Craiger
JUB Addict
Now I remember. However, his introduction to this story was hilarious.
Craiger
Craiger
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Speedway
- Thread starter EasyRory
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EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Thirty-Five - Fundamentals
I got home in the early afternoon. It was a pretty nice day, one of the first warm ones of the spring and as long as I was detailing cars I thought I might as well detail my truck. I dragged some old cutoffs out from the bottom of the closet and added a sweat shirt because it wasn't really blazing hot. A half hour into waxing, however, I took the sweatshirt off. The day was plenty warm and physical exertion added to the heat generation. Suddenly I caught a flash of light and a real surprise. A totally nude guy appeared and vanished as fast as he came.
“You'll get a sun burn,” I called out, figuring he was hiding on the opposite side of my truck. A head popped up.
“Hey.” I gave him a hey back. “I'm Otis. Vince calls me The Flash,” he said in a mechanical monotone.
“I know. Paul told me about you. What do you want me to call you?”
“You can call me Flash.”
“Ok, Flash. You know I wash cars naked, right? When I want to be sure the paint doesn't get scratched?”
“I did not know that. You're almost naked now.”
“Almost,” I acknowledged. He nodded very soberly and walked around to my side of the truck.
“I can see your penis. It goes from here to here.” With a gentle touch and perfect accuracy, he touched the part of my shorts that covered the base and the tip of my penis. He was like a doctor; there was nothing sexual in his touch.
“I can see your penis, too. In fact, everybody can.”
“Yes,” he grinned.
“OTIS!!! FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!” Vince came running carrying a pair of jeans. “Hey, Racer. I'm sorry about this,” he said handing the jeans to Otis.
Otis looked at the jeans as if they were something totally new to him and then asked, “Is Racer your name? I like that name. Racer,” he repeated.
“Put them ON!” Vince urged and Otis complied. There was an amazing change. The jeans both covered and revealed; they clung here and draped there. Naked, Otis was an innocent clinical specimen; in a pair of jeans, he looked hot and sexy. I think he knew it. There was an 'oh-yeah' look in his eyes; but he didn't say anything, just grinned.
Vince sighed in relief. “Come on, let's go inside.”
“Goodbye, Racer. I hope I see you almost naked again.” Otis had a charming smile; and he seemed to know it.
I watched them walk back to Vince's. Halfway there Otis put his hand in Vince's and said something that made Vince laugh. It became obvious to me why Paul was not Otis's biggest fan. Vince was totally in love; and I think Otis knew that, too.
I went back to work and was finishing up as B. J. drove in. He stopped at the row of mailboxes and unloaded ours. He looked so handsome in his gray suit; I thought he could easily get more attention fully clothed than Otis would naked.
“Hey,” I said and kissed him. He recoiled.
“Don't kiss me outside, Racer! He frantically looked around for potential witnesses.
“You're worried about a kiss? I met a guy today who showed up naked!”
“Otis? Yeah, he's one of a kind. ” B. J. hurried inside and began leafing through the mail.
“You know him?” I followed him indoors.
“Here's one for you,” he said handing me a stiff envelop. I didn't recognize the Louisiana return address. “He showed up on the porch one day naked and then ran when Vince chased him.”
“He popped up when I was polishing my truck. He said I was almost naked. I guess he was right.” I had put my sweat shirt back on but I was still wearing the cutoffs.
B. J. sat in the chair and looked up at me. “He's right. I can see your dick. It goes from right here to ...” I backed away from his touch.
“Really? Otis said the same thing. Maybe I should ditch these shorts.”
“Don't. I think they look great. You illustrate Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle. You're nude and not nude at the same time.” He pulled me against his face and nuzzled my cock, biting it gently through the shorts. I hoped he'd pull them off, but he didn't. “What's your mail?” he asked.
I opened the envelope and pulled out a photograph protected by two pieces of cardboard. I couldn't help but smile at the picture. It was Adam and a puppy. The puppy was mostly black with white on his face and two of his enormous-looking paws; he was fuzzy and irresistible, the kind you just have to hug. Adam held him sitting up in his lap. The back of the photo said, 'I'm calling him Racer. Hope you don't mind.' It was signed simply 'A'. I showed the picture to B. J. “It's the cop in Monroe. Remember him at the bus station when you left?”
B. J. grinned at the picture and said, “Yeah, I remember.” He looked up at me and asked, “Want a drink? We can sit outside.”
I changed into long pants while B. J. made the drinks. Then he changed to sweats while I carried the icy vodka outside and sat in a chair. The sky was barely orange in the west; the day was already getting dark.
“Let's sit on the floor,” B. J. said when he joined me. “I want to be close to you. Can't do that sittin' in the chairs.” I moved to the floor and B. J. stretched out. He put his head in my lap and looked up, studying my face. “I like it when you touch me,” he said. I put my hand on his face and stroked his two-day old stubble. He smiled and I bent down and kissed him. He moved my hand to his cock. “Mmm … I like it when you touch me there.”
I liked touching him there, too. He responded quickly as I gently massaged him. He put his hand on mine. “Not too much, or I'll come. You can kiss me, though. That would be nice.” He looked so handsome in the dying light.
“Mrs. Lucketts can probably see us,” I told him. “She sees everything.”
“You know why I like you touching me?” He let me think about that for a bit and answered, “Because it reminds me we're connected. I like being with you more than I like being with anyone else,” he echoed Tolstoy's woman on the train and pulled my mouth to his. “That guy with the puppy? Did you fuck him?”
I waited too long to answer, so I had no choice but to be honest. “Yes.”
He lay quietly and took my hand off his cock. He held it and then kissed it. “Do you love me?” It sounded as if he was afraid of my answer.
“Of course I do. There's nobody like you in the world.” I kissed him. “Yes, I love you.”
“Good. That's all I care about.” He sat up and then he stood up. “Come on,” he held out his hand to help me up. In a kind of seamless motion we proceeded from a gently hug on the porch to a fuck in the bedroom. He held me the whole time, kissing me, as if I would try to get away. Once he was in me, he surprised me with his energy. It was a much more vigorous fuck than we'd ever had before. I liked it.
When it was over and we relaxed, I asked him, “Dinner? Or was that protein shake enough?”
“Dinner,” he answered, “But first, you know who I fucked while you were away?” That was a surprise. I held my breath. “Todd Hinkley! Of all the fuckin' people in this fuckin' world to fuck!” He waited for that news to sink in. “It was the worst fuck of my life!”
“How did this 'worst fuck ever' come to happen?”
“Lamar, my boss?”
“Is that his name?”
