It's been said that every person has some dark passion within his soul-some hidden secret, desire or whim that may never surface to be seen by even the closest confidante. Such a secret can be evil and sinister, or it may be trivial and trite.
In America, such dark passions are easily submerged and hidden by the complexities of everyday living. Yet, for those individuals living in a twilight zone-the homophile world-their desires, and needs, and wants have been called perverse, abnormal and depraved by a society that wants to see them remain underground, beyond the public eye. And for many gays, that's exactly what they want-to be unrecognized, to be allowed to do their own thing with their own kind, to be sexually free.
STUD JOINT is the story of a group of men who have chosen their path to sexual happiness, and it is a story of a society within America that lives a clandestine existence-a world within a world.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
Lying on his stomach between his lover's widespread thighs, Terry pulled himself up, using Chuck's muscular thighs as a hand hold. He lifted Chuck's prick to a perpendicular position in front of his face and sighted along it to the furry planes of Chuck's abdomen and chest.
Except for the mat of smoke-colored hair on his chest, Chuck's skin was the color of a brown hen's egg. From nipple to nipple the hair on his chest formed an almost straight line, the widest side of the smoky triangle narrowing darkly to a point at his navel. Running down from his navel and across the plaited curves of his abdomen, the hair was etched in a thin line which widened delicately into the dense wedge of his pubic hair. When he breathed, the hair glistened gold in the lamplight. It would have been easy to mistake him-if all you had to go on was his body-for a construction worker. Actually, he was a hairdresser.
The hard-hat safety helmet on the dresser belonged to Terry. He worked for San Diego Gas & Electric, but when people first encountered him they frequently confused his profession with Chuck's. It was easy to follow a stereotype and, despite the fact that Terry could easily lift a hundred-foot section of pipe from the bed of a truck, he had "a hairdresser's body." Perhaps because of the Mexican blood in his family, his body was as hairless as Chuck's was hirsute. His chest and abdomen were bare. It embarrassed him that his jet-black pubic hair seemed so straight in comparison with what he viewed as the more virile Mnkiness of his lover's hairy groin. Even his legs were, he said, practically bald. Though he would not admit it, he had grown the shiny black moustache to compensate for his lack of body hair; and he was secretly amused that Chuck was slightly bald. His arms and legs were as golden and lean as an Indian's. At twenty-five he was one year younger than Chuck, who had been his lover for six years.
He squeezed gently on the thick cock in his hand, then bent it toward him, pretending to peer down the opening at the tip. Then, abruptly, he released it and watched it slap back against Chuck's hard belly. He folded his arms across Chuck's thighs, resting his chin on his hands so that his nose was softly nestled in the ticklish fragrance of Chuck's heavy balls. He was listening to the faint sound of the stereo in the other room as his nose scraped against the firm resiliency of Chuck's cock where it widened into the dough-colored sac of his balls. After they had seen Liza Minnelli in Cabaret, Chuck had splurged on the album and it seemed to Terry that it was constantly playing.
Absurdly, his voice cracked a little as he spoke. "Married," he said. "What business do we have going to The Club every Saturday night?" He could feel the point of his chin slipping against Chuck's prick as he talked. He didn't look up at his lover. He seemed to be studying the pattern made by Chuck's tangled pubic hair. Then the baritone vibrations of Chuck's voice made him lift his dark eyes.
"We don't go every Saturday night," Chuck said. "And anyway, you always say you don't want to go, but when we get there you always have a fine time." He kept his blue eyes riveted on Terry, moving his right hand absently over his chest, scratching at his nipple.
Terry looked down, neither irritated nor satisfied. "A movie would be cheaper," he said.
Smiling faintly, Chuck lifted his knee and nudged Terry back a little until he lifted his dark head again. Then he said, "And if we went to the movies, when we got out you know we'd wind up at The Club anyway." He waited for a reply, but when there was none-only Terry's large brown eyes staring at him innocently, their lashes more lovely than a girl's-he added, "Besides, there's a party at Alex's tonight, I think."
"Who's Alex?"
