It started as a lark—one of those goofy things colleagues do when traveling together. It ended with two inconceivable dreams becoming indelible memories.
There were five of us: Stacey, the account manager; Nathan, the account executive; Colin, the strategist; Hugh, the senior partner; and me, the “idea guy.” We were in town to pitch a new campaign to a client that loved our work and us. And, at the risk of sounding smug, I’ll confess both were easy to love. Our work was exemplary—smart, eye-catching, and memorable—which was often said of us as well.
Though the client was only an hour-and-a-half away by air, we’d flown in the night before to avoid delays and cancellations. The M.O. for these junkets was always the same: arrive late afternoon, register wherever Nathan’s assistant put us, take an hour for calls and email, and regroup for dinner.
The concierge sent us to a restaurant a few blocks down the street, one of those tony spots with heavy carpet, furniture, and linens famous for its outstanding steaks, seafood and wine list. As we ate and drank, the wine and rich food worked their magic. At one point, my mind floated above the conversation to wonder what other patrons made of us—four guys and a girl laughing and talking over each other and touching one another affectionately.
We skipped dessert for a stroll to the harbor that passed several historic sites. Being the resident trivia buff, I provided running commentary. We wandered back by a different way, passing the Excelsior Regis, that grand dame of luxury hotels known for dozens of cameo appearances in turn-of-the-century novels.
“Have you guys ever been in here?” Hugh asked. None of us had. “We really should pop in,” he said. “It’s like stepping back in time—one of those palaces you see in costume pictures and think don’t exist any more.”
Naturally, I was dying for a peek. The others needed persuading. They had work to do and were tired and wanted to go over their part of the presentation and so on. It was a little game we often played, “Saying ‘No’ to Hugh,” that let him slide into seductive mode, charming us into doing what he wanted. It always ended with him winning, but it was fun to let him work his mojo on us.
Hugh didn’t exaggerate. All that was missing from the lobby bar were ladies in lace and bustles and men with handlebar moustaches and watch fobs dangling from their vests. The chandeliers and ferns, marble-top tables and crushed velvet chairs, felt like they’d been there forever. Classical music traipsed above our heads.
“What is this? I know it, but can’t remember the composer.” Nathan said as we crowded around an impractically tiny table.
“It’s Schubert, the A-minor quartet,” I said.
“Listen to Mr. Smarty-Pants,” Colin teased. “I bet you can’t name Megadeth’s 14th album.”
“I can’t,” I admitted, “because they’ve only recorded 12 to date—at least, I’m pretty sure it’s 12.”
“Busted!” Stacey crowed.
“I gotta hit the head,” Hugh said. “Order me a Miller Light.”
Nathan laughed. “You’re gonna drink Miller here? That’s funny.”
Hugh grinned and sauntered off. After placing our order, Stacey said, “OK, Charlie, we know you’re chomping at the bit. Tell us who lived here, died here, and all the other reasons why it’s famous.”
I was knee-deep in the Excelsior Regis résumé when Hugh returned with an even bigger grin on his face.
“You are not going to believe it,” he said.
“What?” Nate asked. “The bathroom attendant’s in a turban and pantaloons?”
“Not bad,” Hugh replied. “Okay. So I walk into the john and it’s exactly what you’d expect—no urinals, just a long row of stalls with full doors on them, not louvered saloon doors, but doors like you hang in your house.”
Colin smirked. “Sounds like a fancy version of the porn shop by me.”
“Ewwww! How do you know that?” Stacey asked.
Before Colin could continue, Hugh said, “You’re getting warmer.”
“No!” I said. “Don’t tell me they’ve drilled glory holes between the stalls.”
“Of course not,” Hugh answered.
True to form, Stacey’s fascination got the better of her. She couldn’t help pressing for more information. “They really do that in adult bookstores—the glory holes?”
Nathan piped up. “In bookstores and libraries and bars and big hardware stores, anywhere there’s a lot men on the loose looking for anonymous action.”
“Methinks you know too much, Nate,” I said.
“Oh, come on, you know there’s a part of your crowd that loves hanging out in bathrooms in case a straight boy shows up needing some attention.”
“It’s not a gay thing?” Stacey asked.
Colin jumped in. “It’s a man thing, darlin’. All we are is dicks prowling for holes. And if it’s been a while since we’ve found one, any hole will do, even one in a wall.” He winked at me before adding, “I’m not talking from personal experience, of course. It’s never come to that, knock wood.”
“So peep shows are full of ugly, lonely guys—“
“Ugly and lonely have nothing to do with it,” I offered. “Horny is the leveler. I’ve only done it a few times. Every time the hottie-to-troll ratio was pretty much 50-50.”
“Will you guys shut up and let me finish?”
We let Hugh go on.
“Alright. So I go into one of the rooms, which are about the size of a walk-in closet. And when I come out, this kid's standing there—maybe 22, 25, a little androgynous-looking, but not like a drag queen or anything. I nod as I go to the sink. When I look in the mirror, he’s standing behind me. You know what he says?”
“How about a blowjob?’” I interjected.
Colin burst into laughter. Nate howled, “Get out!” topped by Stacey’s “Shut the fuck up!”
Hugh gives us second to settle down before telling us, “His exact words were, ‘Dude, I want to suck you off sooooo bad.’”
We asked, “What did you say?”
“Well,” Hugh replied, “you know, it’s not the first time it's happened. And I kind of felt sorry for the guy. He wasn’t bad looking or creepy or anything. I stare at him in the mirror while I dry my hands. I can tell he’s a little scared because I haven’t answered yet. When I turn around, he backs off and I say, ‘It’s really nice of you to offer. But that’s one of those things you gotta earn. Sorry.’”
“Why didn’t you show him your wedding ring?” Stacey asked.
“Are you kidding?” I said. “That’s the biggest turn-on. What did he do? Just walk out?”
“No. He said, ‘Okay,’ and went back into a stall at the end of the room.”
“You think he’s still there?” Nate wondered.
“Probably.”
I stood up. “Come on. We gotta go back.”
“Forget it,” Hugh replied. “It’s no big deal.”
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Why? What are you gonna do? Scratch his eyes out?”
“Maybe.”
Hugh smirked. “That’s appealing, watching two gay guys in a catfight. Sit down.”
“Go!” Nate insisted. “It might be fun.”
“Yeah,” Stacey chimed in. “See what happens and come back and tell us.”
Hugh glanced at Colin, who gave him a “Why-not?” look. He got up. “Get me another beer because this one will be warm by the time we come back.”
“What, are you going Russia?”
“Practically,” Hugh said. “It’s way the hell on the other side, by the hair salon and old-lady clothes shop.”
“We’ll be right back,” I told them. As we crossed the lobby, Hugh asked what I planned to do. “You’ll see,” I said.
The bathroom was as still as a mausoleum, and felt like one—cool, tastefully lighted, with fresh-cut flowers on the long marble vanity and 10 or so white doors lined up like graves. We stopped just inside. Hugh nodded toward the end of the room. “He’s down there.”
I motioned for him to lower his ear to my mouth. “Call him. Ask if he’s still here.” He gave me a curious look. “Just do it,” I said.
“Hello?” Hugh said as though he were yelling into a dark cave. “Are you still around?”
The end door flew open and the kid leapt out. When he saw me, he froze. I grabbed Hugh’s hand and pulled him along. About halfway to the guy, I put on my stern, high-school-principal face. "We need to talk.”
For a second, I thought the child was going to pass out. Then he pulled his diva lever. His posture stiffened, his head tilted, and he tucked in his chin. “Talk about what?”
We were eyeball-to-eyeball and he wasn’t flinching. “Talk about what? Let’s talk about you propositioning my man, bitch.”
“Your man?” the kid replied his best Jerry-Springer, ghetto, trailer-trash tone.
It was on and Hugo couldn’t have been more delighted. He took my arm. “Honey, it’s okay. We should go.”
“Uh-huh!” I shot back. “This child needs to understand she can’t go around hitting on every man she sees!”
