Four Miles and Counting

[EasyRory]

Chapter Five


“Z,” Eric complained, “I'm dead tired. Can we talk about this later?”

“Sure, I was just curious … No biggie.” Z gave Eric one last kiss and went downstairs to let him sleep. Damn, Z thought, he just made beautiful love to me after working all week and as a thanks I grill him about ancient history. I should leave well enough alone. Of course we can talk later. I won't even bring it up. I'll leave it up to him.

Z was consistently a considerate person, kind to drunks, old people, and naughty dogs, but he was always exceptionally accommodating and generous after Eric fucked him. He stood at the kitchen table and looked at the remains of dinner. All he could think of was Eric's cock in him. The dishes can wait, he thought. He went back upstairs and quietly entered their bedroom. In the dim light, he picked up Eric's clothes; some were on the floor and some were in a laundry bag Eric brought home from school. He was about to leave when Eric grabbed him by the hand.

“Z, I have loved two people in my life. The first was a guy I went to school with called Xuefei. He was the first person who didn't want anything from me. He loved me just for me. Eventually he dumped me. The other guy is you. So far you haven't dumped me. You can ask any questions you want. I didn't mean to put you off.”

“I don't have any questions. Go to sleep, Eric.” Z kissed him again and left with the laundry.

Feeling cheerier after starting the washing machine, Z was cleaning up after the light dinner with Eric when Darren came in.

“It's good I can't speak much other than English. There's no telling what Belgians speak. Dutch, French, Walloon, German, Flemish … and even more.”

Z smiled glad for the distraction. “If your Belgians are like the Europeans I worked with, they probably speak all of them, plus English.”

Darren sat down and sighed in a satisfied way. “I'm going to take calculus and trig over again. I didn't even learn how to spell them right in high school.”

“Great. Do you need any help with school bills?”

“Thanks, I'm ok. Rory overpays me and the College of Alameda is a bargain. Not as, uh, interesting as St. Mary's, but definitely a bargain.” Darren gave 'interesting' an ironic twist.

“Have you met somebody 'interesting' at St. Mary's?” Z didn't look at Darren, afraid he might have overstepped his bounds. He scoured the sink instead.

“Yeah, uh, several people. They seem kind of young. They are young I guess, younger than I am.”

“Working and paying your own way makes a difference, doesn't it?” Z hoped Darren had found somebody to fill the vacancy left by Nicky, but he didn't ask.

“It sure does. Especially with girls. It's more than years; it's attitude.”

Z bit his tongue. Girls! My God! He'll tell me when he's ready, he told himself. Dad will be happy if one of us turns out to be straight. He watched his brother leave. Who would have guessed Darren the Stubborn, Darren the Asshole, Darren the Rebel, would be happy living with two old ladies, working at a couple of jobs, and going to school besides. I hope this girl is somebody fabulous, somebody as good as he is. He deserves it. A girl! Z smiled to himself thinking of all the new possibilities to comtemplate. He called Rory and told him what Darren had said. He trusted Rory for his advice and his ability to keep his mouth shut.

“My shrink told me that – statistically, anyway – if anybody's gay in a family, younger brothers are more likely to be than older ones. But there's no reason Darren has to fit some statistical average. He's not average in any other way. Does this mean you will be worrying less about him?”

“Jeez, I don't know, Rory. Girls can be more trouble than guys. And he doesn't know much about girls.”

“You can bet he's learning. Gotta go. Tim's home.”

Z put the phone down and looked out the window. He saw some shadows move in the house next door and then saw his brother's bedroom light go out. I've got to tell Dad what a good kid he has become. Z punched the number and waited for the pick up. He got the answering machine and hung up. He threw Eric's clothes into the dryer and went upstairs. He climbed carefully into bed, trying not to wake Eric; but the disturbance roused Eric.

Without being fully awake, Eric wrapped his arms around Z and pulled him close. He mumbled something. “I love you, too,” Z answered. If I ever hurt this man, I should be shot, Z thought.




Istanbulla was pleased with her first return of capital. The check represented half of what she had invested with Andrew and Seth. She looked at the check and smiled. “It's a quicker pay back than I expected, actually. When do the profits start to flow?”

“The distributor liked the video. He's pretty confident it will be a money maker. He's going to start with some private screenings for select clients. You should get your second check in a couple weeks. I don't know how big it will be, probably not as big as this one. You should get your money back in six weeks. Profits after that, I hope,” Seth explained.

“What about your new stars? Can I get them to perform in the club?”

“Depends what you mean by perform. We have an exclusive with them for the next six months for sex scenes, but they can do promotion work, make appearances promoting the videos. We'll get a cut.”

“You mean I'd pay you to pay them and then get something back from you myself? Isn't that inefficient? Why not just give me a lower price?”

“We can tell other customers that everybody gets the same price. No favorites. And we expect to get some other offers.”

“You know, Seth, I'd love to meet your mother. I might have to hire her just so I can deal with you.”

“She'd do it. And treat me just like any other shark in the pool.”

“Um … dare I ask?” Istanbulla dared. “Why did you return to the screen, so to speak?”

“It wasn't planned, Izzie. We had them in for an audition and one thing led to another. Chris recorded the auditions and after we saw them we figured it would be hard to improve on what we already had in the can. Then ...” Seth dragged it out. “He and I were already on the payroll, so … It made sense financially ... Plus you can't really tell it's me.”

“I absolutely could tell it was you! And you look great. As a former hooker, I can understand the financial considerations, but this is going to make you … Famous isn't the word, but people will want to see more of you. Are you going to let them?”

“Andrew's against it. It's almost like he's jealous.”

“Andrew always wants what he can't have. And right now, you are out of reach. He can't have you the way the other Andrew did. He knows he can't make you look like that – that dreamy post-fuck oblivion that shows in the scene. And I bet it's killing him.”

Seth didn't comment; the same thoughts had occurred to him.

“And that look, Seth. Wow! Like you just got the fuck of your life. Either you are a very expressive actor or that new Andrew is. Tell me, have you done anything else with him?”

“So unprofessional … “ Seth pretended shame. “Yeah. I have; and I think he kind of likes me.”

“Those dominant guys can be very confusing. You never know about them,” Istanbulla sympathized and shook her head at some unspoken memory.

“He came to the office one night … to sign contracts and ...”

“... and stayed. I know how that works,” Istanbulla laughed.

“Yes … and he was very submissive, physically, while still giving me orders.”

“Details ….”

“He ordered me to fuck him and then he gave me specific step-by-step directions about how he wanted it done. I mean exact moves and timing. He was the great actor this time. He came while I was fucking him.”

“Doggie?”

“Yes.”

“That's an amazing position. I used to be able to get guys off with a strap-on that way. Doggie hits 'em just right. Maximum prostate stimulation without deep penetration. And …. ?”

“And so we repeated that episode in front of the cameras. Chris is doing edits now. We'll see what he gets out of it. You want to put money into that?” Seth grinned at Izzie's eagerness to invest. “Back to current business for a minute. After the private screenings are over, the video will be shown publicly at a couple of porn houses in New York and LA. Then, I think, there will be an Internet release. At that point Andrew and Attila can appear at your club. Will that be ok? You can't have them as an exclusive, but you can have 'em first.”

The deal was sealed. “Can I have your mother's phone number?” Izzie asked. Seth pretended she wasn't serious. The last thing he wanted was another smothering visit from Amanda Behar. Mom was accepting but not thrilled with his love life. She could envision changes and she wasn't shy about offering suggestions.

“If you want a good lawyer, Izzie, I can recommend one.” Seth left the club before there was any further consideration of Mom. He walked back to their South-of-Market office and reported his deal to Andrew.

“You shouldn't have paid her off so soon,” Andrew commented. “We could have stalled her.”

“We don't need to. We have the cash flow. Besides, she agreed to invest in the sequel.”

“What sequel?”

“The one where I fuck Andrew.”

“When is that going to happen?” Andrew asked sharply.

“It already has. Chris is editing now.”

“You fucked HIM?” Andrew asked.

“No. I've never done anything with Chris. I fucked ...”

“ANDREW!” Andrew realized.

“A couple of times, actually. What's got you all upset?”

Andrew sputtered and stammered and then sat in his desk chair. “Do I just come in to sign the checks around here?”

“No. I don't need you to do that any more. Either one of us is good enough, since we're current at the bank again.

“Don't I get consulted about projects?”

“We did talk about it. You agreed there would be a sequel. The shoot sequence was Chris's idea. He also thought maybe you could … um …” Seth broach the delicate matter. “Do you want to bottom for Attila? Chris isn't interested in doing that again.”

“Neither am I!” Andrew fumed.

“I thought you said nothing happened that night.”

“It didn't, but not that he didn't make his move. He just about tore me up trying. How did you think I got that carpet burn? He shoved me off the desk – WITH HIS DICK! It hurt like hell and he never even got the head in.”

“Andrew, sweetie ...”

“Sweetie? That's my line. Don't sweetie me! You may be happy getting a dick in the brain via your asshole, but not me, Seth. Not me.”

“He's not like that. Andrew, I mean, Bruce is a very gentle fuck. He gives orders, yeah, but he doesn't try to hurt me. And his cock isn't really that big. Chris makes it look huge in the video, but it's a nice size actually.”

“I'm going to see Z and Darren. Nordstrom wants them again.” Andrew left the office angry.




Heiko rose from the chair. “That son of a bitch! That manipulative ... asshole. I told you he was a monster.”

Heiko exploded when Tom told him about his accidental encounter with a nude Wolf on the balcony. Heiko was headed for Wolf's room with his fists clenched. Tom grabbed him with both hands. “Heiko, wait. Heiko ...” Tom put him in a bear hug to stop him and held on until Heiko stopped fighting him.

A kiss was followed by “Why do you live with me?” Heiko didn't answer and Tom repeated the question. “Tell me.”

“I live with you because I like living with you,” Heiko was flustered both by his anger and by Tom's question.

Tom kept Heiko firmly in his arms. “I live with you because I can't even think about how to live without you. Every minute with you is new. Every time we make love is new. And better. Always better. You fill my head and my heart.” Tom kissed him again. “You believe I love you, don't you?”

Heiko softened. “Of course I do.”

“Then why would you think an accident – a slapstick comedy – a total burlesque – could possibly be anything more than a joke to me? I love you completely. There isn't room in me for anything else.”

Heiko nodded and kissed Tom back.

“Just you, Heiko. Only you.”

Their kisses became more intense. They couldn't stop and the grappling made progress to their bedroom awkward. They fell against each other, tripped over falling trousers, and kicked off their shoes one by one on the way. Not quite naked, they fell on the bed, Heiko on top with his hair falling in Tom's face. Tom brushed away a streaky blond lock and asked, “Believe me?”