"That tall Greek queen we saw at Mission Valley the other day," Chuck said, rocking Terry again with his knee, trying to get him to smile. "The one in the record store."
"The butch-looking one?"
"You remember him," Chuck said, lifting his knee again under Terry's side. "He's always queening it up in the bar."
"That," Terry observed, "could be any one of five-thousand people." He smiled, his even teeth flashing momentarily before he added, seriously, "And don't go flitting around like some drag number tonight," he said. "I swear to God, the next queen I see pantomiming Liza Minelli..."
"When did I ever go 'flitting around like some drag number'? " Chuck asked. "Who's the husband around here, anyway?"
"I am," Terry answered quickly. "Hair fairies can't be husbands. You've got to be the wife."
"Who makes more money?" Chuck retorted.
"And who spends it just as fast as she makes it?"
"I'm the breadwinner in this family," Chuck insisted. "Hair-burner or not."
Terry smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Maybe." He paused as he lifted Chuck's softening cock once more to an upright position. "But I'm the husband," he added.
"Mmmmmm," Chuck sighed, feeling Terry quickly suck half the length of his cock in his mouth. He smiled at the feel of Terry's moustache against the side of his cock. His erection twitched at the pleasant shock of the moist heat, then he flexed it twice more, feeling the glans slide firmly against Terry's palate. "Okay," he whispered, lifting his leg over Terry's thigh, "you're the husband if you want to be. Only keep sucking my cock."
Ignoring Chuck's attempt at humor, Terry dropped his head, his dark lips sliding easily down over the shaft of his lover's prick. It was not something which he had always found so easy to do. He felt Chuck's hot glans press against the opening of his throat and, as always, he forced himself to stifle his gag reflex; he relaxed, letting the meaty cock squeeze into his throat, where he held it a moment before pulling away, letting the constriction of his throat milk the pleasantly warm flesh of Chuck's prick. Then he repeated the action, thinking as he did about the first time he had sucked Chuck's cock.
They had met in Colorado Springs, when they were both in the Army. At the time, Terry had never been to bed with a man before. He hadn't thought of himself as gay, and probably would have fisted the first guy who even suggested that he would wind up married to another man.
Chuck, who had always been aware of his sexual preference, had taken one look at the black-haired boy in the loose-fitting fatigues and had known that this was what he wanted. So, little by little, Terry had been seduced.
Chuck had arranged for them to sleep in the same bed while on a weekend pass to Denver. Ever since that night, they had been lovers, even when Terry had been shipped to Vietnam. But it had taken a long time to convince Terry to reciprocate in the sexual side of the relationship.
"Let me fuck you once," Chuck would beg Terry, always to a steadfast refusal. Or, "Come on, go down on me, Terry. Just to see what it's like." But Terry had refused for almost six months to take anything but what he considered a masculine role in the relationship. The first time Chuck managed to fuck him, it had taken almost a full bottle of Bacardi-and, even at that, it had very nearly been rape. Terry still didn't like to be fucked, but he permitted it, amazed that Chuck could fuck him and suck him off at the same time. Un-like Chuck, Terry needed something more than a hard, hot cock plunging into his ass to make him climax.
When the positions were reversed, Chuck would shoot his frothing cream against Terry's abdomen and chest without even having his cock squeezed. "That," Terry would say, "only proves that you like to get fucked better than I do. So why should I let you fuck me? It hurts!" Eventually, it had stopped hurting. Terry had been taught about making love to another man. And, in this way, the relationship had grown.
For six years, neither of them had been to bed with anyone else. Chuck, having been gay all of his life, knew a good thing when he saw it and had no desire to be unfaithful to his lover. Terry, though his eye occasionally wandered to the innocent face of some younger boy, or to the hard-packed ass of some warm-looking hippie, was-though he would not have readily admitted it-a little afraid that he was too inexperienced to try tricking out on his lover; besides, he was in love with Chuck, and always had been. "I didn't go through the pain and trouble," he had once said, "of learning how to get fucked and to suck cock just to throw my ass at the first hard cock I found that was willing."