“Who you callin’ a child?” the kid said indignantly, followed by Hugo’s “Who you callin’ a ‘she’?”
“Shut up, Harvey,” I said.
Hugo asked, “Harvey? Who’s—“
“Shut. Up.”
He looked at the kid. “See what I put up with?” I withered him with a glare.
The kid sized up Hugo and checked to see if I caught it. Honestly? I liked his nerve. “You’re a fine man,” he said. “Why would you deal with that shit?”
“Because I’m the best shit he’s ever had and I plan to be the last. It’s lucky for you I’m not one of those violent queens, because I don’t tolerate bitches messing with my man. I don’t care if you knew about me or not. You don’t mess with my man! Got that? I only came here because when, uh, Harvey told me what you said, I wanted to be a good guy and warn you. Next time, you may hit on someone with a lover who'll beat your head in.”
The kid dug through his shoulder bag, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.
“You’re not supposed to smoke in here,” Hugh said.
I rolled my eyes. The kid blew out a thick sheet of white smoke. He gave Hugh a long, hard stare. “You’re not queer.”
Hugh asked, “What?”
“I don’t get a queer vibe off you. Besides, you’re wearing a ring.” He looked at me. “You’re so queer all you’re missing is a neon ‘HOMO’ sign. But your friend's so straight he can hardly bend over.” He scowled at me. “I don’t know what you’re up to with this. All I know he’s straight, you’re gay, and you may be close friends, but you sure as hell ain’t lovers. So why don’t you just get the fuck out of my business?”
Hugh didn’t give me a chance to answer. “You should get your gaydar checked. I’ve been gay all of my life.”
The kid dropped his cigarette to the floor and snuffed it out with his foot. “I don’t have time for this,” he hissed. He shoved his way between Hugh and me. Then, a few feet from the door, he turned around. “Prove it.”
“Prove what?” I asked.
He nodded at Hugh. “I’m talking to him. Prove you’re gay and he’s your lover.”
“We don’t have prove anything to you,” I said.
“Yeah,” Hugh joined in. “How would we prove it anyway?”
The question fell between him and us like an anvil and we all stared at the floor until the kid announced, “I want to watch him blow you.”
I didn’t say anything and Hugh took a second or two to come up with a reply. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have a problem with that except we’re not staying at this hotel. Better luck next time.”
The kid locked eyes with me and took a few small steps in our direction. He clearly saw that the idea worked for me. In a weird way, we instantly bonded.
I’d dreamt of sex with Hugh longer than I care to say—for nearly 20 years, back to the day I was an upstart creative and he was rounding out his career as a print model. Then, when he jumped to my side of the business, our agency hired him and we were together constantly. It was total agony to be so close to him, knowing it was all there would be. But I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.
When he started his own shop, I was his first hire. Over the years, as we traveled the world and became lifelong mates, we did everything but fuck. We shared the same bed God knows how many times. Went camping and swimming, where we thought nothing of showering together. We woke up at the end of long flights, one’s head on the other’s shoulder. Almost every morning started with a bright smile and peck on the lips. We teased his wife we were brothers with incest issues, and the doll that she is, she’d joke back with a proverb I’m pretty sure she coined: “Oh well. Nature does as nature wills.”
Of course, kidding and flirting don’t always lead to kissing and fucking. They seldom do. I lived with that. Not in a million years could I have predicted this. What started as a gag—an unkind gag, I hate to say—turned into a miracle.
“I wasn’t inviting myself up to your room,” the kid said. “I meant do it here.”
Hugh exclaimed, “You’re out of your mind!”
The trade’s response was so ingenious I almost kissed him. He shook his head. “See? Right there. That’s a straight tell. You’re like, what, 40? 45? And you’re scared of getting blown in a public bathroom—especially one like this? Dude, really. Look at this place. It’s fucking built for sex, fucking brilliant. Hell, I just found it last week and I’ve already broke the bank. I mean I have done it all. Two nights ago? Five dudes—“ He counted them off on his fingers. “One, two, three, four, five crammed into one of these shitholes and we didn’t come out for an hour. It was off the charts. And you’ve been gay your whole life? Fuck. You’re stinkin’ up the place with your bullshit.”
Hugh wasn’t going to let some tearoom trade half his age get by with that. He took my hand. His was quivering and clammy.
“Look, ass wipe,” he fired back. “Because I’m uncomfortable letting my lover blow me in a public toilet in front of a complete stranger has nothing to do with being gay. And I just want to say, as a gay man, I find your presumption we’re all sex-crazed lunatics ridiculous and offensive. You know every guy you do in here is probably straight. Gay guys don’t have to hang out in johns. Christ, have you got a lot to learn!”
“Nice try, Harvey,” the kid said. “Very smart and very correct. But nobody’s buying it. Your, uh, friend hasn’t blinked.”
I felt Hugh’s eyes bore into the side of my head. I shrugged. “It’s not my decision.”
My answer hung in the air awhile before Hugh broke the tension. After a deep, noticeably relieved breath, he told the kid, “I guess any door will do. Pick one.”
The kid smiled. I wanted to smile. It may have been the first time I’d ever seen Hugh on the other side of the “Say ‘No’” game. I couldn’t believe he lost. More than that, I couldn’t believe I won the grand prize.
“Third from the end,” the kid said.
We walked in front him. “What the hell’s happening?” I asked.
“What you’ve always wanted,” Hugh mumbled under his breath. “Now I wish we’d already done it a long time ago. I’m kind of nervous.”
“It’ll be over before you know it.”
“That’s what makes me nervous. That, and not being able to get it up.”
“Leave it to me,” I said.
We stepped into the stall. It was exactly as Hugh described it—spacious and secure. The kid followed, silently shutting the door behind him and inching by to sit on the toilet. “Should I do a drum roll?” he jested.
Hugh and I faced each other. I dropped to my knees. We both shook. He held his waist with both hands and looked down at me with a blinding grin.
“What?” I asked.
“You gotta admit,” he answered, “it’s pretty fucking exciting.”
The kid agreed. “It’s hot already.”
As I unbuckled Hugh’s belt, I asked the kid’s name. “Chaz,” he replied.
“Like in Charles?”
“Yeah, but nobody calls me that. Just Chaz.”
“That’s wild,” I said. “I’m Charles, too. Only everybody calls me Charlie.”
Hugh reached over to shake Chaz’s hand. “I’m Hugh, by the way.”
Chaz replied, “You look like a Hugh. You sure as hell weren’t no Harvey.”
With that, everything unexpectedly bent and melted into the surreal in the truest, strictest sense of feeling more than real—an incredibly alert, waking dream free of time and space and taboos and caution.
Hugh interrupted me just before I lowered his fly. “Chaz, can I ask a favor?”
“What?”
“Can you turn off your phone? I don’t want this showing up in the Internet.”
Chaz took the phone from his jeans pocket. “You hold on to it.”
Hugh took advantage of storing the phone in his pocket to adjust his dick. A modest bulge formed in front of me. “Ready?” I asked.
“Go for it.”
I opened his pants and automatically reached for him, having known for years Hugh never wore underwear. It took a bit to fish his cock from the dense canopy of hair above it.
It’s complicated to describe what I felt, as the element of surprise that comes with a first encounter went missing. Knowing what to anticipate after seeing him naked so many times made it feel strange. It wasn’t what I’d imagined in 20 years’ worth of jerking off to imaginary situations with him. The hot-blooded excitement I hoped for wasn’t there. Instead, there was something else, a peculiar kind of freedom and comfort that came from Hugh and I crossing a line together, a boundary we respected far too long.
As I was well aware, his dick was beautiful, which didn’t shock me the first time I saw it, since everything about him was beautiful. Hugh had no singular outstanding feature, as many print models do—mesmerizing eyes or granite chin or v-shaped frame. His assemblage of superb parts made him unbearably sexy. And though it had been years since his last national ad—an underwear shot that college girls ripped out of GQ and taped to their walls, and many boys folded away for private study—the stuff he was made of hadn’t faded.
