bianchi_andreas
Slut
After Mr. Johnson checked his watch for the third time with an impatient snort, I was glad I had arrived at the corporate airstrip twenty minutes ahead of time and that I wasn’t the one holding up our departure. The bank was sending all four candidates for promotion to spend the weekend at a retreat with Johnson, the Division Director, and three of us were already waiting on a windy March afternoon to fly to a cottage the bank leased at a hunting reserve, Morgan Woods Plantation, popularly if crudely known among the younger staff as “Morning Wood Plantation,” a nod to its frequent use for a tryst for the codgers from the fortieth floor and their mistresses.
While waiting, I studied my two rivals for a weakness that I could exploit to my advantage. Joanna Venturi was the only woman in the group, as a matter of fact one of the few women in management at the bank, and she was a firm believer in the idea that females could succeed in business only if they embodied masculine values more clearly than any man would ever dare, so she was aggressive, unsentimental, hard headed and hard hearted. My few encounters with her had always left me feeling that I had a gaping wound hemorrhaging blood somewhere. She was ruthless and ambitious, a formidable opponent.
Chase Radford presented a completely different problem to me. For starters, his background, Phillips Andover, Princeton, Penn’s Wharton School of Business, edged mine, Jesuit Prep, Duke, Virginia, at every turn. Then there was the fact that I thought he was the sexiest man I had ever seen. About my age, twenty-nine, thirty, something like that, tall, dark-haired, with eyes of such an intense blue that I suspected he wore tinted contacts, he had a solid, athletic body that not even his ultraconservative business suits could hide. Unlike the tightly-wound Joanna, Chase was affably charming and somewhat subtle. Something about him, though . . . I couldn’t give it a name, but there was something that left me unsettled, but maybe it was just the fact that he always treated me with such cool disdain.
Finally, a chauffeur-driven limo pulled up to the hangar and disgorged the last candidate, Louis March, the oldest of us, a plump male version of Joanna, just as ruthless and just as ambitious. I was barely able to suppress a chuckle of derision as I watched Louis unload his gear. Although this was a working weekend, he had apparently purchased several pages of merchandise from the Orvis catalog of hunting paraphernalia, and was costumed, there is no other word for it, in a multi-pocketed hunting vest, knee-high boots and an outrageously cocked bush hat, all so stiff they might as well as have the price tags still on them. No slouch in the ambition department, I had taken the precaution of grilling Johnson’s assistant about his usual attire on these trips and was wearing khakis, a button-down shirt and a Shetland wool sweater that didn’t differ too much from what the boss was wearing. Score one for the home team. Since I wasn’t the one who showed up late, I figured I was two up on Louis so far.
Morning Wood, uh . . . Morgan Woods Plantation, I should say, had been developed just above the Florida-Georgia state line, so the flight from Atlanta took about an hour and a half. I sat toward the back of the bank’s Lear jet, next to Louis, who spent the time ignoring me while desperately trying to hear what Mr. Johnson was saying to Joanna and Chase. Fine by me. It gave me time to think about Jon, a guy I had been seeing a lot of lately-- gorgeous face, hot body, dumb as a box of rocks. How, I wondered, could I keep him sniffing around my bed without having to talk to him too much? After a few minutes of thought on that topic that left me mildly aroused, I just stared at the carpet and the upholstery of the interior, anything to keep from watching the sharply-delineated jaw and dancing dimples of Chase Radford. What was it about him that kept me off balance?
We landed at the plantation airstrip at sunset, and a van was waiting to whisk us to one of the “cottages” that dotted the roads, all representing several million dollars of real estate and membership dues, some belonging to corporations, others privately held. The one that the bank leased was modest compared to some, but still quite impressive. This whole area had at one time been a working plantation, slaves, cotton, all that business, but now was a huge private enclave, something like a way upscale golf resort but with a couple of thousand acres of prime coastal plain given over to hunting, especially for small game birds such as quail.
Once inside, Mr. Johnson announced, “Dinner is in a half hour. Unfortunately, there are only four bedrooms. I will take the master suite, of course, and Joanna as the only lady present will have a room to herself, but that will leave two of you gentlemen to double up.” He picked up a small bag from a table in the entrance hall and poured several smooth black and white stones out. Replacing two black and one white in the bag, he held it out for us to draw from. “The two who choose the black stones will share a room.”
I reached in first and I drew out a black stone, then Chase pulled out the other, giving me a blank, unreadable look as he did. Mr. Johnson ran a hand through his stiff grey hair, “Well, that’s decided. Unpack, freshen up, whatever. The dining room is through there, and the main room behind you. We meet there in thirty minutes.” Louis and Joanna actually checked their watches as he said this. Corporate wonks, I sneered to myself.
As we walked down the hall to the room, I thought that as long as he didn’t snore too much, sharing a room with Chase wouldn’t be too bad, better than with Louis at least, but I quickly discovered that my confidence was premature.
There was only one bed in the room.
A huge, four-poster monster, I’ll admit, but one bed nonetheless. I was a little surprised that Chase did not seem at all fazed by the prospect of sharing the bed. Every other straight guy I knew would have been freaking out, but he was methodically unpacking his clothes and hanging them in the closet, cool as a mackerel on ice.
He jerked a thumb at the bathroom, “You need in here before I shower?” I shook my head no, and tried to focus on unpacking rather than on the fact that he was stripping naked behind the door. Once I had my clothes in the closet where his were hanging, I was struck by how similar our stuff was, khakis, tweed slacks, British-knit sweaters and vests. We were both deeply imprinted with that prep school-fraternity-corporate clone culture. Prognosis for individual expression — grim. I changed to a cream-colored Irish sweater and wandered downstairs to the main room of the cottage.
A fire was blazing against the chilly early Spring air, and I flopped back in a chair next to the hearth. Once everyone was assembled, a waiter, dressed in a white canvas tunic with the plantation’s logo of a flying quail embroidered on it, appeared to take drink orders. Chase asked for a glass of red wine; I asked for a white wine; Louis, a scotch and soda; Joanna, a bourbon and water. Mr. Johnson asked for a mineral water, so Louis and Joanna immediately switched to water as well. Chase impressed me by sticking with the wine. Maybe he wasn’t such a suck-up after all.
Mr. Johnson started off dinner by insisting that we not talk about business, leaving that sort of discussion for the next day, and making that announcement was like tossing raw meat to the wolves, setting off a feeding frenzy as Louis and Joanna vied for his attention. For some reason, Mr. Johnson treated Chase indifferently, dismissing the first few comments he made with curt remarks. I realized that the race for the promotion was actually between Joanna and Louis, and I was shocked to recognize that not only did my exclusion not bother me, but that I was not especially interested in pursuing a career in such a rigid and unforgiving environment.
