had a lot of good sex.”

“I would think you have that a lot, a lot of sex I mean,” said Maron.

“I have a confidence problem, Maron; hence the Feet on the Ground thing.”

“Oh, ok; but why do you have a confidence problem? I think you're very attractive.”

“You don't count, Maron; although ... thank you for the kind words. So … how would I get such a picture, Euie?”

“Rabbit and the bunnies had some … they called it “boudoir photographs” … I called it porn shots. Google intimate photography or something. See what you get.”

I quickly typed the words and hit search. “Bo-fucking-nanza! Dozens of hits! One in Mannassas! Of course! I should have known Mannassas would have something that skeevy!”

“Call them!” Maron was certainly supportive.

“Bridger Milligan, it says. Does that sound like a broadminded photographer or like a perverted zombie body snatcher?” I got up my nerve and dialed. “I'll put it on speaker.”

“Milligan,” a gruff voice answered. “Custom photography.”

“Uh, yes … Bridger is it?”

“It's Bridget. The listing got screwed up. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you do intimate photography?”

“How intimate?”

“R-rated, not X. Maybe even PG-13.”

“Don't make me guess, dude. Spell it out.”

“A couple … a nude couple … kissing in a standing position positioned so only one ass is showing and that might even be in semi-profile. Neither party's face showing. Maybe dark and shadowy. Is that specific enough.”

“That sounds totally boring. Yes, we'll do it. We charge by the hour plus extra for the photos if you order any. But by the hour whether you like the results of not. $35 an hour. The photos depend on size and quantity.”

“Well, about six and a half inches, I guess, and two penises.”

“What? No, I meant the size and quantity of the photos. The price depends on the size and quantity of the photos. So you're gay guys?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“That's a question you should ask each other, not me. I just take the pictures. Black and white or color?”

“I'd like your recommendation. I have an arty look in mind, not porn.”

We set a time and I hung up. “Well, what do you think?”

“Nothing like this ever happens to me,” Maron said. “I'm definitely changing my approach to life.”

“Do it. What have you got to lose but thirty-five dollars?” was Euie's thought. “Maron,” continued Euie, “are you contemplating some serious life-style change here? I wouldn't do it based on Mac's experiences. I could tell you stories about him that would curl your ...”

“That'll be enough, Euie. Don't scare off the intern. We need him.”

“I don't think you could scare me off, now that I've gotten to know y'all. I really like working here.”

“Maron, what a sweet thing to say.” I watched him laugh and blush at the same time. If that boy gained a few pounds, he's be a cream dream. I punched my phone.

“Carlos, despues de la cena, tengo para ti un oportunidad especial. Si … si … Um, nudo fotos.” A barrage of Spanish came out of the phone.

“You know you told him you want photos of knots, right? Tell him 'fotos de desnudos'. ” That seemed to calm Carlos down; then Maron added, “Of course, he still won't realize that he is going to be one of the desnudos; but it won't be a complete shock.”

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Sixteen - Mac


“Carlos got kissed by Roger again.”

“Are we SURE Roger is straight?” Euie asked. “Where was Monica?”

“Right next to him. It happened right on the street. When we saw 'The Picture' in the window of that little art gallery on Broadview opposite the Sherwin-Williams.”

“What 'Picture' are you talking about?”

“The one of Carlos and me.” It was bound to come out; there we were in a shop window on the main street of Warrenton! I might as well tell Euie. “Bridget Milligan and her friend took several of the two of us kissing, remember I told you?” Euie nodded.

“Nude?” Maron asked.

“Yes. But not porn. No dicks, not even faces showing. Just the two of us leaning into each other and Carlos's ass highlighted. The four of us were just walking down to the new wine bar after Feet on the Ground for a nightcap, Monica was looking in the windows and she stopped and said, 'Wow! That's quite a picture.' And it was a blowup of Carlos and me. I was going to ignore it but Carlos says 'Chico mío, mira. It's US.' Roger made him repeat it and then noticed the seventy-five dollar price tag. 'Seventy-five dollars for a kiss? I can do that!' He grabs Carlos and kisses him again. By now you would think Carlos would be a little on his guard, wouldn't you? But he leans into it again and Roger checks their reflection in the window and says, 'I could make porn! You want to do it, Little Buddy?' At which point Monica has had enough and says, 'Me or him, Roger?' And Roger says, 'The more the merrier. Bye-seckshul porn!' Carlos does not seem opposed to the idea, although later he told me he misunderstood. But I'm not sure. His English is getting better every day. Monica stalks off, leaving Roger needing a ride. I said ok and we skipped the wine bar and took Roger to his mother's house and I think on the way he and Carlos got a bit friendlier. It was dark but Carlos always gives a funny gasp when you first touch his cock and I swear I heard the gasp. We were all sitting in the front and I looked over but couldn't see anything except a huge smile on Carlos's face. So anyway I went back this morning and bought the picture and the salesman said he had sold six of them in a week.”

“You'll be famous,” Maron joked.

“More likely Carlos will. It's his ass on display.” I took the photo out of my desk and showed them. “It turns out Bridget owns the rights to it. She didn't know about the six copies sold in Warrenton, so I got her to give me a letter saying she wouldn't sell any without my permission.”

“It's a really good photo, Mac. The background, the lighting … And the two of you look like you invented the whole idea of love.”

“Black and white makes it so much better. You know, you really can't tell what sex you are. I mean I know, of course; but if I didn't, Carlos might be a girl or you both might even.”

“Jeez, Maron. I didn't see that at first. But you're completely right. It depicts a sexual love – doesn't matter what sex.” Euie continued staring at the photo.