I’d touched him everywhere but here, and a thrill rushed over me while I coddled him in my hand. He felt it, too. His dick grew heavier as it thickened and extended. Flaccid, it was just like the rest of him—perfectly sized, with a lovely head capping a meaty cylinder rooted in an notably large and round, close-hanging sac. In my fantasies, his erections were simply rigid versions of the relaxed dick I’d admired for years. At rest, it often hung close to seven inches, and I never imagined it growing much longer, which turned out to be accurate. At best, he gained another inch or so. What took me by surprise was seeing his girth nearly double as blood surged through a single, wide vein that meandered out of his scrotum to imprint his heartbeat on my palm. It kept widening until it appeared as if his balls were shrinking.
Chaz leaned in for a look, exclaiming, “Shit, that’s one gorgeous fat dick!”
I smiled up at Hugh. He arched one jet-black eyebrow and his chestnut eyes glinted with gold.
The instant his cock grazed my tongue it released a bittersweet stream of pre-ejaculate, arousing every sense cloistered in my mouth. Hugh wrapped his left hand around the back of my head and pulled me to him until he entirely vanished into the far reaches of my throat. All the while, the breadth of his dick expanded. Quickly, my jaws and cheeks and gullet ached from accommodating him. He pressed my face as close as nature allowed. I suppressed every reflex that resisted him. I clamped my hands against his legs, which burned like hot iron under his clothes. Water spilled from my eyes into the thicket of nightshade that scrubbed my cheeks and forehead.
If it killed me, I would not embarrass us by choking and fighting for breath.
“Holy fuck,” Chaz whispered admiringly.
Hugh answered with a deep moan. “The best.”
He let go and I fell back on my heels. He brushed my cheeks and mouth with swift, brusque swipes, as though I were his six-year-old son. While I set out to know this Hugh I’d never met, he freed his shirt from his pants and unbuttoned it, revealing a pasture of curly black splendor billowing over his fit torso. I planted my hand flat against his middle. He laid his hand over mine and steered it upward to rub his chest. The move lifted me to full height on my knees. I kissed his stomach and teased his navel. His manhood angled between us, laying its head on my shoulder like a love child. I lowered his pants with my free hand, giving Chaz a first glance at Hugh’s deliciously large sac suspended above two tight, sinewy legs tufted with dark filigree.
The kid sighed and groped himself. He stared at Hugh, who guided my face back into his mossy gut. I grazed there gratefully—living a moment I’d harbored so long. He pulled my hand from his chest and kissed each fingertip. The touch of his lips caused my insides to collapse. My free hand wandered behind to caress his tawny ass. Hugh his mouth against my open palm, following with a scorching breath and near-silent whimper. He laid it across his cheek as he told Chaz, “It’s okay with me.”
Unsure what he meant, I looked around to see Chaz scrambling out of his pants. A leaky spot bloomed on the front panel of his briefs, which came off so rapidly his dick—harder than rock, somewhat slender, but remarkably long, with a delightful upturned curve—sprung free and bounced against his shirttails. He grabbed it and shuddered.
Hugh nudged me to look again at Chaz. “What do you think?”
I nodded favorably. “It’s pretty.”
“Thanks,” Chaz said, modestly.
“Charlie likes young cock,” Hugh said.
“I like pretty cock,” I corrected. I reached for Hugh’s dick. Because of its heft, it bolted straight out like an oversized flagpole. “That’s why I like this.”
Hugh told Chaz, “He hasn’t got tired of looking at it for 20 years.”
Confusion fluttered across his face. “So you guys really are lovers?”
“We’ve been in love forever,” Hugh replied. “Only it’s complicated—not how you think, with me being straight and married—but because we love each other so much. Wouldn’t you say that, Charles?”
“Chaz doesn’t really care about that,” I said. “He just wants to look at you. And who can blame him?”
“So I’m just a chunk of man meat and nothing more?” Hugh kidded.
“Pretty much,” I answered and went back down on him. He lightly pushed me off.
“Hold on,” he said. He gripped his dick at its base and circled the head a half-dozen times with his finger, unleashing a fresh helping of pre-cum that hung mid-air like a strand of melted sugar. “For our guest,” he said, lowering his finger into Chaz’s mouth. Chaz clasped Hugh’s hand between both of his and nursed his finger like a cock. His hunger fired something ravenous in me. I was insatiable in my determination to uncover everything I’d never known about Hugh’s sex, to discern every flavor, ripple, and run of his prize, from the back of his shaved balls to the shiny silk inside the slit.
We never held secrets from one another. We never blushed to say what crossed our minds. This time was no different. As I worked, he directed.
“Just the head,” he panted. “Make love to it. Yeah. Feel that? Feel it throbbing? It’s loving your love… Oh. That’s sweet. Swallow the whole thing for me? Like that. Holy fucking shit, Charlie! Hold still. Can I pump your mouth? Mmmm... Stroke his dick, Charlie. While you suck me dick, play with his. Yah. Like that. That’s fucking crazy…”
The stall was suffocating as the three of us heaved and groaned. Hugh repeatedly wiped sweat from his face. My shirt glued itself to my back. Everything was damp and heavy and torrid and couldn’t have been better.
Then the bathroom door opened.
We froze.
“You guys in here?” It was Colin. “Hugh? Charlie?” Nobody breathed. “I wonder where they went,” he mumbled, and that was that.
Hugh held up a finger to hang on a minute longer. Once he felt sure Colin wasn’t coming back, we started again. Then Hugh stopped us. “It doesn’t seem fair if Chaz doesn’t get a little—since he did throw this party and it’s his only chance.”
I read Hugh immediately. “His only chance” meant I had many more ahead. How could I refuse? “Sure,” I answered. “Except I get the cream.”
“Is that okay, Chaz?”
“Absolutely.”
He rose from the toilet and Hugh eased him back to his seat. “Stay put. If I know Charlie, he’s dying to get a taste of you.”
Frankly, it hadn’t crossed my mind. But now that he mentioned it…
After wiggling one leg from his pants, Hugh stood over the toilet, bending his knees to lower his cock to Chaz’s face. Looking at his muscular, hairy rump summoned countless visions of burrowing into its wonders. I had to let that go and stick with the plan. There’d be time for that another time.
Chaz made the same mistake I would have had I been in his place. He tried to do what I’d done—swallow Hugh whole, not realizing I’d wanted his cock for so long I was able to force my reflexes to back off. For me, it was all about Hugh. For Chaz, it was all about Hugh’s dick and, naturally, he choked.
“You don’t need to take it all. Just enjoy it,” Hugh told him lovingly. A tinge of jealousy flushed through me and I knew I had to bridle it. I pulled off Chaz’s jeans and hoisted his long, downy legs over my shoulders before making my descent.
It was a precious cock—supple, compliant, and responsive to every stroke of my tongue. It became imminently clear Chaz’s experience was largely limited to younger guys and tea room trade, because things I do without thinking—massaging a man’s inner thighs, strumming his balls with my fingers, flicking at the underside of his head with my tongue’s tip—garnered appreciative gasps. I really liked this kid and I really liked pleasing him.
As Hugh steadily dropped to give Chaz more freedom, his ass jutted closer to me, finally rubbing against my head. His hands came around to spread his cheeks. I let go of Chaz to watch as his middle fingers pried open his hole, revealing the slick pink satin inside. Crafting my tongue into a missile, I plunged into it. He greeted my landing with a squelched roar that spun into a yelps of joy. With hardly a thought, I decided to let Hugh do with just that much until next time. Instead, I moistened my index and middle fingers and deftly slipped them inside him while returning most of my attention to blowing Chaz.
