Feet on the Ground

[EasyRory]

Chapter 26 – Euie

“Euie?” I perked up from reading and looked over at Vince. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I'm sure I do. We're entangled and all.”

“Maybe we are and maybe that's all bullshit I dreamed up, that quantum stuff. Anyway, I love you. And I don't say it often enough. I think it every day, but I don't always tell you.”

“I like it when you do.” I moved over to the sofa and sat as close as I could get. I looked into his eyes and almost got lost in them. I kissed him and he groaned with pleasure. “I love you too, Vince,” I told him.

“The sex is good,” Vince said lightly.

“Yes, but it's more than that.” Despite the denial, I had my hand on his waist; I love touching him there. His body blends perfectly from chest to hips. “I want to come home to you every night, whether we have sex or not.”

“Some nights we don't. I didn't used to be that way. It used to be every night, Euie, and some days more.”

“We can do that if you want.” I kissed him again and put his hand onto the bulge of my cock to prove my willingness. “We could set a clock – every six hours.”

“I want to do that, Euie. I want to be in you and part of you. And I want you in me. I want us to own each other.”

The clothes came off quickly. His need seemed greater. “Fuck me,” I told him. He didn't need telling twice. He fucked me with an urgency I hadn't felt in a while. “Love me, baby. Come for me,” I sighed. He groaned my name and yes alternately. I felt his cock grow that last little bit in me before he blew. Total satisfaction for both of us, I thought while we kissed and came down from his peak. “Your turn next,” he said and gave me another kiss.

Something distracted him and he looked up. “Shit! Somebody's looking in the window!” He sprang from the sofa and ran to the window. “Nothing,” he said. “But I swear I saw somebody looking in.”

“Could you make out a face?”

“Nothing distinct. Some dude with a ball cap on. Talk about spoiling the mood.” He pulled the shade down, came back, and sat beside me. “Damn.” He paused thinking. “Damn,” he repeated and then switched gears. “Set the clock,” he grinned. “Your turn in six hours. In the bedroom. With the shades drawn and the lights off ...” He thought about that. “Unless you want the lights on, of course.”

“As beautiful as you are, if there's a peeping Tom around, we'll turn them off.” I felt a slight shiver. “Damn, just plain creepy.” I tickled his stomach and he giggled. “You know what I like? This bit of fuzz right here. Right under your belly button.”

As we showered and dressed, he declared his love a good dozen times. Every time it made me feel a special warmth. “I'm starting to believe you. Tell me again.” And he did.

We ate in a lot, but that night neither of us felt like cooking and cleaning up afterward. We went out to dinner to an old “hash house”, as they used to call them. It was a workingman's place, railroad workers mostly. Single straight guys, mostly, who were without companionship; formerly married maybe, never married maybe, guys who were making it on their own but lonely. With any encouragement they'd tell you their life's history. If they suspected Vince and I were gay, nobody ever said a word. But, come on, two young guys who live together, always come in together, and are – I have to say it: more than usually good looking - you know they must have had their suspicions. But they never said anything; their own lives were too questionable to find much fault in others. It was a friendly, live-and-let-live kind of place. And also the place featured a no-star menu. Basic home cooking. Generous portions. And pretty cheap.

Our usual waiter, who knew we were a couple and was possibly gay himself, wasn't there. “Guys, we're really busy tonight,” said a waitress. “Would you mind sharing a table with these young men over here?”

No, we didn't mind and after introductions, the two men told us their life histories complete in about ten minutes. They both worked for the Shenandoah Valley division of the Norfolk and Western. Lionel, who went by Lion, was a track inspector and Shandy, that was his real name, was a gang foreman. They both started as laborers after barely finishing high school in Woodstock, a very small town north of Harrisonburg. Lion married his pregnant girlfriend but they split after a couple of years and children. “The ex-wife remarried, relieving me of child support payments. Course I still see the kids and contribute anyway, but it's nice to keep more of what I earn,” he said.

Shandy was single and had a very narrow focus on day-to-day survival. Not good at relationships, not good at money management, not good at housekeeping, not good at looking ahead, but VERY good at gambling. “I don't know why I work. I guess it keeps me in a routine. Working and having Lion here tell me what to do.”

Both of them loved the idea of Vince being a butcher, ignoring the fact he was really management, not labor. “That is so cool! A butcher! An honest to God good thing to be. I can't wait to tell they gang, 'my friend Vince the butcher says never buy hamburger; buy roundsteak and grind it yourself.'”

Vince laughed and told Shandy, “I never say that. We make way more on ground beef than we do on roundsteak.”

“But still, now I know the secrets,” Shandy beamed.

“Well, one of them,” Vince admitted and smiled back.

Lion and Shandy were a little put off by me for saying I worked at a financial management company. I guess it sounded grand or something. Their warmed up more when I told them it was only six people and didn't make much money. They liked Hollis's idea of apple futures since Lion had once tried selling used railroad ties and worked like a dog he said for very little money.

By then we were finishing the dessert of the night, apple pie a la mode. “This was fun. I hope we see you again,” Shandy said. “We usually come here Mondays and Thursdays.”

“We'll look for you next time. About six o'clock.” Vince seemed pleased to promise to meet again. As we walked to his truck, he said, “There are two straight guys who are in love with each other and will probably never realize it.”

“Really? You think?”

“Didn't you see how they looked at each other? How they checked out each other's reactions to what we said? How … considerate they were of each other? Ok, so they don't live together; but they seem to do everything else together. Camping. Shopping. Taking care of their trucks. They did live together for a while after Lion hurt his foot, that's what Shandy said.”

“Hmm, you're right, I guess. I just thought they were good old boys who had been friends for life.”

“That's what they think, too,” was Vince's opinion. “Shandy's nice. Kind of reminds me of Hollis.”

“Nice. I don't think anyone has ever called Hollis 'nice' before.”

Well, I didn't want to say hot, because you're the only hot one around here.” Vincce squeezed my hand before starting the truck. Needless to say, we had a 'nice' night together.

The trouble cme the next morning. I had just got to work after going to the bakery. I poured a cup of tea and took a bite of an apricot oranais, when Mac arrived. “What is that?” he demanded.

“Sort of an apricot danish,” I told him. “Technically an 'oranais' as if the Dane who made it is from Oran.”

“Oran, as in Africa?”

“Just around the corner from Casablanca.”

“How did you get to be an expert in French pastries? Oh, wait! More important! There was a guy looking in your windows last night. When I got home I walked past him. I said, 'They're probably home. Just knock.' And he pushed me out of the way.”

The oranais just about curdled in my mouth. “Did he say anything?”

“The funny thing was he pushed me by my dick almost. Probably an accident. He was in a rush. He shoved me with one hand on my chest and one hand on my … dick. No mistake. He gave me a little squeeze.”