“Carlos is a laborer. He's very muscular. I don't see how you could mistake ...” I looked at the photo and Carlos looked slender, his arms were around my neck and only a bit of bicep showed. I suddenly saw what Maron saw. “You know, his hair looks a little longer than it really is … his legs … Maybe because he's stretching … You think those lesbians feminized him?”

“What lesbians?” Euie asked.

“Bridget who posed us and her friend who took the pictures.” I took the photo back and slipped it into the manila envelope.

When Carlos got home that night I kissed him. We went into the bedroom and I kissed him again and looked at us in the mirror. He definitely looked stockier and more muscular than in the photo. One thing led to another and he fucked me. I watched him get dressed and he didn't look the same. He looked more like the photo. Maybe because it was darker in the room. Is sex slimming? It probably is, but not that quickly. Before he got his jeans pulled up I dragged him back to bed and felt his body. He really does have a nice ass. Firm and full without being fat. I squeezed and cupped and ran my hands over him.

“You want to fuck me? Let me get a little cleaned up,” he offered.

“You are an amazing man,” I told him. It wasn't love between us; but it was something. I kissed him again.

“I know,” he said. “I was amazing too when Roger said we go to photographer tomorrow. We make video.”

“Amazed, not amazing.” It took me a minute to realize what he was saying. “Video? Of you and Roger?”

“Roger said it is just a test, not a real video. That comes next. He kiss me again. You are much better than Roger.”

“But a porn video?”

“No te preocupes. I told him no. Not until I know about the money.” He saw my horror. “I have three daughters to support, chico. They can't get their teeth fixed on a landscaper pay.”

The next day I explained all this to Euie and he said, “He's got a point. What does his divorce settlement say?”

“I don't think he knows.”

“Oh, I bet he does. Divorce lawyers can hire translators, too. Ask him.”

“Speaking of … how do you like living here?”

“With Vince? It's perfect. He had been wondering about entanglement, Now he's onto superpositioning. He thinks the two of us are in superposition, meaning we two entities when we're together are actually one different entity. He's almost got me believing it.”

“What proof?”

“He claims when I'm fucking him we cum at the exact same instant every time. Because we're one being, he's like a passenger on my trip. He cums because I do. It's not quite the same when I'm bottoming, but we're getting there. He says he knows when I'm thinking abut him, but how hard is that? I'm thinking about him almost all the time. And we have spontaneous erections at the same time.”

“Euie, that's fascinating; but what I was asking about was how do you like living in this building? Because if Carlos is desperate for money, we could live here cheaper than where I live now.”

“The building is ok. Everything works, nothing leaks. It's basic but Vince makes up for that. He's not basic at all.”

“Ah, young love.” I fluttered my eyes and cooed a little.

“We haven't talked about love, but I think superpositioning sort of implies love. Maybe.” Euie answered his phone. He laughed, said “Yes,” and hung up. “It was Vince. He said, 'You're talking about me, aren't you?' He knows me.”

Carlos got home a little later than usual. He seemed to be in a subdued mood. He sat next to me on the sofa and then slid even closer. He put his hand on my leg and then used it to turn my face to his. A gentle kiss, followed by another, but briefer. “Maxi, quizas … I mean, maybe I do a bad thing today.” Another kiss and his hand was back on my leg. “You unhappy, Sexy Maxi?” His hand slid closer to my cock. I put my hand on top of his.

“What did you do?”

He took a deep breath, squeezed my leg, and said, “I fucked Roger.” This was followed by a flood of Spanish I couldn't begin to follow. “Disculpeme?” I got that part: forgive me.

“I don't understand. Why did you fuck Roger?”

“He paid me two hundred dollars and I don't know if we are go back to Señor Penwood casa again. I need to send money to the niñas.”

“But why? Roger paid you?”

“He wants to make porn movie with me. I told him fucking is hard. We should try first. I thought he would say no. He said yes. I told him no. He said two hunderd dollars. I fuck him.” The story was so preposterous and Carlos was so sincere that I didn't know what to believe. I giggled at my confusion, which Carlos took as forgiveness. He grabbed me and kissed me again. “You mucho mejor fuck. We fuck now? I took shower at Roger casa.”

“Are you and Roger, uh, going forward with this plan? Was Monica there?”

“Monica is mucho pissed. She say she never fuck Roger again. You will fuck me again, no?” I nodded yes. “You much more forgive than Monica. And more than mi esposa Chiflada.”

Later I learned that Chiflada is not a girl's name; it means something like dingbat. I guess Carlos has burned his marital bridges.

“Maxi?” His hand was inside my shirt.

Like I said, it's not love, but it's the next best thing.

 

[Autolycus]

Great new chapter!

 

[highflyer99]

I absolutely agree!

 

[Kyanimal]

I'll 'third' that! Whoof!!

 

[EasyRory]

Note to readers: The Spanish spoken by Carlos and Mac is incidental. It's either explained in English or is not relevant to the action. If you don't know a word of Spanish, you're not missing anything vital to the story.

I got a complaint about it - not from a JUB member. Sorry.

 

[highflyer99]

No need to be sorry, Rory. I'm just surprised that some foreign dialogue would be a cause for complaint. I certainly didn't feel I was missing anything, despite my Spanish vocabulary being limited to "paella".

 

[Kyanimal]

Whoever is complaining about the Spanish, which is Carlos's first language, and, therefore, an integral part of that character, should be encouraged to expand their obviously limited mental explorations, exercise their mind, and gain some perspective beyond their self inflicted, currently narrow, concepts of life on Earth.

In other words, tell them that stupid can be fixed.

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Seventeen - Hollis


It's amazing how a hot shower and clean clothes can wipe away all traces of a sexy night-before. Plus living fifty feet from work was an added benefit. I gave Euie the schedule for the clinic data installation and sat for a coffee. Euie looks very happy with his arrangement; I wonder if he's going to marry the Viking. Things were oddly quiet, so I spoke up.