My dick, which had gone unnoticed the entire while, reared up like a puppy eager to play with a toy it had been eying through a fence. It whined and pleaded with me to let it out to get at Hugh’s ass. I felt overwhelmed with sensory overload—confused, actually—with Chaz’s velvet-skinned rod in my mouth, its curve causing it to scrape the back of my throat, Hugh’s tight ass clenched around my fingers, riding them, the sphincter intuitively dilating to draw them in, my probing inside him, stroking his gland to elicit trembles and moans, and then my dick begging to be loosed, which caught me completely off-guard, as I never once imagined fucking Hugh. In every scenario, he fucked and filled me. And now, I wanted nothing more than climbing into him.
It would wait for another place and time when we had more time and space.
Chaz’s cries came more regularly, with greater intensity. Clearly, he was brinking. I pulled my fingers from Hugh, who arched his back and turned to see. “Catch it all, Charlie,” he instructed. That hadn’t been my plan. I had a rule about strangers coming in my mouth. But before I could protest, Chaz’s entire body shook and a torrent of the purest, sweetest juice I’ve ever tasted poured over my tongue. Swallowing it without pause scared me. I drew back and held his dick like a Roman candle, feeling wave after wave of come burst from his balls and streak through him to soar into the air. One stream slapped a silver-white stripe across Hugh’s woolly ass, which he flexed into hard marble as he jerked his cock feverishly. There was no way to resist licking it clean.
Hugh dropped his head to look at himself and howled, “Fuckin’ all!” He swung around to me. “Lean back against Chaz! Hurry!”
I tumbled into place and laid my head in the kid’s crotch. With one hand, Hugh grabbed me by the armpit and yanked me up near his balls. I felt a wet streak down the back of my shirt, but didn’t care.
“Open your mouth.” Hugh steadied my head in his hands and slammed his fat meat into my throat, fucking my mouth with lecherous gusto. Between the furious squashing of his balls over my eyes, I caught glimpses of Chaz’s face submerged in Hugh’s haunches. That pleased me somehow.
“Ah! Shit! Shit!” Hugh wailed. He stumbled back, pinning Chaz between his ass and the wall. He seized his cock in a tight fist and aimed it at my gaping mouth, flooding it with pearly fire. His come was strong and pungent and virile. It was him. I drank every bit of it down, savoring the sensation of it oozing its way into my system.
Suddenly aware he’d smashed Chaz behind him, Hugh lurched forward on his toes, propping one arm on the wall. As his erection subsided, tardy drops of cream collected on the head. I shimmied up to collect them, running Hugh’s dick over my teeth. He laughed and checked his watch.
He hurried to get dressed. “We’ve been gone 20 minutes,” he said.
“You guys are great,” Chaz said softly.
“So are you,” I replied. “You’ll never know what this did for us.”
“You really won’t,” Hugh agreed. He tucked in his shirt. “Do you want my card, to stay in touch?”
“Nah. It always sounds like a good idea, but it never works out.”
“He’s right,” I confirmed.
He handed Chaz his phone. “Well, I guess this is ‘Thanks.’”
“Yeah,” Chaz said. “Thanks. Really.”
I thanked him, too, and added, “But I mean it. Don’t go hitting on strange guys like you did with Hugh. It’s trouble waiting to happen.”
“I hear ya.”
By the time we got back to the lobby, we had our story straight—down to the stain on my shirt.
“We thought we’d have a look around and got so lost,” Hugh explained. “You know these old hotels are like mazes. At one point we wound up in the service hall and Charlie spilled melted ice cream down his shirt. Finally we found a room service waiter who gave us directions.”
“What about the kid?” Stacey asked.
“Oh,” Hugh replied. “I forgot about him. Yeah. He wasn’t around when we went back.”
“Huh,” Nate said. “Well, we got tired of waiting and ordered dessert. You guys want anything?”
“Nothing to eat,” Hugh said. “A glass of water maybe.”
“How about you, Charlie?” Colin asked. “You up for dessert?”
“I’m going to pass,” I told him. “I might get something back at our hotel.”
Hugh asked, “So you guys going to hang for a while?”
Nate answered, “Long enough for our order.”
“I think I’m going to head back,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’d like to get a shower and climb into bed.”
“I’ll go back, too,” I added. “I need to wash out this shirt before the stain sets.”
“It’s never too soon to take off stains,” Colin observed, looking me in the eye, “and it’s never too late for dessert.”
As Hugh and I walked to the hotel, he asked, “What was Colin talking about—it’s never too late for dessert.”
“I don’t know. He’s always off kilter a little bit.”
We didn’t say anything more until the elevator opened on Hugh’s floor.
“So we don’t need to talk?” I asked.
Hugh held the door with his hand and stared at the floor, half-lifting his head as he remarked, “That was some pretty wild shit.” The open-door buzzer sounded. “I don’t know that I’ll be up for anything like that again. I think we topped ourselves for all time, Charlie.”
My stomach knotted up.
Hugh stepped back into the elevator, let the door close behind him, shoved me into a corner, and kissed me passionately. A tone signaled we were nearing my floor. Hugh searched my eyes.
“Now that it’s happened, I don’t see why it shouldn’t happen again,” he said, barely raising his voice. “But I want it to be just us, where we can have fun like we always do—but with this, too. Stuff like tonight? It’s exciting, but it gets real old real fast.” He kissed me again and told me, “Now get to sleep. You’ve got a big pitch in the morning.”
I patted Hugh’s cheek. “You know you’re my guy, right?”
He smiled. “I better be. Fuck all you want. But if you ever bump me aside so another guy can take my place…”
“Go take your shower.”
After I got my stuff done, I dozed off without getting to the bottom of the thing. What was the catalyst? Where did the magic appear? An amazing thing had happened, a thing I never thought possible. Having my greatest dream materialize unexpectedly left me limp, yet deeply gratified.
It was nearly midnight when my room phone chirped. I slurred “Hello” into the receiver.
“Are you asleep? I’m sorry.”
Colin.
“Hang on,” I said, fumbling for the light. “What’s up?”
He brightened. “So did you get your dessert?”
“Oh. I bagged that.”
“Too bad,” he replied. “Or maybe not.”
“Maybe not?”
“I thought you might want to sneak up for a treat.”
I had no clue what he was talking about. “Did you order another dessert after you got back?”
“No. But—“
A light started flickering in my head. “Are you being coy?”
“Yes,” he answered flatly, continuing, “Shall I tell you what’s up here?” I had no doubt he’d rehearsed his lines a few times before he picked up the phone. Colin loves to rehearse. “Well, right now it’s in a white wrapper with a bow around the middle.”
I flashed on Colin in a hotel bathrobe too short for his six-and-a-half-foot frame. I could see him propped up in bed, his long, runners’ legs sprawled in front of him, crossed mid-calf, with his big, jock feet pointed at the ceiling. I saw the robe loosely tied, open above the waist, draping the smooth, broad chest beneath it. His muscular arms filled out the sleeves. His long, corded neck flushed red with anticipation, as did the oversized ears that protruded from his close-cropped haircut. His Nordic blue eyes narrowed as he waited for my response and his wide mouth curled into a lopsided grin that displayed perfect teeth.
Since Colin joined the agency several years back, he’d been the alternative that kept my steady diet of Hugh visions fresh. They were so unlike one another, yet both were breathtakingly irresistible. Nothing like this had ever passed between us. I couldn’t imagine why now. Was I in some kind of cosmic vapor lock where every fantasy comes alive? Or was I just surrounded by horny friends who finally figured out I was good for more than ad campaigns? Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to worry about figuring it out.
“So,” I said, “I’m assuming this dessert is exclusively available in your room.”
“You’d be correct to think that.”
“And—“
“Uh-huh?”
“Supposing, if it sounded tasty enough to get out of bed—“
“It’s tasty,” Colin said. “And there’s plenty of it.”
“I imagine there is. So, suppose I decide to come up for dessert, could you do me a favor?”
“Name it.”
“Before you open the door, would you undo the bow—just the bow—but keep the wrapper on? Half-wrapped treats make my mouth water.”
“1836,” Colin said. “One-eight-three-six.”
“On my way.”