Holding Chuck's cock with his right hand, Terry pulled back a little and glanced at the reddened crown. When he made love to Chuck, he did so by doing the things he would have liked-had the positions been reversed. Now his red tongue flattened itself and lapped at the tender underside of Chuck's pulsing glans. He coated the head of Chuck's prick with spittle until he could feel it drooling down around his fingers. Then, guiding it with his hand (as though it were a giant lipstick), he began rubbing it against his lips, his chin.
Chuck's fingers grasped at the sheets as he stifled the urge to hump his big cock toward Terry's face. The grate of Terry's beard against the delicate skin of his glans felt like electricity being shot into his cock. He made an animal noise of pleasure, his hairy hips writhing on the sheets. He would not have told Terry, but this was actually the most intense stimulation he felt during their lovemaking. At times he had wondered if, perhaps, all the whoring around he had done before he met Terry had deadened his erotic senses somewhat. His cock seemed immune to the damp heat of Terry's mouth, or the sensual slide of his caressing tongue. He needed more intense stimulation-Terry's fist squeezing hard around his rigid prick, the scraping shock of teeth nipping at his balls, the sandpapery grate of Terry's beard against his glans. Secretly, he admitted to himself that this was why he actually preferred getting fucked by Terry. Now he rocked his muscular hips from side to side, feeling Terry's sucking mouth set fire to his cock.
"Ummm," he moaned, closing his eyes. "Ooooh."
Terry held his lover's cock an inch away from his mouth and blew softly against the pulsing bullet-shaped head. He didn't think it would happen, but he wanted to make sure that Chuck wasn't going to come, at least not yet. He looked up at Chuck and smiled as Chuck closed his eyes and rocked his head back and forth against the pillow and headboard, eager to feel the warmth engulf his cock once more. Looking at Chuck's round face, his uncombed sandy hair, his massive bull's neck, the diamonds of hair descending his chest, a wave of desire washed over Terry. He could feel his cock stiffening beneath him, pinned awkwardly between his thigh and the sheets. He leaned back on his side and pulled his cock up beneath him, then looked back at Chuck. He wanted to say something, but was unsure what it was. He dropped his mouth over his lover's cock once more, squeezing the base of Chuck's prick.
Chuck groaned again. He looked down across the hard curves of his body at Terry, delighted and amused. In the beginning, he had waited nearly six months to feel Terry's lips and tongue massaging his cock. Now he smiled to see the dark ring of his lover's hot mouth expanding and contracting as it pistoned around his erection, a sheen of spittle covering his hard cock and Terry's lips.
Trying not to interrupt Terry's pumping motion on his cock, Chuck sat up a little on the bed, leaning back on one elbow. He reached forward and caressed Terry's face. He ran his blunt fingers down from Terry's earlobe, across his high cheekbone, into the hollow of his cheek. He could feel the thick head of his cock through Terry's cheek. He always got a special feeling of warmth and power at the sensation of touching his own glans as it bulged his lover's cheek. His cock throbbed hotly within the chamber of Terry's mouth. He could feel it jerk against the roof of Terry's mouth. Then, slowly, he ran his fingers down so that he could feel the milking motion of Terry's lips, slick with spittle. He traced the outline of Terry's lips around his cock, then, very slowly pushed his index finger into the clasping oval beside his cock. He made a groaning noise as he felt Terry's tongue slither over his finger and cock at the same time, the thick saliva drooling down between cock and finger.
The salty savor of Chuck's finger made Terry salivate. He didn't understand what thrill Chuck got from having his cock and finger sucked at the same time, but he continued to embrace the two probes with his tongue and palate. He could feel his own prick growing hotter and harder against his bare belly. Then Chuck shifted beneath him and, anticipating his lover's actions, Terry rolled on his side, his head pillowed against Chuck's thigh as he continued to suck.
Chuck withdrew his finger from Terry's mouth, his hand retracing its path along the contracting cheek. He combed his fingers through Terry's hair, exerting downward pressure on his lover's head. For a moment he considered shoving Terry's mouth down hard around his cock until the thick prick plowed into his throat. But he didn't do it.