Heiko answered with kisses and touches. He moved lower and took Tom's cock in his mouth, lifting him by the hips to force Tom's cock down his throat. He gagged once but didn't stop, taking all of Tom until pubic hair was rubbing his nose. Tom wrapped his legs around Heiko and guided the blond head as it went up and down. The sounds of slurps and sighs filled the room. Heiko pulled back from the wet cock and began sucking at Tom's belly, then his nipples, holding Tom in his arms almost off the bed. Eager and fumbling he used spit as lube and forced his cock into Tom's ass. It wasn't the easiest entry, but they connected with a passion and need that overcame pain.

“Fuck me,” Tom whispered between thrusts. “Fuck me.”

“Tomi,” Heiko cried and then, seconds later, “AHHHH!” over and over. He picked Tom off the bed still impaled on his cock and kissed his face until they both fell back onto the mattress. The wooden frame cracked in protest but held as the lovers gasps slowed.

“Now me. Show me how you love me!” Heiko begged.

Tom was almost as frantic. He rolled Heiko onto his stomach and used his knees to push Heiko's legs apart. His cock was wet from Heiko's spit and his own precum and penetration was easy. Tom put his arms under Heiko's and onto his shoulders. He pulled back hard forcing Heiko onto his cock. Wanting more connection, Tom chewed on the back of Heiko's neck. Then, pistoning his hips, he fucked fast, not stopping until he came.

It was a fierce exchange, unlike any sex they had previously shared. At last their kisses became softer but never stopped as their passion faded. Murmurs of love, sweet sighs, and touches continued. Tom felt Heiko's lips curl into a smile as they pressed against his own..

“You're still hard,” Heiko laughed. “Like always … You're still hard and I want more. Fuck me again, Tomi. Right now.”

They tried missionary, but Heiko's legs were shaking. Doggie worked better. Gentle, slow, easy, doggie. Long strokes in and out. The orgasm came as a surprise. It was sudden and unexpected. Heiko's voice turned to an astonished rasp. “I'm coming!” His arms failed to hold him up and he fell forward against the bed. His hips hunched while he squeezed out the last of his come against the sheets underneath him.

They laughed and hugged. “But … but I came, not you.” Heiko sounded childishly delighted; in Tom's eyes he looked very young and very happy. They lay in each other's arms feeling the afterglow. Then Heiko began singing in a soft growl. It was a fairly decent imitation of Jim Morrison.

“Love me two times, babe
Love me twice today
Love me two times, babe ...”

He left out the line about going away, kissed Tom, and sang the lines again.

“I'm not having my lover going to sleep with a hard on,” Heiko said. “I want you to fuck me 'til you're limp.”

This time it was missionary and it took longer. Tom was afraid of hurting Heiko and held back until Heiko ordered him, “Do it. I want all of you.” The orgasm came soon after that.

When they were close to sleep, Tom asked, “Now can you forget about Wolf and me bumping into each other?”

Heiko's body stiffened and his voice grew steely. “For you it was an accident; but Wolf planned it. All my life he has wanted what I had; and he still does. Ein wahre Ungeheuer.”

In another bedroom, 'true monster' or not, Wolf smiled to himself. He let go of his cock and used his socks to wipe the cum off his belly. Getting comfortable, he then stuffed the plugs in his ears. He rolled onto his side to sleep.




Their bedroom was dark but sleep wouldn't come. “You're getting soft on that kid aren't you? All I'm hearing lately is Seth this and Seth that.” Out of frustration Attila slapped Bruce hard across the face.

Bruce's response was immediate. He shoved Attila out of bed and then up against the wall; he put one hand on his throat and one on his balls. “Keep your fucking hands off me! Touch me again and I'll rip your balls off!” The words were a fierce whisper. Attila was convinced he meant it.. But instead of hard pressure, Bruce's grip on Attila's balls was gentle.

Their subsequent fuck wasn't gentle at all. With no preliminaries, Bruce spun Attila around and penetrated his ass. Attila's ass was pre-lubed and ready but Bruce's cock was dry. It hurt and Attila's cries said so. The fuck continued with Bruce slamming his cock into his victim, knocking Attila's breath out with every thrust. Gradually Attila took it better. Bruce could see the tears of pain and it brought him to the brink. He kept thrusting and another whimper from Attila set off his orgasm. Attila jerked himself off as Bruce came in his ass. It had taken a lot of practice for Bruce to learn to stay in his ass as Attila jerked his body wildly. After a moment, they moved back to the bed to get their breath.

“Do we have to keep doing it like that?” Bruce asked.

“I'm the one who got fucked. What are you bitching about? You know we both like it.”

“I'm afraid I'm gonna really hurt you one of these times.”

“You DID hurt. I'm gonna check for blood.” Attila went into the bathroom and shortly afterward Bruce heard the toilet flush.

“Just a little blood. I should have used more lube.” Attila sat down again and leaned against Bruce's chest. He kissed Bruce's neck. “I came all over the wall again.”

“I'll clean it up,” Bruce promised.

“Bet your ass you will,” Attila answered. “Unless you can order little Seth to do it.”

“Enough about Seth, babe. He's nothing like you.” Bruce hugged his lover.

Attila wasn't convinced. “You do like him. Admit it.”

“Not the way I like you. He's totally different. Plus, except for the physical part, he doesn't give a shit about me. He's not gonna get all sappy and lovey-dovey like that idiot cameraman at Perfect Penis.”

“Good. 'Cause I will kill you if he does.”

Bruce grinned, “You sound like you mean it.”

Attila was not grinning. “I will chop your balls off and watch you bleed to death. I will fuck you while you die. You won't like it.” Attila's hand tightened on Bruce's balls. “Not. One. Bit.”

“OW!” Bruce cried out and Attila released his grip.

“It would be a pity, Bruce, because I really do like your balls.” Attila slid down and began sucking gently on Bruce's balls; only occasional scrotal nips reminded Bruce of Attila's threat.

Their routine called for Bruce to get aroused and fuck Attila again. He did his best, but this time Attila wasn't into the sex at all. His eyes glowed as he watched Bruce's actions, but the pleasure wasn't sexual. “I own you,” he challenged, as Bruce pumped his ass faster. “You're fucking me, but I own you.”

Bruce was an amateur who loved a rough fuck; but Attila was serious, consumed, and determinedly dominant. The depth of Attila's concentration showed in his face. Aroused passion made it a look of pure hatred. Bruce decided to keep his eyes closed or that look would kill his hardon. And a limp dick would piss off Attila for sure. A greater chill of danger followed.; Bruce could never tell if if he had satisfied Attila or not. He put both hands around Attila's throat and squeezed as he thrust his cock into his lover's hot ass one more time. Simultaneously Attila stroked himself into a convulsive orgasm. After his final spasm, he shoved Bruce away with a hip thrust of his own, just as Bruce started to spurt. Cum flew, making a mess.

Bruce landed on the bed holding his cock and awaited the verdict anxiously.

“Now that was a good fuck!” Attila said and Bruce relaxed at last. He sighed milked the last of the cum from his shriveled cock.

 

[rocabar]

Great new installment, Rory!

 

[EasyRory]

Thanks, Rocabar.

Curious: do you wear your namesake cologne?

 

[rocabar]

Thanks, Rocabar.

Curious: do you wear your namesake cologne?

You are very welcome!

. . . And yes, yes I do. Quite a bit, actually (right now as a matter of fact).


Soooo Rory, how did you pick your username?

 

[EasyRory]

I was going to pick plain old 'Rory' but JUB said that was taken, so I began entering variations and JUB kept saying no. I thought this is not so easy. Then I tried EasyRory and that was accepted.

I thought about it and decided ok, I am pretty easy.

 

[DonQuixote]

Hi. Nice update on our collective crop of guys.

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Six


Darren relaxed, driving slowly down Broadway. He decided to treat Peter and Joanne as a harmless pastime, a little straight-forward sex, that he could take or leave. Peter's sudden objection to getting fucked had almost ruined a nice orgasm.

After class, things had been progressing nicely. The brother and sister were both eager and seemed to enjoy teasing Darren into a state of maximum horniness. It was a relief to finally get to their house and into bed. Everybody had been willing when he first entered Joanne. She was eager; Darren near exploding, and Peter was encouraging, tickling Darren in sensitive places as he fucked his sister. Joanne had one of her frequent mini-climaxes and wanted a chance to recover.

“Fuck Peter now. I want to watch.” Joanne lay alongside Peter, playing with his nipples as Darren raised his legs and penetrated. Peter looked only at his sister as he squirmed under a double assault.

“That drives me crazy, Joanne. I think my nipples are more sensitive than yours,” Peter sighed. Then he gasped as Darren penetrated fully and hurt him a little.

“Did that hurt, Pete?” Joanne asked.

“A little. Maybe you should have it back in you.”

Darren listened to Peter call him 'it' and gave him another deep thrust. Peter didn't seem to mind this one. He closed his eyes and asked, “You want it, Jo?”

“Darren you have to put on a fresh condom before you fuck me.” Joanne shifted her attention to Darren's closest nipple. She licked her finger and rubbed.

Darren decided to put an end to the session. “Oh, fuck!” Darren thrust faster. “I'm coming!”

“NO!” Peter shouted and tried to shake Darren off.

“Take it, Peter! Take it!” Darren cried and pumped frantically. Peter tried but couldn't escape; he took the pounding with his eyes closed in total passivity. When it was over, Darren sighed, “Wow, you're a nice fuck, Peter,” and expected a little three-way cuddle. Joanne cooed as she fingered herself and leaned forward for a kiss. As soon as Darren relaxed, however, Peter shoved him aside and almost ran to the bathroom.

“Sorry,” Joanne said. “He gets that way sometimes.”

“Why? It was like the last time. We didn't do much different.”

“You came in him. You're supposed to come in me.”

“Who made those rules? You never told me.”

“Yeah, well … whatever. Peter doesn't like to get fucked to the point that it makes him come.”

“When did he come? He just lay there ignoring me.”

“I don't know, but his dick was still dripping when he got out of bed. He won't admit he likes it.”

“It being me?” Darren asked.

“It being getting fucked. I'm the one who likes you,” Joanne teased.

“I'm pretty much gay, Joanne. Haven't been with a girl since high school.”

“That's ok. I kinda figured that. I like you anyway … as long as you use a condom.” Joanne pulled Darren on top of her and kissed him. “That's right, just let your cock rest on me…” She wiggled around under him. “... right there.” Darren's almost limp cock was resting against Joanne but not penetrating. She spread her legs to position him better. “Kiss me some, Darren,” she asked as she pushed his head toward her breast. She squirmed rhythmically pushing her pelvis against Darren's, sighed, and came. “That was sweet,” she commented without much involvement.

Peter emerged from the bathroom fully dressed. He perceived what Darren and Joanne had been doing and stormed out of the room.

“I hope this doesn't bother you, Darren. I'll talk to him ...”