PART ONE: HUGH’S FANCY BATHROOM ADVENTURE
There were five of us: Stacey, the account manager; Nathan, the account executive; Colin, the strategist; Hugh, the senior partner; and me, the “idea guy.” We were in town to pitch a new campaign to a client that loved our work and us. And, at the risk of sounding smug, I’ll confess both were easy to love. Our work was exemplary—smart, eye-catching, and memorable—which was often said of us as well.
Though the client was only an hour-and-a-half away by air, we’d flown in the night before to avoid delays and cancellations. The M.O. for these junkets was always the same: arrive late afternoon, register wherever Nathan’s assistant put us, take an hour for calls and email, and regroup for dinner.
The concierge sent us to a restaurant a few blocks down the street, one of those tony spots with heavy carpet, furniture, and linens famous for its outstanding steaks, seafood and wine list. As we ate and drank, the wine and rich food worked their magic. At one point, my mind floated above the conversation to wonder what other patrons made of us—four guys and a girl laughing and talking over each other and touching one another affectionately.
We skipped dessert for a stroll to the harbor that passed several historic sites. Being the resident trivia buff, I provided running commentary. We wandered back by a different way, passing the Excelsior Regis, that grand dame of luxury hotels known for dozens of cameo appearances in turn-of-the-century novels.
“Have you guys ever been in here?” Hugh asked. None of us had. “We really should pop in,” he said. “It’s like stepping back in time—one of those palaces you see in costume pictures and think don’t exist any more.”
Naturally, I was dying for a peek. The others needed persuading. They had work to do and were tired and wanted to go over their part of the presentation and so on. It was a little game we often played, “Saying ‘No’ to Hugh,” that let him slide into seductive mode, charming us into doing what he wanted. It always ended with him winning, but it was fun to let him work his mojo on us.
Hugh didn’t exaggerate. All that was missing from the lobby bar were ladies in lace and bustles and men with handlebar moustaches and watch fobs dangling from their vests. The chandeliers and ferns, marble-top tables and crushed velvet chairs, felt like they’d been there forever. Classical music traipsed above our heads.
“What is this? I know it, but can’t remember the composer.” Nathan said as we crowded around an impractically tiny table.
“It’s Schubert, the A-minor quartet,” I said.
“Listen to Mr. Smarty-Pants,” Colin teased. “I bet you can’t name Megadeth’s 14th album.”
“I can’t,” I admitted, “because they’ve only recorded 12 to date—at least, I’m pretty sure it’s 12.”
“Busted!” Stacey crowed.
“I gotta hit the head,” Hugh said. “Order me a Miller Light.”
Nathan laughed. “You’re gonna drink Miller here? That’s funny.”
Hugh grinned and sauntered off. After placing our order, Stacey said, “OK, Charlie, we know you’re chomping at the bit. Tell us who lived here, died here, and all the other reasons why it’s famous.”
I was knee-deep in the Excelsior Regis résumé when Hugh returned with an even bigger grin on his face.
“You are not going to believe it,” he said.
“What?” Nate asked. “The bathroom attendant’s in a turban and pantaloons?”
“Not bad,” Hugh replied. “Okay. So I walk into the john and it’s exactly what you’d expect—no urinals, just a long row of stalls with full doors on them, not louvered saloon doors, but doors like you hang in your house.”
Colin smirked. “Sounds like a fancy version of the porn shop by me.”
“Ewwww! How do you know that?” Stacey asked.
Before Colin could continue, Hugh said, “You’re getting warmer.”
“No!” I said. “Don’t tell me they’ve drilled glory holes between the stalls.”
“Of course not,” Hugh answered.
True to form, Stacey’s fascination got the better of her. She couldn’t help pressing for more information. “They really do that in adult bookstores—the glory holes?”
Nathan piped up. “In bookstores and libraries and bars and big hardware stores, anywhere there’s a lot men on the loose looking for anonymous action.”
“Methinks you know too much, Nate,” I said.
“Oh, come on, you know there’s a part of your crowd that loves hanging out in bathrooms in case a straight boy shows up needing some attention.”
“It’s not a gay thing?” Stacey asked.
Colin jumped in. “It’s a man thing, darlin’. All we are is dicks prowling for holes. And if it’s been a while since we’ve found one, any hole will do, even one in a wall.” He winked at me before adding, “I’m not talking from personal experience, of course. It’s never come to that, knock wood.”
“So peep shows are full of ugly, lonely guys—“
“Ugly and lonely have nothing to do with it,” I offered. “Horny is the leveler. I’ve only done it a few times. Every time the hottie-to-troll ratio was pretty much 50-50.”
“Will you guys shut up and let me finish?”
We let Hugh go on.
“Alright. So I go into one of the rooms, which are about the size of a walk-in closet. And when I come out, this kid's standing there—maybe 22, 25, a little androgynous-looking, but not like a drag queen or anything. I nod as I go to the sink. When I look in the mirror, he’s standing behind me. You know what he says?”
“How about a blowjob?’” I interjected.
Colin burst into laughter. Nate howled, “Get out!” topped by Stacey’s “Shut the fuck up!”
Hugh gives us second to settle down before telling us, “His exact words were, ‘Dude, I want to suck you off sooooo bad.’”
We asked, “What did you say?”
“Well,” Hugh replied, “you know, it’s not the first time it's happened. And I kind of felt sorry for the guy. He wasn’t bad looking or creepy or anything. I stare at him in the mirror while I dry my hands. I can tell he’s a little scared because I haven’t answered yet. When I turn around, he backs off and I say, ‘It’s really nice of you to offer. But that’s one of those things you gotta earn. Sorry.’”
“Why didn’t you show him your wedding ring?” Stacey asked.
“Are you kidding?” I said. “That’s the biggest turn-on. What did he do? Just walk out?”
“No. He said, ‘Okay,’ and went back into a stall at the end of the room.”
“You think he’s still there?” Nate wondered.
“Probably.”
I stood up. “Come on. We gotta go back.”
“Forget it,” Hugh replied. “It’s no big deal.”
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Why? What are you gonna do? Scratch his eyes out?”
“Maybe.”
Hugh smirked. “That’s appealing, watching two gay guys in a catfight. Sit down.”
“Go!” Nate insisted. “It might be fun.”
“Yeah,” Stacey chimed in. “See what happens and come back and tell us.”
Hugh glanced at Colin, who gave him a “Why-not?” look. He got up. “Get me another beer because this one will be warm by the time we come back.”
“What, are you going Russia?”
“Practically,” Hugh said. “It’s way the hell on the other side, by the hair salon and old-lady clothes shop.”
“We’ll be right back,” I told them. As we crossed the lobby, Hugh asked what I planned to do. “You’ll see,” I said.
The bathroom was as still as a mausoleum, and felt like one—cool, tastefully lighted, with fresh-cut flowers on the long marble vanity and 10 or so white doors lined up like graves. We stopped just inside. Hugh nodded toward the end of the room. “He’s down there.”
I motioned for him to lower his ear to my mouth. “Call him. Ask if he’s still here.” He gave me a curious look. “Just do it,” I said.
“Hello?” Hugh said as though he were yelling into a dark cave. “Are you still around?”
The end door flew open and the kid leapt out. When he saw me, he froze. I grabbed Hugh’s hand and pulled him along. About halfway to the guy, I put on my stern, high-school-principal face. "We need to talk.”
For a second, I thought the child was going to pass out. Then he pulled his diva lever. His posture stiffened, his head tilted, and he tucked in his chin. “Talk about what?”
We were eyeball-to-eyeball and he wasn’t flinching. “Talk about what? Let’s talk about you propositioning my man, bitch.”
“Your man?” the kid replied his best Jerry-Springer, ghetto, trailer-trash tone.
It was on and Hugo couldn’t have been more delighted. He took my arm. “Honey, it’s okay. We should go.”
“Uh-huh!” I shot back. “This child needs to understand she can’t go around hitting on every man she sees!”