“Lamar Balcomb, my boss, said, 'You two seem to have some issues. Can't have that. My employees have to work together. You!' We weren't sure who he meant. “You! Fuck him. Right here. Right now.' God-damned Todd actually grinned and started to unzip. Daniel said nothing so I thought … yuck. But ...” B. J. laughed. I wasn't sure what there was to laugh about in this story. “Fuckin' Todd couldn't get it in!!!”
“He was too soft?”
“No, he was too small!!! I was on all fours and that mini-dick of his wasn't long enough to do anything. My big football butt kept him from getting it in!! So Lamar says 'Jeez!' like he's disgusted and then he orders, 'Switch positions' and I fucked Todd. No problem for anybody getting into that scrawny ass. And then he's in tears when I try to pull out. 'Nooo!!' he says. 'Go slow!!!' he says.” With that B. J. stopped talking.
“Wow!” I said. “How does Lamar get you guys to DO stuff like this?”
“I don't really know. It's like there's some spell people are under when they're around him. I asked Susan. I didn't tell her about Todd, of course. And she said she doesn't understand it either, but she said it's being around so much money. People just DO what he wants.”
“Susan?”
“This chick I'm working with ...”
“Speaking of chicken,” I reminded him. We went to Pollo Rico and shared a whole bird. Honesty seemed like the plan for the night so half way through the meal, I came out with it. “I think Tommy Lynn wants me to fuck George Brightwater.”
“Who is George Brightwater?” B. J. asked.
“Tommy Lynn's intern, who I guess he has the hots for; but George is totally inexperienced and I'm supposed to be the teacher. More or less ... I think.”
“You better be positive about that one! Did he actually say 'Fuck him'?”
I tried to recall Tommy Lynn's exact words. 'Fuck him' didn't come to mind. I looked at B. J. and shrugged.
“You gonna eat that biscuit?” B. J. asked, already reaching for it.
I got home in the early afternoon. It was a pretty nice day, one of the first warm ones of the spring and as long as I was detailing cars I thought I might as well detail my truck. I dragged some old cutoffs out from the bottom of the closet and added a sweat shirt because it wasn't really blazing hot. A half hour into waxing, however, I took the sweatshirt off. The day was plenty warm and physical exertion added to the heat generation. Suddenly I caught a flash of light and a real surprise. A totally nude guy appeared and vanished as fast as he came.
“You'll get a sun burn,” I called out, figuring he was hiding on the opposite side of my truck. A head popped up.
“Hey.” I gave him a hey back. “I'm Otis. Vince calls me The Flash,” he said in a mechanical monotone.
“I know. Paul told me about you. What do you want me to call you?”
“You can call me Flash.”
“Ok, Flash. You know I wash cars naked, right? When I want to be sure the paint doesn't get scratched?”
“I did not know that. You're almost naked now.”
“Almost,” I acknowledged. He nodded very soberly and walked around to my side of the truck.
“I can see your penis. It goes from here to here.” With a gentle touch and perfect accuracy, he touched the part of my shorts that covered the base and the tip of my penis. He was like a doctor; there was nothing sexual in his touch.
“I can see your penis, too. In fact, everybody can.”
“Yes,” he grinned.
“OTIS!!! FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!” Vince came running carrying a pair of jeans. “Hey, Racer. I'm sorry about this,” he said handing the jeans to Otis.
Otis looked at the jeans as if they were something totally new to him and then asked, “Is Racer your name? I like that name. Racer,” he repeated.
“Put them ON!” Vince urged and Otis complied. There was an amazing change. The jeans both covered and revealed; they clung here and draped there. Naked, Otis was an innocent clinical specimen; in a pair of jeans, he looked hot and sexy. I think he knew it. There was an 'oh-yeah' look in his eyes; but he didn't say anything, just grinned.
Vince sighed in relief. “Come on, let's go inside.”
“Goodbye, Racer. I hope I see you almost naked again.” Otis had a charming smile; and he seemed to know it.
I watched them walk back to Vince's. Halfway there Otis put his hand in Vince's and said something that made Vince laugh. It became obvious to me why Paul was not Otis's biggest fan. Vince was totally in love; and I think Otis knew that, too.
I went back to work and was finishing up as B. J. drove in. He stopped at the row of mailboxes and unloaded ours. He looked so handsome in his gray suit; I thought he could easily get more attention fully clothed than Otis would naked.
“Hey,” I said and kissed him. He recoiled.
“Don't kiss me outside, Racer! He frantically looked around for potential witnesses.
“You're worried about a kiss? I met a guy today who showed up naked!”
“Otis? Yeah, he's one of a kind. ” B. J. hurried inside and began leafing through the mail.
“You know him?” I followed him indoors.
“Here's one for you,” he said handing me a stiff envelop. I didn't recognize the Louisiana return address. “He showed up on the porch one day naked and then ran when Vince chased him.”
“He popped up when I was polishing my truck. He said I was almost naked. I guess he was right.” I had put my sweat shirt back on but I was still wearing the cutoffs.
B. J. sat in the chair and looked up at me. “He's right. I can see your dick. It goes from right here to ...” I backed away from his touch.
“Really? Otis said the same thing. Maybe I should ditch these shorts.”
“Don't. I think they look great. You illustrate Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle. You're nude and not nude at the same time.” He pulled me against his face and nuzzled my cock, biting it gently through the shorts. I hoped he'd pull them off, but he didn't. “What's your mail?” he asked.
I opened the envelope and pulled out a photograph protected by two pieces of cardboard. I couldn't help but smile at the picture. It was Adam and a puppy. The puppy was mostly black with white on his face and two of his enormous-looking paws; he was fuzzy and irresistible, the kind you just have to hug. Adam held him sitting up in his lap. The back of the photo said, 'I'm calling him Racer. Hope you don't mind.' It was signed simply 'A'. I showed the picture to B. J. “It's the cop in Monroe. Remember him at the bus station when you left?”
B. J. grinned at the picture and said, “Yeah, I remember.” He looked up at me and asked, “Want a drink? We can sit outside.”
I changed into long pants while B. J. made the drinks. Then he changed to sweats while I carried the icy vodka outside and sat in a chair. The sky was barely orange in the west; the day was already getting dark.
“Let's sit on the floor,” B. J. said when he joined me. “I want to be close to you. Can't do that sittin' in the chairs.” I moved to the floor and B. J. stretched out. He put his head in my lap and looked up, studying my face. “I like it when you touch me,” he said. I put my hand on his face and stroked his two-day old stubble. He smiled and I bent down and kissed him. He moved my hand to his cock. “Mmm … I like it when you touch me there.”
I liked touching him there, too. He responded quickly as I gently massaged him. He put his hand on mine. “Not too much, or I'll come. You can kiss me, though. That would be nice.” He looked so handsome in the dying light.