“Why is it that the people who claim to love me all want to call me Hollie. It makes me feel like some kind of Christmas decoration. I once fooled around with a dude named Don Ivey but it was getting close to December so that needed to end.”

“Maybe Holl … wait. Is it y or ie?” Euie asked. “Ok, Hollie, maybe Hollie is easier to say?”

“You could try another name. What's your middle name?” Mac asked

“Earlston. Family name.”

“There you go. You could call yourself Earl. Or maybe Stone. Stoney. Something like that.”

“Or Harry, from your last name,” Maron offered.

After a sudden interruption by Richard, the convo died. Euie went to confer with the software folks. Mac went to a bank seminar on trust powers. It was just Maron and me; and Maron, who has terrible nose-to-the-grindstone tendencies, had a ton of filing to do. He stood with piles of tax filings on Mac's desk and carefully inserted them into an array of four-drawer cabinets behind it. He was very distracting; I watched the soft, silky cloth of his basketball shorts drape and redrape itself over his ass. I don't believe that boy is wearing underwear I thought; those shorts cling to him like a coat of paint. The sight was hypnotising, as thoughts of the night before came rushing back to me.

I was almost done at the clinic when Ruslan, who had been mostly ignoring me, came up and asked, “Wanna come home with me? Spend the night? Like last time.” I was going to say no, but he asked again. “There won't be another chance.” And then he whispered, “Sex with you is the best I've ever had.” I felt the pull. “Plus you're fun to be with.” Weakening, weakening. “And smart.” That did it, nobody ever said my brain was appealing.

“Ok, but it can't happen again.”

“It won't. It can't. I'm getting married in two weeks. I need something to remember.” He stood close and put my hand on his cloth-covered cock. “Feel? I need you, Hollis ... I'll give you all my Spidey underwear.” I felt his cock grow. “You can't have the Green Lantern ones, though. They remind me of you.”

I frowned. “Ruslan, that is so lame!”

“But you like goofy. You'll come, right?” Those beautiful blue eyes made their own wordless appeal.

His confidence was rewarded. I do like goofiness in guys. You can't take everything seriously; in my case I can't take much of anything seriously. And I do like a little touching. A little intimacy in public, without being caught. And telling him no would be so sanctimonious. And now he was staring at my crotch, noticing my unmistakeable interest.

“I have about an hour's work left to do.”

“So do I,” he said.

An hour later I was following him to Great Falls. He motioned me to drive to the garage behind the house. We parked and got out. “Nobody's home,” he said. “We could fuck right here.”

I looked at the driveway pavement. “Cement, Ruslan.”

“Ok, come on. Every twenty-five steps we each have to take off some article of clothing.” I started with a shoe; he started with his uniform pants. By the time we got to his room, there wasn't much left to remove. Ruslan was a dream. I have a better butt, no question about that; but he has an awesome body that calls out touch me, hold me, stay with me. He's bigger than I am, and yet I feel in charge. We entered his room and I had to touch him, I hugged him from behind. He quickly turned and hugged me back. His hands slid down my back and into my Spideys grabbing and squeezing. Maybe I'm not the one in charge.

“Got you in my net, Hollis. My Spidey-sense tells me you like it.”

The Spideys were quickly on the floor and I was lying on his bed. “Wanna suck me a little?” He moved his cock closer to my mouth and bent it down tapping against my lips. I opened and took him in. I got him hard and wet. He slid down my body and did the same to me. A voice I'd never heard from him before, a voice of need said, “I want to fuck you.” He nuzzled my balls. “Is that ok?”

I spread my legs to answer him. It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but we had all night for that. I hadn't had sex with anybody since our last night together – maybe a record drought for me – so it was good he used lots of lube before his slow but sure entry. “Oh … that feels sooo good. Does it for you?” I gave an answer that could be interpreted as yes; but when does the initial penetration ever feel good? I wanted to tell hin it would feel better if he kissed me, but I didn't. His slow, gentle rocking motion helped as he pushed more and more of his cock into me. It was just starting to turn the corner to feeling really good when he gasped and pulled out. Yikes! I think he set up a vaccuum in my rectum. “AHH!” I complained. “Sorry, I was right on the edge and didn't want to come so soon,” he answered.
His cock was superhard and fiery red, bouncing with the beat of his heart.

We paused as he backed away from his orgasm. “You do what you want for a while, Hollis,” he said and flopped onto his stomach.

“Ok, pass me the lube, dude,” which he did and I greased up. Fucking him face down wasn't the best position for us, since he's taller than I am by about five inches. It meant if I was fucking him I couldn't kiss his neck and ears. So I settled for returning the slow fuck he had been giving me. It felt good, especially the way his butt pressed into my groin area. We fit together real well, leaving out the kissing part. He started moaning; I was hitting him just right. “Roll over,” I told him. We resumed doing it while looking at each other. God, those beautiful blue eyes, now all glazed from the heat of sex! I was on the edge. I had to decide whether to come or not with each stroke – that's how close I was. I reached between us and barely touched his cock. He started coming. “Jeez! Hollie! Fuck me!” I did and felt my own orgasm begin. It was frantic fucking for a bit. “Hollie! Keep fucking me!” He grabbed me and covered my face with kisses until our peaks passed. Then slower kisses, kisses exploring my mouth. “Don't pull out,” he sighed. More kisses. “I think I'm falling in love with you.”

“It was an awesome fuck, Ruslan, but don't call it love.”

“The action word was falling, not loving, Hollie.” More kisses.

“Why are you kissing me? I thought you didn't do that.”

“Shut up.” More kisses. And then, “Just because I'm getting married doesn't mean this has to end. We could still get together. A lot.”