“Who you callin’ a child?” the kid said indignantly, followed by Hugo’s “Who you callin’ a ‘she’?”
“Shut up, Harvey,” I said.
Hugo asked, “Harvey? Who’s—“
“Shut. Up.”
He looked at the kid. “See what I put up with?” I withered him with a glare.
The kid sized up Hugo and checked to see if I caught it. Honestly? I liked his nerve. “You’re a fine man,” he said. “Why would you deal with that shit?”
“Because I’m the best shit he’s ever had and I plan to be the last. It’s lucky for you I’m not one of those violent queens, because I don’t tolerate bitches messing with my man. I don’t care if you knew about me or not. You don’t mess with my man! Got that? I only came here because when, uh, Harvey told me what you said, I wanted to be a good guy and warn you. Next time, you may hit on someone with a lover who'll beat your head in.”
The kid dug through his shoulder bag, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.
“You’re not supposed to smoke in here,” Hugh said.
I rolled my eyes. The kid blew out a thick sheet of white smoke. He gave Hugh a long, hard stare. “You’re not queer.”
Hugh asked, “What?”
“I don’t get a queer vibe off you. Besides, you’re wearing a ring.” He looked at me. “You’re so queer all you’re missing is a neon ‘HOMO’ sign. But your friend's so straight he can hardly bend over.” He scowled at me. “I don’t know what you’re up to with this. All I know he’s straight, you’re gay, and you may be close friends, but you sure as hell ain’t lovers. So why don’t you just get the fuck out of my business?”
Hugh didn’t give me a chance to answer. “You should get your gaydar checked. I’ve been gay all of my life.”
The kid dropped his cigarette to the floor and snuffed it out with his foot. “I don’t have time for this,” he hissed. He shoved his way between Hugh and me. Then, a few feet from the door, he turned around. “Prove it.”
“Prove what?” I asked.
He nodded at Hugh. “I’m talking to him. Prove you’re gay and he’s your lover.”
“We don’t have prove anything to you,” I said.
“Yeah,” Hugh joined in. “How would we prove it anyway?”
The question fell between him and us like an anvil and we all stared at the floor until the kid announced, “I want to watch him blow you.”
I didn’t say anything and Hugh took a second or two to come up with a reply. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have a problem with that except we’re not staying at this hotel. Better luck next time.”
The kid locked eyes with me and took a few small steps in our direction. He clearly saw that the idea worked for me. In a weird way, we instantly bonded.
I’d dreamt of sex with Hugh longer than I care to say—for nearly 20 years, back to the day I was an upstart creative and he was rounding out his career as a print model. Then, when he jumped to my side of the business, our agency hired him and we were together constantly. It was total agony to be so close to him, knowing it was all there would be. But I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.
When he started his own shop, I was his first hire. Over the years, as we traveled the world and became lifelong mates, we did everything but fuck. We shared the same bed God knows how many times. Went camping and swimming, where we thought nothing of showering together. We woke up at the end of long flights, one’s head on the other’s shoulder. Almost every morning started with a bright smile and peck on the lips. We teased his wife we were brothers with incest issues, and the doll that she is, she’d joke back with a proverb I’m pretty sure she coined: “Oh well. Nature does as nature wills.”
Of course, kidding and flirting don’t always lead to kissing and fucking. They seldom do. I lived with that. Not in a million years could I have predicted this. What started as a gag—an unkind gag, I hate to say—turned into a miracle.
“I wasn’t inviting myself up to your room,” the kid said. “I meant do it here.”
Hugh exclaimed, “You’re out of your mind!”
The trade’s response was so ingenious I almost kissed him. He shook his head. “See? Right there. That’s a straight tell. You’re like, what, 40? 45? And you’re scared of getting blown in a public bathroom—especially one like this? Dude, really. Look at this place. It’s fucking built for sex, fucking brilliant. Hell, I just found it last week and I’ve already broke the bank. I mean I have done it all. Two nights ago? Five dudes—“ He counted them off on his fingers. “One, two, three, four, five crammed into one of these shitholes and we didn’t come out for an hour. It was off the charts. And you’ve been gay your whole life? Fuck. You’re stinkin’ up the place with your bullshit.”
Hugh wasn’t going to let some tearoom trade half his age get by with that. He took my hand. His was quivering and clammy.
“Look, ass wipe,” he fired back. “Because I’m uncomfortable letting my lover blow me in a public toilet in front of a complete stranger has nothing to do with being gay. And I just want to say, as a gay man, I find your presumption we’re all sex-crazed lunatics ridiculous and offensive. You know every guy you do in here is probably straight. Gay guys don’t have to hang out in johns. Christ, have you got a lot to learn!”
“Nice try, Harvey,” the kid said. “Very smart and very correct. But nobody’s buying it. Your, uh, friend hasn’t blinked.”
I felt Hugh’s eyes bore into the side of my head. I shrugged. “It’s not my decision.”
My answer hung in the air awhile before Hugh broke the tension. After a deep, noticeably relieved breath, he told the kid, “I guess any door will do. Pick one.”
The kid smiled. I wanted to smile. It may have been the first time I’d ever seen Hugh on the other side of the “Say ‘No’” game. I couldn’t believe he lost. More than that, I couldn’t believe I won the grand prize.
“Third from the end,” the kid said.
We walked in front him. “What the hell’s happening?” I asked.
“What you’ve always wanted,” Hugh mumbled under his breath. “Now I wish we’d already done it a long time ago. I’m kind of nervous.”
“It’ll be over before you know it.”
“That’s what makes me nervous. That, and not being able to get it up.”
“Leave it to me,” I said.
We stepped into the stall. It was exactly as Hugh described it—spacious and secure. The kid followed, silently shutting the door behind him and inching by to sit on the toilet. “Should I do a drum roll?” he jested.
Hugh and I faced each other. I dropped to my knees. We both shook. He held his waist with both hands and looked down at me with a blinding grin.
“What?” I asked.
“You gotta admit,” he answered, “it’s pretty fucking exciting.”
The kid agreed. “It’s hot already.”
As I unbuckled Hugh’s belt, I asked the kid’s name. “Chaz,” he replied.
“Like in Charles?”
“Yeah, but nobody calls me that. Just Chaz.”
“That’s wild,” I said. “I’m Charles, too. Only everybody calls me Charlie.”
Hugh reached over to shake Chaz’s hand. “I’m Hugh, by the way.”
Chaz replied, “You look like a Hugh. You sure as hell weren’t no Harvey.”
With that, everything unexpectedly bent and melted into the surreal in the truest, strictest sense of feeling more than real—an incredibly alert, waking dream free of time and space and taboos and caution.
Hugh interrupted me just before I lowered his fly. “Chaz, can I ask a favor?”
“What?”
“Can you turn off your phone? I don’t want this showing up in the Internet.”
Chaz took the phone from his jeans pocket. “You hold on to it.”
Hugh took advantage of storing the phone in his pocket to adjust his dick. A modest bulge formed in front of me. “Ready?” I asked.
“Go for it.”
I opened his pants and automatically reached for him, having known for years Hugh never wore underwear. It took a bit to fish his cock from the dense canopy of hair above it.
It’s complicated to describe what I felt, as the element of surprise that comes with a first encounter went missing. Knowing what to anticipate after seeing him naked so many times made it feel strange. It wasn’t what I’d imagined in 20 years’ worth of jerking off to imaginary situations with him. The hot-blooded excitement I hoped for wasn’t there. Instead, there was something else, a peculiar kind of freedom and comfort that came from Hugh and I crossing a line together, a boundary we respected far too long.
As I was well aware, his dick was beautiful, which didn’t shock me the first time I saw it, since everything about him was beautiful. Hugh had no singular outstanding feature, as many print models do—mesmerizing eyes or granite chin or v-shaped frame. His assemblage of superb parts made him unbearably sexy. And though it had been years since his last national ad—an underwear shot that college girls ripped out of GQ and taped to their walls, and many boys folded away for private study—the stuff he was made of hadn’t faded.