“Mrs. Lucketts can probably see us,” I told him. “She sees everything.”
“You know why I like you touching me?” He let me think about that for a bit and answered, “Because it reminds me we're connected. I like being with you more than I like being with anyone else,” he echoed Tolstoy's woman on the train and pulled my mouth to his. “That guy with the puppy? Did you fuck him?”
I waited too long to answer, so I had no choice but to be honest. “Yes.”
He lay quietly and took my hand off his cock. He held it and then kissed it. “Do you love me?” It sounded as if he was afraid of my answer.
“Of course I do. There's nobody like you in the world.” I kissed him. “Yes, I love you.”
“Good. That's all I care about.” He sat up and then he stood up. “Come on,” he held out his hand to help me up. In a kind of seamless motion we proceeded from a gently hug on the porch to a fuck in the bedroom. He held me the whole time, kissing me, as if I would try to get away. Once he was in me, he surprised me with his energy. It was a much more vigorous fuck than we'd ever had before. I liked it.
When it was over and we relaxed, I asked him, “Dinner? Or was that protein shake enough?”
“Dinner,” he answered, “But first, you know who I fucked while you were away?” That was a surprise. I held my breath. “Todd Hinkley! Of all the fuckin' people in this fuckin' world to fuck!” He waited for that news to sink in. “It was the worst fuck of my life!”
“How did this 'worst fuck ever' come to happen?”
“Lamar, my boss?”
“Is that his name?”
“Lamar Balcomb, my boss, said, 'You two seem to have some issues. Can't have that. My employees have to work together. You!' We weren't sure who he meant. “You! Fuck him. Right here. Right now.' God-damned Todd actually grinned and started to unzip. Daniel said nothing so I thought … yuck. But ...” B. J. laughed. I wasn't sure what there was to laugh about in this story. “Fuckin' Todd couldn't get it in!!!”
“He was too soft?”
“No, he was too small!!! I was on all fours and that mini-dick of his wasn't long enough to do anything. My big football butt kept him from getting it in!! So Lamar says 'Jeez!' like he's disgusted and then he orders, 'Switch positions' and I fucked Todd. No problem for anybody getting into that scrawny ass. And then he's in tears when I try to pull out. 'Nooo!!' he says. 'Go slow!!!' he says.” With that B. J. stopped talking.
“Wow!” I said. “How does Lamar get you guys to DO stuff like this?”
“I don't really know. It's like there's some spell people are under when they're around him. I asked Susan. I didn't tell her about Todd, of course. And she said she doesn't understand it either, but she said it's being around so much money. People just DO what he wants.”
“Susan?”
“This chick I'm working with ...”
“Speaking of chicken,” I reminded him. We went to Pollo Rico and shared a whole bird. Honesty seemed like the plan for the night so half way through the meal, I came out with it. “I think Tommy Lynn wants me to fuck George Brightwater.”
“Who is George Brightwater?” B. J. asked.
“Tommy Lynn's intern, who I guess he has the hots for; but George is totally inexperienced and I'm supposed to be the teacher. More or less ... I think.”
“You better be positive about that one! Did he actually say 'Fuck him'?”
I tried to recall Tommy Lynn's exact words. 'Fuck him' didn't come to mind. I looked at B. J. and shrugged.
“You gonna eat that biscuit?” B. J. asked, already reaching for it.
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Now that's what I'd call a near perfect open relationship. Holding each other close, at the center, sharing their stories, and no one trying to change the other. Accepting the one you love with open arms, no constraints, truly unconditionally. Awesome! 
And, because we know what happened later, it was Tremendous to encounter Otis again!
And, because we know what happened later, it was Tremendous to encounter Otis again!
Yes, it was great to see Otis, our dear dear Otis.
Racer and BJ - what an incredible pair they are.
They are honest about their needs, I guess is what you'd call it - at least for Racer. BJ, the intimidation of the boss.
Racer and BJ - what an incredible pair they are.
They are honest about their needs, I guess is what you'd call it - at least for Racer. BJ, the intimidation of the boss.
Craiger
JUB Addict
I hardily agree with uncut, Chaz and Don. So happy to have Otis back for now. Oddly it seems their true confessions draw them closer. Perhaps it is because the only sex that really matters is when it is mixed with the love they have for each other. I hope Mrs. Luckett gets an eyeful...
Craiger
Craiger
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Thirty-Six - Preliminary Heat
The next day I gave my employment agreement to Tommy Lynn who examined it briefly and said, “I'll give this to Fairfax; he's better at the legal stuff than I am. Did you, uh, have a chance to talk to George?”
“I did. He seems very uncomfortable with the idea of gay sex.”
“Uncomfortable?”
“Well, maybe not uncomfortable. Upset? I said something and he upset a glass of water when he heard me.”
“That's too bad. I had been hoping … He's so attractive … Well, see what you can do. You can buff up the Chevy today, if you want.”
“You're paying me a bunch of money for cars that don't really need much attention.”
“There are things I worry about, Racer; but money isn't one of them. I think George has some investment ideas for you to consider.” Tommy Lynn smiled perfunctorily at me and said, “If you'll excuse me. I have a meeting to attend in town.”
I walked down the hallway to George's office and waited at the door. He was talking very quietly on his phone. “Really … Are you kidding me?” I heard him say and then he slipped a hand down to readjust himself. He did not bring the hand up again and from its rhythmic, repetitive motion, I'd say he was playing with his dick while he whispered to his caller. I coughed, making my presence known and he was plainly startled.
“Talk to you later,” he said into the phone and stood to greet me. “Racer! Come in.” He had a hard on and he either couldn't or didn't try to hide it.
“Is that a pencil in your pocket or are you glad to see me?” I tried Mae West's line on George.
He glanced at the front of his pants and then looked up. “Always glad to see you!” He didn't try to hide the bulge but he didn't acknowledge it either. “Sit down. I'll get an investment schedule Tommy Lynn and I have worked up for you.” He flipped through some folders in the top drawer of a filing cabinet and turned toward me with a thin manila folder in hand. His erection was gone.
“Basically, we want to keep you fairly liquid, minimizing any possibility of loss while we wait for better opportunities. Tommy Lynn is doing this for all his clients, thinking the market looks too pricey at the moment and prices should better reflect risks early next year. So this line represents a short term bond fund while this one is a money market fund with a daily accrual feature. And that's it for now … unless you want some actual cash. A new car? Or truck? A wardrobe? Something like that?”
“No, I didn't plan to spend any of it. I'm good for most things.”
“Ok, I've only seen you in work clothes. I assume that's what those are ...” He gestured at what I was wearing. “But, if you don't mind my saying so, you could use something a little better. Something you could wear to business meetings. That sort of thing.”