Dinner was an insufferably boring affair. The food was pretentious, stuff like “soufflé of puréed root vegetables with balsamic reduction,” and the jockeying for position was annoying. I amused my self for a bit by watching the dynamics of the table. Mr. Johnson focused on his food; Louis and Joanna focused on Mr. Johnson, each frantically trying to top the other in being obsequious; Chase focused on whoever wasn’t talking, his eyes dark and flat.
After a while, I just watched Chase.
Some dreadfully sweet confection was served for dessert. I took one bite and almost gagged from the cloying richness. Mr. Johnson commented how much he liked it, and Louis and Joanna began shoveling it down, their forks just a blur. We all trooped back to the fireplace in the main room where cigars were passed (me: no, Chase: yes, but he didn’t actually smoke it, Mr. Johnson: enthusiastic yes, so Louis and Joanna’s position need not be verbalized). A bottle of Port was opened. Everyone took a small glass, but I suspect that I was the only one calculating the angles on how to steal the bottle. More boring one-upmanship ensued, but the situation was looking brighter when a second round of Port was proposed. Everyone else declined before I could accept, so the bottle was put away. I felt like a baby when the nipple pops out of his toothless gums, but wailing seemed undignified.
Mr. Johnson eyed Chase and me magisterially. “You two are awfully quiet.”
I stretched and replied, “Long day.” I didn’t mention that in my opinion Louis and Joanna talked enough for all four of us . . . or that I was sulking about the drink situation.
“Well, we do have a full agenda tomorrow, so perhaps we should all call it a day.” A totally wicked thought crossed my mind: who will end up in Mr. Johnson’s bed tonight, Louis or Joanna? I knew that Louis was as straight as they come, but I didn’t doubt for a second that he would take one for the team, swallow hard, think of England, and all that.
When Chase and I return to the room, I saw that the bed had been turned down, the comforter pulled back to reveal the expensive linens. I wondered which was more ominous for my success as a man in such a conservative and straight-laced industry as banking: the fact that I recognize that the trim on the sheets and pillowcases is Battenburg lace or the fact that I wish I had smuggled a bottle of tequila in my suitcase for a surreptitious shot or two. Both about equal on the table of corporate sins, I guess. As I brushed my teeth, I looked in the bathroom mirror and was transfixed by the reflection of Chase undressing behind me. After he tugged his sweater and shirt over his head, it was obvious the hours he had spent in a gym had paid off with a hard, well-defined chest matted with dark, curly hair, the solid mounds of his pecs topped with dark nipples that were begging to be rolled across my tongue. The tight washboard of his abs rippled beneath the skin as he kicked off his shoes and socks. I had to remind myself to breathe as he slid his pants down his huge thighs and stepped out of them. Normally I preferred men in boxers, but his white boxer-briefs stretched tightly across his firm butt and thighs were very arousing, especially the way that the pouch in the front sagged under its heavy burden, making my mouth water.
Chase folded his clothes and put them away in the closet, then padded to the door of the bathroom to ask, “Which side of the bed do you prefer?”
Looking at him, bare-chested, clad only in his underwear, I choked as some toothpaste was inhaled into my lungs. “Doesn’t matter," I spluttered.
“‘Kay,” he grunted as he walked off, the sight of his glutes working under the tautly-stretched fabric setting me off on a fresh round of coughing.
Relief flooded me to see that he crawled into bed wearing his boxer-briefs. I was afraid that he was one of these back-to-nature boys that slept naked, and there is only so much temptation I can resist! He scooted around under the covers and finally rolled onto his side, his back chastely to the center of the bed. It was lucky, too, that I hadn’t had the second glass of Port or the nightcap. A little more alcohol and I would be so totally making a complete fool of myself over that, I thought as I folded my clothes. I left my boxers on and picked up a sweatshirt but decided the room was warm enough that I wouldn’t need it, so I flipped out the light and slipped into bed on my side, my back to Chase. I actually was really tired and in spite of being aroused by the proximity of such a hot man was drifting off the sleep quickly with one last drowsy thought . . . it was odd that I hadn’t noticed his cologne so clearly before, as strongly as if he had just put it on.
I woke up during the night, still lying on my side, feeling hot and uncomfortable. Groggily I realized that the discomfort was caused by Chase being pressed up against me, the hair on his chest prickling my back, his legs fitted against mine, his breath hot and moist on my neck, an arm draped across my chest, with a thumb softly working across one nipple.
And what was that he was pressing into the cleft of my ass?
I snapped fully awake and froze motionless, breathing as shallowly as I could, figuring that he’s sound asleep, right? He must be having a dream about his girlfriend, right? And despite the lack of evidence to the contrary, if I wake him suddenly, he’s going to think that I’m the one molesting him, not the other way around. Several half-baked ideas for slipping out of bed without disturbing him were boiling around in my sleep-addled head, but my logic was short-circuited by the feeling of his hard cock crushed against my butt, and I felt my dick stiffening as my resolve faded. My theory that he was dreaming of a woman was sorely tested as he moved his hand, his fingers trailing lightly against my skin, stopping to play with my chest hair . . . shouldn’t the presence of hair have alerted him that the dream of his lady-love had gone awry?
Those thoughts were quickly pushed aside as his hand moved lower, across my abdomen, pausing at the waistband of my boxers. I remained still, but was furiously sending telepathic messages, trying to will his hand to continue lower, seriously wanting the feel of his fingers working my crotch. A howl of frustration almost escaped me as Chase moved his hand back up my abs and chest, his steady, regular breath still warm and sensual against my neck. His hand sought mine, and he laced our fingers together, his thumb caressing one of my knuckles.
As the coarse hair on his thighs and chest scraped against my skin where he was pressed against me, little shivers ran though me. The heat radiating off his body and the aroma of the woodsy cologne that Chase was wearing contributed to the sensory confusion I was experiencing.
For a few moments we remained cuddled together like that, motionless until Chase began slowly thrusting his hips, sliding his cock along the furrow in my ass, only the thin cotton fabric of my boxers separating us. The erotic movement felt surprisingly good, my cock seeping like crazy as Chase kept gently rubbing against me. Nothing like this had ever happened to me, the weirdly arousing sensation of awakening to the caresses of a near-stranger, the romantic way he tenderly held my hand as he dry-humped me.
Not to mention the fact that he was asleep. He had to be asleep, right?
After a few minutes, the pressure and the speed of his thrusts along the valley between my cheeks were increasing, and his breath came hotter and quicker against my neck. Suddenly, he was crushing my fingers between his, and with a couple of soft grunts in my ear and a bunching of tense muscles against my thighs, my lower back was flooded with hot wetness. We lay there in the dark, locked in a motionless embrace, the only the sound of his gradually-slowing respiration breaking the silence. I was trying to put the pieces together, trying to think of something that Chase had said or done, anything at all, that would let me make sense out of this bizarre turn of events. The scrape of bristles along his jaw against my skin told me that he had kissed my shoulder before rolling back to his side of the bed.