“You're not even married and you're already planning your infidelities. I don't want to get caught in the crossfire.”

“You wouldn't. We could make it work.”

“You would have two people in love with you. Ludmila and me. But we would only have half each of you.”

“In love? Are you in love with me, Hollis?” More kisses; at least he didn't call me Hollie. To tell the truth, I was fairly terrified at the idea that I might be in love with him. I didn't want this thing with Ruslan to end either.

“A little bit. Yes, I'm a little bit in love with you. It could be a lot more.” Honesty has got me in trouble before, but it pays off in the end.

We got up, took a shower together, and started to dress. He joked, “We could skip the clothes; nobody is home. We probably should skip the clothes. Being naked in the shower with you was ...” More kisses. “Wait.” He got something out of his closet. “Wear these.” Underwear that made it look like Spiderman was giving me a blowjob. Ruslan liked the look. “I'm getting jealous of Spiderman.” He hugged me and held my cock in his hand. “You gotta fuck me again. You know that, right.” More kissing. “Falling, falling...” He looked at me much too seriously.

“What I want to know is how does YOUR underwear fit me? You're a good bit bigger.” I squeezed his ass to make the point.

“I bought it for you?” he grinned. “Come on. Food.”

He made the pasta dish again admitting, “It's all I know how to make.” After that we walked around outside and went back to the promontory over the river. “If it were two degrees warmer,” he said, “I'd be ripping your clothes off.” For a boy who vowed against kissing he was making up for wasted weeks. Swimming naked in the pool was what did it. We were back in his bed next. I figured it was his turn on top but he was having none of it. We fucked again as if each stroke brought us closer to each other. “Hollie,” he gasped as he came.

After we calmed down, I asked him, “Hollie? What's that about?”

“You mind? It just came out. More 'us' instead of 'you' and 'me'. No?”

“What if I called you 'Russ'? Would you like that?”

“Everybody calls me Russ - everybody except you and Dr. Tucker. Nobody else says Ruslan.”

“But it's a beautiful name. Perfect for you! I love saying it, Ruslan.”

“And I love saying Hollie. Especially after you make love to me like you really love me. Hollie doesn't suit you at all. It's like a counterpoint to your masculinity. I only said it after the best sex of my life. I'm trying to tell you you're not just a talented dick. You're an awesome man I want to be close to.”

That sounded pretty much like a declaration of love. It certainly made me feel like we had something worth an effort to preserve. Maybe we could work something out. Kind of shitty for Ludmila, I guess; but Ruslan acted very sure of what we were doing. More kisses followed and he fucked me. And then we slept wrapped up in each other.

I woke at eight-thirty, much later than I usually sleep and saw that Ruslan's side of the bed was empty and sort of pulled together. I dressed and went looking for him. The kitchen was empty, so was the gym, if that's what they called it. Ah. There. In the pool room I saw him lying naked where the morning sun came through the skylight. “Ruslan, sorry for sleeping so late. How long have you been up?”

“I'm not Russ. He left – or should I say was kidnapped – at about seven-thirty. Did you miss the party?” The naked man got to his feet and he obviously wasn't Ruslan. He was shorter and a little older. He dressed deliberately, not flaunting anything, but not in an embarrassed hurry either. “I'm Ty Cole, Russ's father.” Now that he was wearing some loose pants and a shirt, I approached and shook his hand.

“I'm Hollis Harris. I work with Ruslan at the clinic. I'm a contractor for a property management system.”

“Oh, I see. He mentioned you a few weeks back. So you weren't part of the bachelor party kidnapping, I take it. Some of his school buddies took charge and they're having a twenty-four hour party, starting with a zipline in Harper's Ferry.”

“I had no idea.”

Ty Cole laughed. “Neither did Russ. Let me get you some breakfast. It won't be much, I'm afraid.” He took me to the kitchen and made coffee from a machine. “What do you take in it?”

“Milk or cream, whatever you have,” I answered. The lounging pants he was wearing were practically transparent in the light. He sure didn't look old enough to be Ruslan's father.

He pulled a carton from a huge but near-empty refrigerator. He looked at me. “We have neither. How's half-and-half, Hollis?” Wow! The same blue eyes.

“Uh … perfect.” I kept watching. So like Ruslan. Yes, a little shorter, a little stockier, but very attractive. I couldn't guess his age, but it had to be over forty. He put a couple of danish on a plate and poured me a glass of juice. “Perfect breakfast, Mr. Cole. I'm going to have to eat and run. Work today.”

“Work on Saturday? That's unusual for a systems installation guy.”

“Well, the systems guys are subs and they're not working. I'm actually an investment banker. We do work on Saturdays when we have to.”

“Different story,” Ty Cole said.

“We're a small company, just getting started, Mr. Cole. So investment banker is maybe a grand title. I do financial analysis, tax advising, payroll accounting, anything that produces revenue.”

“Happiness is a positive cash flow! And call me Ty. I like to pretend I'm not as old as Mr. Cole sounds.”

“You don't look old at all. I thought you were Ruslan's older brother.”

With another laugh, he responded, “I will tell Ty Junior, his older brother, that you said that.”

I finished the danish and the coffee and thanked him. He dismissed my thanks and asked, “If I need a financial analyst, can I call you?”

A polite thing to say; still, I gave him my card and said, “If I can help, I'll be happy to do anything.” We skipped over any possible circumstances involving anything.

I got back to the office and with a warning glance told Mac to skip any comments on wearing the same clothes. After my “Hollie” rant Richard arrived and took over. He soon had a rapt audience. I joined them as quietly as I could.

“And so … it turns out gravereservations.com has a future. I got the bitch to sign it away for pennies. You know, I'm getting to like the bitch. She has nothing personal against me; she's just trying to survive like everybody else.”

“How many pennies?” Euie asked.