“I don't go to business meetings or that sort of thing, George.” Who did he think I was?
“You may in the future. Tommy Lynn likes to put people right into construction projects, apartments, strip malls, things like that. It's very profitable.”
“I don't have that much money ...”
“He likes consortia. Several of his clients can will pool their funds and put the total into a few diverse projects. We can spread the risk that way both among people and among projects. It protects you.”
I smiled at the idea that Tommy Lynn would 'protect' me.
“Ok, not YOU; he will protect your money,” George corrected himself. “I could protect you,” he added in a challenging way.
“From what?”
“Oh … jealous boyfriends, maybe?” I decided not to pursue that thought and thanked George for his time. “You washing cars today?” he asked and promised me lunch when I said yes.
By the time I got the Chevy half done food wouls have been welcome. I was glad to see George arrive. Then I noticed he was empty handed. “No lunch?”
“No nudity?” he countered. I was wearing a pair of briefs - nothing that could possibly scratch the car.
“Tommy Lynn liked the nudity better than I did. You don't want to be getting grease remover on your dick. It stings.” At that, George untied his tie and started on his shirt. “What's up?” I asked.
“I like a swim before lunch when nothing else is going on.” He was unbuckling his pants at this point. “Join me? The pool is on the other side of the garage.”
“Kinda cold for swimming, isn't it?”
“The pool's heated and it's a sunny day. Come on. It feels good.” He removed his boxers and stood nude in front of me.
“I'm all dirty from the car ...”
“There are showers. Come on.” George tugged at his cock. He tugged at it more than he needed to just to get it free from his balls. “Tommy Lynn and Fairfax are in DC at some fund presentation. Nobody's gonna bother us.”
I stripped off my briefs and we walked across the garage with two swinging dicks and a feeling of being naughty boys. “George,” I ventured, “I kinda thought you were ...”
“A thirteen-year-old innocent? Everybody does.” He laughed. “With this ass I didn't get through four years of boarding school and four years of college without somebody trying to hit on it.” He slapped his very round and firm butt to make the point.
“Tommy Lynn thinks ...”
“Everybody does. It gives me an advantage. Ok, chilly part ...” We sprinted across the breezy open pool deck to something the size of a small garage. Inside were changing rooms and showers. “Las cabañas,” George said with a Spanish accent. He dug a bar of soap out of a cabinet and pointed to the men's shower room. We adjusted the water temperature and hopped in. I closed my eyes and relaxed under the prickles of the hard hot spray waiting my turn with the soap.
“WHA ...!” I said when I felt George's hands soaping my back.
“We believe in giving the client full service,” George said. His hands soaped me up and were all over me. It wasn't sexual, but it could have easily become so. “Turn around,” he said and laughed when I hesitated. “I got a stiffie, too. Now turn around,” he repeated. He soaped my cock and then laid his alongside and soaped them together. “Damn you're nice, Racer. Do you really have a boyfriend?” He pulled us close together and grabbed my ass, letting his fingers probe into my crack.
“Yes.”
“He's a lucky dude.” He broke the clinch and said, “Let's hit the pool.”
George was serious about swimming. I kind of paddled around while he did maybe six fast laps with racing turns. He slapped the far end wall, signaling he was done and swam easily to the nearest ladder. “Come on,” he called again and waited for me to join him. We walked to the far end on the pool where there were lounges behind roofless glass walls.
“Here's the tricky part. Will the cold air freeze your balls off before the sun's rays warm 'em up? I'll give you a clue: lying ass-up is better than balls-up.”
I survived the tricky part and lay totally relaxed in the sun. The windscreen helped, of course, and even the occasional chill gust that got through felt good against my skin. I heard George get up and walk to what looked like an ice chest. A beer would be great, I thought, if that's what he was getting. He was getting a tube of sun tan lotion. Feeling him put it on my back was even better than a beer would have been. I awaited a move, but he never made one. He just put the lotion on me and then asked if I'd mind doing him.
“Sure,” I said and copied his actions as exactly as I could remember them. Start at the shoulders, move slowly down, take a quick swipe at the ass and finish with thighs and calves. I thought I was doing it right; but when I was done, he complained.
“I don't think you put enough on my ass,” George said. “I sit at a desk most of the time. Can't be sittin' on a burned butt.” I squeezed out some more of the cream and began spreading it. “Mmmm ...” he sighed. “Don't overlook any parts.”
His ass felt incredibly soft and slick as my hands moved over and under and around. I could feel his muscles tense and relax under my fingers. My dick got almost painfully hard. When I barely grazed across his asshole, he squirmed with pleasure and raised his ass, making my finger penetrate slightly. I pulled away.
“In case you missed it, that was an invitation,” George said. “Climb on ...”
I didn't hesitate. I didn't even think twice. He was gorgeous, ready, and waiting. I straddled him and pushed my dick down into the crack of his ass, sliding around and letting his slickness spread onto me. Once my dick was greased up I pushed deeper, pushing down to his hole. He arched up to meet me. “Do it,” he said pushing back against me. He was as eager as I was. I slide slowly into him in a single motion, drawing a long “Ahhhhh.” We moved slowly at first and then faster as the sexual tension built.
“Wait,” George demanded. I pulled out and he grunted at my exit. “I want to watch,” he said. He rolled over and held his legs up. “Do it,” he said again. I entered him and resumed pumping. “So fuckin' hot!” George said over and over. I reached down and stroked his cock. It didn't take long before he convulsed. “Do it!” he gasped. “Come with me!” A couple more strokes did the deed. I exploded into his ass.
It was awesome. It wasn't exactly a shared pleasure, but we were both ecstatic in our own ways. At that wonderful point when you're through blasting but not through spasming, somewhere in between needing and attaining, that perfect peak of pleasure that you hope lasts forever, I heard my name.
“RACER!” Steps cracked rapidly across the pool deck. “What the FUCK!” It was Tommy Lynn. I'm not sure, but I think I heard George laugh. “SPIRITUAL EXERCISE, FOR GOD'S SAKE!!! THAT'S WHAT I TOLD YOU! I NEVER SAID FUCK HIM!!!”
I watched an annoyed man walking rapidly toward us. Farther back Fairfax Perry stood looking on and laughing. “What are you going to do, TL? Join them?”
Fairfax's words froze Tommy Lynn in place. He turned around and walked back. “I'm going to have a drink,” he said to Fairfax and over his shoulder he called, “And I want the La Gerbille account on my desk in FIVE MINUTES, MR. BRIGHTWATER.”
George was amused. “He never calls me Mr. Brightwater. I guess I better quit playing around and fuck him.”