As he left the house, Darren could hear an angry, almost tearful Peter accuse his sister, “You fucked him! Without me!” Darren was surprised that they weren't alone; but Peter's words didn't seem to matter to the cleaning woman working in the kitchen.

The Broadway traffic made a lot more sense than Peter, Darren thought. And the Broadway traffic made no sense at all. How could a simple merge with Telegraph back up traffic for blocks. Darren bailed at his first chance and turned left to get onto Webster.




Finnbarr Cullen was stubborn in a way that made it a virtue. He was also skilled at getting his way, very skilled for such a young man. He found the phone number listed under Larry's name. He dialed and got Cal. “Coach, this is Finn Cullen. Have you thought about that private coaching idea?”

“Right now, I'm not thinking about much at all, Mr. Cullen.” Cal was always formal with the students off the field. On field, he dropped the mister.

“I hope you do. Dave Miller definitely wants to do it.”

“I'll think about it. Get yourself graduated from high school first, Mr. Cullen.”

The next day at school, Finn posted a notice in the locker room. “Summer Football Clinic with Coach Rockridge. Sign up now. $300 for three weeks.” That afternoon he took the notice to Cal's front door.

“See? I posted it this morning. Eleven guys signed up. Can you afford to pass up thirty-three hundred, Cal? Ok if I call you Cal?”

“No, Mr. Cullen, it's not ok.” Cal heard Larry chuckle in the next room. “Well, maybe, after graduation,” Cal amended and Finn beamed. Cal looked at the eleven names. “I'll think about this.”

“Thanks. That's all I want, Cal,” Finn waved as he headed down the walk to the street.

Larry looked up from a book as Cal sat down looking at the sign-up sheet. “Thirty-three hundred, Larry. That's not bad for three week's work.”

“We're not hurting for money, Mr. Rockridge,” Larry gently mocked.

“We're not hurting for your money, you mean.”

“OUR money, doofus.”

Cal grinned. “You know how turned on I get when you call me doofus.”

“Not really. I don't believe I have ever called you doofus before.”

“Well, let me show you ...”

One great feature for a couple living alone in their own house is being able to fuck on the floor of the living room any time the mood strikes. When they were done, Larry lay on his stomach with his face resting in his hands, drifting and dreaming. Cal repeatedly traced a line from his shoulders to his thighs, making Larry feel tingly.

“You know what's great about your ass?” Cal asked. “It's about this much ...” Cal gave a squeeze. “... over perfect. Which makes it perfect for me. I could lie here and stare at you for hours. Mmmm ...” He nuzzled against Larry's back.

“Have I told you how much I like getting fucked by you?” Larry asked back.

“You can tell me again,” Cal purred.

Instead, Larry turned on his side and kissed him. Repeatedly. “Tonight I liked it because it was just us having fun. Pleasing each other. No intrusions. No worries. Just sharing a feeling. It was better than words.”

“It wasn't spectacular,” Cal criticized his own performance.

“It was – in a non-spectacular way. Just having you here. Somebody I trust completely. And … I could feel you come in me. And when you did, you looked at me like I was … like I was your whole world. That's more than spectacular; that's why I love you.”

“I'm gonna do that coaching thing.”

“YES!” Larry hugged his lover.

“You know … I bet I could get Marlon Mayfield to help. He lives in Oakland.”

“Marlon Mayfield?”

“He was a great linebacker for Pittsburgh. So underappreciated - 'cause the Steelers sucked the years he played. I met him at a local school conference and he said he'd love to get back into the game. And maybe, if that works … we could get Johnny Alton … He lives in Marin somewhere … If Finn could get eleven guys in one day at one high school, I bet ...”

“Now he's Finn?”

“Yeah, Finn. First names. Why not? We should treat the kids like peers. They'll be out of high school, but still wondering about how they'll do in college ball. We'll build 'em up some more. Instill a professional attitude. I like calling it a clinic, too; it's not rigid sounding, not dictatorial. You think?” Suddenly Cal grinned even wider. He looked at Larry's cock. “I knew I was forgetting something. I didn't get you off.”




“It's small budget, but Macy's wants to try a show. I know I told you Nordstrom, but I meant to say Macy's. Just the downtown store. A lunch time promotion. They're thinking women will buy for their husbands, boyfriends, children, yada-yada. So a female audience, probably no gay crowd. You in?” Andrew asked.

“Sure,” Z said. He figured Andrew had lied about the Norstrom-Macy mix up; but the extra money would help.

“I've got to schedule it around school, work, and a trip to Belgium,” Darren temporized.

“It's this Friday. How hard is that to schedule? Belgium, for fuck sake?” Andrew looked surprised.

“A customer's a customer. What's wrong with Belgium?”

“There are parking lots in San Jose bigger than Belgium.”

“I don't think so.” Darren didn't appreciate Andrew's scoffing at his project.

“Yeah, well, we need a third guy. And any money we pay him means less for you two. My thought is we go for an average Bay Area nerd look, to set you two cuties off. Know anybody?”

“School's full of 'em,” Darren said.

“Ask around. He needs to be slim, otherwise anybody who can walk without tripping.”

Asher Goldberg, who was in Darren's logic class, could walk without tripping, but that was about it. He shrugged indifferently at the idea of modeling but agreed that thirty dollars for an hour's work wasn't bad. “Is that the standard wage?” he asked.

“Plus BART fare into town. My brother and I will get paid more, but we've got experience. Thirty's good for a first time. And you'll get some experience out of it.” Darren didn't say just how much more than thirty he and Z would make, but Andrew had told him to offer not a penny more than what it took to get a warm body on the runway.

Darren and Asher left the BART station and walked quickly up Powell to the O'Farrell Street entrance to Macy's. They met Andrew and Z in a temporary changing area that was screened off from the modeling area. It wasn't a runway; it was just a bit of a stage high enough that the models could be seen if the crowd was more than two deep. They could hear announcements on the store's speaker system inviting shoppers to see the display of clothing in the men's department.

“Ok,” the store assistant manager instructed. “Just keep putting on the clothes working from one end of the rack to the other. The final outfit is some boxers with the store logo on them. You guys ok with underwear? It's nothing revealing.” He waited for three nods and then concluded, “We'll end with a school prank. Coupons will be blown out of a cheerleader's megaphone. Got it?”

The lighting was only a few flashing strobes. The music was some no-name metal band. The announcer was businesslike, describing the clothing and giving the price.

Andrew sat in the front row. Ok, he thought, this Goldberg kid is a real nerd. He looks like a young Woody Allen with less fashion sense. But what the hell … he hasn't tripped yet. He looked around and noted the crowd was growing. He could hear the buzz of female comments about Z and Darren and smiled to himself. At least Macy's was getting most of their money's worth.

In the changing area, Z and Darren were helping Asher, who wasn't used to the pace of a fashion show. Asher was wearing some voluminous white boxers.

“Didn't anybody tell you to wear black briefs?” Z asked him. “Darren, you should have told him. You'll never get the Macy's boxers over those. Oh well, here we go ...” Asher shucked one pair of boxers and put on the other.

The show ended with the three models taking a bow in their Macy's boxers to modest applause; the crowd was not more than a couple dozen people, mostly women, as expected. The music stopped.

“But what would school be without a school prank?” The announcer asked. The music restarted and a waving megaphone spit out coupons to the crowd. Andrew yelled out, “Here's a better prank!” He pulled down three pairs of boxers revealing two pairs of black briefs and one cock that looked gigantic.

First there was shock and then tittering laughter. Asher calmly pulled up his boxers and went to the changing area. His face was red, but otherwise he just looked annoyed.

“That wasn't supposed to happen!” The assistant manager sounded alarmed.

Asher shrugged. “Used to happen all the time in high school.” He was resigned to one more public pantsing.

Even Andrew was chagrined. “Sorry. I thought you'd have briefs on. We'll double your pay.”

With the models again dressed in their street clothes, they left the changing area. A sizable group of women smiled amiably and clapped for the models. “You were so cute,” gushed one young girl whose only problem was a large nose and a bit of excess weigh around the hips. “Can I have your autograph?”

“I don't have a pen,” Asher stammered. Andrew smiled and gave him one.

“Could you sign my bra?” She pulled her jersey to the side, and exposed a bit of pink lace and cloth. While Asher was signing, she whispered, ”I live in Pacific Heights. Call me.” She gave him a phone number.

As the women crowded the models, the assistant manager pulled Andrew aside. “If I get fired over this, I'll … I'll ...”

“Check your sales after the show, Nate. You won't get fired. Are you going to be home tonight?”

“Yes. If you come by, you'll have a fifty-fifty chance of being murdered.” Nate didn't sound mollified by Andrew's bland assurance.

“Buy some condoms. I like the pre-lubed kind.” Andrew told Nate and shifted his attention to his models conversation with their admirers.

“Well, if your boyfriend has brown hair, get him a sweater that sets it off. He doesn't have to wear black ALL the time. Look at this dark rust color ...” Z told one charmed woman who grabbed the sweater and went to the cash register.

“It's more like just getting him something. It really is the thought that counts – that it was from you. Whether he ever wears it … well, maybe he will. Or … If you don't trust your choice, what about a wallet? He'll always like that. I know I would.” Darren smiled warmly into admiring eyes. “Trust me.”

“I wore more different clothes today than I have all my life,” Asher said to a motherly type. “I'd be a buyer, but I don't have much money.” The older woman licked her chops. She whispered something to Asher and his eyes popped wide open. “You bet I would!” His eyes caught Andrew's. He hurried over.

“She's buying the whole rack and will give it to me if I model for her.”

“Go talk to your fans,” Andrew urged Asher. “See, Nate, nothing to worry about.”

Andrew was almost correct. The sales were impressive, paying for the show many times over; but the publicity was problematic. If you believed that all publicity was good publicity, you would have been happy with the YouTube videos that were posted. Asher's cock was pixelated in those. Other websites showed uncensored versions. Macy's was accused of obscene pandering, endangering American family life, and cynical anti-Semitism.

“I'm not really Jewish,” Asher tweeted to his many new friends. “I was adopted.”

Andrew's only reaction was to wonder whether a cock that big could become fully erect. “Asher, my lad, I may have more work for you. Some special stuff. Have you ever heard of Ron Jeremy? A nice boy like you ... from Queens, originally ...”




Wolf made himself scarce around the Kearny-Wittelsbach household but encounters were inevitable. One morning in the kitchen just a few days after the case of mistaken identity Wolf and Heiko just glared at each other and drank their orange juice. The tension became too much for Tom.

“Wolf,” Tom said, “I love your brother.”

“I know,” Wolf studied some invisible point on the wall.

“What has this got to do with ...” Heiko began.

“He thinks you might be making a play for me,” Tom continued to Wolf. “I told him you'd be wasting your time. He's it for me. Nobody else.”

“I know. I'm not stupid.” Wolf was serious but his German accent made “schtoopid” sound funny.

Tom tried not to laugh. “Are you gay? Du bist schwul?”