Richard tried a calculation in his head and gave up. “Don't know about the pennies. In dollar terms, two point seven million of which we get … I asked for forty, but settled for thirty persent. When it comes to money, she's very level-headed. And she does make me laugh.” He sipped some water.

“She tells jokes?” Maron asked.

“No, she treats Jimmy like an idiot and he doesn't realize it. The other day I overheard them … I like to arrive before they expect me, sneak up on the house, and listen in. Jimmy was complaining, which he is very good at doing. 'We have to end this deal, Suzy. I can't take it much longer. He's fucking me twice a day for a lousy hundred dollars a week. That's …' She took over, “About thirteen-fifty a fuck.' 'Exactly, I'm a thirteen dollar whore!' he whines. And she then a cynical tone crept into her voice, 'Welcome to my world. Uh, Jimmy, sweetie, does doing it with him get you off?' He said sometimes and then changed it to usually. 'And do you like it? Getting off that way?' she asks. 'Of course not!' which he changes to 'Well. Sometimes it … you know ... getting off is getting off. But sometimes, I have to do it when I don't want to and that's no fun at all, even when I DO get off.' 'Really!' she says, 'Imagine that! What a hard life you lead. It's only until you deliver on the trees next November tenth.' “NOVEMEBER TENTH!' he whines. “That's … how many fucks more?' 'About four hundred, so you better learn to like it,' she says. She's really great working out numbers in her head. A huge whine from him … I tell you I almost felt sorry for him. So then I banged around and let them know I was coming in. It turned out they didn't need any warning; they were completely dressed and sitting across the table from each other.

“ 'Suzy, I have good news about grave rez,' I told her. And she says, “Jimmy, sweetie, would you mind getting my purse from the truck. I think I left it there.' He goes and she takes a pen and paper out of her purse, which was on the floor, and says, 'Details, Richard.' We agreed on the terms before he got back. 'Silly me. It was on the floor. Thanks a bunch for lookin', Jimmy.' And even Jimmy is not buying that. She leaves and Jimmy says, 'I weeded the east plot this morning.' And I said, 'Well you just take it easy this afternoon, Jimmy, you earned a good back rub. I thought he would cry. Backrubs always leads to sex. He stripped and whimpered before I even touched him.”

“Richard, you are having too much fun doing this to Jimmy. I predict trouble ahead.” Euie shook his head with mock sorrow.

“Nothing like this EVER happens to me,” Maron said, basically to himself.

 

[Kyanimal]

That was Fun, and HOT, and FUN! Love reading what you write!

Is Maron going to get molested by someone we already know, or have yet to meat [sic]?

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Eighteen - Mac


I'm not sure I cheered him up, but the truth seemed pretty plain. “Hollis, it's a time of change for you. I don't mean to sound gloomy and portentious; but just admit the affect of time. You're changing from a hot young dude always chasing sex to a sweet young man looking for love. It hurts a little, this process.” I went to the break room to make some coffee. I could hear their voices.

“It's almost my last day,” Maron said. “Finishing senior year is going to be super boring after three months here.”

“It's been fun having you around,” Hollis said. “And sorry about teasing you at first over your name.”

“No biggie. Nothing I hadn't heard before.”

“Just one thing, though. Now I'll never get to see if your balls are as big as chestnuts.”

A heard a russle of clothing and then Maron's voice. “See? Perfectly average.” After another russle of cloth he said, “Here goes. I have an appointment at two-thirty to ask Professor Inglis for a recommendation to intern at the World Bank for the summer. I hope, I hope … See you tomorrow.”

I went back to my desk and saw barely contained amusement on Hollis' face. “Did he just show you HIS BALLS???”

“Let's just say Maron is a very attractive man, Mac. Meanwhile ...” He punched a number into his phone. “Yes, hello. This is Hollis Harris from James Madison University. Is Professor Inglis available? Thank you. I'll wait.” Hollis looked at me still smiling and waited. He waved me off when I tried to question him. “Hollis Harris here, Professor. Remember me from Harrisonburg? Yes ... Exactly … Well, a young friend of mine, Maron Grand, is on his way to see you, hoping to get your recommendation for … Yes, that's right. I'd be really appreciative if you gave him a good ticket. Uh-huh. Yes. VERY APPRECIATIVE. I'm sure you know what I mean.” Hollis waited, drumming his fingers. “Four-thirty tomorrow … Uh-huh … That's Friday, right? See you then. I'll wear my old uniform.”

“Hollis, what did you just promise to do?” I was almost afraid to ask.

“I promised to help out our deserving young friend.”

We were interupted by George and another young man who looked very young and terrified. “Let me introduce you to Mac Bacon and Hollis Harris. Guys, this is Anthony Forza, he's replacing Maron, starting Monday. Another fine young man recommended by John Inglis.”

“Why does he look so …” Hollis tried to ask.

“Yes, well, let's go downstairs, Anthony, and you can meet Euie.” George hustled Anthony out and down the stairs before we could even say hello. We heard a brief intro with Euie and then Anthony left. George came back looking annoyed. “He looks so … whatever you were going to say because he knows how to please his boss. Tommy Lynn would have hired him in a minute.” George frowned and went back into his office.

“I guess George hasn't exactly forgiven you for dumping him. But why bring up Tommy Lynn?”

Hollis frowned, much like George. “Because he knows what I did for Tommy Lynn to get hired here.”

“Well, we all did, more or less. Including George. Anyway, I'd like to say that's a good thing you're doing for Maron. His first gay guy shouldn't be Inglis.”

“I'm one hundred percent sure Maron is straight. A gay guy his age wouldn't have shown me his balls without the prospect of sex.”

“I don't know, Hollis. Maybe Maron thinks his prospects with you are good.”