The next day I gave my employment agreement to Tommy Lynn who examined it briefly and said, “I'll give this to Fairfax; he's better at the legal stuff than I am. Did you, uh, have a chance to talk to George?”
“I did. He seems very uncomfortable with the idea of gay sex.”
“Uncomfortable?”
“Well, maybe not uncomfortable. Upset? I said something and he upset a glass of water when he heard me.”
“That's too bad. I had been hoping … He's so attractive … Well, see what you can do. You can buff up the Chevy today, if you want.”
“You're paying me a bunch of money for cars that don't really need much attention.”
“There are things I worry about, Racer; but money isn't one of them. I think George has some investment ideas for you to consider.” Tommy Lynn smiled perfunctorily at me and said, “If you'll excuse me. I have a meeting to attend in town.”
I walked down the hallway to George's office and waited at the door. He was talking very quietly on his phone. “Really … Are you kidding me?” I heard him say and then he slipped a hand down to readjust himself. He did not bring the hand up again and from its rhythmic, repetitive motion, I'd say he was playing with his dick while he whispered to his caller. I coughed, making my presence known and he was plainly startled.
“Talk to you later,” he said into the phone and stood to greet me. “Racer! Come in.” He had a hard on and he either couldn't or didn't try to hide it.
“Is that a pencil in your pocket or are you glad to see me?” I tried Mae West's line on George.
He glanced at the front of his pants and then looked up. “Always glad to see you!” He didn't try to hide the bulge but he didn't acknowledge it either. “Sit down. I'll get an investment schedule Tommy Lynn and I have worked up for you.” He flipped through some folders in the top drawer of a filing cabinet and turned toward me with a thin manila folder in hand. His erection was gone.
“Basically, we want to keep you fairly liquid, minimizing any possibility of loss while we wait for better opportunities. Tommy Lynn is doing this for all his clients, thinking the market looks too pricey at the moment and prices should better reflect risks early next year. So this line represents a short term bond fund while this one is a money market fund with a daily accrual feature. And that's it for now … unless you want some actual cash. A new car? Or truck? A wardrobe? Something like that?”
“No, I didn't plan to spend any of it. I'm good for most things.”
“Ok, I've only seen you in work clothes. I assume that's what those are ...” He gestured at what I was wearing. “But, if you don't mind my saying so, you could use something a little better. Something you could wear to business meetings. That sort of thing.”
“I don't go to business meetings or that sort of thing, George.” Who did he think I was?
“You may in the future. Tommy Lynn likes to put people right into construction projects, apartments, strip malls, things like that. It's very profitable.”
“I don't have that much money ...”
“He likes consortia. Several of his clients can will pool their funds and put the total into a few diverse projects. We can spread the risk that way both among people and among projects. It protects you.”
I smiled at the idea that Tommy Lynn would 'protect' me.
“Ok, not YOU; he will protect your money,” George corrected himself. “I could protect you,” he added in a challenging way.
“From what?”
“Oh … jealous boyfriends, maybe?” I decided not to pursue that thought and thanked George for his time. “You washing cars today?” he asked and promised me lunch when I said yes.
By the time I got the Chevy half done food wouls have been welcome. I was glad to see George arrive. Then I noticed he was empty handed. “No lunch?”
“No nudity?” he countered. I was wearing a pair of briefs - nothing that could possibly scratch the car.
“Tommy Lynn liked the nudity better than I did. You don't want to be getting grease remover on your dick. It stings.” At that, George untied his tie and started on his shirt. “What's up?” I asked.
“I like a swim before lunch when nothing else is going on.” He was unbuckling his pants at this point. “Join me? The pool is on the other side of the garage.”
“Kinda cold for swimming, isn't it?”
“The pool's heated and it's a sunny day. Come on. It feels good.” He removed his boxers and stood nude in front of me.
“I'm all dirty from the car ...”
“There are showers. Come on.” George tugged at his cock. He tugged at it more than he needed to just to get it free from his balls. “Tommy Lynn and Fairfax are in DC at some fund presentation. Nobody's gonna bother us.”
I stripped off my briefs and we walked across the garage with two swinging dicks and a feeling of being naughty boys. “George,” I ventured, “I kinda thought you were ...”
“A thirteen-year-old innocent? Everybody does.” He laughed. “With this ass I didn't get through four years of boarding school and four years of college without somebody trying to hit on it.” He slapped his very round and firm butt to make the point.
“Tommy Lynn thinks ...”
“Everybody does. It gives me an advantage. Ok, chilly part ...” We sprinted across the breezy open pool deck to something the size of a small garage. Inside were changing rooms and showers. “Las cabañas,” George said with a Spanish accent. He dug a bar of soap out of a cabinet and pointed to the men's shower room. We adjusted the water temperature and hopped in. I closed my eyes and relaxed under the prickles of the hard hot spray waiting my turn with the soap.
“WHA ...!” I said when I felt George's hands soaping my back.
“We believe in giving the client full service,” George said. His hands soaped me up and were all over me. It wasn't sexual, but it could have easily become so. “Turn around,” he said and laughed when I hesitated. “I got a stiffie, too. Now turn around,” he repeated. He soaped my cock and then laid his alongside and soaped them together. “Damn you're nice, Racer. Do you really have a boyfriend?” He pulled us close together and grabbed my ass, letting his fingers probe into my crack.
“Yes.”
“He's a lucky dude.” He broke the clinch and said, “Let's hit the pool.”
George was serious about swimming. I kind of paddled around while he did maybe six fast laps with racing turns. He slapped the far end wall, signaling he was done and swam easily to the nearest ladder. “Come on,” he called again and waited for me to join him. We walked to the far end on the pool where there were lounges behind roofless glass walls.
“Here's the tricky part. Will the cold air freeze your balls off before the sun's rays warm 'em up? I'll give you a clue: lying ass-up is better than balls-up.”
I survived the tricky part and lay totally relaxed in the sun. The windscreen helped, of course, and even the occasional chill gust that got through felt good against my skin. I heard George get up and walk to what looked like an ice chest. A beer would be great, I thought, if that's what he was getting. He was getting a tube of sun tan lotion. Feeling him put it on my back was even better than a beer would have been. I awaited a move, but he never made one. He just put the lotion on me and then asked if I'd mind doing him.
“Sure,” I said and copied his actions as exactly as I could remember them. Start at the shoulders, move slowly down, take a quick swipe at the ass and finish with thighs and calves. I thought I was doing it right; but when I was done, he complained.
“I don't think you put enough on my ass,” George said. “I sit at a desk most of the time. Can't be sittin' on a burned butt.” I squeezed out some more of the cream and began spreading it. “Mmmm ...” he sighed. “Don't overlook any parts.”