I persisted. “But did he say anything?”

“He said 'Fuck you' and almost ran out of the parking lot.”

I hurried home to tell Vince before he left for work. I was shocked by his response. “Euie, I meant to tell you.” He dragged out telling me. “Archie, that is, Aaron called yesterday. He said he wants to see me.”

“Well THAT'S not happening.”

“I think I have to see him. He said I'm hiding behind you.”

“Yeah, good, and just KEEP hiding behind me.” I knew I hadn't convinced him.

 

[Kyanimal]

We ate in a lot, but that night neither of us felt like cooking and cleaning up afterward. We went out to dinner to an old “hash house”, as they used to call them. It was a workingman's place, railroad workers mostly. Single straight guys, mostly, who were without companionship; formerly married maybe, never married maybe, guys who were making it on their own but lonely. With any encouragement they'd tell you their life's history. If they suspected Vince and I were gay, nobody ever said a word. But, come on, two young guys who live together, always come in together, and are – I have to say it: more than usually good looking - you know they must have had their suspicions. But they never said anything; their own lives were too questionable to find much fault in others. It was a friendly, live-and-let-live kind of place. And also the place featured a no-star menu. Basic home cooking. Generous portions. And pretty cheap.

Poetry, Rory. Poetry!

 

[EasyRory]

Poetry, Rory. Poetry!

Thanks, Ky. Virginia used to be full of hash houses like that. Not so much anymore.

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter 27 – George

Peter Outerbridge texted me. It was a symbol that looked like ↔. He meant he wanted a flip fuck. We were never sure who would come first when we did that. The first time, the Friday after our initial picnic, he came first and I sucked him off afterward. Which was good because I'm not good for much else if I come first. The next time I came first and he came almost immediately after I did while he was still fuckin' me.

We're getting to know each other. He's a couple of years older than me and looks it after a late night. It's a boost to my ego to see he's not perfect. Our usual routine is meet for a drink, maybe eat some dinner, and then get to the good part. So far we hadn't spent a whole night together and I wasn't sure that we ever would. I had no idea where things were going but it didn't matter. The sex was good and the rest was no problem.

So getting the ↔ message from him wasn't a novelty; but getting it so early in the day was. I found out later when I got to his apartment. He met me at the door in a bathrobe; post-shower was my guess. His hair was still damp. I also guessed he had started drinking ahead of me. Nothing sloppy about him, just a slurred word here and there.

“You want a drink?” he asked. “I could sure use another. How 'bout vodka shots with a champagne chaser?” He didn't wait for my answer and pulled a bottle of vodka out of his freezer. He poured two shot glasses that quickly frosted up and either forgot about the champagne or was never serious about chasers. His robe opened a little; I think he was naked underneath.

“Here's to good fuckin'!” We banged the glasses three times and tossed the clear, firey vodka down. While he was tossing his back, his robe opened comletely. He didn't bother to close it; instead he poured another pair of shots.

“You look good naked,” I told him. True, he did.

“Thanks, so would you if you took off your clothes.” I started to. “Wait, let's do this shot first.” We tossed another back.

“Whoo!” I breathed through my mouth waiting for the fumes to clear. It went down easier than the first one. I kicked my shoes off and started opening my shirt.

“Hurry up. I wanna get fucked!” He kissed me and fumbled around with my cock while I got my shirt off. He opened my belt and unhooked the top of my jeans. He didn't bother with the zipper, he just yanked the denim right down and my underwear as well. My cock stood out at semi-attention. He poured some vodka on it and began sucking. After I got fully hard he paused. He smiled up at me, explained the vodka, “Antiseptic,” and went back to sucking. “How do you want me?”

“All fours?” I suggested. “You got some lube?”

“Already tken care of … Just do it.” He knelt on a thick rug and offered up his ass. I eased my cock into his already slick ass and slowly pumped, letting him get used to me. “Harder would be ok,” he directed. I continued a slow pace, but I pushed hard into him at the end of the stroke. “Harder,” he sighed, not so much of an order this time. Just a wish.

“We'll get there,” I said and was surprised by my confidence. I picked up the pace a little, still slamming my hips againt his ass at the end. I liked the way his ass cheeks jiggled on impact. I took him by the hips and pulled him back against me as I thrust. Bang! Jiggle! Hot fuck! I liked it, being in total control. Hollis never let me do that; he always held something back. Peter was totally open to me; his sighs were encouragement. And then slowly his sighs turned to whimpers.

“Fuck me!” he whispered. To me? To himself? It didn't matter. I pounded him. My orgasm came so suddenly I almost ruined it by slipping out. Peter grabbed me and pulled me into him hard. “Keep fuckin' me!” he demanded. I did. He jacked his cock and came in about two strokes. We went limp partly from exhaustion and partly from surprise at the intensity of the sex.

“Wow!” was all I could get out.

“Where did that come from?” a dazed Peter mumbled. He pulled me against his chest and said, “Stay in me, baby. Is it ok if I call you baby?” His kiss muffled my answer.

Of course all good things must end. My dick went limp and slid out of Peter. He gasped a little and then hugged me close again. “I don't want to let you go,” he said and then he chuckled. “I guess you like being in charge, huh?”

“I guess I do. I haven't come like that since … never, maybe. What made it so different?”

“Probably my ex-wife.”

Shocker. “You never mentioned an ex-wife before.”

“We got divorced about eight years ago. No kids, which was her fault, not mine. It seems like every time I make a bit more money she comes along and takes it.”

“Alimony is tough, huh?”

“It's not even alimony – it's more like blackmail. But enough about her. Let's have another drink and watch a sweet movie about gay love – you know, a complete fantasy.”

Without putting on any clothes, we snuggled under a duvet with a pitcher of not-exactly sex on the beach and two glasses. “What I like about these is they're easy to make. No measuring – close is good enough – plus I don't put all the ingredients in it. Vodka, schnapps, and OJ, who needs that other shit?” Peter commented.

“What I like about them is they make kissing sweet,” I said and tasted his nicely fruit-flavored mouth.

I had never seen “The Lonely Hearts Club”, but Peter said it was his favorite gay movie. Sips, kisses, and laughs filled up the next hour and a half as some hot guys got in and out of each other's beds. The seduction of a very-willing Andrew Keegan by Tim Olyphant did it for me. The movie ended and it was like Peter read my mind, seducing me with complete thoroughness. He didn't make it as rough as our previous session, but he was in charge – no mistaking that.

When it was over, I felt totally relaxed. “Now that was a nice fuck, Peter.”

“So was the last one. I don't know when it's been so easy, so complication-free, not to mention you know what you're doing.”

“Maybe the drinks helped.”

“Of course, they did. But it's was more than that, more than we ever got up to before. Something really clicked tonight. It feels so good right now just having you next to me. Your hand on my ass feels like it belongs there.”