“I bet you a beer nothing ever happens between us.”

“When do I pay? Upon your death? Pour it on your grave?”

“I'm telling you when he leaves tomorrow we never see him again.” Hollis sounded very sure of himself.

I answered my phone. “Bridget, yes … yes … you what??? You can't do that. We have an agreement. You can't sell the picture without my agreement. And I DON'T agree.” I listened to her explanation and knew I had lost. “Ok ... ok ... yes. Bye.”

Euie heard the noisy call with Bridget and joined us. Hollis looked at me waiting for an explanation. “Bridget says she knows she can't sell any copies of the photo of Carlos and me, but she still owns it and can exhibit it and is showing it at the Prentice Gallery somewhere near Dupont Circle in DC this weekend. And she'd be pleased if Carlos and I attended the opening tomorrow.”

“Clothed or not? What do they call it? A tableau vivant? You and Carlos re-enact the photograph?”

“Very funny, Euie. She is only offering us the chance to attend. No performance. Total anonymity, I think. She didn't go into all the details.”

“Is it by invitation? What time? Maybe I can go.”

I was flattered Hollis was interested. “I thought you had an appointment tomorrow.”

“It should be over by then and I'll be in the neighborhood. Euie, would you and Vince be interested?”

“I'll say yes for both of us, if that's ok, Mac.”

“Should we ask George?” It was a general question but I was looking at Hollis for approval. “I think I better. I mean, he is the boss.”

I knocked on George's door and entered. Nobody ever waited for an entry permission; we're professionals here. George was in the bathroom with the door open. He was washing his dick; so I guess he had 'interfered with' the new intern. No wonder young Anthony looked like he had been through an ordeal. George had the reputation of delivering a disinterested fuck, except with Hollis.

“Scuse me,” I said. I turned away from the scene and continued, “My photograph is being shown in DC tonight and I wondered if you want to come see it.”

“Uh, thanks, but I've got something planned with Anthony.”

“Marriage?” I asked.

“No, but Tommy Lynn would be proud. Now can I wash my dick in peace?”

I was sure the exhibit would be covered by some part of the Washington press world. Maybe not the Post, but definitely by City Life, the throw-away tabloid. To tell the truth, I was dying to know on what the world would think of me. Admittedly Carlos was the star of the photo, but there was a good hunk of me, at least a six-inch wide strip of my naked right side, in the picture, too. I thought I looked pretty fit and real masculine element in comparison to Carlos's more yielding attitude. What would the critics say? What if they call it a joke? Can my tattered ego take the sniggering, the sneering, the cruel and condescending comments from people who didn't look half as good as us even when they were young?

I went home and told Carlos we were expected at nine, kind of late, but one of the better galleries had an opening at six and then you had to allow time for dinner and stuff, so nine it was. It also meant Bridget and the gallery could skimp on the refreshments. I had rarely seen Carlos except in his work clothes or naked so I asked him if he had anything to wear. He said that he would show me what he had. I heard the shower run and then stop. He came out wearing all black trousers and a shirt. He looked pretty hot. I hate jewelry on myself but I got out an old silver chain, not too gaudy. It looked perfect on Carlos, much better than it did on me.

“Nice. Perfect. I didn't know you had anything like that,” I told him.

“I didn't. But this was the costume for the sex scene rehearsal with Roger. I kept it. I'm supposed to wear it again. The scene is set in Las Vegas.”

“It'll do fine in Washington. Now ...” with a special smile, “Maybe you'd like to take it off.”

“Maxi,” he asked as he unbuttoned the shirt, “You don't care if I fuck Roger?”

“I care, Carlos. I like you. But if you feel you need the money, I'm not going to stop you.”

“I like you Maxi. I like the sex with you. I like every kind of sex with you. Maybe you will kiss me a lot tonight?” He came closer; the black trousers were barely hanging on his hips. “You kiss best.” He touched my chin and kissed me gently. “Feel me,” he said.

My hands slid down his back to cup his ass and then I helped him undress. He folded his clothes carefully and turned to me naked. The basic model Carlos looks like he was designed for sex. His erection is such a part of him, perfect angle, perfect proportions; his face shows a need; and his eyes devour me. I couldn't get my clothes off fast enough. I never know when we start what we're going to do. This time he wanted my cock in him immediately. I fucked him right up to the edge of orgasm and then we switched places. And then we switched again. And then we switched again. Finally I couldn't take the edging any more and demanded, “Make me cum! Make me cum!” His hand did the job while he continued pumping. His telltale “Maxi” cry said he was cumming, too. Then we kissed for a long time the way he liked. Then we had a small dinner since Carlos eats a big lunch.

Later we fucked again. It's not love. There are no passionate declarations or promises, but with Carlos it's the best sex I've ever had, I think. Maybe it's better than love. I don't know, but I'm not asking any questions. I'm just liking it. And I haven't had trouble sleeping since he move in - as long as he's in the bed.

Tomorrow we are going to conquer artistic Washington.

 

[Kyanimal]

Maron seems to have expanded his education, in more than tax law, etc., during his 'internship'. I am feeling very sorry for Anthony, though.

I am quite envious of Mac and Carlos. And, I definitely want to see that photo!

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Nineteen - Hollis


It felt good, in a sexy kind of way, to put on my old lacrosse uniform. Today, the lax uniform is just a copy of a soccer uniform; but the old version was distinctive and had deep slits up the outside seam of the pant leg. The slits provided brief attention-grabbing views of players' well-developed thighs, a part of the body I find very sexy. My old uniform had the slits. Some of the more traditional schools like UVA and Georgetown still have the old style slits, but the tradition is dying out. Not enough gays involved in the uniform selection process, I guess.