“No. Um, no. I don't think so. Not exactly.”

Heiko exploded with some German that made Wolf stare at the floor.

“That's not a straightforward answer, Wolf.”

“I'm not sure. I don't think I'm gay, but there have been a couple of times ...” He shrugged, out of English to explain.

“Alright. To get specific, I don't appeal to you in any way, do I?” Tom clearly expected a no answer.

“No, but ...”

“Aber? Was meinst dein ABER?” Heiko was making fists.

Tom glared at them both. “I'm making things worse.”

Wolf grabbed his jacket and went to the door. “I'm going to find out if I'm gay.” He closed the door harder than he needed to.

“The two of you! It's like oil and water!” Tom shook his head.

“I know. He sets me off. I can't help it,” Heiko said.

“What does he mean about finding out if he's gay?”

Heiko shrugged his shoulders. “Some disaster in the making.”

“And you don't care?”

“He always gets into these things. And he always survives. You ready to go to the office?”

 

[rocabar]

. . . Let the fun and games begin!

Great new update, Rory- Thanks for sharing with us!

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
Another fun and excitingly charged episode in the lives of our boys by the bay!

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Seven


Wolf walked to Boogie Woogie Bagel Boy for a coffee and an onion roll with the feeling of Heiko's breath on his neck. Walking out on his brother had been the easy part, the pleasant part, even; but how was he supposed to find out if he was gay or not? The counter waitress gave him a wink as she served his order. Was she just being friendly? People in California were like that. Or was she suggesting more? Either way, she isn't giving me a hardon, Wolf thought. On the other hand, she's at least twice my age and is looking to improve her tip, he reasoned.

He watched some municipal workers empty the trash barrels on the street. They were young and fit looking. They're not doing anything for me either, he thought. Maybe I'm asexual. Maybe nothing turns me on.

Logically, asexuality was a possibility, but he knew it wasn't true. For one thing he could turn himself on very easily. He had vivid fantasies about all kinds of things. A couple of the fantasies were troubling and he tried to avoid those, but others weren't and he could jack off in a number of ways, all satisfying in the absence of any other choice. At the moment he was getting a chubby just from looking at the hole in his bagel. I could almost fuck this bagel, he thought, and felt apprehensive about eating it.

He watched the waitress walk back and forth giving her a critical appraisal. She looked a little motherly, a little thick in the waist and a little flat in the chest; and that was a minor turn-off. But she wasn't repulsive. A cushy ass, he thought. And all women had such amazing skin. So soft and unbelievable to touch. How could their flesh be so yielding and firm at the same time? He began to imagine ways to measure the amount of resilience in a woman's skin. Calipers, scales, springs … Science? I'm thinking about science? How sexy is that? Fuck! Maybe I am asexual!

Wolf drank down the last of his coffee and left the small store, heading aimlessly east on Park Street. He came to the bridge and crossed into a sterile neighborhood of Oakland. Just a few blocks of nondescript commercial buildings separated him from the Fruitvale BART stop; it was an easy if unappealing walk. Oakland wouldn't have to be this ugly, he thought; people could at least pick up the junk. Munich could look like this if nobody gave a shit. He grabbed a sheet of newspaper that was blowing around in the backwash of passing trucks and carried it to a trash bin at the station.

Wolf bought a one-way ticket to the Embarcadero, the first stop in the city; it was the cheapest and there was no advantage to a round trip. Maybe I'll find out I'm a fairy, he thought; I could fly back to Alameda. Or get another fairy to give me a ride in a sexy car. All I'd have to do is what, exactly? At Lake Merritt a man got on who sat opposite Wolf and stared at him, looking at his crotch and then into his eyes. Once he licked his lips when he caught Wolf's eye. The scrutiny was uncomfortable and Wolf was eager to get off the train.

He walked along the Embarkadero in the direction of Fisherman's Wharf. After the creepy train ride he was happy to be anonymous in a crowd of tourists that got bigger as they approached the Wharf. The street entertainment, a couple of human statues who did contortions if you gave them a dollar, grew boring after the first couple of times. We have better ones in the Marienplatz, Wolf thought.

He noticed the makeup of the crowd, couples of every sexual combination. They were interested in each other and the experience, sometimes joking with other tourists, sometimes keeping to themselves. There were lots of children. Only rarely would he get a smile from a man, and it was nothing predatory, nothing like the treacly smile of the man on the train.

“I like your t-shirt. Where did you get it?” a tourist asked.

“München. I mean, Munich,” Wolf answered.

“Is that a store?”

“No, a city.”

That was Wolf's only conversation. There is a strange loneliness to being in a crowd of chatty, friendly people, none of whom is chatting with you. So Wolf saved the cable car fare and walked over the hill to Market Street and then west. The Castro would be full of gay guys. That will be the test. I'll see if there is anybody hot, like Tom, anybody who … gives me an erection. Wolf reflected on Tom's frustration with him over orange juice and his dick responded with a sensitivity. There was no engorgement, just an assertive awareness, as if it wanted some attention. He pulled at his crotch, rearranging things and climbed Hyde Street.

Before long his feet ached. The time was getting close to noon and Wolf had been walking almost nonstop since before nine. On the fringe of the Castro he looked into a junk shop and saw a poster. “Homopalooza!” it advertised.

He entered the small shop, pointed to the poster, and asked a bizarrely dressed person, “What is the meaning of this?”

“The meaning of life?” The person batted thick eyelashes, heavy with mascara and gave Wolk an overall appraisal. “I've been sooo waiting for that question. Personally, I think a ouija board will give you most of the answers, but if you want a deeper explanation, ...”

“No,” Wolf couldn't help smiling. “The meaning of that word … on the poster.”

The person looked carefully into Wolf's eyes and said slowly, “Hoe-moe-pah-loo-zah. It's a street fair for a lot of hoe-moes. You know what they are, right? People like me.”

“People like you are Arabs?” Wolf questioned.

“I was going for a gypsy look.”

“Real gypsies don't look like that,” Wolf said trying to be helpful.

“This gypsy does, cutie. I telling fortunes this afternoon and the outfit will improve the outlook.”

“Really? You tell fortunes?” Wolf recognized the ridiculousness of his question as soon as he asked it. He blushed.

“For a price … I can do anything,” a sultry voice replied. “And aren't you cute, turning all red like that.”

“But you tell fortunes?”

“I pretend to.” The person smiled and relaxed his act. “What would you like to know?” a masculine voice asked.

“Am I gay?” Wolf blurted out.

The gypsy admired his makeup in a small mirror. “I'm sure there are thousands who hope so. But what do you mean? Do you look gay? Not especially. Do you act gay? Not especially. What makes you think you are?” He noticed a pallor to his cheeks.

“I have feelings ...”

“I need to finish my makeup. Do you mind if I go ahead? … Good. Sit here. … Now then ...what feelings?” The gypsy stopped and again dropped his act. “That is, if you want to. I'm no expert.” He looked seriously at Wolf. “You're not suicidal or anything, are you?”

“No. Not suicidal. But there is a man. I think I like him.”

“Ok, lots of men are very likable. What other feelings?”

Wolf took a deep breath and answered. “A man touched me once. I still think about it.”

The voice got dramatic again. “What? He touched you? Show me where the bad man touched you.” Wolf pointed. “He touched you on the zipper???” The freshly-applied eyebrows rose a foot.

“Approximately ...” Wolf answered and chuckled. It was easy to talk to this man.

“ 'Approximately' clouds my crystal ball. You need to show me exactly.” It was a blatant and invitational challenge that the challenger expected to be ignored.

Wolf pulled his pants down and pointed at the bulge in his underwear. “He touched me right there.”

The man gasped and laughed. “Put that gorgeous dick away. You'll give me a heart attack.”

Wolf zipped up and pressed ahead. “My brother is gay. Do you think I am? I'm not trying insult you, but you don't turn me on.”

“Oh, honey, I haven't turned anybody on in … years. And don't go showing your dick to strangers. You really are serious, aren't you? You almost ARE asking me the meaning of life.” Wolf nodded. “My answer is … tah-dah! ...I have NO CLUE. None at all. Aside from knowing I'm gay, I don't know a damn thing more than you do. Most of us just bumble along.” The man's attention returned to the mirror.

“Oh ...” Wolf was disappointed, suddenly aware of how frank he had been. “I'm bothering you … sorry.”

“You're not bothering me at all. What's your name?”

“Wolf.”

The man paused and looked searchingly at this amazing youth. “Wolf …” the man pondered. “Here's your fortune, my young Wolf. You are going to break hearts. And it won't be your fault. You are going to look for love and break your own heart more often than not. But eventually, you will find someone who fills your dreams. Then my crystal ball gets cloudy. I don't know what comes after that.”

“Do I find a man or a woman?”

“I hope so. The other arrangements are so much more complicated.”

“Um ...ok. I guess that's fair ...” Wolf knew the conversation was over but he didn't want to leave. The silence lengthened.

“Are you doing anything this afternoon? You want to be part of the act?”

“What would I need to do?” Wolf brightened.

“Look fetching and carry a signboard? Would that be ok?”

After some adjustments and some judicial changes both to the signboard and to Wolf, the results made Wolf smile. The signboard advertised the fortune teller Zorita and promised a fortunes for five dollars and ecstasy for ten. Zorita admitted that no one had ever requested ecstasy.

“At least not from me … You ready? Outside the temperature was just warm enough for Wolf's costume and the intermittent sun made his dark makeup shine like a fantastic gypsy's should. “Perfect,” Zoritta pronounced. “Nobody can see the black shorts. From almost ever angle, you look totally naked under that sign.”

So for three hours Wolf wandered around the Castro, wearing his sign, passing out Zorita's cards, telling questioners where Zorita's tent was set up, and turning down offers, not all of which involved sex.

At three-thirty they returned to Zorita's store. “Do you know what the most frequent question people asked the gypsy?” Zorita asked while wiping off Wolf's makeup.

“The meaning of life?” Wolf joked.

“No, they wanted your name and phone number. Here's your share of the take.”

“Zorita?”

“Call me Paul, ok? I'm not a dedicated drag queen, just an occasional one.”

“Paul, this is too much money.” Wolf sat down hard in a hard wooden chair, looking at the fistful of cash.

“No, it isn't. And be careful of my chair. It's ...”

“Nineteenth century Biedermeier.”

Paul's mouth dropped open. “Nineteenth cen … Wolf, honey, maybe you are gay.”

“My uncle Ludi has a warehouse full of it,” Wolf replied, tying his shoes.

Paul wanted to know more. “Wolf, you don't need to take the Bart home. It's so crowded late in the day. Let me drive you. You can tell me all about Uncle what's-his-name.”




Jerry got out of work and changed to athletic clothes. He didn't go to Rittler as he promised Rory … how long ago was it? … days now. He decided he would start with running. He ran along the streets in his neighborhood and found himself winded after a few blocks. Man am I out of shape, he thought. He walked a block and then resumed running, following this pattern until he was exhausted and sweating profusely.