“Sound like we'll be doing this again.” I hoped I wasn't pushing too hard.

“The next time you fuck me I 'll come. Just from the fuckin'. I want that, George.” We made out for a while and then got cleaned up.

“I'm sorry your ex is giving you trouble, Peter.”

“She never got over finding out I was gay and has been taking it out on me ever since. When I married her I didn't even know it. Ok, maybe I had a few thoughts tucked away back in my head, but college and medical school was a hard grind. I had no social life. Masturbation was common and a fuck was rare. And the fucks were all chicks. I think I married her just so I could quit jacking off. Course I told myself it was love. But it wasn't.” He stopped talking and kissed me. “You, on the other hand, are pure sex, pure fun, I don't have to pay you.” He laughed. “Not that you aren't worth it.” He poured the last of the pitcher into our two glasses, filling them about half way. “As your doctor, I'm telling you you've had too much to drive home.”

“Oh, I think I could ...”

He cut me off. “Please stay. Please stay with me tonight. Sorry to be so needy, but ...”

I cut him off. “I have to get up fairly early. Six-thirty.”

“What if we get up at five-thirty and you fuck my brains out?”

I often have trouble getting to sleep. Not that night.

 

[Autolycus]

Thanks for another highly entertaining episode.

 

[EasyRory]

Aargh ... I tried to enter a new chapter and JUB told me I have to cut it to 10,000 characters. That's a difficult limit in a fiction forum.

 

[highflyer99]

Aargh ... I tried to enter a new chapter and JUB told me I have to cut it to 10,000 characters. That's a difficult limit in a fiction forum.

That's been an issue with one of the other stories I follow too. I get that from your point of view, posting the chapter in two halves runs counter to how you conceived and wrote it, but I can assure you that your readers will ignore the break and just keep reading! Looking forward to the upcoming episode(s).
Cheers HF

 

[EasyRory]

I checked and got a character count of about 13,500. Maybe cutting 3,500 will be a good discipline for me. No whips and chains, just a little rigor.

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter 28 – Hollis


“So it turns out I'm a lousy lay.”

“Hollis, what are you talking about? I've never heard anybody complain.” That was Mac's reaction and I noticed Anthony prick up his ears, while staying quiet.

“Three people with reason to know have told me so in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Top or bottom?” Anthony ventured.

“Does it matter? Top mostly,” I answered.

“Well, then, it's fixable,” Anthony smiled.

“Details,” Mac demanded.

“Two days ago, I got home and Joe said we had go see Inglis because he and the Countess were having some kind of trouble. I didn't want to go because the Countess is repulsive and Inglis gets reliably hard these days, more or less. Joe said he wanted to go. After a lot of back and forth Joe admitted he likes getting fucked by the Countess. I said the implication is I'm lousy at fucking. He didn't say yes; but he didn't say no, either. He said my attraction for him was different. Hence ...”

“Oh, come on, Hollis; that doesn't mean ...”

I cut him off. “I'm not done. Joe came home a couple of hours later smelling of sex. It pissed me off but I kept quiet. He showered and was very affectionate the rest of the evening. We went to bed that night and had VERY satisfying sex.”

“You were bottoming?” Anthony asked – like what business was it of his?

“Yes. But then that afternoon he wanted to go to Inglis's house again. Why, I wanted to know; didn't we have great sex last night? That's why we had great sex, he said. The Countess fucks me and I get inspired to fuck you. Jeez, I said, maybe I should just get fucked by the Countess and eliminate the middle man. 'It wouldn't hurt,' Joe said, 'and you might learn something – in fact, you really NEED to learn how.' ” I raised my hand to silence Mac's questions. “So this morning I ran into George who came in really early today and asked him how I was in bed. And he said I was wonderful. And I said, hah so I can fuck a guy. And George said, well, maybe not so much that part. Oh and I forgot to tell you, after Joe went to get fucked I went to play lax with the guys near Ruslan's house. So I asked Ruslan about how he felt and he said he loves me for all of me, not any particular part of sex. He made it sound like sex was secondary, when I know it wasn't.”

“He loves you – present tense?”

“I guess. But there's the evidence. Three guys pretty much said I suck at fucking.”

Mac and Anthony said nothing. I guess they couldn't think of anything consoling to say. To break the silence, I added, “But I did get to see Ruslan's father. It's amazing how much he looks like a more mature Ruslan. Pretty hot actually. Anyway, he showed me a case he was working on. A company that was failing and refused to respond to stockholder complaints. I gave him a couple things to think about and he seemed really appreciative and said I'd hear from him. He's amazingly attractive. Maybe I should look for an older guy.”

“Older guys are very appreciative,” Anthony said; “and very affectionate.” He sounded experienced. Both Mac and I reacted to that and Anthony immediately blushed. “Not that I know a whole lot ...” he backpedaled.

My phone rang and it was Ruslan's father. “Mr. Cole, what can I do for you?”

“Call me Ty, Hollis. I've got Treacher Brainballs on the line. Would you mind repeating what you told me last night?”

So I repeated my story of the company with the two classes of stock. In the case of nonpayment of dividends, the preferred stock accrued and compounded dividends. And this had been going on for a few years. The amount of dividends due was growing to a dangerous level. At a certain level it would impair the company's capital, triggering a loan default. I suggested Mr. Cole – uh, Ty – look into who owned the preferred. They could end up controlling the company very cheaply.

Mac, who had been listening to my end of the conversation gave me a thumbs up and nodded in agreement with my assessment.

“So, Treacher, what do you think?” Ty asked. Treacher said he was going after the company's stockholder lists, thanked me for my time, and hung up. “If you're right, Hollis, you'll be getting more than our thanks,” Ty said. “What do you say to that?”

I had to ask. “Ty, is his name really Brainballs?” Anthony giggled.

Ty laughed. “He spells it B-R-E-Y-N-B-A-L-Z. It takes a little getting used to, but he's a good young associate.” I told Ty not to hesitate to call again and ended the call.

“Brainballs or not, that was a pretty good assessment, Hollis. So it turns out you really were paying attention in Inglis's class,” Mac acted astonished.

“It gets a lot more interesting when it's not about a phoney 'Acme Widget Factory' case study.”

“When I took the course, one dude tried to convince Inglis that widget was a seventeenth century Scottish word for dildo” Again Anthony blushed as he told the tale.

Despite being convinced I was a lousy lay, it was a good day for business. I bought two apple futures from a widow and sold them to a cannery. It would have been risky, but she owned a couple of orchards and was actually just taking payment a little early. The cannery wanted to park some cash for a potential gain. The widow sold for a little under market; the cannery bought for a little over market and Middleburg Investments took in the difference.