To my relief the old uniform still fit. I've only gained about five pounds since school; but I can tell even if everybody else says I haven't changed a bit. I decided not to wear a cup mostly because they're not that comfortable, like at all; and I had no idea how long this session with Inglis was going to take. Even the drive to Fairfax would have been long enough to cause thigh chafing – one of the downsides to a manual shift.

The visitors lot at George Mason isn't especially convenient to Professor Inglis's office so I had to walk across enemy territory wearing a JMU uniform. I was disappointed that nobody recognised it. GMU is a pretty nerdy campus. I got to Inglis's office and was surprised to see another lacrosse player, this one wearing the GMU uniform – no slits. I asked him, “Are you waiting to see Professor Inglis, too?” He just stared at me and eventually nodded yes. “Hi, I'm Hollis ...” I began.

“... Harris,” he finished my sentence. “I'm Joe Evans. I actually played in two games against you.”

“I'm sorry. I don't remember, but it's good to meet you.”

“I was a Freshmen and you were a senior. I played about two minutes both times once we had a loss in the bag.”

“Yeah, not to rub it in, GM didn't have much of a team those years. Better now, much better.”

“I remember you. You were my idol.”

“Why? What did I do to deserve that honor?”

“Aside from being a good attacker, you were hot and popular and openly g ...” Joe was cut off.

The door opened. “Gentlemen,” Professor Inglis said by way of inviting us in. “Sit down, please.” He waited for us to get settled in our seats. “You both took the time to recommend Maron Grand to me. I want to let you know I appreciated it but I would have given Maron my best recommendation for the World Bank internship even without you. Thirty years from now he will probably be running the World Bank.”

“Professor, can I say I hardly recognized you? You look like ...”

“Twenty years younger?”

“Exactly,” I said.

“I've been in a stem cell therapy trial. On the one hand, I look much younger. On the other hand, I have no lead in the pencil. Is that phrase still used?”

“No, but I guess you mean you can't get it up.” Joe fidgeted and looked at the floor.

“Yes. You two and I have a history. Of the men I knew over the years, you two were the most willing to spend time with me. I got a sense that you actually liked our sessions. There was no feeling of compulsion or coercion.”

“I was totally willing; eager even,” Joe admitted. “You were my only outlet and I liked what we did.”

“I needed a grade and I didn't worry too much about what I did to get it. But I'll admit if I didn't like it back then, I wouldn't have done it.”

“So that brings us to today. I don't want to do anything with you. I was hoping that you two might like to enjoy each other. And perhaps I might find that arousing. You were my favorites. If you want to, of course. No pressure. I couldn't pressure you with anything anyway.”

“Actually you could. I was going to ask you for a grad school recomendation for myself.”

Inglis spoke into a hand mike. “Grad school 4 form for Joseph Evans.” His printer came to life and spit out two sheets of paper; he signed the second. “Here's my best recommendation. No strings.”

“Wow,” was Joe's comment, then conversation sort of lagged.

“You don't have to make any decision today, of course,” Inglis said. “In fact I have a five o'clock appointment scheduled in any case.” He looked at Joe, staring into space. “What's so fascinating, Mr. Evans?”

“I was looking at that patch of sunlight on the floor. Have you heard the theory that sunlight on your testicles increases testosterone by over one hundred percent? Supposed to be between ten and twenty minutes exposure. You don't want a sunburn in those parts. We have time to try fifteen minutes before your next appointment.”

“Seriously?” the professor asked.

“Seriously. Absolutely. I read it one the internet,” Joe confirmed. “We could all lie on the floor over there. Do y'all want to try it. What have we got to lose? It's a late in the day. No risk of a burn.” Two minutes later with the windows open the three of us were lying in direct sunlight with shirts pulled up and pants pulled down.

“You know it does feel pretty good,” Inglis admitted. Joe just gave a contented sigh. “Hollis, what is so fascinating on your phone?”

“Well, according to a google search, sunshine does enhance testosterone production, but there's one report that says it's just the sun shining on you anywhere. Doesn't have to be on your testicles.”

“Who wrote that?” Joe asked.

“Doctor Reba Malik, a board-certified urologist.”

“NO BALLS! She has no balls!” Joe stated the obvious. “Science is all about by measuring. If you can't measure it, it ain't science. She has no clue to how guys feel about their balls. How do you measure feelings? You can't measure feelings. I feel very favorable toward my balls. If my balls and I are happy, I feel sexier. Like I said, NO BALLS. She has no clue.”

Inglis chuckled and said, “It's a possible criticism.” And then laughed out loud.

“You know, it does feel good,” I admitted. “Very good, in fact.”

“Professor, I think your dick is in the way of full sun. Let me ...” Joe adjusted Inglis's dick so it lay sideways, giving the light full access. “Professor, you want me to try maybe sucking it a little?”

Inglis laughed out loud. “I knew I picked the right two people for this.” Joe leaned over and was about to try; but Inglis said, “No time. My next interview may come early. Tanning the balls may have a future place in my routine.” He rose and pulled his clothes back into position. “Boys - sorry, I shold say gentlemen - think about it and text me. Sunday afternoon is open, or we can work something else out, if that doesn't work.”

Joe and I exited the office and saw another young man in lacrosse clothes waiting. He grunted an acknowledgement and went in. “Wow!” was Joe's coment. “I wonder what he's doing with that dude.”

“It might be a legitimate appointment on accounting. Might could ...” Joe looked at me and we both laughed, pretty sure the meeting had zero to do with accounting.

“As long as you're dressed, want to join a pick up game of lacrosse near my house? We get together every Friday, sometimes Saturday, afternoon. Six or sometimes ten guys, all former players. Get something to eat after ...” He looked for my answer. “Ah, come on … It'll be fun.”

“I didn't bring a cup.”