Man, I must have run a couple miles, he told himself as he showered and changed. The actual distance was a lot less; but he felt clean and virtuous as he went out for dinner. Gotta do this some more, he told himself. Get in better shape. Then I'll go back to Rittler. He sat down feeling famished and looked at the menu. He heard the waiter ask, “What can I get you?”

“A martini, please. Dry, up, and icy cold … with a couple of olives.” Food could wait. He had earned a drink.

Midway into the second martini, unbidden thoughts of Neil came back. The third drink banished them for a while. The next thing Jerry knew he was in bed with his head spinning. He reached out for Neil, but phantoms are no help ever. He pulled his arms back and wrapped them across his chest. Slowly one hand slid down … he traced the trail of curly hair with his fingers and took hold of his cock. It felt good, reassuring. He flexed it and felt a response. A small tingle. And then nothing. Shit. He thought. I can't even get it up. Then things got darker for a while. He slept; but it didn't feel like it. The morning and the pain in his head came much too early.




“Seriously, you should think about it. It will work wonders for your sex life. It's good money and you'll be famous.” Andrew put down his phone and looked at Seth. “You think I'm losing my touch? I can't even talk this Asher kid into a little light porn.”

“Let's see … You promised him fame, fortune, and women and he didn't fall into a heap at your feet?”

“Did you see his dick? No way would he ever fall into a heap. Even soft that thing would keep him half off the ground.”

“Maybe he doesn't want that kind of fame and fortune,” Seth suggested.

“He is interested in women, though. I think … It's really hard to read him.” Andrew smiled at something. “You didn't fall right away either as I recall.”

“I didn't fall at all, numb nuts. I arranged for you to seduce me.”

“What?” Andrew was disbelieving.

“Do you think eighteen-year-old dudes all go around bending over kitchen counters for you? Really? Seriously? I played you like a violin. Strummed you like a guitar. Waxed you like a pair of hot Rossignols. Spit-shined you like ….”

“Alright, alright. I get the idea. You were a little eager, as I recall.”

“Cheer up. It wasn't a burden. You were always a good fuck.”

“Later though ...”

“Yes, master, later was real. I loved those months with you and Tom.”

“So did I.” There was a break in Andrew's voice.

Seth looked at his always devious and frequently lying partner, trying to judge his sincerity. “Naw … you almost had me fooled. I'm calling bullshit, Andrew,” Seth laughed good-naturedly. “You were the one who broke it up, for God's sake.” He ruffled Andrew's longish hair. “You could use a haircut. Get a good one. We got an advance on the next video. I'm going to Chris's for edit work.”

“Edit work? Is that what you call it? Is Bruce going to be there?” Andrew felt possessive about Seth, and, while he instinctively avoided personal commitment, he didn't want anybody else having him either.

“Maybe. Chris wanted some stills of him and Attila.”

Andrew watched Seth leave and picked up his phone. He stared at the black surface, willing it to ring. He was surprised when it actually did. “Z … nice work at Macy's. You and Darren looking for more? I got a minor shoot possibility, it's speculative. Half fee at the shoot, the rest if it sells. If you're interested ...” Andrew had nothing lined up, but he always offered his clients hope. He didn't consider it lying.

“Where and when?” Z asked.

“Wait … somebody's in the outer office …” Andrew walked into what functioned as an unattended reception room. “Yeah … what do you need?” he asked a young looking Hispanic.

“Do you have any work? I can do carpentry, yard work, cleaning. Half day or whole day?”

“No, sorry. Nothing now ...” Andrew put the phone back to his ear and watched the young man.

“Hourly? Anything, sir.” The kid's appeal sounded desperate.

“Just a sec, Z …” Andrew said to the phone. “What's your name? Can you read?”

“Adan. Yes, I can read.” Adan looked hopefully at Andrew.

Andrew pulled out a large box of loose photographs. “Sort these by the name on the back. There are some folders in that box. I'll give you minimum wage.” Andrew went back to the phone call with Z. He watched Adan's guarded reaction when he realized the photos were all male nudes.

“Do you need office work done? I can do that,” Z said.

“Are you that hard up? Money, I mean?” Andrew couldn't recall Z ever sounding so anxious.

“No. More for something to do. The money wouldn't hurt, though.”

“Let me see if I can't find you something … I'll call you back, Z.”

“Mister?” Adan called.

“Call me Andrew. What's up? Can't you read the writing?”

“Should I include other information on the folders. Hair color. Height. Some of the photos have more than just a name.”

“Sure. That's a good idea.”

“What if I typed it into a computer and made labels? That way you would have the physical folders and a database, too.”

“Uh … ok.” Andrew smiled at the enterprise. “There's a laptop in that pull out drawer. It's got Microsoft Office on it.”

“I know how to use Access. What's this number?”

“Penis size,” Andrew answered.

“That's what I thought, but I wanted to make sure,” Adan answered. “Seven inches sounds so small. I think in metric. Seventeen - eighteen centimeters sounds much better, bigger.” Adan grinned.

Andrew shook his head in wonder and went to his desk. He made some calls looking for jobs. After striking out with several companies, he took a call from Nate at Macy's.

“I'm not fired so far,” Nate said. “Cincinnati wasn't thrilled, but so far … so far, anyway, so good.”

“Cincinnati? I thought Macy's was a New York store. Whatever. They liked the sales?”

“Loved the sales. Their lawyers are antsy about the publicity angle.”

“So I'm forgiven?” Andrew asked.

“Andy, I forgave you that night. Remember?” Nate's tone took on an intimacy Andrew didn't feel and hinted at a rematch.

“Please don't call me Andy. Not until we're married.”

“Married?” Nate sounded more intrigued than panicked.

“Kidding … Just don't call me Andy. So what about another show? A tamer one. Titillating, but PG-rated. Asher will wear briefs this time, I promise.”

“Asher,” Nate contemplated. “You know, in his nerdy way … but the other guys were such good salesmen. It's good they weren't on commission.”

“Asher's straight. Don't get your hopes up.”

“That's what they all say, at first.”

Andrew overdid the laughter at Nate's half-assed joke, hoping Nate would feel flattered. “So ... another show? Yes?” Andrew pushed.

“Umm. Ok, send me a proposal to show the bosses. I'll see if I can sell it. You want to come by tonight?”

Andrew readily agreed to dinner and the implicit promise of more with Nate. Nate wasn't bad in bed. Z, he thought, if you only knew what I have to do for you. Time for a break.

He looked into the reception room. “Hey, Adan. You want some lunch?”

He went a block to the nearest deli and got two sandwiches and a bag of chips. Maybe Adan doesn't like ham on rye, Andrew thought. He compromised, putting the chips back on the shelf and taking some nachos. As it turned out, Adan liked just about anything.

“Mexican food is good sometimes,” he told Andrew. “But look at us Mexicans. As soon as we can afford three meals a day, we blimp up. Most of the time, unless I'm doing something really physical, a cup of yogurt is enough.”

“You have hardly any accent,” Andrew observed.

“I went to a school in Ensenada. We had an amazing Mexican-American football coach. He demanded a lot. We all learned English.”

“Ensenada? Is he still there?”

“He has a cattle ranch. A big one. Now he's a trustee of the school. He gives it money and sponsors scholarships.”

“Tony Peralta?” Andrew asked, half afraid of the answer.

“Yes. Antonio Peralta. You know him?”

“I knew him, sort of, a little, when he lived here.”

Adan smiled and made his move.

“What are you doing?” Andrew asked, recoiling.

“I'm going to suck your cock. Ok?” Busy hands opened Andrew's trousers. “Hmm! Twenty-five centimeters easy!” Adan exclaimed.

It took a moment for Andrew to convert the number. “Adan, you are so full of shit ...” he said. By then, however, Adan's mouth was full of cock.

Adan paused and his smiling brown eyes looked up. “Maybe, but it's a big one.” Adan took it back into his mouth.

Andrew didn't notice at first and then didn't object when he realized Adan was slowly working his pants off. It was so easy just to say “Yes” to Adan's questions.

”Does this feel good? … Am I doing it right? … You like to have your balls sucked? … Can I rim you?”

Andrew just let it happen. Adan was so smooth and relaxing that Andrew hardly realized what was happening before he felt Adan's cock enter him. “Wait! … Adan … No.”

“You don't really mean that, do you?” Adan asked as he slowly pumped more and more of his cock into Andrew, each thrust deeper. Andrew's moan gave him his answer.

Andrew pulled him closer and managed to say “No” before they kissed. He thought back to Seth's words. This kid is playing me like a violin. Strumming me like a guitar. Waxing me like hot pair of … “Fuck me, Adan! Hard. Now!” Somewhere in Andrew's thinking he realized: I'm on my back, legs in the air and coming like I'll never stop. This kid is sooo good.

When it was over, Andrew had a thought. “Did Tony send you to see me?”

“No. He sent me to see Eric Malone. Eric sent me here.”

“Eric ...?” Andrew pondered.

“Why don't you take a little siesta while I get back to work?”

Andrew woke after a refreshing hour's nap. He found a note from Adan. “Be back tomorrow. Try the database.”

Andrew took a shower and sat at the computer. It was easy and handy. The box of photographs was now a row of file folders neatly labeled. He found he could query the database with some basic questions. He entered “blond” in the hair color box and got a list of names.

“Andrew … my God, you're working!” Seth noted sarcastically upon arrival.

“Yeah … kind of.”

“You look rested for a change. See … work is good for you. Man I need a model with a giant cock … Know anybody? Chris thinks Attila would preform well in a fight scene.”

Andrew typed “>7” in the cock size box and got some names. He picked a model with dark hair and eyes. “What about Richie Curlew? He's seven and a quarter, but kinda short, so it would look bigger.” He pulled a photo out of the box and showed it to Seth.

“Jeez! You organized the photos! You have been busy!”

Andrew just smiled. “Richie is available, too. He called a couple days ago.”

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
After that session, I'm available and ready, too, lol.

What is our Wolfie going to do?
He seems to have found a fairly nice, aging, queen to strike up a day's wages with.
But, is he any closer to knowing the meaning of his life?!

Jerry needs help, serious help.

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Eight


Ok, that didn't work out so well, Jerry told himself. All the run did was develop my thirst. No, that's not right. I'd have been thirsty anyway. The mistake was running into the bar. Today, I'll try something else. I'll run with a mission in mind. What mission? Hmm... I'll run my dirty clothes to the cleaners. That's about the same distance. And then I'll run home again. He tried not to think about his inability to masturbate the night before.

Ok, so far, so good. The air felt good and after a block his muscles stretched out and stopped protesting the workout. He lengthened his stride a bit. I'll go another block before I walk, he promised himself. But that block went by easily so he stretched it to another. The only problem was the shorts he was wearing. Not really made for running.