He twisted his body around until he could reach Terry's hard, bronze cock with his mouth. But, before taking it into his mouth, he caressed the dark balls with his palm, squeezing them gently as he studied Terry's cock. Though not as thick as his own, it was almost an inch longer. The veins in his own prick showed red-like varicose veins in an old woman, he had thought-but the blue etchings along the cylinder of Terry's cock were delicate and beautiful. Below the glans the stretched foreskin was smooth and shimmered like the gloss of hot taffy. He couldn't resist taking it into his palm and squeezing gently. Terry's cock flexed against his palm, always hotter and harder than he expected it to be. He opened his hand and let the brown prick rest against his extended fingers.
Then, twisting again-his cock almost slipping from Terry's mouth-he pulled himself closer and, in one smooth motion, engulfed his lover's prick to the root. He felt Terry stiffen with pleasure beside him. Squirming one hand beneath Terry's thigh, he held the hard cock lodged in his throat, his nose pressed into the slowly contracting sac of Terry's dark balls. His other hand ran over the bronze thigh above his face and he cupped Terry's hard, hairless buttocks, pulling his prick even deeper into his throat. He swallowed and closed his eyes, his throat constricting around his lover's swollen cock. The constriction was answered by a thickening throb pulsing along the shaft which was deeply lodged in his mouth. Then, still cupping Terry's buttocks in his hands-his fingers barely grazing the downy cleft of the cheeks-he pulled back, letting Terry's cock slither along the slick chute of his tongue. He felt Terry pump his mouth down around the cock in his mouth, as though urging him once again to attempt the deep penetration.
But Chuck only milked at the upper half of Terry's hard shaft. He moved in such a way that the spongy glans of his lover's cock slid back and forth across the hot arch of his palate. Terry, he knew, had less control. He didn't want his lover to climax yet.
Terry moaned around Chuck's thick cock, mildly frustrated that Chuck wouldn't take the whole prick into his throat again. He backed away from the juicy fullness in his mouth and gasped for breath. When he had caught his breath, he pumped down on the cock again, letting it slide deeper into his throat. The tantalizing licks and caresses of Chuck's tongue on his cock made his thighs quiver. He felt his strength and weakness surge through him.
Terry's cock had been hot before Chuck had swallowed it. Now it seemed molten. He wanted to hump forward and stuff his prick into his lover's clasping throat, and the muscles in his hips quivered with the effort to restrain himself. When he felt Chuck's lips slide off his glans, he plunged down harder on the cock in his own mouth, his lips sliding hotly over the thickness of Chuck's cock.
He began to work his mouth fiercely around Chuck's prick as he felt his lover's lips plucking teasingly at the loose skin of his balls. The sudden shock of Chuck's teeth nipping at his balls paralyzed him for a moment and he paused in his suction, Chuck's thick cock distending his mouth, his saliva flowing thickly around the tube of erotic flesh.
Chuck released Terry's balls, feeling the wet tickle of the long black hairs as they withdrew from his lips. Without taking the entire sphere into his mouth, he sucked gently on one ball, the only pressure he exerted coming through the hot swirl of his tongue. As always, he was made a little crazy by the strange fragrance of Terry's balls. The closest he had ever come to describing it was "overripe peaches." It was not the musky male smell of most organs. The first night in Denver when he had started to go down on his Army buddy, he had almost spoiled the desired seduction when he hesitated so long, growing drunk on the earthy-sweet odor of his lover's balls.
Now Chuck gently pulled the puckering skin of Terry's balls into his mouth, his teeth nipping electrically at the sensitive skin. He felt Terry's buttocks shiver beneath his hand, then he released the elastic sac of skin, his tongue tracing the faintly darker line that divided the two halves. He pushed his tongue into the crease of Terry's buttocks.