As Chase began softly snoring, I slipped out of bed, rooting noiselessly in the drawer for a clean pair of boxers on my way to the bathroom. Closing the door behind me before I turned on the light, I peeled away my cold and clammy underwear, freeing my hard cock, which was throbbing with indignation at the continued lack of attention. More aroused than I had been in months, I spit into my fist and began jerking off, remembering the sensation of Chase rubbing against me, bringing myself to a shuddering climax in less than a minute. I stared at my panting reflection in the mirror as I cleaned my semen from my abs and that of Chase from my back before pulling on the fresh underwear.
Chase was still lightly snoring as I slid under the comforter and rolled onto my side with my back to him, thinking, He was definitely asleep the whole time. Right? And one of us is crazy.
The next morning I awoke in the bed all alone, with only the wad of stiff underwear in the bottom of my suitcase to prove that the night had not been passed in a peaceful slumber. As I showered, I came up with a plan to watch Chase today for some clue as to what happened last night . . . a wink, a sultry glance, a lewd hand gesture, anything. In appropriate Anglophile attire, tweed slacks, a Fair Isle knit vest, I made my way to the dining room. Joanna and Louis were busy preening for Mr. Johnson and scarcely acknowledged my presence. Chase nodded to me, his deep blue eyes full of the guileless innocence of a child. He looked like his conscience was clear and untroubled, while the sight of him made my crotch tingle as adrenalin surged through my body.
“Here’s how I see the next two days shaping up,” Mr. Johnson began. “I will spend one-on-one time with each of you to find out your thoughts on the job. I will spend this morning with Lucas and this afternoon with Chase, leaving Joanna and Louis for tomorrow before we return to Atlanta. We will get together for dinner tonight, but it will be a fairly casual deal.”
He made at least three of us unhappy with that announcement, Joanna and Louis because they would not have the opportunity all day to shine in his eyes, me because I couldn’t find out if Chase was asleep last night if I wasn’t with him.
A car came by to take Mr. Johnson and me to the plantation’s Conference Center, designed in a Greek Revival style intended to echo antebellum mansions, but much larger. The interview went well, I thought, since without Joanna and Louis shouting me down or Chase distracting me I had an opportunity to show that it wasn’t a mistake to have hired me, let alone to promote me. Johnson looked impressed with some of my thoughts about management techniques and trends in international banking, so as we broke for lunch I was feeling as though I had racked up some major points, a sensation that lasted all the way up to when he looked up from his soup and told me, “You know, I shouldn’t say this, but I feel that I have seen a different aspect of you today, Lucas, so I hope I can be candid.”
This didn’t sound promising, but I was a good sport, so I replied, “Yes, sir, I believe you can lay your cards on the table.”
“Ah, good! I just want to say that I have a rather considerable problem with you and Chase,” he paused to slurp another spoonful of soup while my heart raced. There’s no way he heard anything last night. Besides, Chase was asleep, right? But where did that leave me? Screwed in a number of different ways is where. He patted his napkin against his mouth fastidiously and continued, “You’ve been with the bank for five years, is that correct?” I nodded, wondering where this was going. “For the life of me, the two of you are so much alike, I can’t tell you apart.”
I was confused, “Excuse me?”
The corners of his mouth turned up like a smile, but his eyes remained cool and disengaged. “You have similar faces, similar builds, similar resumes. I used to think that there was actually only one of you and it was some elaborate scam to bilk the bank of salary and benefits.”
I tried to smile and pass this off as some lame joke, but it didn’t look as though Johnson was amused. “Well,” I swallowed hard. “You have seen us in the same room, so the ruse doesn’t seem to be working.” I laughed weakly.
“We are fortunate that women seem to find you both quite attractive and have no problem telling which of you is which, so those of us in the board room rely on our secretaries to figure you two out.”
Suddenly I was in on the code— you are a couple of pretty boys and a threat to the alpha males, so if we don’t take you seriously, poof! the threat is eliminated. I gave my most dazzling smile and played my role of the clueless sex object to perfection. “Maybe we should just wear name tags, clear up the confusion.” The message delivered, Johnson nodded, giving me a more sincere smile, and returned to his soup.
That explained a lot . . . Why he ignored Chase and me at dinner, maybe even why we were interviewed first, get us out of the way so he could concentrate on the real candidates. I was, to tell the truth, a little relieved to have my situation clarified. Watching soup dribbling down Johnson’s chin I wondered if it would be appropriate to wave my finger in his face and admonish, “Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m beautiful!” Maybe better to burn that bridge after I was across it.
I spent the afternoon in the main room at the bank’s cottage. Chase was being grilled by Mr. Johnson, getting the same veiled threat that had been delivered to me, I guess, and Joanna and Louis were whispering in the corner, occasionally throwing dark looks my way. I thought about revealing that I was semi-officially off the roster of candidates, but I was enjoying watching them simmer in their own juices too much to let them in on the secret.
The staff was waiting to serve dinner before Chase and Mr. Johnson returned, so as soon as the two were back we went into the dining room. Tweedledum and Tweedledee began strutting down the catwalk even before we sat, and Chase was his usual blandly amiable self, still not giving me any sign about last night, at least not one that I could recognize. Dinner lasted forever, and the drinks were doled out with such a stingy hand that I suspected the wine steward was a teetotaler, but I soldiered on through the meal and the post-dinner cigar ritual while Johnson held the floor telling anecdotes of his college days with the new Federal Reserve Chairman, which actually were pretty interesting. All I could think about was getting Chase alone and quizzing him about last night. Determined to get answers and my career at the bank shredded, I didn’t care if he did report that I tried to seduce him. Defense Exhibit A would be my boxers significantly stained with his bodily fluids. Ha! Explain that, Mr. Ivy League!
Finally even the two toadies were yawning in Johnson’s face, so we started to break up for the night. As Chase walked out, with me hot on his heels, Johnson fouled my plans by calling me back.
“I must apologize to you, Lucas,” he began expansively. “My remarks to you at lunch were poorly worded and may have left you with an erroneous impression.”
“No, sir,” I said. “You have nothing to apologize to me for.” I’m onto you, you old goat. You’re just worried about a lawsuit.
“I do not want to leave you with the feeling that you are not a valued employee of the bank.” He gestured to one of the wing chairs flanking the roaring fireplace. With an ill-concealed sigh, I sat and nodded politely while I watched his mouth moving for twenty minutes without anything he said registering on me. Yak-yak-yak was all I heard, while Chase was all I thought about. When he finally felt his avuncular duties were discharged and I was dismissed, it took a lot of control to keep from taking the stairs two at a time and sprinting down the hall.