His ass felt incredibly soft and slick as my hands moved over and under and around. I could feel his muscles tense and relax under my fingers. My dick got almost painfully hard. When I barely grazed across his asshole, he squirmed with pleasure and raised his ass, making my finger penetrate slightly. I pulled away.
“In case you missed it, that was an invitation,” George said. “Climb on ...”
I didn't hesitate. I didn't even think twice. He was gorgeous, ready, and waiting. I straddled him and pushed my dick down into the crack of his ass, sliding around and letting his slickness spread onto me. Once my dick was greased up I pushed deeper, pushing down to his hole. He arched up to meet me. “Do it,” he said pushing back against me. He was as eager as I was. I slide slowly into him in a single motion, drawing a long “Ahhhhh.” We moved slowly at first and then faster as the sexual tension built.
“Wait,” George demanded. I pulled out and he grunted at my exit. “I want to watch,” he said. He rolled over and held his legs up. “Do it,” he said again. I entered him and resumed pumping. “So fuckin' hot!” George said over and over. I reached down and stroked his cock. It didn't take long before he convulsed. “Do it!” he gasped. “Come with me!” A couple more strokes did the deed. I exploded into his ass.
It was awesome. It wasn't exactly a shared pleasure, but we were both ecstatic in our own ways. At that wonderful point when you're through blasting but not through spasming, somewhere in between needing and attaining, that perfect peak of pleasure that you hope lasts forever, I heard my name.
“RACER!” Steps cracked rapidly across the pool deck. “What the FUCK!” It was Tommy Lynn. I'm not sure, but I think I heard George laugh. “SPIRITUAL EXERCISE, FOR GOD'S SAKE!!! THAT'S WHAT I TOLD YOU! I NEVER SAID FUCK HIM!!!”
I watched an annoyed man walking rapidly toward us. Farther back Fairfax Perry stood looking on and laughing. “What are you going to do, TL? Join them?”
Fairfax's words froze Tommy Lynn in place. He turned around and walked back. “I'm going to have a drink,” he said to Fairfax and over his shoulder he called, “And I want the La Gerbille account on my desk in FIVE MINUTES, MR. BRIGHTWATER.”
George was amused. “He never calls me Mr. Brightwater. I guess I better quit playing around and fuck him.”
You snuck that chapter in on me. Damn,that was hot.
He does have a wonderful bubble butt.
He does have a wonderful bubble butt.
Craiger
JUB Addict
Love it. Tommy Lynn has been beaten at his own game. Of course this may end Racer's detailing work, but I doubt it. After a drink and a fuck from George, he'll be putty in their hands. I like sneaky George.... Thanks Rory.
Craiger
Craiger
FastOne
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I'm sure this is precisely what TL was keen to get a look at!
As for Mr. Brightwater, if getting fucked by the carwash boy is the way he needs to earn his respect, then so be it! Not that Racer can be fairly described as a carwash boy, but to me it sounds hotter that way.
As for Mr. Brightwater, if getting fucked by the carwash boy is the way he needs to earn his respect, then so be it! Not that Racer can be fairly described as a carwash boy, but to me it sounds hotter that way.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
I don't know ... I try not to criticize, but Racer is turning into a ... I can't say it.
A male Xaviera Hollander? Close to a sexaholic?
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Thirty-Seven - Debriefing
Driving back to Warrenton, I felt great and attributed it to three things. While Tommy Lynn reduced my pay, he still gave me two-fifty for washing one car; I didn't even wash it; it was more like dusting it off. Secondly, George Brightwater was a great fuck. Lastly, if I never see him again, I couldn't care less.
It was about two o'clock when I got home. I thought about a bunch of things I could do, most of them involving cleaning the apartment, and decided a nap was probably my best idea. I was asleep almost before I pulled the bedroom shades down. I got up around five-thirty and decided I could at least change the bed – hadn't done that in a while. In the middle of this B. J. arrived home, giving me an excuse to quit.
“Here, let me help. Have you been cleaning all day? The place looks great!”
“I'm done, Beej. No problem. You need a shower? 'Cause if you don't, I'm taking one.”
“First one naked gets the shower,” B. J. dared. I won. “No fair. You weren't wearing much to start with.” By then he was naked as well. “Besides, it's big enough for two in there … unless you get a hard on.” He grabbed me and kissed me. “But then I'll have something to hold onto.” His hands slowly slid down my back and grabbed my butt. “Racer, we don't have many rules. So I'm making one.”
Immediately my mind conjured up what the rule would be. No more fucking George Brightwater.
“Henceforth and forever more it's illegal for you to wear clothes in the house.” He knelt and began sucking my cock and then backed away. “Maybe you DO need a shower. Come on.” He pulled me by the hand into the bathroom and ran the water.
I guess my household rule would have to be: ALWAYS take a shower after you fuck George Brightwater. Then the nagging thought festered. Should I tell B. J.? Or let sleeping dogs lie? Do people really share EVERY little detail of their lives? Is that mandatory in a relationship? I was distracted, though. After a bit of soap and water B. J. decided to was safe to start sucking my cock again. Which he is very good at.
“You want to eat something?” I asked him.
“I'm eating you at the moment,” he answered and switched to my balls.
“No, seriously ...”
“Ok, to be continued ...” He shut the water off and we dried ourselves. “Let me get your back,” he said. “Damn ...”
“What?”
“You have a beautiful back.” He carefully dried my ass. “And front,” he added. “And … I brought home a new snack that wants an endorsement from the Redskins. Want to try some? It's a combination of nachos and edamame beans. The nachos are extruded to replace the edamame pods and there's a little wasabe-slash-chili stuff in the middle.”
“Sounds like we need plenty of vodka.”
“Do you have to get dressed?”
“It's still light out and people are getting home from work. I can't sit on the porch like this!”
“I wouldn't mind … Then I could look at you … and ...”
“You sure are amorous tonight,” I told him, as I pulled on a hoodie.
“Yeah, well, maybe we should talk about that.” I looked up at him. “Later … on the porch … after we've had a vodka or two,” he said cryptically.
Later, on the porch, after two vodkas, it came out. “Racer ...” He stalled. “Racer, I fucked Todd Hinkley again.”
“Your asshole boss made you do it AGAIN?”
“No. I fucked him because it was a slow day, he offered, and I accepted. I have NO IDEA why I did it. He isn't even a good fuck. Never mind that, he isn't even attractive! HE's fuckin' UGLY! I just … did.” He sipped at the vodka and turned to gauge my reaction. He took my silence as disapproval. “I'm sorry, Race. I don't know why I did it. He's nothing even close to you. He's ugly … and stupid … and that tiny dick ...”