With Chuck's cock still hot in his mouth, Terry shivered and gulped as he felt Chuck's insistent hands pulling him onto his hands and knees. As he moved over his lover, Chuck's thick cock slithered slightly in his mouth and, once again, he began to suck on the juicy probe. What Chuck was about to do pleased him; yet, at the same time, he could not help feeling a constriction in his chest at the peversity of Chuck's action. The Mexican word for it flashed through his mind-el beso negro. And, to himself, he silently translated: the black kiss.
He tried to relax as he felt Chuck's tongue and nose cleave the cheeks of his ass, the hot tongue swabbing slickly against the inner surfaces. His ass-hole puckered. He stopped sucking, his mouth frozen around Chuck's cock. A slick heat oozed through the valley of his moon-shaped, pale buttocks. Again he quivered as Chuck began massaging the base of his balls, at the same time sliding his mouth closer to the rosette of his ass-hole. The slick heat of Chuck's tongue washing over his rectum thrilled and repulsed him at the same time. Again he felt it quiver through him. His buttocks clenched against Chuck's face as his lover nipped more insistently at the inner curves of his cheeks.
Terry let his head sag down, the cock plowing upward toward his throat. He tried to suck, but the tension he felt made his jaw ache. Then, when he least expected it, he felt the soft heat of Chuck's tongue penetrate his ass-hole. Without tensing, he rocked back, the cock in his mouth retreating as Chuck's tongue burrowed a fraction of an inch deeper into his bowels. He could feel the melting heat of the sensation opening his ass up as the tongue slithered deeper, expanding and contracting hotly within his ass-hole. Now he began to suck harder on Chuck's cock. Once he had almost admitted to Chuck that the sensations caused by being rimmed were, if they continued too long, enough to make him come. Now he sucked fiercely on his lover's cock, hoping his own actions would keep his mind off the pleasure being given to him in this strangely obscene way.
Chuck did not consider it obscene. After six years with Terry, he knew exactly what to do to excite his lover. And it amused him to see Terry try to be so casual about it when, after a few minutes, he would be ready to explode. So, with his mouth pressed firmly against the smooth, clean whirlpool of Terry's ass-hole, his tongue twisting awkwardly in the resisting sphincter, his nose inhaling the sweet fragrance, Chuck smiled. He pressed upward against Terry's ass-hole with his thumb, rubbing in a circular motion as he continued to swab the steadily weakening sphincter with his tongue. He had almost an inch and a half of his tongue inside his lover's ass. His teeth scraped at the inner cheeks of Terry's buttocks and, swirling hotly in Terry's pumping mouth, his cock pulsed. When Terry rocked back a little, pressing his peach-smooth cheeks against Chuck's face, he gasped for air.
"Unngh! Chuck!" Terry groaned, releasing the cock in his mouth so suddenly that it smacked wetly against the hard abdomen beneath him. He pulled away from Chuck's feasting mouth and twisted himself over his lover's hard body so that both of their feet were lying next to each other. He could feel Chuck's prick throbbing between their abdomens, in matching the pulsing rhythm of his own organ.
Chuck lifted his massive hands and held Terry's face in his palms, then pulled him down. His tongue slid into Terry's mouth easily, hotly, probing for the resistance of Terry's tongue.
His saliva was thick and hot as Terry responded to the kiss, letting the juices of his mouth flow back around Chuck's retreating organ as his own tongue slid forward into his lover's mouth. He ground his pelvis against the heated pressure of Chuck's thick cock. Ordinarily he did not like to kiss Chuck after such actions as these, but at the moment he could not have resisted. He could feel the echo of his own heartbeat hammering back through Chuck's hairy chest, and he ground himself against it, feeling the slide of Chuck's hair against his hardening nipples.
Chuck opened his legs and let Terry's thighs slide between his own. He ran his fingers through the thick black curls at the nape of Terry's neck as his lover swirled his tongue into his ear, then down the side of his neck, scooting his body down erotically as he did so. When Terry closed his mouth over the point of his chin, Chuck opened his eyes, almost laughing at the sensual expression on Terry's face.