I’d touched him everywhere but here, and a thrill rushed over me while I coddled him in my hand. He felt it, too. His dick grew heavier as it thickened and extended. Flaccid, it was just like the rest of him—perfectly sized, with a lovely head capping a meaty cylinder rooted in an notably large and round, close-hanging sac. In my fantasies, his erections were simply rigid versions of the relaxed dick I’d admired for years. At rest, it often hung close to seven inches, and I never imagined it growing much longer, which turned out to be accurate. At best, he gained another inch or so. What took me by surprise was seeing his girth nearly double as blood surged through a single, wide vein that meandered out of his scrotum to imprint his heartbeat on my palm. It kept widening until it appeared as if his balls were shrinking.
Chaz leaned in for a look, exclaiming, “Shit, that’s one gorgeous fat dick!”
I smiled up at Hugh. He arched one jet-black eyebrow and his chestnut eyes glinted with gold.
The instant his cock grazed my tongue it released a bittersweet stream of pre-ejaculate, arousing every sense cloistered in my mouth. Hugh wrapped his left hand around the back of my head and pulled me to him until he entirely vanished into the far reaches of my throat. All the while, the breadth of his dick expanded. Quickly, my jaws and cheeks and gullet ached from accommodating him. He pressed my face as close as nature allowed. I suppressed every reflex that resisted him. I clamped my hands against his legs, which burned like hot iron under his clothes. Water spilled from my eyes into the thicket of nightshade that scrubbed my cheeks and forehead.
If it killed me, I would not embarrass us by choking and fighting for breath.
“Holy fuck,” Chaz whispered admiringly.
Hugh answered with a deep moan. “The best.”
He let go and I fell back on my heels. He brushed my cheeks and mouth with swift, brusque swipes, as though I were his six-year-old son. While I set out to know this Hugh I’d never met, he freed his shirt from his pants and unbuttoned it, revealing a pasture of curly black splendor billowing over his fit torso. I planted my hand flat against his middle. He laid his hand over mine and steered it upward to rub his chest. The move lifted me to full height on my knees. I kissed his stomach and teased his navel. His manhood angled between us, laying its head on my shoulder like a love child. I lowered his pants with my free hand, giving Chaz a first glance at Hugh’s deliciously large sac suspended above two tight, sinewy legs tufted with dark filigree.
The kid sighed and groped himself. He stared at Hugh, who guided my face back into his mossy gut. I grazed there gratefully—living a moment I’d harbored so long. He pulled my hand from his chest and kissed each fingertip. The touch of his lips caused my insides to collapse. My free hand wandered behind to caress his tawny ass. Hugh his mouth against my open palm, following with a scorching breath and near-silent whimper. He laid it across his cheek as he told Chaz, “It’s okay with me.”
Unsure what he meant, I looked around to see Chaz scrambling out of his pants. A leaky spot bloomed on the front panel of his briefs, which came off so rapidly his dick—harder than rock, somewhat slender, but remarkably long, with a delightful upturned curve—sprung free and bounced against his shirttails. He grabbed it and shuddered.
Hugh nudged me to look again at Chaz. “What do you think?”
I nodded favorably. “It’s pretty.”
“Thanks,” Chaz said, modestly.
“Charlie likes young cock,” Hugh said.
“I like pretty cock,” I corrected. I reached for Hugh’s dick. Because of its heft, it bolted straight out like an oversized flagpole. “That’s why I like this.”
Hugh told Chaz, “He hasn’t got tired of looking at it for 20 years.”
Confusion fluttered across his face. “So you guys really are lovers?”
“We’ve been in love forever,” Hugh replied. “Only it’s complicated—not how you think, with me being straight and married—but because we love each other so much. Wouldn’t you say that, Charles?”
“Chaz doesn’t really care about that,” I said. “He just wants to look at you. And who can blame him?”
“So I’m just a chunk of man meat and nothing more?” Hugh kidded.
“Pretty much,” I answered and went back down on him. He lightly pushed me off.
“Hold on,” he said. He gripped his dick at its base and circled the head a half-dozen times with his finger, unleashing a fresh helping of pre-cum that hung mid-air like a strand of melted sugar. “For our guest,” he said, lowering his finger into Chaz’s mouth. Chaz clasped Hugh’s hand between both of his and nursed his finger like a cock. His hunger fired something ravenous in me. I was insatiable in my determination to uncover everything I’d never known about Hugh’s sex, to discern every flavor, ripple, and run of his prize, from the back of his shaved balls to the shiny silk inside the slit.
We never held secrets from one another. We never blushed to say what crossed our minds. This time was no different. As I worked, he directed.
“Just the head,” he panted. “Make love to it. Yeah. Feel that? Feel it throbbing? It’s loving your love… Oh. That’s sweet. Swallow the whole thing for me? Like that. Holy fucking shit, Charlie! Hold still. Can I pump your mouth? Mmmm... Stroke his dick, Charlie. While you suck me dick, play with his. Yah. Like that. That’s fucking crazy…”
The stall was suffocating as the three of us heaved and groaned. Hugh repeatedly wiped sweat from his face. My shirt glued itself to my back. Everything was damp and heavy and torrid and couldn’t have been better.
Then the bathroom door opened.
We froze.
“You guys in here?” It was Colin. “Hugh? Charlie?” Nobody breathed. “I wonder where they went,” he mumbled, and that was that.
Hugh held up a finger to hang on a minute longer. Once he felt sure Colin wasn’t coming back, we started again. Then Hugh stopped us. “It doesn’t seem fair if Chaz doesn’t get a little—since he did throw this party and it’s his only chance.”
I read Hugh immediately. “His only chance” meant I had many more ahead. How could I refuse? “Sure,” I answered. “Except I get the cream.”
“Is that okay, Chaz?”
“Absolutely.”
He rose from the toilet and Hugh eased him back to his seat. “Stay put. If I know Charlie, he’s dying to get a taste of you.”
Frankly, it hadn’t crossed my mind. But now that he mentioned it…
After wiggling one leg from his pants, Hugh stood over the toilet, bending his knees to lower his cock to Chaz’s face. Looking at his muscular, hairy rump summoned countless visions of burrowing into its wonders. I had to let that go and stick with the plan. There’d be time for that another time.
Chaz made the same mistake I would have had I been in his place. He tried to do what I’d done—swallow Hugh whole, not realizing I’d wanted his cock for so long I was able to force my reflexes to back off. For me, it was all about Hugh. For Chaz, it was all about Hugh’s dick and, naturally, he choked.
“You don’t need to take it all. Just enjoy it,” Hugh told him lovingly. A tinge of jealousy flushed through me and I knew I had to bridle it. I pulled off Chaz’s jeans and hoisted his long, downy legs over my shoulders before making my descent.
It was a precious cock—supple, compliant, and responsive to every stroke of my tongue. It became imminently clear Chaz’s experience was largely limited to younger guys and tea room trade, because things I do without thinking—massaging a man’s inner thighs, strumming his balls with my fingers, flicking at the underside of his head with my tongue’s tip—garnered appreciative gasps. I really liked this kid and I really liked pleasing him.
As Hugh steadily dropped to give Chaz more freedom, his ass jutted closer to me, finally rubbing against my head. His hands came around to spread his cheeks. I let go of Chaz to watch as his middle fingers pried open his hole, revealing the slick pink satin inside. Crafting my tongue into a missile, I plunged into it. He greeted my landing with a squelched roar that spun into a yelps of joy. With hardly a thought, I decided to let Hugh do with just that much until next time. Instead, I moistened my index and middle fingers and deftly slipped them inside him while returning most of my attention to blowing Chaz.