“Did you come?”
“I did. He … he's got a nice ass. I have to give him that. Nothing like you, though. Nothing AT ALL like you! … Say something, Race. You're breakin' my heart!”
I sipped the fiery vodka. Somehow, telling Beej that I had done basically the same thing didn't seem like my best option. Maybe I should have, good idea or no; but I didn't. Another thought occurred to me.
“Did you wear a rubber?”
“Of course.”
“Do you love me?” I echoed B. J.'s question after I told him about Adam.
“I love you so much ...” He tried to demonstrate with a kiss but landed it on my my cheek.
In a very solemn tone I asked him, “Can I have another vodka?” He waited to see the start of a smile on my face before he kissed me and then delivered a deluge of I-love-you's. “What about the vodka?” I asked again.
“I'm making this terrible confession and trying to convince you that I love you; so don't make a joke out of it.” He poured more icy liquid into my glass and then leaned back against the wall of the building.
I straddled his lap and kissed him. “I'm not making a joke.” I drank the rest of the glass and kissed him some more. “Put your God-damned arms around me, Beej.” He grabbed me and knew he was forgiven. Not that there was anything to forgive. Just a young horny dude being a young horny dude, right? I could feel the firmness of his erection under my butt and gyrated slowly on it.
“Racer, baby ...” he sighed. His hands were under my hoodie, undoing my pants. “Help me. Help me get 'em off!”
“On the porch? Everybody can see!”
“It's dark. Nobody's around … I want you so much ...”
It's really awesome cumming while he's fuckin' me. There is something perfect about it, so different from when you're doing the fucking. Plus, added benefit, a B. J. fuck makes me sleep like Rip Van Winkle. I didn't get up until after nine the next morning and felt all stretchy and purry like a cat or something. Except for burping. Those edamame stuffed nachos were not ready for market.
I had a bowl of granola and took advantage of the start of a sunny day. My truck looked good, it just needed a little buffing here and there and some work on the chrome wheels. I set to it.
“Good morning, Racer,” said a strange voice.
“Hey, Otis.” I could hear him, but I couldn't see him. He liked a gradual approach to people. “Where are you?”
“I'm here!” His head poked around the corner of the tailgate and looked at me for a while. “You are very handsome naked.”
“Almost naked,” I corrected him. “I'm wearing cutoffs.”
“You were not wearing cutoffs last night and you looked very handsome.”
“You saw me on the porch?” I'm not sure why I blushed at the thought.
“I saw your boyfriend, too. Your penis is bigger than his. Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
“You let him hurt you.”
It took me a while to figure out what Otis meant. “Only a little at first. We didn't have any lubricant.”
“I rely on drippin' and spittin'. That is what Vince says when he fucks without lubricant.”
I laughed. Humor wasn't what I expected from Otis. “That's funny. You and Vince ...”
“No,” Otis said abruptly. “We don't fuck.”
“I told B. J. that we shouldn't have done it on the porch. I told him someone might see.”
“I think he loves you. He kissed you when it was over.”
“He just about kissed me all night long. He's always affectionate after he comes.” I paused to wonder why I was telling Otis all this personal stuff. I'd never say it to anyone else.
“I wish Vince would fuck me and kiss me just about all night long.”
“Maybe he will.”
“No. He will not. He says he won't take advantage of me. What does that mean?”
“Take advantage means he doesn't want to make you do something you don't want to do.”
“I want him to fuck me. My penis aches when he says no.”
“He likes you very much, Otis. Maybe he will change his mind.”
“How do you know he likes me?”
“He smiles when he sees you. His face lights up when you talk to him.”
“Thank you for telling me that. You have a very big penis. Not as big as my friend Mike. His is ...” Otis held his hands varying distances apart. “I am not sure. I have not seen it hard.”
“There you are! Fully clothed, too!” Just like I said, Vince's face lit up when he saw Otis.
“See how happy he is to see you,” I whispered to Otis, who ignored me and smiled back at Vince. I could have been invisible; for a long instant they were totally absorbed in each other.
“Hey, Racer,” Vince said when their private moment ended. “Are you ready?” he said to Otis. Apparently Otis was not, because he sprinted back into Vince's apartment.
“We're going to buy Otis some sexy underwear. Maybe he'll be happy flashing that around instead of flashing himself,” Vince explained. “I keep telling him he's gonna get arrested.”
“He likes you.”
“He does. He likes everybody. AND he's got a girl friend called Vicki.”
“Vicki La Gerbille?” I asked. I guess something in my voice told Vince about my history with Vicki.
“You, too? My God, that girl gets around.” Vince's attention turned back to Otis who came out of the apartment with his hair freshly combed, sort of. “Let's go, Ace.”
“My name is Otis.”
“I know.” The look they shared was pure love.
Driving back to Warrenton, I felt great and attributed it to three things. While Tommy Lynn reduced my pay, he still gave me two-fifty for washing one car; I didn't even wash it; it was more like dusting it off. Secondly, George Brightwater was a great fuck. Lastly, if I never see him again, I couldn't care less.
It was about two o'clock when I got home. I thought about a bunch of things I could do, most of them involving cleaning the apartment, and decided a nap was probably my best idea. I was asleep almost before I pulled the bedroom shades down. I got up around five-thirty and decided I could at least change the bed – hadn't done that in a while. In the middle of this B. J. arrived home, giving me an excuse to quit.
“Here, let me help. Have you been cleaning all day? The place looks great!”
“I'm done, Beej. No problem. You need a shower? 'Cause if you don't, I'm taking one.”
“First one naked gets the shower,” B. J. dared. I won. “No fair. You weren't wearing much to start with.” By then he was naked as well. “Besides, it's big enough for two in there … unless you get a hard on.” He grabbed me and kissed me. “But then I'll have something to hold onto.” His hands slowly slid down my back and grabbed my butt. “Racer, we don't have many rules. So I'm making one.”
Immediately my mind conjured up what the rule would be. No more fucking George Brightwater.
“Henceforth and forever more it's illegal for you to wear clothes in the house.” He knelt and began sucking my cock and then backed away. “Maybe you DO need a shower. Come on.” He pulled me by the hand into the bathroom and ran the water.
I guess my household rule would have to be: ALWAYS take a shower after you fuck George Brightwater. Then the nagging thought festered. Should I tell B. J.? Or let sleeping dogs lie? Do people really share EVERY little detail of their lives? Is that mandatory in a relationship? I was distracted, though. After a bit of soap and water B. J. decided to was safe to start sucking my cock again. Which he is very good at.
“You want to eat something?” I asked him.
“I'm eating you at the moment,” he answered and switched to my balls.