So I felt as if I earned my pay that day and left about four thirty to walk the two doors down the apartment row to my place. It was a beautiful day with the sun still high in the western sky throwing a big patch of sun on my bed. Joe wouldn't be there. Why not a little testicle tanning I thought before dinner? I got naked, settled in the patch of light on my bed, and felt the pleasure of warm balls. I wondered if Treacher Brainballs had a nice pair; he had a nice voice. I conjured up a vision in my head of a naked Treacher lying beside me. He looked like a combination of Ruslan and Joe. I started getting a hard on. I erased the Treacher image and substituted one of George, the George of a couple years ago, when he was hot. I stroked myself. I felt amazingly horny. I shouldn't jack off, I told myself. I could go out tonight and look for a hookup. Get some real sex. But I didn't stop stroking. I ran my finger over the head of my dick and felt the drop of wetness. So horny. I knew I wasn't going to stop.

And I wouldn't have except there was a knock at the front door. I grabbed a towel and walked to the door. “Who is it?”

{End part 1; continued in the next post}

 

[EasyRory]

{Part 2}

And I wouldn't have except there was a knock at the front door. I grabbed a towel and walked to the door. “Who is it?”

“It's Anthony. I have a courier delivery for you. Mac said to bring it over.”

Shit. My cock was putting an obvious bulge in the towel. I fastened it as loosely as I could around my waist and opened the door. There stood Anthony. His eyes bugged out when he saw me. “Sorry to interrupt your shower,” he said, handing me a letter-sized manila envelope. “Mac thought you would want to see this.”

I waved him in and opened the envelope. A short letter was wrapped around a check, which fluttered to the floor as I read the letter. Anthony picked up the check while I read the letter. “Dear Hollis … yadda, yadda, our check, yadda, yadda, sincerely, Ty Cole.” I speculated, “A couple hundred?”

“Uh, no. More. Way more,” Anthony said.

I grabbed the check from him. “Five thousand!” I gasped, and the towel fell off. “Oops,” I said. Anthony picked up the towel and handed it to me. My hands were full with the letter in one and the check in the other. It was one of those weird moments when the correct thing to do, put the letter and check down and refasten the towel, was not what happened. I stood there dumbly and Anthony naturally took a long look at my body. He awkwardly tried to put the towel around me and failed.

“Well, fuck it!” I said and walked to a table, put down the correspondence, then took the towel from Anthony, who of course was blushing again.

“I wasn't taking a shower,” I explained, “I was tanning my balls.”

“Is that a real thing? I thought it was a joke.” He was still looking me over, trying not to be obvious about it. “How does it work?”

I laughed. “You take off your clothes and sit where the sun shines on you.”

“There's no sunlight in this room, only in the morning,” he said.

“Bedroom,” I explained.

“Oh … I see. Of course. The bedroom.” It seemed he didn't want to end the discussion.

“I don't know how much it adds to actual testosterone production, but it feels good. I mean really good, like a back rub except a little sexier.” I paused and he said nothing. He wanted me to do the talking. So I did. “You want to try it?”

“Well ...” He hesitated.

“Up to you,” I said as I walked toward the bedroom.

“Well, ok.” He sounded unsure; natural modesty or was he being coy?

I spread my towel on the bed and lay back, putting the soles of my feet together and spreading my knees. Pretending not to, he was checking me out and began blushing a little. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” I encouraged.

He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his polo shirt. Not a bad upper body. He unzipped and dropped his chinos. My, my, my. Anthony had been hiding a very hot ass under those loose pants he typically wore. I heard him take a deep breath as he let his briefs fall to the floor. Yes, just short of plump, just short of rock hard, that is a sweet ass. He lay on the bed just to my side, squirming a bit to get in the best sun.

We lay back, eyes closed – at least mine were – enjoying the unaccustomed warmth on our inner thighs and balls. “Should I pull my dick out of the way, so my balls can get full sun?” he asked.

“Up to you. I never stay in the sun long enough for it to make much of a difference, I don't think.”

He rustled around a bit and complained, “It won't stay out of the way. Keeps flopping back down over my balls.”

I said nothing and lay still for a bit. Then I remembered his comment, “Anthony, when you said my being a lousy lay was fixable, what did you mean exactly?”

“Anybody can learn to be a good top. All it takes is a little anatomical knowledge and a little practice. At least that's what my first boyfriend said. That's what he taught me. He said I couldn't fuck him unless I was good at it.”

“Tell me about it,” I requested. I meant the technique but I got the whole story.

“Well, it started in the last month of high school. I was getting measured for my cap and gown when the fitter said, 'Try this on.' It was a short robe and he tugged at the front. Then he felt me up, saying, 'It just doesn't hang right.' So I tried another one and he touched me very sensually, which gave me an erection which showed through the robe. He cupped my dick and decided that was the problem. By then I was painfully erect but he had a nice touch so I was liking it. He knelt in front of me and opened the robe. 'Here's the problem,' he said acting surprised while his hand kept rubbing me. I knew this was bullshit. He knew it was bullshit. He knew I knew, et cetera. But it felt great and I pushed my dick into his hand. He looked me in the eye as he began unbuttoning my jeans. I didn't say anything, but I closed my eyes and sighed, giving him permission. It was just a quick blowjob but he was really good. So, when he suggested I come by the store at the Manassas Mall for a special fitting, I agreed. And the next day, I got out of my clothes and fucked for the first time. I got a summer job at Macy's in the mall and after that got fucked five times a week. I totally loved it; but in July I told him I wanted to fuck him. Didn't like that idea too much, but I told him no fuckin' him, no fuckin' me.”

“Anthony,” I interrupted, “Your dick is hard.”

He glanced over and observed, “So is yours. But he said if I was gonna fuck him, I was gonna have to do it right. He didn't want to mess around with beginners. Next thing I knew, his finger was up my butt. 'Hey, I'm supposed to do the fuckin', I complained. He said, 'Lesson one. Here is your prostate.' And he massaged it. I almost came. 'The idea is to remember the target is the prostate and the bullet is your dick. You want to massage my prostate, with your dick, more or less the same way I'm massaging you with my finger. Now look at your dick. It's soakin' wet. I could make you come if I wanted to.' I looked at my dick and sure enough the head was wet and there was a puddle of juice on my stomach. Then I did it to him. And after more directions I fucked him. He kept telling me to aim this way, thrust that way. Eventually he said, 'Ok, good enough. Now fuck me.' And that made all the difference. What about you? You want me to demonstrate?”

His finger up my ass showed me where my prostate is and what it can do, given a little encouragement. He asked if I wanted more than a finger and his dick up my ass was even more amazing. The position was unusual for me, down on all fours, but I came in record time. He didn't come, but his dick was still in me. “Go ahead, finish,” I told him.