He arrived at the drycleaner's shop out of breath and exchanged banter with the clerk about the perils of running with drycleaning in hand. Getting it sweaty, getting it wrinkled, needing to get it cleaned again. Just friendly banter, then came the trip home.

With no money and no plastic, it was easy to pass by the workplace of the highly skilled martini-meister. Jerry felt the pull of icy perfection, but it was resistible. It might not be so resistible later, he thought. I'll need another plan. Worry about that later. The light changed but Jerry ran through the intersection anyway, dodging one car. Then he heard the siren. Shit. Alameda cops.

“Where's the fire, hotshot?”

He knew before he looked. “You going to give me a ticket, Neil?” Jerry was panting. It was hard to talk.

“You want a ride the rest of the way?”

“I'll get your car all sweaty.” Jerry walked slowly as Neil paced him in the black and white.

“Get in, asshole.” Neil's smile made it easy.

“You're looking good. Marriage suits you,” Jerry commented.

“Thanks. I should be running like you. I've added a few pounds.”

“I'm sorry I didn't make your wedding. I had to ...” Jerry felt he needed to apologize.

“No te preocupes, dude,” Neil answered in Spanglish. In explanation he added, “We've been getting sensitivity training. What have you been getting?”

Getting? Jerry wasn't sure if Neil meant sex, training, or the flu. “Nothing much. Working on a sports program. Team management software,” he answered.

“Yeah? How's your love life?” Neil gave Jerry a conspiratorial leer.

“Ok,” Jerry answered, which was a lie. “Have you been playing lacrosse any? I've kinda let that slide ... Been wanted to get back to it.”

“Me, too. Tim asks me, but the wife … you know. Partner's demands versus wife's demands. It's hard to keep all those balls in the air.” Neil sounded regretful.

“You know what? Take her along. There are always a couple of people not playing.”

“She might get to like them better than me.” If Neil was joking, Jerry couldn't tell.

They arrived at the little house on Buena Vista. “Well … thanks for the ride, Neil. See you.”

Jerry heard Neil say, “See you at the park maybe.” He closed the door of the car and didn't look back. He went into his house and lay on his bed going over every word he and Neil had exchanged. He felt a tightness and slipped his shorts down. His cock sprang up. So you're not dead after all, he smiled. Maybe you need some attention.

He was about to provide that attention when his phone rang. “Bernice? Are you at work? What's up?” He giggled at that thought and blew his hard cock a kiss.

“I don't know what's so funny,” Bernice began. “I'm up to my you-know-what in about five pounds of spaghetti. I misread the recipe. It's an emergency, Jer. Can you come to dinner right now?”

“What can I bring?”

“Nothing. Just get over here.”

Jerry quickly showered and dried off. He looked at himself critically in the full length mirror on the closet door of his old fashioned house. His body could use some toning. Running will help, but lacrosse is more fun, he thought. He put fresh clothes on and got into his car. He didn't even look as he drove past the bar with the best martinis in Alameda. He kept his eyes on the traffic lights. Fuckin' Alameda cops are everywhere, he smiled.




Wolf stood emptying his pockets onto the kitchen counter. Tom watched as he kept pulling bills out of his pants. When he opened a side cargo pocket and pulled out more, Tom couldn't keep quiet, “What did you do? Rob a bank?”

Wolf smiled the way everybody with a secret does. “They're mostly ones. A lot of them, though.” He re-buttoned the side pocket flap and began smoothing out the bills that were wadded up.

“A poker game?” Tom suggested. It was the most respectable explanation for that much cash that he could think of.

“No. I walked around the city wearing a sign advertising a gypsy fortune teller.”

“Alright, don't tell me. But, seriously, Wolf, don't let Heiko see all this. He'll be here in a minute or two.” Tom could imagine Heiko's reaction to so much unexplained money.

Wolf smoothed out the last bill and folded up the pile. “Sixty-three dollars,” he announced. “Not as much as you thought, but not bad for a gypsy's assistant.” Wolf grinned at Tom and took the money to his room.

Heiko walked in juggling grocery bags as he tried to hold the door open. Tom trotted to the door to help. He took one bag from Heiko and said, “Wolf's here. He's in his room.”

Heiko put the second bag down and went to Wolf's room. He knocked and entered. “Wolf, I'm sorry about this morning. I over-react. I … What is all that money???” Don't judge yet, Heiko told himself. Stay calm. Maybe he can explain.

“Well, I didn't find out if I'm gay, but I did find out I can make money advertising for a gypsy.” Wolf looked pleased with himself.

Heiko took a closer look. “What's wrong with your eyes?”

“I couldn't get all the makeup off. I'll take a shower … Maybe that will work.” Wolf watched for Heiko's reaction.

“It's all legal?” Heiko asked.

“Ja,” Wolf looked in the mirror and rubbed at the smudges around his eyes.

Heiko returned to the kitchen. Tom looked up expectantly, but he just shrugged. “He's taking a shower. You go to the park and I'll make dinner for everybody.”




At the park Tom noticed Cal and two others off by themselves. He watched them tackle each other. “Doesn't look like lacrosse,” he said to Larry. As they watched, third young man joined the tacklers.

“It isn't. It's a test run. Cal wants to see if he can handle private football coaching.”

“Keep your butts down. It helps speed and momentum. Only the center needs his butt in the air,” Cal told the two linemen. “Try it again.”

“Ooof!” Finn shook his head as he got up. “I'm feeling like a tackling dummy.”

Cal whispered something to him and lined up opposite the two linemen. On signal he leaned into Dave Miller, not stopping him but delaying him enough that Finn could easily elude the other lineman. “Let your line make the hole for you, Finn. You can't do it all yourself. So what are you going to do if there is no line? Just a zone defense? And how does a zone defense work against the short play? In high school ball the coach does all the thinking. In pro ball, every man has to be aware of the options all the time.”

After a lecture on tactics, Cal dismissed his threesome and joined the lacrosse players.

“Dude,” Emerson the latecomer said to Finn. “I get that you're cruising the coach, but try to be more subtle about it.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Finn bristled.

“Finn's always intense,” Dave said. He wasn't sure exactly what Emerson was talking about either.

“Where'd you get the name Emerson?” Finn asked, to change the subject.

“Born with it.”

“Emerson what?”

No, it's what Emerson. My first name is Walden, but people call me Long.”

“Why do they call you Long? You're not that tall.”

Long shrugged in answer. As they walked to the east end of the park they talked about schools, past and future, football, and mud. “We never have this kind of mud in Lafayette.” Long looked at his dirty knees and arms. “A locker room would be nice. I'm gonna get my truck all messed up.”

“You can shower at my house,” Finn offered. “I'll give you some sweats to ride home in.”

The offer of the shower was accepted, but Finn's mom's offer, staying for dinner, was declined. “Thanks, Mrs. Cullen, but I can't tonight. I appreciate the hot water, though.”

“Why don't you leave your practice clothes here? My mom can wash them with mine and they'll be ready tomorrow,” Finn suggested as they stripped for showers.

Tomorrow, I'll come prepared,” Long answered.

“Heeeey Zeus!” Finn exclaimed. “I see why they call you Long.”

“Yeah, it's not something I talk about. I hope I can get rid of the name when I get to college.”

“It's fuckin' huge! And it's getting' bigger!”

“Yeah!” Long quickly covered up his swelling, lengthening cock with a towel. “Don't talk about it, ok?”

Finn said nothing but couldn't help taking another look. The towel-covered bulge was amazing.

“Cool shower, three of 'em?” Long asked as he adjusted the temperature at the middle one.

“I have four older brothers. When everybody lived at home it was a long wait in the bathroom, so my dad took out the bathtub and added shower nozzles.” Finn explained, as he stepped under the first spray. “Wh-what are you doing?” Finn couldn't take his eyes off Long's cock.

“Haven't you ever seen a foreskin before? I gotta wash.” Long turned so Finn could watch. He held his cock out. “Normal ...” He retracted the extra skin. “Now it looks like you ...” He pulled the skin forward again. “Back to normal.”

“But … it didn't go all the way back.” Finn commented, mystified.

“That's 'cause it's a little hard. Like yours.” Long's breath was short. He almost whispered and pointed at Finn's growing erection.

Finn grabbed his cock and then realized that wasn't helping, it was getting harder. Long pulled his foreskin back again and gently washed himself, looking from one cock to the other. The two boys stood facing each other, hard as rocks, almost holding their breath.

“Close your eyes,” Long whispered. He took Finn's hand and placed it on his cock. Instinctively the fingers closed around it. He slowed pumped his hips, setting up a jacking motion. “Keep 'em closed,” he whispered when Finn looked down to see Long's hand on his own cock. Finn obeyed and Long moved closer, so their bodies were nearly touching.

Long came first, as quietly as he could. A couple of gasps and deep breaths were the only audible giveaway. His cum landed on Finn's belly and quickly drained away under the shower's spray. “Now you ...” Long whispered. He put his hand on Finn's ass and pulled him near enough their bodies were touching. Finn groaned. He was so close. “Shoot it on me,” Long urged. Long's thigh intruded between Finn's legs. The first feel of pressure on his balls did it. Finn gasped and said “Oh, fuck!” under his breath. He almost collapsed as he shot two streams of cum and then a third. He embraced Long to keep from falling as the orgasm literally rocked him. Even as it subsided, he held on waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass. The feelings were so intense Finn never felt Long's lips gently press against his cheek.

The boys untangled and washed in an embarrassed silence that became even quieter when they turned off the water. “Here's a towel,” Finn said with his eyes averted. They returned to the bedroom when they were dry.

“About tomorrow ...” Long began.

“Here's some stuff to wear home.” Finn tossed a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt to Long. “Come by about three. We can change and get to Rittler in plenty of time.”

There was no discussion of what had occurred in the shower.




Bruce had left Seth humming contentedly at Chris's studio. What a sweet kid, he thought. But maybe I shouldn't have let him fuck me. Kinda spoils the image having the big, bad top throw his legs in the air. He smiled at the memory of Seth's gentle ardor. A sweet, very passionate kid. A very nice fuck. He almost made me come. Bruce clenched his ass tight, feeling the residual lube in his hole as he walked into his small apartment.

“HAH! Gotcha!” Attila shouted and grabbed a startled Bruce. The welcome home kiss turned into something else. Attila's kisses were always overwhelming in their physicality, but this one went on and became painful. Bruce could taste blood in his mouth from Attlia's bite on his lip.

“You been watching vampire stuff again?” Bruce asked, trying to hide how pissed off he was.

Attila wearing only a pair of boxers prowled the room like a cat. “I'm just glad to see you. I had nothing to do all day. I was getting horny. You know … waiting and stuff.” Attila was pulling at Bruce's clothes.

“Can you wait a little longer? Until I eat, maybe?”