“No, seriously ...”
“Ok, to be continued ...” He shut the water off and we dried ourselves. “Let me get your back,” he said. “Damn ...”
“What?”
“You have a beautiful back.” He carefully dried my ass. “And front,” he added. “And … I brought home a new snack that wants an endorsement from the Redskins. Want to try some? It's a combination of nachos and edamame beans. The nachos are extruded to replace the edamame pods and there's a little wasabe-slash-chili stuff in the middle.”
“Sounds like we need plenty of vodka.”
“Do you have to get dressed?”
“It's still light out and people are getting home from work. I can't sit on the porch like this!”
“I wouldn't mind … Then I could look at you … and ...”
“You sure are amorous tonight,” I told him, as I pulled on a hoodie.
“Yeah, well, maybe we should talk about that.” I looked up at him. “Later … on the porch … after we've had a vodka or two,” he said cryptically.
Later, on the porch, after two vodkas, it came out. “Racer ...” He stalled. “Racer, I fucked Todd Hinkley again.”
“Your asshole boss made you do it AGAIN?”
“No. I fucked him because it was a slow day, he offered, and I accepted. I have NO IDEA why I did it. He isn't even a good fuck. Never mind that, he isn't even attractive! HE's fuckin' UGLY! I just … did.” He sipped at the vodka and turned to gauge my reaction. He took my silence as disapproval. “I'm sorry, Race. I don't know why I did it. He's nothing even close to you. He's ugly … and stupid … and that tiny dick ...”
“Did you come?”
“I did. He … he's got a nice ass. I have to give him that. Nothing like you, though. Nothing AT ALL like you! … Say something, Race. You're breakin' my heart!”
I sipped the fiery vodka. Somehow, telling Beej that I had done basically the same thing didn't seem like my best option. Maybe I should have, good idea or no; but I didn't. Another thought occurred to me.
“Did you wear a rubber?”
“Of course.”
“Do you love me?” I echoed B. J.'s question after I told him about Adam.
“I love you so much ...” He tried to demonstrate with a kiss but landed it on my my cheek.
In a very solemn tone I asked him, “Can I have another vodka?” He waited to see the start of a smile on my face before he kissed me and then delivered a deluge of I-love-you's. “What about the vodka?” I asked again.
“I'm making this terrible confession and trying to convince you that I love you; so don't make a joke out of it.” He poured more icy liquid into my glass and then leaned back against the wall of the building.
I straddled his lap and kissed him. “I'm not making a joke.” I drank the rest of the glass and kissed him some more. “Put your God-damned arms around me, Beej.” He grabbed me and knew he was forgiven. Not that there was anything to forgive. Just a young horny dude being a young horny dude, right? I could feel the firmness of his erection under my butt and gyrated slowly on it.
“Racer, baby ...” he sighed. His hands were under my hoodie, undoing my pants. “Help me. Help me get 'em off!”
“On the porch? Everybody can see!”
“It's dark. Nobody's around … I want you so much ...”
It's really awesome cumming while he's fuckin' me. There is something perfect about it, so different from when you're doing the fucking. Plus, added benefit, a B. J. fuck makes me sleep like Rip Van Winkle. I didn't get up until after nine the next morning and felt all stretchy and purry like a cat or something. Except for burping. Those edamame stuffed nachos were not ready for market.
I had a bowl of granola and took advantage of the start of a sunny day. My truck looked good, it just needed a little buffing here and there and some work on the chrome wheels. I set to it.
“Good morning, Racer,” said a strange voice.
“Hey, Otis.” I could hear him, but I couldn't see him. He liked a gradual approach to people. “Where are you?”
“I'm here!” His head poked around the corner of the tailgate and looked at me for a while. “You are very handsome naked.”
“Almost naked,” I corrected him. “I'm wearing cutoffs.”
“You were not wearing cutoffs last night and you looked very handsome.”
“You saw me on the porch?” I'm not sure why I blushed at the thought.
“I saw your boyfriend, too. Your penis is bigger than his. Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
“You let him hurt you.”
It took me a while to figure out what Otis meant. “Only a little at first. We didn't have any lubricant.”
“I rely on drippin' and spittin'. That is what Vince says when he fucks without lubricant.”
I laughed. Humor wasn't what I expected from Otis. “That's funny. You and Vince ...”
“No,” Otis said abruptly. “We don't fuck.”
“I told B. J. that we shouldn't have done it on the porch. I told him someone might see.”
“I think he loves you. He kissed you when it was over.”
“He just about kissed me all night long. He's always affectionate after he comes.” I paused to wonder why I was telling Otis all this personal stuff. I'd never say it to anyone else.
“I wish Vince would fuck me and kiss me just about all night long.”
“Maybe he will.”
“No. He will not. He says he won't take advantage of me. What does that mean?”
“Take advantage means he doesn't want to make you do something you don't want to do.”
“I want him to fuck me. My penis aches when he says no.”
“He likes you very much, Otis. Maybe he will change his mind.”
“How do you know he likes me?”
“He smiles when he sees you. His face lights up when you talk to him.”
“Thank you for telling me that. You have a very big penis. Not as big as my friend Mike. His is ...” Otis held his hands varying distances apart. “I am not sure. I have not seen it hard.”
“There you are! Fully clothed, too!” Just like I said, Vince's face lit up when he saw Otis.
“See how happy he is to see you,” I whispered to Otis, who ignored me and smiled back at Vince. I could have been invisible; for a long instant they were totally absorbed in each other.
“Hey, Racer,” Vince said when their private moment ended. “Are you ready?” he said to Otis. Apparently Otis was not, because he sprinted back into Vince's apartment.
“We're going to buy Otis some sexy underwear. Maybe he'll be happy flashing that around instead of flashing himself,” Vince explained. “I keep telling him he's gonna get arrested.”
“He likes you.”
“He does. He likes everybody. AND he's got a girl friend called Vicki.”
“Vicki La Gerbille?” I asked. I guess something in my voice told Vince about my history with Vicki.
“You, too? My God, that girl gets around.” Vince's attention turned back to Otis who came out of the apartment with his hair freshly combed, sort of. “Let's go, Ace.”
“My name is Otis.”
“I know.” The look they shared was pure love.
Rory,
A semi-confusing but great none-the-less chapter.
Racer and BJ with their casual cum-fests with others then coming home to the ones they truly love.
And Otis and Vince - and George and Vicki - amazing how evocative just the names and the limited interaction can be.
A semi-confusing but great none-the-less chapter.
Racer and BJ with their casual cum-fests with others then coming home to the ones they truly love.
And Otis and Vince - and George and Vicki - amazing how evocative just the names and the limited interaction can be.