“If I do I won't be able to take you. Once I come, I'm wiped out for the night. You, on the other hand, I'm guessing, are good for a second time.”

Turned out he was right. He rolled over and stuck his ass up. I checked on where his prostate was. “It feels kind of like a pingpong ball stuck in wet cement. Oh … yeah … Jeez … you found it. Now hit is with your dick. Slow motions but non-stop. A little lower ... lower … Oooh. Yeah! Keep doing that.”

The fuckin' got better once he shut up. I enjoyed it. He enjoyed it. I tried to kiss him, but he turned away. “Just fuck me,” he said. “Keep that motion going … yeah … fuck me … I'm ...” His words turned to gasps as he came. I hesitated. “Keep fuckin' me!” he demanded. “Yeah! … yeah!” He grabbed my hips and held me in him. “Don't pull out yet!” I kept slamming into him and surprised myself by suddenly coming again with very little warning.

He was still gasping as he got dressed. “Now go find your unhappy partner and fuck him like that, Hollis. You'll never get rid of him.” Anthony left me still breathless.

I lay on the bed sweaty and in a mess of cum thinking … now that I'm apparently a better lay, the pity is I haven't got anybody to fuck. I looked over at the paper on my dresser. But I do have a nice check.

 

[Kyanimal]

HA!

Great read! Barely noticed the break to Part 2. Butt, yeah!, that does need to get fixed.

Treacher? (Like in Arthur Treacher?) And, Breynbalz? How long did it take you to cum up with that one?

Thrilled that Hollis has learned prostate pounding. How soon are he and Anthony doing each other again?

You know you have to keep writing this ... right?

 

[highflyer99]

Yes, very entertaining, as always. Nice to see Anthony centre stage, in a mentoring role Hope we see more of Hollis in future chapters, topping with confidence!

Cheers, HF

 

[Autolycus]

Splendid new episodes! Thanks for keeping this wonderful story going in such an entertaining way!

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter 29 - Mac


“Euie,” I said with mock seriousness, “Hollis is fucking somebody and he won't tell me who.”

“Hollis has never been much of a kiss-and-tell kind of guy,” Euie answered. “His reports have always been after-the-fact, like with George. It was months after everyone knew that he finally admitted he had moved in with George.”

I noticed how BIG Anthony's eyes were getting. It's a hoot to see how innocent the kid is. It's really quite charming and cute. I'm always forgetting how young he is.

“I can always tell. He gets that sly smile. Like yesterday he was talking to me about apple futures and in the middle of some intricate tiered financing discussion he starts smiling and I KNOW he's reliving in his head whatever went on the night before.” Euie said nothing and I paused to consider. “Anthony, you took that Fedex over to his place yesterday; was anybody else there?”

Anthony blushed furiously. “Me? What?”

“Did you see anybody else at his place?”

“Uh, no. Just Hollis. Nobody else.”

“Well, that's a fucking mystery. But I'll get to the bottom of it or my name isn't … Whoa. Another express mail truck.”

“I'll get it,” Euie volunteered and he headed down the stairs.

“Anthony, you should have gotten that. Euie isn't as young as he used to be.”

“He's twenty-five! He's in great shape! Perfect health!”

“Just messin' with you, Anthony.”

Euie came back up stairs smiling and handed me a large flat envelope. It was in Carlos's careful hand. Precise writing with all the Spanish diacritical marks. He even used cedillas which are not used in modern Spanish. He told me his grandmother taught him to read and write. I started reading “Estimado y amado Maxi ... That means esteemed and beloved Mac,” I translated for Euie and Anthony's benefit.

“Me duele decirte esto … Hmm. What does duele mean again?”

“It pains me to tell you this,” Anthony translated.

“Roger y yo estamos casados ...” I hesitated.

“Roger and I are married,” Anthony said even more quietly.

“I knew that part,” I answered impatiently and then found tears in my eyes. I couldn't read any more. I put the letter down and walked slowly down the stairs, opened the door and left work. I didn't know exactly what I was doing but I walked the fifty feet home operating completely on automatic. I entered and sat and then thought what do I do now? I decided to cry some more. What the hell? I didn't have anything else to do. Time passed. I don't know how much. It couldn't have been hours; it was still light out.

I heard a knock and a small voice. “Mac?” It was Anthony.

“I brought you the letter in case you want to read more. Euie thought we shouldn't just leave it lying around and maybe I should bring it because I can help with the Spanish if you want to … you know, read the rest or something.”

I just stood looking at him and felt the heat of tears in my eyes again. I blinked away the tears or thought I did. Anthony gave a little sigh and hugged me. I'm embarrassed to say that the first thing I was aware of had nothing to do with Carlos. It had to do with Anthony hugging me closely, so closely I thought I could actually feel his cock against my leg. He shifted slightly and I knew exactly what was pressing against me.

“Mac,” he looked into my eyes. It looked as if he was sharing my tears. “If I can help …” And then he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't an innocent kiss, but it wasn't eat-your-face either. It was in between, like it could go either way, totally up to me.

I opened the top button of my shirt. He took his off. We kissed some more. Then I took my shirt off and he took his jeans off. “Wow!” I said in admiration; the little fucker is HOT! That's a most fuckable ass.

“You can fuck me if you want,” he suggested matter-of-factly. He slipped his briefs off, lay back on the sofa with his dick hard and his legs partly spread, and offered me his body. It was a boy's body, but a nicely developing one. Not my ideal; nothing like Carlos; nothing I'd pick out of a lineup. But still … “I've been hoping for this since the day I saw you, Mac.” He bent his dick toward me and showed me a large drop of clear liquid on the tip.

Yeah, I fucked him. What was nice was how much he wanted it. I wasn't his first and I had a feeling I wasn't even his fifty-first. He knew what he wanted and it seemed like I gave it to him. Just as I came, he stroked himself off.

“Now that was a nice fuck,” he said when we were done. “Next time, if you aim a little higher, I won't need to use my hand.”

We showered and wrapped ourselves in a blanket to watch TV. It was some reality show with no excuse for airing except to show off a bunch of partly-clothed bodies. “You want a beer?” I asked him. He accepted and I became guilty of corrupting a minor. Sex is legal but beer is not. The show was just erotic enough to remind me I was lying with a naked dude who was a willing fuck. I let my hands wander and Anthony seemed ready for anything. Then for reasons I couldn't understand, the show got interesting, or rather one of the actors did. He admitted to a little sexual experimentation. I concentrated on the show.

I guess Anthony felt neglected. “You want to fuck me again, or are you just gonna fall asleep?” His tone said he didn't really care either way. “I'm not spending the night either way.” Anthony had not handed me an ultimatum, but his words had the feel of one. I decided to negotiate.