“Fuck, no!” Attila laughed, as he got Bruce's shirt off. “I'm gonna make you very happy right now. Very happy.” Attila ignored Bruce's protest when he bit his nipples. “That's just a tease. Wait til I fuck you. That'll get your attention.” He picked up the naked Bruce and tossed him onto the bed.

Bruce lay back and resigned himself to what was going to happen. He ever started to get aroused as Attila lay atop him and ground his hard cock against Bruce's.

“That's right. You like this, don't you?” Attila got impatient waiting for a reply. He bit Bruce's shoulder, drawing a yelp. “DON'T YOU?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? Is that all?” Attila demanded.

Bruce didn't know what the right answer to Attila's question would be. He settled for, “Fuck me.” That usually worked.

Attila propped Bruce's ankles on his shoulders and spit on his dick. “Ask and ye shall ...” Attila thrust, expecting resistance. Instead he slipped right in, like a well-greased piston. “What the …?” Attila was in and pumping. It took a moment for the truth to dawn on him. “You've been fucking? FUCKING? WHO'S BEEN FUCKING YOU?” He backhanded Bruce across the face.

“Attila, please. It was nothing. Work. They needed reshoots.”

Attila hit him again and resumed fucking. “You bitch!” He pumped as deep and hard as he could before he hit Bruce a third time. “Worthless cocksucker.” A fourth crack rang in the air. “Who? Damn it. WHO?”

Bruce came and cried at the same time. He was ashamed of how good it felt. Attila hit him one more time and then came himself. With sex out of the way, they both cried. And kissed. “I'm sorry, baby.” “No, it was my fault.” More kisses. “You know I love you.” “Only you.”

They had fought and fucked like this before. Still, looking in the bathroom mirror, Bruce was shocked by the bruises this time. Make up wasn't going to hide it. He'd have to stay inside for a few days.

“Come back to bed, baby,” Attila called. “I want you right here, next to me. The bed's already getting cold.”

“Let me get some dinner, ok?” Bruce dabbed at his cheek, wondering if a blood vessel was broken. Then he saw Attila reflected in the mirror.

“I said, get the fuck back in bed! NOW!” Attila's eyes burned with rage. Bruce didn't comply fast enough. “BITCH” Attila swatted him on the back of the head. The second fuck was worse than the first. It felt like …

“No! Please! Attila ...” Bruce was terrified. The last time Attila fisted him he needed a doctor. “AAAHH! STOP!” The acute pain in his balls distracted him from the searing pain in his ass. Attila relented. “Please, baby ...” Bruce wimpered. Attila resumed. “NO! AAAHH!”

Eventually it stopped. There was only a throbbing ache that Bruce couldn't localize. It seemed to encompass his whole body. He cleaned himself up as best he could. There was blood. In a couple of places. He didn't bother dressing. He just acted quickly, doing what he needed to do.

The only surprise was how silent the knife was. Bruce angled the blade; it sliced so cleanly between Attila's ribs. It wasn't until the second piercing that Attila cried out, but his cries were over quickly as blood filled his lungs. He was silent but not helpless. He strangled Bruce with an unbreakable grip. Their eyes locked in silence. Wordlessly they spoke to each other of love and regret but not forgiveness. They were dead by the time the police arrived.

Even in jaded San Francisco, the twin murders were a news extra. The report interrupted “Restless Housewives.”

Andrew whistled softly. “I think I know them,” he said. He shivered at the gristly news report and then patted Adan's bare ass.

“Knew them,” Adan corrected.

“Knew … them,” Andrew said in between kisses. “I wouldn't mind … if you … wanted to … fuck me … again.” The weight of Adan's body felt so good on him.

 

[rocabar]

*Gasp*

Well. . . That was unexpected!

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory, Wow. That was certainly an unexpected ending. The beginning, with Jerry and Neil, was refreshing - the banter alludes to the possibility of their special friendship rekindling. Maybe with benefits. Wolf made a decent amount for a day's work - given what he was doing and the effort required. And, so far, Heiko seems OK with it. Maybe the sibling tension is starting to ease? The pre-camp test trials, followed by our two, soon-to-be-graduated seniors, and their "clean-up", was certainly appreciated - fresh young blood - and other body fluids - for our story. Then, Bruce and Atilla. Wow. Atilla certainly lived up to his name, and it sounds like not for the first time. Bruce, reacting instinctively, allegedly in self-defense, only all for naught. Wow. http://forum.justusboys.com/images/smilie/eusa_clap.gif

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Nine


“You know what? Wait ... How would I say that in German?”

“Weißt du was?“ Heiko prompted.

Tom pulled him closer. “Six months, that's what. The fire was six months ago when the hero Heiko saved me from certain death braving the ...“

“... when my irresistible boss finally let me love him, you mean.”

“... when your idiot lover finally realized what he was missing.”

“We're doing a lot of talking, when we could be ...” Heiko's words ceased as they embraced.

“Fuck me ...” came the low urging.

Damn, Wolf thought. It was so frustrating. The voice was too low to tell if it was Tom or Heiko asking for it. He stuffed the earplugs in his ears and tried to get comfortable in a bed that suddenly seemed too small. They're doing it again! Every damn night!

Lying on his side minimized the annoyance of his erection. He punched the pillow and readjusted the earplugs. They're fucking all the time, he thought. What can that be like? Could I handle taking a cock? He closed his eyes and again saw the vision of Tom, naked, hard, and landing on top of him on the narrow balcony. I could feel his cock on me. I could smell him. Oh, man. If only he'd ask! I'd let him fuck me. That last idea came unbidden. Wolf thought it over. He squeezed his erection; he felt the wet spot on his underwear. Shit, yes, I'd let him. He couldn't conjure the vision of how it might happen, but that didn't reduce his certainty that he would do it.

He got out of bed and took a shower with the ear plugs in. That was a mistake. They were like dripping little sponges when he got back into bed. He took them out and heard nothing. I guess they're done, he decided and left the earplugs on his night table.

He got up on the quiet Sunday morning still feeling frustrated and went out. The chill of the morning penetrated his light clothing almost immediately. Wolf couldn't get used to the fact that San Francisco Bay mornings were cold even in June. He didn't like bagels, but the jelly doughnuts at the closest coffee shop weren't bad; and with coffee they warmed him up. All right, he decided. I'm going to do it.

He left a note for Heiko that read “Gone to see the gypsy” and grabbed a jacket By the time he got to the junk store it was almost eleven-thirty.

“Paul?” Wolf called out when the door buzzer stopped. “Are you here?”

“Wolf!” Paul came from the back room surprised to see his assistant of the day before.

“Ok. Don't say anything. Just listen. I have to ask. Will you fuck me?”

Paul looked amused. “Was that a theoretical question? Or did you have something specific in mind?”

“Specific. Here. Today. Will you?”

“No.” The one word answer wasn't what Wolf had been expecting. Wolf gave the universal palms-up gesture of disappointment and began taking his shirt off.

“I said, no. Why are you … disrobing?”

“I'm going to wear the sign board again today. Is that ok?” Wolf had his shirt off and was starting on his jeans.

“Wait. Sit down; I'll paint your face,” Paul offered. Wolf sat and Paul began putting heavy mascara around his eyes. “It's a pity to put all this junk on you. You're a very handsome boy.” Wolf's eyebrows rose. “Excuse me, I mean a very handsome man. Look up ...” He applied a line to Wolf's lower eyelids. “Why are you asking an old queen like me to fuck you?”

“You really think I'm handsome?” Wolf questioned. Paul reached behind himself and got a framed picture. He placed it on the table in front of Wolf.

“That's a handsome man,” Wolf said as he examined the picture.

“He looked a lot like you. He was my lover.”

“Was? What happened?”

“He got sick. It was before we knew how to protect ourselves and before much treatment was possible. I don't know if I got him sick or if he infected me. But he died and for some reason I didn't.”

“I'm sorry, Paul.”

“So there's one reason why I won't fuck you. I'm positive.”

“What are you doing?” Wolf pursed his lips under the tickle of the pencil.

“Giving you a bigger mouth. Just an outline. You won't need color. The other reason I won't fuck you is because you don't really want me to.” Wolf said nothing and Paul continued, “You may want the experience, but you don't want me. And I'm past doing sex just for the hell of it. Besides I'm already a little in love with you, and I'd probably be a hopeless case if we had sex. Next thing you know it would get messy. Then it would ugly fast. Neither one of us would like that.” Wolf chuckled and smiled at Paul. “So let's just leave it with me half in love with you. That way I enjoy it; you don't give a damn; and we both live happily ever after.”

“But how do I get fucked?”

It was Paul's turn to laugh. “You're that desperate? And you're not even sure you're gay?”

Wolf told Paul the story of his attraction to Tom.

“Tom must be spectacular if he has two brothers chasing him,” Paul said and realized at once that his comment had hurt Wolf. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make light of your feelings. You think it's Tom; but I think you are what we call in love with love, Wolf. You see it all around you and aren't getting any yourself. Sweet boy, you have to be patient. I know that's terrible advice to give a young man, but it's good advice and all I really know to tell you.”

Wolf said nothing in reply. He took off his jeans and put the signboard on. “How do I look?”

Paul cast a critical eye over the walking advertisement in from of him. “I'd kiss you, but I'd mess up your makeup.”

Wolf kissed Paul's cheek, leaving a black mouth imprint, and left the shop. Paul rubbed his cheek and smiled. I'm going to regret saying no, like in about five minutes, he thought as he watched Wolf and the signboard walk away.

The sun had finally burned off the morning fog and the city was warming in its glare.
Paul's talk had helped. Wolf enjoyed attracting the looks of passing pedestrians; he felt a complete exhilaration, thinking maybe he was a little in love with Paul, too. His makeup made his smile look playfully lecherous. People couldn't help smiling back at him. Some tried to peak under the signboard, and he let them try. Walking around a big city in your underwear is a liberating feeling. I could never do this in Frankfurt, he thought.




“You won't stay?” Andrew asked Adan. “I've got a big bed.”

“I am expected to be in by a certain time. My landlord is strict.”

Andrew walked Adan to the door with his hand on Adan's arm. He hated to let go and watched the youth walk away until he was out of sight. Playing me like a violin, Andrew thought, and I love every note. I wonder if his strict landlord knows what a great fuck his tenant is. He watched the now empty sidewalk enjoying the residual heat of their passion until he saw Seth approaching.

“Andrew. You look like Penelope waiting in longing for Ulysses.” Seth's tone was flippant.

“I think your new boyfriend is dead.” Andrew answered.

“What kind of greeting is that for your partner who has been working all day and into the night?” Seth smiled while leafing through the mail.

“Seriously ... Attila and that other Hun killed each other.”

“Bruce?”

“Yeah. It's been on the news.”

Seth's eyes were wide with wonder. “No shit?”

“Didn't I just say so?”

Seth was stunned and just stood holding the mail. “What does that mean for the scenes we have shot?”