I was bitterly disappointed to open the door into a dark room, the light from the hall revealing that Chase was already in bed, turned on his side away from me. The sight of his naked, broad shoulders and the swath of skin on his back that peeked out from above the duvet gave a jolt of electricity to my crotch and I nearly slammed the door just to wake him up. Instead, I quietly closed the door and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, muttering to my reflection in the mirror that I was an idiot for thinking that I could gain anything by forcing him to talk about an incident last night that there was no way that he would remember. If I brought it up, all I would get is his suspicion that I was some kind of immoral quasi-lunatic. I stripped down to my boxers and folded my clothes, dropping them on the dresser as I cautiously felt my way across the dark room to the bed. As I slid between the covers, I was again struck by the faint whiff of his cologne and as I fell asleep I tried to remember if I had smelled it as I was sitting next to him at dinner. I was sure I hadn’t.
After a while I woke from a fuzzy dream to realize that Chase and I were again locked in a close embrace, just like last night, except that this time, his hand was tenderly caressing my thigh, his fingers trailing so softly against my skin that it was like being brushed by fog, his breath a whisper on my neck. I was slowly coming awake, but my cock had sprung to throbbing hardness almost instantaneously. Up and down my thigh his hand went, the muscle twitching minutely beneath his touch. After an eternity of gentle caresses, his hand slipped inside the leg opening of my boxers and snaked across my leg to my balls, rolling first one and then the other gently between his thumb and forefinger. As his hand finally moved upward, his fingers lightly and rhythmically squeezed the shaft of my cock and his thumb massaged the oozing pre-cum around the head— I was melting under his touch.
Just as delicately as he had started, he stopped and pulled his hand away, again brushing his lips across my shoulder as he rolled away. Last night I was confused. Tonight I was mad.
“So that’s it?” I snorted, exasperated, sensing in the dark that he had stopped in mid-roll. “You feel me up and go back to sleep?”
His voice sounded like he was being choked. “I didn’t know you were awake.”
“What about last night? What was that all about?”
Now he really sounded strangled. “I thought you were asleep then, too.”
This admission was more than I could stand to hear in the dark, so I turned on the light so he could feel the full effect of my glare. He stared at me with enormous eyes, his face flaming red as I frowned at him. “You thought I was asleep both times? That sounds to me like a textbook case of sexual assault. What does it sound like to you?”
“I was hoping that you would wake up and respond, but you just lay there motionless. What was I supposed to think?” He was not really looking at me, but had his eyes fixed on the far wall.
Was this guy for real? I wondered. “Chase, when have you ever given me any indication that you were interested in me? Last night I thought you were having some kind of dream.”
His intense blue eyes slid over to me, and he said softly, “When have you ever let me know that you were interested, either?” I mulled this over for a few seconds and clicked the lamp off again. I judged where he was as best as I could in the sudden darkness and stretched my body on top of his, taking his face into my hands and bending to cover his mouth with mine, his stubble burning my face as I ground my lips against his, our tongues slipping around each other. When I came up for air, I panted, “That is my declaration of interest.”
“Noted,” he murmured as we resumed the kiss.
Chase kissed and nibbled his way down my chest, the exquisite restraint his touch had shown earlier replaced by hungry urgency. He roughly snatched my boxers down my thighs and ignored my whispered plea, “No, I want to taste you,” as he slid my cock deep in his mouth. I closed my eyes and growled a low moan as his tongue ran up and down the shaft, rolling around the head and taking my balls into his mouth.
His quiet chuckle vibrated through my body as he responded to my new request, “Don’t stop. Don’t . . . stop!” He took me deeper and deeper, his skilled tongue flickering over me, exploring and devouring me, hands cupped beneath me, pulling us closer. My fingers were twined in his silky hair, as I groaned and hitched my hips closer to his deliciously skilled mouth. With one hand he massaged my balls while the other worked in wicked tandem with his mouth,
“You taste so good!” he whispered.
“Don’t . . . stop!” I begged as he again took me in his sweetly warm mouth. I slid in and out of his mouth, impaling him on my cock, his breath hot and savage on me until with shaking intensity, a rumbling orgasm erupted out of me. Chase kept his lips clamped tightly around me and swallowed every jet I had.
He licked my cock clean, softly pulling and tugging on my balls and then kissed and licked his way back up my torso to my lips and another passionate kiss, our tongues sliding in and out of our mouths with abandon. As we embraced, Chase lightly caressed my back and then his hand slipped into the furrow of my ass, exploring that territory again. I sensed his longing and knew that it matched my own, so I requested, “I want you inside of me.”
Chase momentary hesitation confused me, then he admitted, “I don’t have a condom.”
Nuzzling his neck I instructed, “Don’t go anywhere,” and fished around in my bag in the dark. Returning to the bed, I slipped the rubber and a tube of lubricant into his hands.
Chase resumed kissing me, and I soon felt his slippery fingers sliding around my pucker, probing and stretching me. A finger pushed in up to the knuckle, pulling out and back in a few times, then a second joined it. I could feel the ring of muscle relaxing and contracting around his hand, eagerly sucking the fingers deeper. Chase hugged me tighter against him, a third finger stretched me further as I rocked against him. He was behind me pulling me tighter, his cock thrusting along the valley between my cheeks, my hard-on slapping against my abs and my balls swaying between my thighs. Chase was breathing onto my neck, hot and wet, his hands ranging across my chest, kneading and pinching my nipples, making them swell and quiver beneath his touch.
“I want you inside me,” I moaned. “Don’t make me beg.”
His growling chuckle reverberated against my back as he wrapped one strong arm around my waist and lifted me up a few inches as with the other hand, he guided his cock against my hungry hole, thrusting into me with a single deft motion, impaling me and filling me, stretching me around his thick cock, the massive head ramming deep inside me. He slammed into me again and again, crushing me to his chest, pulling my head back so that he could cover my mouth with his, thrusting his tongue against mine.
Chase was ramming into me wildly, fucking me harder than I had ever been, dragging long moaning pleas for more from me. The assault was harder and faster than anything I had known, long slamming strokes that felt like he was impaling me all the way to my skull. His hands grasped mine, and Chase wound his fingers through mine, the intense, painful crush a prelude to his orgasm. I arched back against him while a half-dozen groaning cries brushed past my ear and his balls pumped deep inside me.
He held me close. We collapsed slowly onto our sides, drained and exhausted, his cock still twitching and shuddering inside my aching hole. We remained like that for a long while, quiet and still, our sweaty, depleted bodies fused together by passion, comfortable in the embrace.