“What if I do neither? What if I just enjoy the feel of your ass up against me?” I pushed closer to him. “What if I just explore your body?” I gently rubbed his nipples until I felt his breath get ragged. “What if I just tease you?” I held his dick in my hand and felt it chub up; I kept teasing until he moaned. What if I finger you a little?”

“Wait!” he almost shouted and ran to the bathroom. He came back almost as fast and resumed his position alongside me, pushing back into place. “I got lubed up. I'm ready. You were about to finger me,” he reminded.

“I was,” I said, in no hurry to do it. “But maybe I'll just play with your dick.”

After brief moments of play, he said, “Stop, I don't want to cum yet.” I didn't stop. Soon, more urgently, he cried, “STOP!” and pulled my hand away from his wet leaking erection. After a few gasps and no climax he more calmly said, “You can fuck me, if you want.”

“I know. I don't want to yet.” That got a kind of strangling sound from him. “I want you to want it.”

“I do. I want you!”

“Don't be in a hurry.” I went back to a gentle tease of his nipples with fingers slick from his precum.

“Hrrahnngh!” he answered.

“More clearly, Anthony. What do you want?” I suggested. His contortions had worked my cock into his asscrack. He was pretty good at this and then worked my dickhead partly into his hole.

“FUCK ME!”

I gave him a squeeze. “Settle down now … You know, for a skinny dude, you're pretty huggable.” I gave him another energetic squeeze with enough motion to it that my dick head popped out of his hole. He whimpered. It was a pathetic sound and I gave in. “Ok, you win.” We were still in spooning position when I entered him from behind, coaxing appreciative sounds from him. Whatever lube Anthony used wasn't enough. I withdrew and applied some spit to his hole. Re-entry was easier and both of us sighed. He came almost immediately and I followed.

It wasn't the most satisfying fuck of my life, but it was pretty thorough. He sighed repeatedly as his breath steadied. I was more concerned with wondering if my much-abused sofa would clean up. The upholstery was a mottled mix of greys and browns which was pretty good at hiding things like cum stains. I found that if I applied Shout directly to the stain it cleaned up well. Maybe I should try Shout on my hair; It seemed to work wonders on everything else.

Suddenly he rolled around and kissed me. “What's that about?” I asked.

“Nice fuck, but I think you knew that.” He got up and dressed. “See you tomorrow.”

With the help of a Spanish translator on my phone, I finished Carlos's letter. He was sorry. He loved me. Roger was a convenience for financial reasons except that Roger claimed to honestly love him. Carlos didn't love Roger except he had to admit Roger was getting to be a lot better at sex. Roger would consider a threesome but he knew I wouldn't go for that. He would see me in a couple of weeks unless their gig in Vegas got extended. More love, Carlos.

It hurt. I wanted to cry, but no tears came – although soon the morning did. I dragged my ass to the office. Euie was onto his second pain au chocolat and looked up smiling. “You look like shit,” he said in a mostly nonjudgemental way.

“It was a long night,” I said. Anthony blushed but only I noticed.

 

[Kyanimal]

Sweet!

Sorry to hear about Carlos, though Roger fell into a good thing, that he didn't seem to be expecting, or even looking for, in the first place. Stuff happens ...

Stuff like stuffing Anthony, who has become quite the comfort fuck. Is Euie's turn cumming up? Will Hollis and Mac ever find out about each other, and get to compare notes about how hot Anthony's hole is on the inside?

Curious minds want to know ...

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter 30 - Jimmy Christmas


I know I'm not really a member of Richard's gang; but I'm getting to be much more comfortable around them. Like at the bar last week, we all met up and I barely noticed that Mac was … is … a little gayer than the rest. A little flirtier. He's funny and I can't even believe I'm flirting with a guy. But he's non-threatening and seems to like me and so maybe he's a little hot. I bet he can give a great BJ.

Still let's face it, I'm having sex with Richard all the time and I swear he's better than Suzie ever was. Suzie was never really all in. For one thing with Richard I don't have to work so hard and I've never been a real fan of hard work. Suzie was pretty demanding without giving me much. With Richard I just lie back, relax, and take it, hoping he won't pound too rough or take too long. And usually he comes pretty quick if I tweak his nipples.

They're all accepting of me, even the really straight ones, guys you would never suspect were gay. Except maybe Euie occasionally gives me fashion advice, but he's very subtle about it. In fact he taught me the word subtle. And as a straight guy myself I have to admit he's the handsomest man I ever have seen and I would probably have sex with him if he ever wanted mostly because he's so gentle.

Richard says not to be fooled by these guys. They all can be ruthless. I know that's true about Richard; but I have to wonder about the rest. I can't imagine Buddy and Brandon even having a poor opinion of anybody; well, ok, maybe they would think poorly of someone, but they would never act on it.

Hollis is a harder to figure out. Maybe there is some ruth in him, but not much. He flaunts his body in a way the other guys don't. Like I KNOW that I know how big his dick is. I'm absolutely certain it's thick. I don't think I could handle getting fucked by Hollis. And yet, he acts perfectly normal. No more jokes about 'Jiminy' or about Richard and me. He actually explained his plan for apples contracts to me and said if it worked maybe Christmas trees would work. When I told him my crop was presold, he actually listened and told me I drove a good bargain, even though he knew Richard made the sale. I don't dislike him at all; I just don't want to get fucked by him. But the last time at the bar, he told me that I was too smart just to be a farmer. I should offer management advice to other farmers. And by offer he meant sell. Me! Sellin' advice! I told Richard and he said Hollis was just sayin' stuff to soften me up and and try to fuck me. But I didn't get that vibe from him at all.

But Anthony. What a hot little fucker! I had just met him and he said he wanted to get with me. Like for sex. If I wanted. Totally my choice. He said I was a type he'd never had before. And I got the sense that his version of sex was more … um, comprehensive that some people's. Like I could probably fuck him. If I wanted to. Which I don't.

He came out to the farm one morning about ten with something urgent for Richard to read. I told him Richard was in D. C. for a regular Tuesday meeting and I was sorry he had wasted the trip.

“It's a company car and I'm getting paid. So not a waste from my point of view. As long as I'm here, could you show me around?” he asked. He put his hand on my forearm as he asked. Do straight guys do that? I'm thinking no.

“Sure, but you're in good clothes. The fields are a little hard on ...”

“Could you lend me some jeans?” Anthony asked.

“Better some overalls. You'll look like a real hillbilly, but they protect you.”

I had barely got the words out before Anthony started taking his clothes off. What a body he was hiding! Slim, but hard; and I tried not to notice, but a nice dick. A very nice dick. I guess he was used to getting looked at. He smiled and said, “It's not as big as it looks. It's because the rest of me is so skinny that my dick looks big. You got the coveralls? I figure it's a hot day. Ok to go without undies?”