My dick, which had gone unnoticed the entire while, reared up like a puppy eager to play with a toy it had been eying through a fence. It whined and pleaded with me to let it out to get at Hugh’s ass. I felt overwhelmed with sensory overload—confused, actually—with Chaz’s velvet-skinned rod in my mouth, its curve causing it to scrape the back of my throat, Hugh’s tight ass clenched around my fingers, riding them, the sphincter intuitively dilating to draw them in, my probing inside him, stroking his gland to elicit trembles and moans, and then my dick begging to be loosed, which caught me completely off-guard, as I never once imagined fucking Hugh. In every scenario, he fucked and filled me. And now, I wanted nothing more than climbing into him.
It would wait for another place and time when we had more time and space.
Chaz’s cries came more regularly, with greater intensity. Clearly, he was brinking. I pulled my fingers from Hugh, who arched his back and turned to see. “Catch it all, Charlie,” he instructed. That hadn’t been my plan. I had a rule about strangers coming in my mouth. But before I could protest, Chaz’s entire body shook and a torrent of the purest, sweetest juice I’ve ever tasted poured over my tongue. Swallowing it without pause scared me. I drew back and held his dick like a Roman candle, feeling wave after wave of come burst from his balls and streak through him to soar into the air. One stream slapped a silver-white stripe across Hugh’s woolly ass, which he flexed into hard marble as he jerked his cock feverishly. There was no way to resist licking it clean.
Hugh dropped his head to look at himself and howled, “Fuckin’ all!” He swung around to me. “Lean back against Chaz! Hurry!”
I tumbled into place and laid my head in the kid’s crotch. With one hand, Hugh grabbed me by the armpit and yanked me up near his balls. I felt a wet streak down the back of my shirt, but didn’t care.
“Open your mouth.” Hugh steadied my head in his hands and slammed his fat meat into my throat, fucking my mouth with lecherous gusto. Between the furious squashing of his balls over my eyes, I caught glimpses of Chaz’s face submerged in Hugh’s haunches. That pleased me somehow.
“Ah! Shit! Shit!” Hugh wailed. He stumbled back, pinning Chaz between his ass and the wall. He seized his cock in a tight fist and aimed it at my gaping mouth, flooding it with pearly fire. His come was strong and pungent and virile. It was him. I drank every bit of it down, savoring the sensation of it oozing its way into my system.
Suddenly aware he’d smashed Chaz behind him, Hugh lurched forward on his toes, propping one arm on the wall. As his erection subsided, tardy drops of cream collected on the head. I shimmied up to collect them, running Hugh’s dick over my teeth. He laughed and checked his watch.
He hurried to get dressed. “We’ve been gone 20 minutes,” he said.
“You guys are great,” Chaz said softly.
“So are you,” I replied. “You’ll never know what this did for us.”
“You really won’t,” Hugh agreed. He tucked in his shirt. “Do you want my card, to stay in touch?”
“Nah. It always sounds like a good idea, but it never works out.”
“He’s right,” I confirmed.
He handed Chaz his phone. “Well, I guess this is ‘Thanks.’”
“Yeah,” Chaz said. “Thanks. Really.”
I thanked him, too, and added, “But I mean it. Don’t go hitting on strange guys like you did with Hugh. It’s trouble waiting to happen.”
“I hear ya.”
By the time we got back to the lobby, we had our story straight—down to the stain on my shirt.
“We thought we’d have a look around and got so lost,” Hugh explained. “You know these old hotels are like mazes. At one point we wound up in the service hall and Charlie spilled melted ice cream down his shirt. Finally we found a room service waiter who gave us directions.”
“What about the kid?” Stacey asked.
“Oh,” Hugh replied. “I forgot about him. Yeah. He wasn’t around when we went back.”
“Huh,” Nate said. “Well, we got tired of waiting and ordered dessert. You guys want anything?”
“Nothing to eat,” Hugh said. “A glass of water maybe.”
“How about you, Charlie?” Colin asked. “You up for dessert?”
“I’m going to pass,” I told him. “I might get something back at our hotel.”
Hugh asked, “So you guys going to hang for a while?”
Nate answered, “Long enough for our order.”
“I think I’m going to head back,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’d like to get a shower and climb into bed.”
“I’ll go back, too,” I added. “I need to wash out this shirt before the stain sets.”
“It’s never too soon to take off stains,” Colin observed, looking me in the eye, “and it’s never too late for dessert.”
As Hugh and I walked to the hotel, he asked, “What was Colin talking about—it’s never too late for dessert.”
“I don’t know. He’s always off kilter a little bit.”
We didn’t say anything more until the elevator opened on Hugh’s floor.
“So we don’t need to talk?” I asked.
Hugh held the door with his hand and stared at the floor, half-lifting his head as he remarked, “That was some pretty wild shit.” The open-door buzzer sounded. “I don’t know that I’ll be up for anything like that again. I think we topped ourselves for all time, Charlie.”
My stomach knotted up.
Hugh stepped back into the elevator, let the door close behind him, shoved me into a corner, and kissed me passionately. A tone signaled we were nearing my floor. Hugh searched my eyes.
“Now that it’s happened, I don’t see why it shouldn’t happen again,” he said, barely raising his voice. “But I want it to be just us, where we can have fun like we always do—but with this, too. Stuff like tonight? It’s exciting, but it gets real old real fast.” He kissed me again and told me, “Now get to sleep. You’ve got a big pitch in the morning.”
I patted Hugh’s cheek. “You know you’re my guy, right?”
He smiled. “I better be. Fuck all you want. But if you ever bump me aside so another guy can take my place…”
“Go take your shower.”
After I got my stuff done, I dozed off without getting to the bottom of the thing. What was the catalyst? Where did the magic appear? An amazing thing had happened, a thing I never thought possible. Having my greatest dream materialize unexpectedly left me limp, yet deeply gratified.
It was nearly midnight when my room phone chirped. I slurred “Hello” into the receiver.
“Are you asleep? I’m sorry.”
Colin.
“Hang on,” I said, fumbling for the light. “What’s up?”
He brightened. “So did you get your dessert?”
“Oh. I bagged that.”
“Too bad,” he replied. “Or maybe not.”
“Maybe not?”
“I thought you might want to sneak up for a treat.”
I had no clue what he was talking about. “Did you order another dessert after you got back?”
“No. But—“
A light started flickering in my head. “Are you being coy?”
“Yes,” he answered flatly, continuing, “Shall I tell you what’s up here?” I had no doubt he’d rehearsed his lines a few times before he picked up the phone. Colin loves to rehearse. “Well, right now it’s in a white wrapper with a bow around the middle.”
I flashed on Colin in a hotel bathrobe too short for his six-and-a-half-foot frame. I could see him propped up in bed, his long, runners’ legs sprawled in front of him, crossed mid-calf, with his big, jock feet pointed at the ceiling. I saw the robe loosely tied, open above the waist, draping the smooth, broad chest beneath it. His muscular arms filled out the sleeves. His long, corded neck flushed red with anticipation, as did the oversized ears that protruded from his close-cropped haircut. His Nordic blue eyes narrowed as he waited for my response and his wide mouth curled into a lopsided grin that displayed perfect teeth.
Since Colin joined the agency several years back, he’d been the alternative that kept my steady diet of Hugh visions fresh. They were so unlike one another, yet both were breathtakingly irresistible. Nothing like this had ever passed between us. I couldn’t imagine why now. Was I in some kind of cosmic vapor lock where every fantasy comes alive? Or was I just surrounded by horny friends who finally figured out I was good for more than ad campaigns? Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to worry about figuring it out.
“So,” I said, “I’m assuming this dessert is exclusively available in your room.”
“You’d be correct to think that.”
“And—“
“Uh-huh?”
“Supposing, if it sounded tasty enough to get out of bed—“
“It’s tasty,” Colin said. “And there’s plenty of it.”
“I imagine there is. So, suppose I decide to come up for dessert, could you do me a favor?”
“Name it.”
“Before you open the door, would you undo the bow—just the bow—but keep the wrapper on? Half-wrapped treats make my mouth water.”
“1836,” Colin said. “One-eight-three-six.”
“On my way.”
Coming: PART TWO: COLIN’S MIDNIGHT TREAT