Chase slipped out of me, but continued to hold me tightly, whispering sweetly in my ear as I fell asleep. When I awoke later, at the first grey light of dawn, I was still cuddled in his embrace, and he was again hard and throbbing, nestled tightly in the valley between my cheeks.
While waiting, I studied my two rivals for a weakness that I could exploit to my advantage. Joanna Venturi was the only woman in the group, as a matter of fact one of the few women in management at the bank, and she was a firm believer in the idea that females could succeed in business only if they embodied masculine values more clearly than any man would ever dare, so she was aggressive, unsentimental, hard headed and hard hearted. My few encounters with her had always left me feeling that I had a gaping wound hemorrhaging blood somewhere. She was ruthless and ambitious, a formidable opponent.
Chase Radford presented a completely different problem to me. For starters, his background, Phillips Andover, Princeton, Penn’s Wharton School of Business, edged mine, Jesuit Prep, Duke, Virginia, at every turn. Then there was the fact that I thought he was the sexiest man I had ever seen. About my age, twenty-nine, thirty, something like that, tall, dark-haired, with eyes of such an intense blue that I suspected he wore tinted contacts, he had a solid, athletic body that not even his ultraconservative business suits could hide. Unlike the tightly-wound Joanna, Chase was affably charming and somewhat subtle. Something about him, though . . . I couldn’t give it a name, but there was something that left me unsettled, but maybe it was just the fact that he always treated me with such cool disdain.
Finally, a chauffeur-driven limo pulled up to the hangar and disgorged the last candidate, Louis March, the oldest of us, a plump male version of Joanna, just as ruthless and just as ambitious. I was barely able to suppress a chuckle of derision as I watched Louis unload his gear. Although this was a working weekend, he had apparently purchased several pages of merchandise from the Orvis catalog of hunting paraphernalia, and was costumed, there is no other word for it, in a multi-pocketed hunting vest, knee-high boots and an outrageously cocked bush hat, all so stiff they might as well as have the price tags still on them. No slouch in the ambition department, I had taken the precaution of grilling Johnson’s assistant about his usual attire on these trips and was wearing khakis, a button-down shirt and a Shetland wool sweater that didn’t differ too much from what the boss was wearing. Score one for the home team. Since I wasn’t the one who showed up late, I figured I was two up on Louis so far.
Morning Wood, uh . . . Morgan Woods Plantation, I should say, had been developed just above the Florida-Georgia state line, so the flight from Atlanta took about an hour and a half. I sat toward the back of the bank’s Lear jet, next to Louis, who spent the time ignoring me while desperately trying to hear what Mr. Johnson was saying to Joanna and Chase. Fine by me. It gave me time to think about Jon, a guy I had been seeing a lot of lately-- gorgeous face, hot body, dumb as a box of rocks. How, I wondered, could I keep him sniffing around my bed without having to talk to him too much? After a few minutes of thought on that topic that left me mildly aroused, I just stared at the carpet and the upholstery of the interior, anything to keep from watching the sharply-delineated jaw and dancing dimples of Chase Radford. What was it about him that kept me off balance?
We landed at the plantation airstrip at sunset, and a van was waiting to whisk us to one of the “cottages” that dotted the roads, all representing several million dollars of real estate and membership dues, some belonging to corporations, others privately held. The one that the bank leased was modest compared to some, but still quite impressive. This whole area had at one time been a working plantation, slaves, cotton, all that business, but now was a huge private enclave, something like a way upscale golf resort but with a couple of thousand acres of prime coastal plain given over to hunting, especially for small game birds such as quail.
Once inside, Mr. Johnson announced, “Dinner is in a half hour. Unfortunately, there are only four bedrooms. I will take the master suite, of course, and Joanna as the only lady present will have a room to herself, but that will leave two of you gentlemen to double up.” He picked up a small bag from a table in the entrance hall and poured several smooth black and white stones out. Replacing two black and one white in the bag, he held it out for us to draw from. “The two who choose the black stones will share a room.”
I reached in first and I drew out a black stone, then Chase pulled out the other, giving me a blank, unreadable look as he did. Mr. Johnson ran a hand through his stiff grey hair, “Well, that’s decided. Unpack, freshen up, whatever. The dining room is through there, and the main room behind you. We meet there in thirty minutes.” Louis and Joanna actually checked their watches as he said this. Corporate wonks, I sneered to myself.
As we walked down the hall to the room, I thought that as long as he didn’t snore too much, sharing a room with Chase wouldn’t be too bad, better than with Louis at least, but I quickly discovered that my confidence was premature.
There was only one bed in the room.
A huge, four-poster monster, I’ll admit, but one bed nonetheless. I was a little surprised that Chase did not seem at all fazed by the prospect of sharing the bed. Every other straight guy I knew would have been freaking out, but he was methodically unpacking his clothes and hanging them in the closet, cool as a mackerel on ice.
He jerked a thumb at the bathroom, “You need in here before I shower?” I shook my head no, and tried to focus on unpacking rather than on the fact that he was stripping naked behind the door. Once I had my clothes in the closet where his were hanging, I was struck by how similar our stuff was, khakis, tweed slacks, British-knit sweaters and vests. We were both deeply imprinted with that prep school-fraternity-corporate clone culture. Prognosis for individual expression — grim. I changed to a cream-colored Irish sweater and wandered downstairs to the main room of the cottage.
A fire was blazing against the chilly early Spring air, and I flopped back in a chair next to the hearth. Once everyone was assembled, a waiter, dressed in a white canvas tunic with the plantation’s logo of a flying quail embroidered on it, appeared to take drink orders. Chase asked for a glass of red wine; I asked for a white wine; Louis, a scotch and soda; Joanna, a bourbon and water. Mr. Johnson asked for a mineral water, so Louis and Joanna immediately switched to water as well. Chase impressed me by sticking with the wine. Maybe he wasn’t such a suck-up after all.
Mr. Johnson started off dinner by insisting that we not talk about business, leaving that sort of discussion for the next day, and making that announcement was like tossing raw meat to the wolves, setting off a feeding frenzy as Louis and Joanna vied for his attention. For some reason, Mr. Johnson treated Chase indifferently, dismissing the first few comments he made with curt remarks. I realized that the race for the promotion was actually between Joanna and Louis, and I was shocked to recognize that not only did my exclusion not bother me, but that I was not especially interested in pursuing a career in such a rigid and unforgiving environment.
Dinner was an insufferably boring affair. The food was pretentious, stuff like “soufflé of puréed root vegetables with balsamic reduction,” and the jockeying for position was annoying. I amused my self for a bit by watching the dynamics of the table. Mr. Johnson focused on his food; Louis and Joanna focused on Mr. Johnson, each frantically trying to top the other in being obsequious; Chase focused on whoever wasn’t talking, his eyes dark and flat.