“Uh … uh … I do sometimes. But that's 'cause I don't like doing extra laundry.” I got him a pair of my coveralls and he put them on. They were way big, but that's why they have shoulder straps.

I showed him the Douglas and Frazier firs. “I was planning to cultivate these a little this morning. They need moisture and hoeing lets the soil hold more water when it rains.”

“Got another hoe? I'll help you.” I brightened at the prospect of help but then faded.

We headed out to the field between the house and the road. Hot and sweaty is hoeing in the field. Hard on the hands, hard on the feet, hard on the back. The only thing that wasn't hard was my dick. I told myself that was because I was straight; but that isn't as convincing as it used to be.

Three hours and fifty rows later, I wiped my brow and said, “I'm sorry Richard isn't here yet. You want to quit? We've finished what I budgeted for today's work.”

Anthony was as sweaty as I was. “Water's expensive. I use a barrel and take free showers when I can,” I told him. “That ok with you?”

“Sure. What do I do?”

“It's easy. Get naked and stand under the shower head. The water's gonna be a little cool.” I popped the straps and stood under the shower head with the chain in my hand. “Hurry up and get wet,” I said while stepping out of his way. “There's not that much water.”

Continued in Part Two

 

[EasyRory]

Part Two


In spite of the coolness of the water, his dick didn't look totally limp. I was soaping up outside the spray and was careful not to get myself aroused. I handed him the soap. “Ok, switch places.” Soaping up got his dick slightly erect. He got embarrassed and turned away from me. I pretended not to notice and rinsed myself off, treated to a lingering look at his ass. “Ok, switch again before the water runs out.” He stepped under the spray. I just stood around and waited. Seconds later the water ran out.

“Towel?” he asked.

“I just air-dry a little and then put my clothes back on. We can sit on the porch if you want. I save the towels for the winter when it's cold.”

“I'm impressed by your economy.” I don't think he was making fun of me, but it's hard to be sure.

“I know I'm just a hill billy, but the truth is I'm a fairly poor one. Right now I'm doing better than I ever did before, but I still have a hard time spending money.”

“Well, the cheap thrill in town these days is tanning your balls. If we sit near the edge of the porch, the sun will be just right.”

“Why would you do that?” Crazy city folks, I thought.

“It feels good and is supposed to raise your testosterone level. But I do it just because it feels good. Try while we dry?”

“Golly!!!” It felt REAL good. Impossible to keep thoughts of sex out of my head. Impossible to keep my dick down. Impossible to hide my erection.

“That's a nice dick, Jimmy.” Anthony had his eyes closed. How did he know? Then he opened them and smiled as he looked at me. “I feel the same way.” Oh my God. He's totally as hard as I am. His is huge! “Richard is a lucky man.”

“He doesn't act it. In fact he thinks I'm the lucky one. Which I guess is actually true. This farm has never been going so well until he came along. I'm very grateful for him.”

“So it's not true love?” Anthony asked.

“We've never discussed it. The discussion tends to be financial and how much he's doing for me.”

“Does he ever explain his motives?”

“He says I'll be a model for future customers and sometimes he says he likes having sex with me.”

“And you?”

“Jeez, I used to hate the sex but did it because Suzie made me. Then I got so I could tolerate it. Seemed like a small cost for a big return. Now, I like it sometimes. Cumming is cumming, right?”

“That's kind of how I feel about girls. Something is better than nothing. Ok, here comes Richard. His meeting must have ended early.”

“Oh my God,” Anthony panicked. “Should we get dressed?”

“Eventually, I guess. But don't do it like we're guilty of something. Just two dudes tanning their balls.” That sounded so crazy I laughed out loud. “Like that happens every day.” I laughed harder when I saw the expression on Richard's face. He climbed the three steps up to the porch.

“Well, at least one of you is happy to see me.”

Anthony sputtered, embarrassed by his persistent erection. “Uh, I ... it feels, tanning your balls, that is, feels ...”

“Kinda hot, I would imagine, in both senses of the word,” Richard chuckled. “Very hot, actually,” he added and gave me a kiss on the mouth. He NEVER does that. As he walked inside he called back, “You know, Jimmy, that drive doesn't get any shorter. I'm beat. You are definitely toppin' tonight.”

Anthony followed Richard inside with his dick wagging in front of him. “Richard, I brought a contract for you to sign. George would like it back tonight. It's on the table.”

“Anthony, if we're going to have a serious conversation, why don't you get dressed? That dick of yours is a real distraction.” He took the papers off the table while the two of us dressed.

Richard rifled through the text and signed in the three required places without reading the terms. “Don 't you want to read it?” Anthony asked.

“Why? I wrote it and George has always been good with the details.” Richard smiled and actually did look tired.

“Can I get you a drink, Rich?” I asked him.

“No, but as soon as Anthony is gone … that's gonna be soon, right, Anthony? … you can fuck me.” He kissed me again. Richard NEVER does that! It wasn't a passionate kiss, but he pulled me close with his hand on my back. And then KISSED ME! He NEVER does that.

I walked a frantic Anthony with his shoes untied, his shirt hanging half out of his pants, still stuffing papers into his case to the Middleburg Investments car. “He's never this way, Anthony.”

“I think he loves you, Jimmy. I really do.”

Hmm. Doesn't that fuck everything up. I watched Anthony drive away and went back inside. Richard, still looking tired, smiled at me. “I try to be nice to you, Jimmy. But it's hard, you don't know how hard, not in my nature really. And yet here you are, greeting me looking hot and beautiful, offering to make me a drink, kinda like you might actually like me. I know you're straight. It must be hard for you.”

“It's not that hard, Rich.”

“If anybody else called me Rich, I'd kill 'em. But you … it sounds beautiful when you say it.”

I fucked him as carefully as I knew how, making sure he enjoyed it. And he did, but he came too soon – way before I was ready. That was ok. We skipped dinner and talked about the trees. I told him Anthony helped me cultivate the front acres. He appreciated that, saying he thought Anthony was just horny and looking for a chance. I explained about the coveralls and the shower and waiting to dry off. He said that we could afford a towel or two and laughed when he said I was being too frugal. We relaxed with each other. Then I hear somebody's stomach rumble. His? Mine? Couldn't tell.

“You want to order a pizza?” he asked me.

“You know there's no delivery out here.”

“It's in the car. I stopped at Harris Teeter on the way home. You can order me to go get it if you want.”

Home. Has he ever called it home before? If I want? Has he ever said that before. It was impulsive of me. I gave him a lingering kiss and said, “Go get the fuckin' pizza. I'm starving!”

 

[Kyanimal]

Interesting take on the crew, and Anthony literally putting himself out there, again. Certainly a different side of Richard.

So ... Jimmy isn't the total hayseed that we thought.