“It's not a killer game. Those sun-warmed balls will be perfectly safe. We've got exta sticks.”

I followed him to Great Falls. I had a sinking feeling when he pulled into a long driveway that was two properties away from Ruslan's house. There were about five or six guys already gathered in a lagre open field in between the houses. I parked next to Joe and we walked over to the field.

“Hollis!” I heard a call. It wasn't Ruslan. You know that weirdness when you hear a voice you know but it's out of context? “Hollis!” He ran up to us. “I didn't kow you knew Joe!”

“Maron! You live around here?” He pointed to the next house partly visible through a tree-break.

“Hey Joe,” Maron said a little shyly. “Yes, it's a hotbed of lax players around here. You've even got your old uniform on. Cool. Let me introduce you.”

Before he had a chance, Ruslan said hello. We attempted a hug, but it was clumsy and we didn't connect well. “Ruslan, how's married life?” I asked him. “Good,” was his one word answer.

“You know Russ, too? Wait! Russ is Ruslan? Small world!” said Maron, not yet putting all the twos and twos together. “So this is Matt Overby and Phil Jankowski. Phil is Polish as in from Poland. This is Hollis Harris who used to play for James Madison and works where I interned this spring.”

Matt Overby, who seemed in charge, stepped in and introduced two other players. “So, four man teams, no goalees, the team with the ball plays all attackers, they other team, all defenders. There's the goal.” He pointed to one real lax goal. You get possession, you take the ball behind a line between those two trees and then turn back to the goal. Ok? Got it? No cup checks. Checking only above the waist. Socialize later. Let's play, I gotta leave early.”

The exercise felt great. Worked out, stretched out, an exhilarating hour flew by. Of course in that kind of game there are no serious winners or losers, just the joy of playing. Only the heavy breathing gave away how out of shape I was.

“You were amazing, Hollis. Three goals, as good as ever.”

“Bullshit, but thank you. Uh … We probably ought to talk about what to do with Inglis.”

“Yeah, let's grab a couple bottles od water from Maron and we can talk.”

We sat leaning against a rock in dappled light away from the houses. We could have been in the Shenandoah, it was so quiet.

“What are we going to do?” Joe asked.

“I guess the first question is what do we want to do. Do you even want to do anything?”

“Well, we already tanned out balls, so I guess you mean real sex. Hollis, I have to tell you for three years I had the biggest crush on you. It started in my last year of prep school. You were so hot and openly gay.”

“I wasn't out then. In fact nobody knew.”

“Dude, everybody knew. You were famous in some places – like among gay guys - just for being yourself. Everybody on my lax team knew, although I have to say my lax team was pretty gay.”

“They had a special gay team?”

“No, the team roster was about sixty guys and maybe five of us were gay, that I know of, and we all talked about you. Used to go to JMU games just to see you.”

“I had no idea. I thought I was pretty low key.”

“That's why we liked you so much, I think. 'Cause you never made a big deal about anything. Ok, kind of embarrassing, I used to jack off thinking about you.”

I laughed. “So I guess that means you's be ok with us having sex.”

“You know I already checked off some items from my sexual bucket list. Get to meet Hollis – check. Get to see him naked, ok, mostly naked – check. Anything more is pure bonus.” He smiled at me and waited for my answer. I didn't know what to say. Shyly, he asked if he could kiss me. I got a very brief kiss on the mouth.

“Joe, that wasn't much of a kiss.” I took his face in my hands and pulled him to me. It was a much better kiss. In fact, Joe was an awesome kisser. To steady himself he put a hand on my chest. We repositioned and kissed again. He slid his hand down to my cock. Nothing aggressive, just exploratory.

He broke the kiss and said, “Jesus, that's a big cock.”

“Not really, just thick.”

“It's big, Hollis, and I can feel it getting bigger.” He kissed me again. “I've never taken one that big.”

“You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Joe.” I kissed him back. I liked the feel of his hand on me. I pulled back and looked at him. “Now I get to say hot stuff about you. Like, you're very good looking.”

“My nose it too big,” he answered.

“Your nose is that charming touch of humanity that saves you from the boredom of mere perfection.” I gave his nose a little kiss.

“That was … you just made that up on the spot? The best thing anybody has ever told me.”

“I've been reading a little poetry lately.”

“Poetry! Wow.”

“No, Pushkin. I started with Ruslan and Ludmila and kind of got hooked. Eugene Onegin is much better.”

In a complete change of topic, he asked, “Can I suck your dick?” I pulled my shorts down. “That's a big dick, Hollis. Don't tell me it isn't.”

Was he a terrific cocksucker? I have no idea. He barely got his mouth on me before I came. I came so fast it was embarrassing. “Joe, I'm sorry. I don't usually ...”

“So you like me, huh?” Joe teaased. I practically ripped his shorts off and paid him back. He was much better controlled; it took him a good five minutes to fill my mouth to overflowing.

I went back to his house. His mom was out he said and we snacked on cold leftover pizza. It tasted great. The 'let's go to bed' idea was mutual. I suggested he fuck me as a practice session for Inglis and his reaction was disbelief. It was a brief reaction followed by a very nice warm up and delivery. He stayed in and on me while he got his breath back. Perfect, really, that's all I can call it.

“EEEEKK!!! Is that you, Joey???” The shadowy figure turned away. “What are you … EEEKK!” A female form left the rrom and shut the door. We disentangled ourselves.

“Oh, shit. That was my mother, I'm pretty sure. As they say, she could fuck up a wet dream.”

Mom returned with a warning. “I'm going out for an hour. Get out of my house. Don't be here when I get back.”

Joe was upset of course. “She knows I'm gay. Why is she suddenly so … What am I going to do?”

“You could stay with me.”

“Tonight?”

“As long as you want,” I told him. Thank God, he said yes.