After a while, I just watched Chase.
Some dreadfully sweet confection was served for dessert. I took one bite and almost gagged from the cloying richness. Mr. Johnson commented how much he liked it, and Louis and Joanna began shoveling it down, their forks just a blur. We all trooped back to the fireplace in the main room where cigars were passed (me: no, Chase: yes, but he didn’t actually smoke it, Mr. Johnson: enthusiastic yes, so Louis and Joanna’s position need not be verbalized). A bottle of Port was opened. Everyone took a small glass, but I suspect that I was the only one calculating the angles on how to steal the bottle. More boring one-upmanship ensued, but the situation was looking brighter when a second round of Port was proposed. Everyone else declined before I could accept, so the bottle was put away. I felt like a baby when the nipple pops out of his toothless gums, but wailing seemed undignified.
Mr. Johnson eyed Chase and me magisterially. “You two are awfully quiet.”
I stretched and replied, “Long day.” I didn’t mention that in my opinion Louis and Joanna talked enough for all four of us . . . or that I was sulking about the drink situation.
“Well, we do have a full agenda tomorrow, so perhaps we should all call it a day.” A totally wicked thought crossed my mind: who will end up in Mr. Johnson’s bed tonight, Louis or Joanna? I knew that Louis was as straight as they come, but I didn’t doubt for a second that he would take one for the team, swallow hard, think of England, and all that.
When Chase and I return to the room, I saw that the bed had been turned down, the comforter pulled back to reveal the expensive linens. I wondered which was more ominous for my success as a man in such a conservative and straight-laced industry as banking: the fact that I recognize that the trim on the sheets and pillowcases is Battenburg lace or the fact that I wish I had smuggled a bottle of tequila in my suitcase for a surreptitious shot or two. Both about equal on the table of corporate sins, I guess. As I brushed my teeth, I looked in the bathroom mirror and was transfixed by the reflection of Chase undressing behind me. After he tugged his sweater and shirt over his head, it was obvious the hours he had spent in a gym had paid off with a hard, well-defined chest matted with dark, curly hair, the solid mounds of his pecs topped with dark nipples that were begging to be rolled across my tongue. The tight washboard of his abs rippled beneath the skin as he kicked off his shoes and socks. I had to remind myself to breathe as he slid his pants down his huge thighs and stepped out of them. Normally I preferred men in boxers, but his white boxer-briefs stretched tightly across his firm butt and thighs were very arousing, especially the way that the pouch in the front sagged under its heavy burden, making my mouth water.
Chase folded his clothes and put them away in the closet, then padded to the door of the bathroom to ask, “Which side of the bed do you prefer?”
Looking at him, bare-chested, clad only in his underwear, I choked as some toothpaste was inhaled into my lungs. “Doesn’t matter," I spluttered.
“‘Kay,” he grunted as he walked off, the sight of his glutes working under the tautly-stretched fabric setting me off on a fresh round of coughing.
Relief flooded me to see that he crawled into bed wearing his boxer-briefs. I was afraid that he was one of these back-to-nature boys that slept naked, and there is only so much temptation I can resist! He scooted around under the covers and finally rolled onto his side, his back chastely to the center of the bed. It was lucky, too, that I hadn’t had the second glass of Port or the nightcap. A little more alcohol and I would be so totally making a complete fool of myself over that, I thought as I folded my clothes. I left my boxers on and picked up a sweatshirt but decided the room was warm enough that I wouldn’t need it, so I flipped out the light and slipped into bed on my side, my back to Chase. I actually was really tired and in spite of being aroused by the proximity of such a hot man was drifting off the sleep quickly with one last drowsy thought . . . it was odd that I hadn’t noticed his cologne so clearly before, as strongly as if he had just put it on.
I woke up during the night, still lying on my side, feeling hot and uncomfortable. Groggily I realized that the discomfort was caused by Chase being pressed up against me, the hair on his chest prickling my back, his legs fitted against mine, his breath hot and moist on my neck, an arm draped across my chest, with a thumb softly working across one nipple.
And what was that he was pressing into the cleft of my ass?
I snapped fully awake and froze motionless, breathing as shallowly as I could, figuring that he’s sound asleep, right? He must be having a dream about his girlfriend, right? And despite the lack of evidence to the contrary, if I wake him suddenly, he’s going to think that I’m the one molesting him, not the other way around. Several half-baked ideas for slipping out of bed without disturbing him were boiling around in my sleep-addled head, but my logic was short-circuited by the feeling of his hard cock crushed against my butt, and I felt my dick stiffening as my resolve faded. My theory that he was dreaming of a woman was sorely tested as he moved his hand, his fingers trailing lightly against my skin, stopping to play with my chest hair . . . shouldn’t the presence of hair have alerted him that the dream of his lady-love had gone awry?
Those thoughts were quickly pushed aside as his hand moved lower, across my abdomen, pausing at the waistband of my boxers. I remained still, but was furiously sending telepathic messages, trying to will his hand to continue lower, seriously wanting the feel of his fingers working my crotch. A howl of frustration almost escaped me as Chase moved his hand back up my abs and chest, his steady, regular breath still warm and sensual against my neck. His hand sought mine, and he laced our fingers together, his thumb caressing one of my knuckles.
As the coarse hair on his thighs and chest scraped against my skin where he was pressed against me, little shivers ran though me. The heat radiating off his body and the aroma of the woodsy cologne that Chase was wearing contributed to the sensory confusion I was experiencing.
For a few moments we remained cuddled together like that, motionless until Chase began slowly thrusting his hips, sliding his cock along the furrow in my ass, only the thin cotton fabric of my boxers separating us. The erotic movement felt surprisingly good, my cock seeping like crazy as Chase kept gently rubbing against me. Nothing like this had ever happened to me, the weirdly arousing sensation of awakening to the caresses of a near-stranger, the romantic way he tenderly held my hand as he dry-humped me.
Not to mention the fact that he was asleep. He had to be asleep, right?
After a few minutes, the pressure and the speed of his thrusts along the valley between my cheeks were increasing, and his breath came hotter and quicker against my neck. Suddenly, he was crushing my fingers between his, and with a couple of soft grunts in my ear and a bunching of tense muscles against my thighs, my lower back was flooded with hot wetness. We lay there in the dark, locked in a motionless embrace, the only the sound of his gradually-slowing respiration breaking the silence. I was trying to put the pieces together, trying to think of something that Chase had said or done, anything at all, that would let me make sense out of this bizarre turn of events. The scrape of bristles along his jaw against my skin told me that he had kissed my shoulder before rolling back to his side of the bed.