Thank You for these characters!
Chaz

 

[EasyRory]

Interesting take on the crew, and Anthony literally putting himself out there, again. Certainly a different side of Richard.

So ... Jimmy isn't the total hayseed that we thought.

Thank You for these characters!
Chaz

I like your new avatar.

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Thirty-One - Mac


“GET THE FUCK OUT AND STAY OUT!” That was followed by rapid footsteps and a door slam. It was Vince's voice. I ran to the window and saw somebody with long dark hair running across the parking lot. At least the runner wasn't Euie.

I felt a little edgy. I'd never heard Vince sound angry enough to kill. This time, though, I was kind of terrified myself at the sound of his voice. Lesson for the world: never piss off Vince. What a way to start a Saturday morning. And I wanted to sleep in.

I wanted to sleep in because my mind needed time to process my triumph? my fiasco? of the night before. I had agreed to go too a meeting of Feet on the Ground with Monica; we were welcome after assurances that Roger would not be with us. So without that shitload of drama to bog down the lightness of the evening, Monica and I had quite a good time learning the dances of colonial Virginia. Those reels and galops and cotillions were amazingly strenuous. Our ancestors got a good workout from an evening's dance. We also enjoyed a “fish house punch” bowl. The club manager confessed the authenticity of the recipe was in doubt; but it did make a nice cooler, consisting mostly of tequila, peach brandy, and bitters. A dance and a cup of punch alternated all night. For the cotillion, we danced with another couple who gave me the distinct impression that a successful foursome on the dance floor could also be successful in the bedroom.

Hank and Geneva suggested as much, but they lived halfway to Richmond. With regrets Monica and I, who were afoot anyway, walked back to her place. The night had been fun; the punch had been strong; and my will had been weak. Yes, I accepted the offer of a cup of coffee. Yes, it ended up being Tia Maria, because Monica was almost out of coffee. Yes, we were giggly, followed by naked, followed by fucking.

Afterward I was chagrined. “Monica, I'm a self-respecting gay man. I'm not supposed to go around having one nighters with women I barely know.” That struck her as very funny and her take on things was infectious. I ended up giggling, too.

“You're not the first and you won't be the last gay man to go for a little diversity. How did I do?”

“Amazingly well. First I thought I will definitely lose my erection; but that didn't happen.”

“I cheated sort of. That prostate massage? It always works.”

“That's why I feel like I got fucked. Well, I guess I did.”

“Not really, just an external manipulation. Spread your legs. Let me show you.” She chuckled. “If I can ever get your balls out of the way.”

That comment led to further discussion about anatomy and, I still barely believe it, I fucked her again. She deserved it; after the Roger business, she deserved a nice night with a capable man. I just didn't realize that man was me. In fact, I'm not sure how I possibly could have been that man. My previous experience with women was limited to two main events. I really knew nothing about what they like. Monica, however, gave me enough clues and encouragement that things worked out. She said she enjoyed it both times. If so, she has fairly quiet orgasms. No screaming, no fingernails shredding my back, no arching almost out of the bed. It wasn't porn-like at all. It was soft and gentle but thorough and steady. My orgasm crept up on me; I didn't expect it. Nothing like being with Carlos, who is anything but quiet and gentle. More like being with Roger, if Carlos is telling the truth about Roger's pace and timing.

I got up early. There was no awkwardness. I dressed as Monica watched. She complimented me on my body. Carlos would do that before sex, but never after. We kissed. And that was that. No promises of what might come next. Just an easy, guilt-free parting.

I showered when I got home but I still smelled of Monica. Not a bad smell at all, like a lingering memory. I was debating between a brief nap before work and decided no. A brief nap would probably turn into a three hour one. Better to guts out my half day Saturday morning and nap when it was over. That was when I heard Vince shouting. A terrible time to be caught naked. I wanted to check how he was when he came back in the building, but I was sure naked men weren't what he was looking for at that very moment. I listened to him go back onto his apartment.

I dressed and went to work. On impulse I sent Monica some flowers before Euie came in looking perfectly normal, showing no signs of his boy friend's explosive temper. He made a cup of tea and offered to share his pain au chocolat. I declined the offer and he proceeded to take a bite. I couldn't resist, “Euie, what was the commotion this morning? Vince sounded like he ...”

“Oh, you heard that?”

“So did everybody else within a mile.”

“Remember the trouble Vince had with Aaron? Well, Aaron's back. Pesters the hell out of Vince. Won't take no for an answer. Sure you don't want some of this?” I shook my head no. “So this morning he got into the apartment somehow and came into our bedroom and asked if he could join us. Vince totally lost it and chased him out of the building.” Euie took another bite of the bread and sip of the tea. “I hope he stays away.”

“You're being remarkably calm about it,” I suggested.

“What can I do about it?”

“Call the cops for a start.”

“Remember what Lonnie said. Cops don't give a shit what happens between gay guys.”

“Breaking and entering!!! Gay never has to enter the convo!”

“It would eventually.” Euie shrugged. “It's up to Vince if he wants to do something. Last week Aaron flashed me in the parking lot. He wasn't showing off his best features doing that.”

“It's not a joke, Euie! I don't see how you can laugh. The dude is SICK!”

“But harmless … I gotta go check my messages.” Euie went downstairs and heard the machine recording say, “You have twenty-three messages.” The first was Vince saying, “Euie, I love you so much that ...” Euie must have lowered the volume. I couldn't hear any more. So annoying when I can't keep up with my friends lovelife. And then Hollis came in carrying an envelop and sat quietly pretending to be interested in a prospectus for a company that sells colored popcorn.

“Hollis ...” He looked up innocently. “Sweetie ...” His brows knit. “You have that look.”

“What look?”

“That look you have some mornings, freshly showered, clean clothes, brushed hair, total innocence, when I KNOW something sleezy when on last night.”

“Not sleezy. Nobody would say that.” His eyes turned back to the popcorn business. “Not even my mother.”

“Your mother thinks you invented virtue all by yourself. What would your sister say?”

“I don't know. She ignores me.”

“That's because her husband DOESN'T.” Hollis never liked to hear this about his brother-in-law, but the facts are he's always trying to get to know Hollis and he can't take his eyes off Hollis' ass.”

“I think I hear George,” Hollis dodged. “I need to talk to him.” He picked up the envelope and went into the hall.

I looked at Anthony. “Are you and Hollis up to something?”

“I was in West Virginia last night, delivering a package to Richard!” Anthony protested, not exactly answering my question. “But I'm willing to get sleezy tonight, if you want.”

Yes, I wanted to fuck his ass. And he knew it. Played me like a two-pound trout on a 15-pound line. “I'd like that.”

“I know you would,” Anthony grinned. I thought that was presumptuous, but I let it slide thinking of how I'd slide nicely into Anthony that night.