“Thank God you're worried about the business. I thought you were falling for the guy. What DOES that mean for the business? How many scenes have you shot?”

“Well … yes, the business … but I did like Bruce. He had a crazy streak that made fun of S&M even while he was doing it … Scenes? A bunch. Wow ... Dead ... You want a beer?” Seth wandered toward the refrigerator in the next room. Andrew waited for Seth's reaction. “My God! You cleaned the kitchen?”

“It's not really a kitchen,” Andrew countered. “The kitchen is upstairs.” He looked at Seth expectantly and then followed him upstairs.

“My God! The whole place is spotless!”

Andrew ran his finger along the edge of a counter and looked at the bit of grease on it. “Not spotless; but close.”

Seth looked at his partner with a new admiration. “You sure you won't have a beer?”

“I'll have wine. Let's watch the ten o'clock news. There's sure to me a report.”

The earlier lurid report had been filled out with a few new facts. Their names were neither Attila nor Bruce. The corpses had been identified as two men with long records in Arkansas of minor crimes, drug possession, possession with intent to sell, and disturbing the peace. Viewers were urged to tune in again at eleven for further reports.

“I wonder if using fake names invalidates their contracts,” Seth questioned. “And if it does, what rights do we own in their scenes? Do we have to deal with their estates?”

“No idea,” Andrew answered. “Have you been fucking any lawyers lately?”

“Three or four, but I don't know if they do show business law.”

“Three or four?” Andrew looked alarmed.

Seth threw a pillow at him. “Of course not, you asshole. Who do you think I am?”

“Don't say it, Sethie. You know I love you.” They both chuckled. “You know what else? I was worried that you might be more broken up over the death of … our stars.” Andrew decided not to name Bruce in particular.

“He was sweet and sexy and very considerate in bed, if that's what you're getting at.”

“You must have brought out the best in him.”

Andrew sipped his wine and Seth finished his beer as they watched the rest of the news. The program closed with a street scene featuring a young man in Union Square dressed mostly in a signboard handing out flyers for a fortune teller.

“What a cute guy! I bet he's looking for work.” Seth looked at Andrew for confirmation but Andrew was asleep. Poor baby, Seth thought as he eased the nearly-empty wine glass out of Andrew's hands. He must have worked all day cleaning the place.




Finn waited anxiously for Long to arrive. He paced and checked the time repeatedly. At three a car parked in the street and Long got out with Finn's clothes in his hands.

“Here you go. Freshly washed,” Long said.

“Your stuff is ready too.” Finn pointed to Long's shirt, pads, and stuff lying on the bed.

There was an uncomfortable silence that followed. They both wanted to say something about the day before, but neither one did. Finally Finn said, “Do you like those compression shorts? I could never get used to them.”

With relief Long launched into a discussion of the pros and cons of the tight-fitting spandex shorts. “Plus, 'cause of my size problem, I can wear a jock, then a cup, then the shorts. It's more comfortable.”

“I wouldn't call your size a problem,” Finn said and then they both got embarrassed again. They turned away from each other as they dressed for practice.

“Do you want to drive over to the field?” Long asked.

“How about we run? It won't hurt to get in a little extra work.”

They ran abreast most of the way, but passing a shopping area the ran single file to avoid the other pedestrians. It gave Long a chance to look at Finn. Tight football pants emphasized his ass and legs, and a cut-off jersey gave a perfect view of his waist and back muscles. The exercise prevented an erection but had no effect on Long's visual enjoyment. They turned onto Otis with a few blocks to go when Dave paralleled them in his pickup.

“You're gonna be dead before we start,” he laughed and drove ahead. Another player from Alameda High, a second-string defensive back named Bo Jendell, was in the passenger seat.

When they met up at the field, Finn introduced Long to Bo.

“I already know Long,” Bo answered with a smile.

“Right, how's it goin'?” Long answered. There wasn't time for more before Cal arrived and took charge.

They exercised and ran drills for a half hour until Cal called a huddle. “See who's coming? Marlon Mayfield!” The boys looked at the approaching big man expectantly. “Bull, how's it going?” Cal called out.

It was a successful hour. Mayfield had lots of tips and a slightly different approach to defense. It was useful to contrast Cal's theories with Bull's. The outcome was advice to tailor the tactics to the skills of the individual boys. When the session ended Cal and Bull left together. Dave offered to drive Finn home.

“What about you, Long?”

“My car's at Finn's. Ok, if I ride in the back?”

“It's not that far. We can all squeeze in the front,” Bo said. “Right? Squeeze a little?” He slapped Long on the butt. The comment mystified Dave and Finn.

It wasn't much of a drive so the four-player squeeze didn't last more than ten minutes. Finn and Long got out and Bo winked as they drove away.

“Wow! Bull Mayfield. I had no idea he was coming. And Cal said maybe he had another surprise or two. What a great week!”

Long was just as enthusiastic. “It makes me wish my college actually had a football team.”

“What?? It doesn't?? then why ...”

“Just club ball within the school. I got a scholarship. A brain-based one. Can't afford to turn it down.”

“Then why are you in Cal's program?”

“I love football. And Cal's sessions haven't cost me anything yet.”

They went in the house and Finn's mother called him. Long went to the bedroom and started stripping. He was down to the compression shorts when Finn came in. “She's going out for a while,” he said.

Long got naked and waited for Finn to catch up. Finn was sitting taking his shoes and socks off. He couldn't help himself. He looked at Long's cock. And then he looked again. And then he gave up and just stared. It started to swell.

Finn stood up. His throat was dry. “It's so fuckin' big,” he whispered. He licked his lips unconsciously. He started to pull the jersey over his head.

Long came closer. “Leave your pads on,” he said. He put his hands on Finn's waist and felt his sides and chest. “Is this ok?” he asked. Finn looked frightened but nodded yes.

Long unlaced Finn's pants and then sank to his knees. He pulled the pants down and Finn stepped out of them. He hurried to get the jock and cup off and then watched Finn's cock flex outward. With both his hands on Finn's ass, he took the cockhead in front of him into his mouth. He wet it with his tongue and then began sucking gently, taking more and more as it grew.

Finn's breath grew ragged and he sighed, “Oh my God...” He gasped again when Long 's roaming hands got under the pads and tweaked his nipples. It didn't take long. “Stop! I don't want to come yet.”

Finn pulled Long up to his feet and then traded positions. He knelt in front of the biggest cock he had ever seen and froze. He didn't know what to do.

“Don't do it if you don't want to,” Long said softly.

That was all the encouragement Finn needed. He started with the tip and began sucking gently just as Long had done to him. The skin was unbelievably smooth and soft. He took more and gagged a little but didn't give up. He slowly took more and then still more. He had about half the cock in his mouth and it felt good.

Long looked down and felt Finn's short hair, soft but bristly in his hands, as he guided the bobbing head up and down his cock. The shoulder pads blocked the rest of Finn's body from sight but he could feel Finn's cock bumping against his legs. Such a beautiful sight … He lost it and came with almost no warning. Some spunk went into Finn's mouth, some went onto his face, and some hit the floor. Finn wasn't able to complete the blowjob, but he stroked the spurting cock as best he could.

“OH! God! I'm sorry. Jeez!” Long tried to wipe the cum off Finn's face, but he only succeeded in rubbing it around. He grabbed his shirt and wiped. “I didn't mean to … to do that.” Finn just kept smiling as Long cleaned him up. “I'm sorry, Finn. I'm sorry!”

“You could finish what you started.” Finn stood and was still smiling.

“Sure.” Long went back to his knees and tried to give Finn the best blowjob he could. It was over quickly. Long took every drop of cum and still kept sucking afterward. Finn laughed and quickly pulled his cock out of Long's mouth. “It gets sensitive afterward,” was his explanation. “That was the best blowjob I ever had,” Finn enthused. “Of course, I've only had one other. From Becky Chandler. And she had braces.”

“You were good, too.” Long said, relieved by Finn's reaction.

“Bull shit,” Finn said as they adjusted the water in the shower. “I have a feeling I suck at sucking.”

“You give a good hand job,” Long compromised.

“Yeah?” Finn took Long's cock in his hand and stroked it carefully. “Man, I love the way this foreskin thing works. So cool. Look at that.” Long wasn't looking at anything. He had his eyes closed. “It's getting hard again. You must like what I'm doing.”

“I love what you're doing,” Long gasped. “Play with my balls, ok?” he requested. “Tug on 'em a little?”

Finn knelt for a better view. “They're getting so tight.” He tried taking Long's cock in his mouth again. “Mmmmm ...” he hummed as he got half way down the shaft.

It was involuntary; Long thrust forward Finn took most of his cock before choking and backing away. By trial and error Finn discovered that a hand and mouth combination worked best and liked the feel of Long's hands guiding his head motions. He pulled off. “Am I doing better? Long? You hear me? Am I doing better?”

“Yeah,” was all Long could say as he watched the husky athlete suck his cock. Finn resumed his stroking and sucking and Long fired off again. There wasn't so much sperm this time. Finn swallowed most of it and the shower washed the rest away.

“Oh, shit … oh, shit … fuck … dude!...” Long gasped in utter satisfaction.

They dried off in silence. “That was fun,” Finn said at last.

“We're not done. When is your mother due back?”

“We got plenty of time,” Finn said. “What do you have in mind?”

Long put Finn on the bed and worked over every inch of his body with his hands and his mouth. He kept Finn on the edge of orgasm until he begged for it. “Make me cum! Make me cum!”

“Ask me again,” Long teased as he fingered Finn's ass. He didn't penetrate but he pressed the right place.

“Please! Mmmm! Aaaah! Yes!” Finn thrust his hips and squeezed some incredible muscle he never knew he had. And then he went limp in Long's arms. Long ran his hand gently over Finn's chest, watching its rise and fall slow to a more normal pace. He lay his head against Finn's chest and Finn stroked his hair as the moment passed.

Then came an awareness. The boys seemed equally shocked by the intimacy of their embrace and separated. They dressed and Finn walked Long to his car. “Tomorrow?” he asked. Long nodded yes, afraid to speak.

 

[rocabar]

Beautifully written episode, Rory- The best-to-date, I think...

Thanks for sharing with us!

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
I've got to agree with Rocabar - this was a very intimate and keenly expressed installment.

Tom & Heiko . . . and poor poor Wolf - with the old queen looking fondly at him and remembering a previous time - he's a good guy, giving good advice.

Then, our resident porn princes - they haven't quite made enough $$$ to be kings - other than in their beds - and what is this novelty on the 10 o'Clock News? lol

Finn and Long - I'm a bit worried about Bo, though - does Long have a history there? Will it come back to bite Finn on the ass?

 

[EasyRory]

I had to post another chapter - didn't want to let the week end with blood on the floor.

 

[Autolycus]

Another excellent chapter!

 

[DonQuixote]

We are most appreciative of that, too!