As Chase began softly snoring, I slipped out of bed, rooting noiselessly in the drawer for a clean pair of boxers on my way to the bathroom. Closing the door behind me before I turned on the light, I peeled away my cold and clammy underwear, freeing my hard cock, which was throbbing with indignation at the continued lack of attention. More aroused than I had been in months, I spit into my fist and began jerking off, remembering the sensation of Chase rubbing against me, bringing myself to a shuddering climax in less than a minute. I stared at my panting reflection in the mirror as I cleaned my semen from my abs and that of Chase from my back before pulling on the fresh underwear.
Chase was still lightly snoring as I slid under the comforter and rolled onto my side with my back to him, thinking, He was definitely asleep the whole time. Right? And one of us is crazy.
The next morning I awoke in the bed all alone, with only the wad of stiff underwear in the bottom of my suitcase to prove that the night had not been passed in a peaceful slumber. As I showered, I came up with a plan to watch Chase today for some clue as to what happened last night . . . a wink, a sultry glance, a lewd hand gesture, anything. In appropriate Anglophile attire, tweed slacks, a Fair Isle knit vest, I made my way to the dining room. Joanna and Louis were busy preening for Mr. Johnson and scarcely acknowledged my presence. Chase nodded to me, his deep blue eyes full of the guileless innocence of a child. He looked like his conscience was clear and untroubled, while the sight of him made my crotch tingle as adrenalin surged through my body.
“Here’s how I see the next two days shaping up,” Mr. Johnson began. “I will spend one-on-one time with each of you to find out your thoughts on the job. I will spend this morning with Lucas and this afternoon with Chase, leaving Joanna and Louis for tomorrow before we return to Atlanta. We will get together for dinner tonight, but it will be a fairly casual deal.”
He made at least three of us unhappy with that announcement, Joanna and Louis because they would not have the opportunity all day to shine in his eyes, me because I couldn’t find out if Chase was asleep last night if I wasn’t with him.
A car came by to take Mr. Johnson and me to the plantation’s Conference Center, designed in a Greek Revival style intended to echo antebellum mansions, but much larger. The interview went well, I thought, since without Joanna and Louis shouting me down or Chase distracting me I had an opportunity to show that it wasn’t a mistake to have hired me, let alone to promote me. Johnson looked impressed with some of my thoughts about management techniques and trends in international banking, so as we broke for lunch I was feeling as though I had racked up some major points, a sensation that lasted all the way up to when he looked up from his soup and told me, “You know, I shouldn’t say this, but I feel that I have seen a different aspect of you today, Lucas, so I hope I can be candid.”
This didn’t sound promising, but I was a good sport, so I replied, “Yes, sir, I believe you can lay your cards on the table.”
“Ah, good! I just want to say that I have a rather considerable problem with you and Chase,” he paused to slurp another spoonful of soup while my heart raced. There’s no way he heard anything last night. Besides, Chase was asleep, right? But where did that leave me? Screwed in a number of different ways is where. He patted his napkin against his mouth fastidiously and continued, “You’ve been with the bank for five years, is that correct?” I nodded, wondering where this was going. “For the life of me, the two of you are so much alike, I can’t tell you apart.”
I was confused, “Excuse me?”
The corners of his mouth turned up like a smile, but his eyes remained cool and disengaged. “You have similar faces, similar builds, similar resumes. I used to think that there was actually only one of you and it was some elaborate scam to bilk the bank of salary and benefits.”
I tried to smile and pass this off as some lame joke, but it didn’t look as though Johnson was amused. “Well,” I swallowed hard. “You have seen us in the same room, so the ruse doesn’t seem to be working.” I laughed weakly.
“We are fortunate that women seem to find you both quite attractive and have no problem telling which of you is which, so those of us in the board room rely on our secretaries to figure you two out.”
Suddenly I was in on the code— you are a couple of pretty boys and a threat to the alpha males, so if we don’t take you seriously, poof! the threat is eliminated. I gave my most dazzling smile and played my role of the clueless sex object to perfection. “Maybe we should just wear name tags, clear up the confusion.” The message delivered, Johnson nodded, giving me a more sincere smile, and returned to his soup.
That explained a lot . . . Why he ignored Chase and me at dinner, maybe even why we were interviewed first, get us out of the way so he could concentrate on the real candidates. I was, to tell the truth, a little relieved to have my situation clarified. Watching soup dribbling down Johnson’s chin I wondered if it would be appropriate to wave my finger in his face and admonish, “Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m beautiful!” Maybe better to burn that bridge after I was across it.
I spent the afternoon in the main room at the bank’s cottage. Chase was being grilled by Mr. Johnson, getting the same veiled threat that had been delivered to me, I guess, and Joanna and Louis were whispering in the corner, occasionally throwing dark looks my way. I thought about revealing that I was semi-officially off the roster of candidates, but I was enjoying watching them simmer in their own juices too much to let them in on the secret.
The staff was waiting to serve dinner before Chase and Mr. Johnson returned, so as soon as the two were back we went into the dining room. Tweedledum and Tweedledee began strutting down the catwalk even before we sat, and Chase was his usual blandly amiable self, still not giving me any sign about last night, at least not one that I could recognize. Dinner lasted forever, and the drinks were doled out with such a stingy hand that I suspected the wine steward was a teetotaler, but I soldiered on through the meal and the post-dinner cigar ritual while Johnson held the floor telling anecdotes of his college days with the new Federal Reserve Chairman, which actually were pretty interesting. All I could think about was getting Chase alone and quizzing him about last night. Determined to get answers and my career at the bank shredded, I didn’t care if he did report that I tried to seduce him. Defense Exhibit A would be my boxers significantly stained with his bodily fluids. Ha! Explain that, Mr. Ivy League!
Finally even the two toadies were yawning in Johnson’s face, so we started to break up for the night. As Chase walked out, with me hot on his heels, Johnson fouled my plans by calling me back.
“I must apologize to you, Lucas,” he began expansively. “My remarks to you at lunch were poorly worded and may have left you with an erroneous impression.”
“No, sir,” I said. “You have nothing to apologize to me for.” I’m onto you, you old goat. You’re just worried about a lawsuit.
“I do not want to leave you with the feeling that you are not a valued employee of the bank.” He gestured to one of the wing chairs flanking the roaring fireplace. With an ill-concealed sigh, I sat and nodded politely while I watched his mouth moving for twenty minutes without anything he said registering on me. Yak-yak-yak was all I heard, while Chase was all I thought about. When he finally felt his avuncular duties were discharged and I was dismissed, it took a lot of control to keep from taking the stairs two at a time and sprinting down the hall.
I was bitterly disappointed to open the door into a dark room, the light from the hall revealing that Chase was already in bed, turned on his side away from me. The sight of his naked, broad shoulders and the swath of skin on his back that peeked out from above the duvet gave a jolt of electricity to my crotch and I nearly slammed the door just to wake him up. Instead, I quietly closed the door and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, muttering to my reflection in the mirror that I was an idiot for thinking that I could gain anything by forcing him to talk about an incident last night that there was no way that he would remember. If I brought it up, all I would get is his suspicion that I was some kind of immoral quasi-lunatic. I stripped down to my boxers and folded my clothes, dropping them on the dresser as I cautiously felt my way across the dark room to the bed. As I slid between the covers, I was again struck by the faint whiff of his cologne and as I fell asleep I tried to remember if I had smelled it as I was sitting next to him at dinner. I was sure I hadn’t.
After a while I woke from a fuzzy dream to realize that Chase and I were again locked in a close embrace, just like last night, except that this time, his hand was tenderly caressing my thigh, his fingers trailing so softly against my skin that it was like being brushed by fog, his breath a whisper on my neck. I was slowly coming awake, but my cock had sprung to throbbing hardness almost instantaneously. Up and down my thigh his hand went, the muscle twitching minutely beneath his touch. After an eternity of gentle caresses, his hand slipped inside the leg opening of my boxers and snaked across my leg to my balls, rolling first one and then the other gently between his thumb and forefinger. As his hand finally moved upward, his fingers lightly and rhythmically squeezed the shaft of my cock and his thumb massaged the oozing pre-cum around the head— I was melting under his touch.
Just as delicately as he had started, he stopped and pulled his hand away, again brushing his lips across my shoulder as he rolled away. Last night I was confused. Tonight I was mad.
“So that’s it?” I snorted, exasperated, sensing in the dark that he had stopped in mid-roll. “You feel me up and go back to sleep?”
His voice sounded like he was being choked. “I didn’t know you were awake.”
“What about last night? What was that all about?”
Now he really sounded strangled. “I thought you were asleep then, too.”
This admission was more than I could stand to hear in the dark, so I turned on the light so he could feel the full effect of my glare. He stared at me with enormous eyes, his face flaming red as I frowned at him. “You thought I was asleep both times? That sounds to me like a textbook case of sexual assault. What does it sound like to you?”
“I was hoping that you would wake up and respond, but you just lay there motionless. What was I supposed to think?” He was not really looking at me, but had his eyes fixed on the far wall.
Was this guy for real? I wondered. “Chase, when have you ever given me any indication that you were interested in me? Last night I thought you were having some kind of dream.”
His intense blue eyes slid over to me, and he said softly, “When have you ever let me know that you were interested, either?” I mulled this over for a few seconds and clicked the lamp off again. I judged where he was as best as I could in the sudden darkness and stretched my body on top of his, taking his face into my hands and bending to cover his mouth with mine, his stubble burning my face as I ground my lips against his, our tongues slipping around each other. When I came up for air, I panted, “That is my declaration of interest.”
“Noted,” he murmured as we resumed the kiss.
Chase kissed and nibbled his way down my chest, the exquisite restraint his touch had shown earlier replaced by hungry urgency. He roughly snatched my boxers down my thighs and ignored my whispered plea, “No, I want to taste you,” as he slid my cock deep in his mouth. I closed my eyes and growled a low moan as his tongue ran up and down the shaft, rolling around the head and taking my balls into his mouth.
His quiet chuckle vibrated through my body as he responded to my new request, “Don’t stop. Don’t . . . stop!” He took me deeper and deeper, his skilled tongue flickering over me, exploring and devouring me, hands cupped beneath me, pulling us closer. My fingers were twined in his silky hair, as I groaned and hitched my hips closer to his deliciously skilled mouth. With one hand he massaged my balls while the other worked in wicked tandem with his mouth,
“You taste so good!” he whispered.
“Don’t . . . stop!” I begged as he again took me in his sweetly warm mouth. I slid in and out of his mouth, impaling him on my cock, his breath hot and savage on me until with shaking intensity, a rumbling orgasm erupted out of me. Chase kept his lips clamped tightly around me and swallowed every jet I had.
He licked my cock clean, softly pulling and tugging on my balls and then kissed and licked his way back up my torso to my lips and another passionate kiss, our tongues sliding in and out of our mouths with abandon. As we embraced, Chase lightly caressed my back and then his hand slipped into the furrow of my ass, exploring that territory again. I sensed his longing and knew that it matched my own, so I requested, “I want you inside of me.”
Chase momentary hesitation confused me, then he admitted, “I don’t have a condom.”
Nuzzling his neck I instructed, “Don’t go anywhere,” and fished around in my bag in the dark. Returning to the bed, I slipped the rubber and a tube of lubricant into his hands.
Chase resumed kissing me, and I soon felt his slippery fingers sliding around my pucker, probing and stretching me. A finger pushed in up to the knuckle, pulling out and back in a few times, then a second joined it. I could feel the ring of muscle relaxing and contracting around his hand, eagerly sucking the fingers deeper. Chase hugged me tighter against him, a third finger stretched me further as I rocked against him. He was behind me pulling me tighter, his cock thrusting along the valley between my cheeks, my hard-on slapping against my abs and my balls swaying between my thighs. Chase was breathing onto my neck, hot and wet, his hands ranging across my chest, kneading and pinching my nipples, making them swell and quiver beneath his touch.
“I want you inside me,” I moaned. “Don’t make me beg.”
His growling chuckle reverberated against my back as he wrapped one strong arm around my waist and lifted me up a few inches as with the other hand, he guided his cock against my hungry hole, thrusting into me with a single deft motion, impaling me and filling me, stretching me around his thick cock, the massive head ramming deep inside me. He slammed into me again and again, crushing me to his chest, pulling my head back so that he could cover my mouth with his, thrusting his tongue against mine.
Chase was ramming into me wildly, fucking me harder than I had ever been, dragging long moaning pleas for more from me. The assault was harder and faster than anything I had known, long slamming strokes that felt like he was impaling me all the way to my skull. His hands grasped mine, and Chase wound his fingers through mine, the intense, painful crush a prelude to his orgasm. I arched back against him while a half-dozen groaning cries brushed past my ear and his balls pumped deep inside me.
He held me close. We collapsed slowly onto our sides, drained and exhausted, his cock still twitching and shuddering inside my aching hole. We remained like that for a long while, quiet and still, our sweaty, depleted bodies fused together by passion, comfortable in the embrace.
Chase slipped out of me, but continued to hold me tightly, whispering sweetly in my ear as I fell asleep. When I awoke later, at the first grey light of dawn, I was still cuddled in his embrace, and he was again hard and throbbing, nestled tightly in the valley between my cheeks.
I really enjoyed the part about the 