But Terry continued his downward slide along Chuck's body. He nuzzled fiercely at the thick cords of Chuck's heavy neck, then his tongue slid down along the strength of Chuck's collarbone and into the slight depression of his sternum. He gripped Chuck's wide shoulders as he drew slow circles around his lover's nipples, etching wet fire around the brown discs until the tiny points of flesh at the centers became erect.
Chuck groaned at the fiery bite, his thick hands gripping Terry's shoulders as though ready to push him away if the pleasurable pain became too intense. It would not become too intense. Beyond the grate of his blood-engorged glans against his lover's stubbly chin, Chuck received his greatest pre-climax pleasure from having his nipples teased and bitten. Once, when Terry had first discovered this erogenous zone, he had even drawn blood without protest from Chuck.
Now Chuck groaned throatily, his fingers gripping Terry's shoulders as he ground his cock up against the dark-haired boy's groin. His buttocks were lifted completely off the bed. Each time Terry nipped at the tender flesh of his chest, his abdomen jerked suddenly, his fingers clenched against Terry's shoulders until they made white marks on the dark skin.
"Unh! Terry!" Chuck gasped. "Unh! That feels good..."
When Terry slid his mouth across the furry expanse of Chuck's chest to administer to the other nipple, he brought his left hand into play pinching the nipple he had just left with his lips. He could feel his cock throbbing against Chuck's thigh, and in a few moments, his fingers still nipping at Chuck's chest, he slid down along the muscular body of his lover as though someone were pulling him away by his ankles.
He ran his tongue into the hollows in Chuck's pelvis just above his pubic hair, pressing in fiercely until Chuck's hands flew to his head, the thick, blunt fingers tangling in his hair as Chuck writhed with pleasure. Then he deserted Chuck's nipples and slowly lifted his chest away from Chuck's thighs as he raised his lover's thick, throbbing cock to his mouth.
"Oh, Terry..." Chuck moaned, widening the V of his thighs, his legs thrashing around his lover's calves. "Fuck me. I want it. Fuck me, fuck me...
Terry held Chuck's thick cock in one hand, gently blowing against the hot glans. Slowly, he stuck out his tongue and traced glistening circles around the pulsing crown, his mouth descending gradually until his lips slowly kissed the swollen head of Chuck's cock. His mouth continued to descend. The thick rod of Chuck's cock seemed to plow upward for agonizing minutes, encircled by Terry's clasping lips.
"Fuck me, Terry. Fuck me," Chuck gasped, humping his thick cock into Terry's clasping lips. Already he could feel himself seconds away from a climax. He wanted Terry to come at the same time, within him-wanted to feel the hot gush of Terry's sperm rush into him at the same time that his own juice shot out slickly between their heaving bellies.
Slowly Terry withdrew his mouth from Chuck's cock. With infinite patience, he drew himself onto his knees between Chuck's thighs, lifting Chuck's legs to his shoulders. He crawled forward on his knees, centering the head of his cock against Chuck's ass-hole.
"Shall I get the K-Y?" he asked, his expression so serious that it looked almost religious-as it always was when he prepared the ritual of their lovemaking.
"No. I don't need it," Chuck answered, his thighs quivering below Terry's solemn-looking face.
Carefully, Terry guided his cock into the swirl of Chuck's ass-hole. He could feel the thick muscles of his lover's thighs grow tense, then relax. He leaned forward, pushing down on Chuck's legs until the strong thighs were pressed against Chuck's hairy chest. Then he let the weight of his body down, feeling the sweet fire of his glans pressing through the grating tangle of hair at Chuck's ass-hole, probing deeper into the seemingly molten depths of his lover's ass.
With the head of his cock lodged in the grip of Chuck's sphincter, Terry hesitated, waiting for Chuck to grow accustomed to the size of his cock.
But Chuck grasped him by the hips and pulled. Terry's cock shot into the melting channel as far as it would go.
"Mmmmmmhhh..." Chuck sighed, his arms entwining around Terry's shoulders. "Mmmmmmhhh..."
Motionless, Terry felt the enclosing fire of his lover's bowels embrace him. His cock pulsed, eager to begin the frenzy of fucking. But he waited, fighting his own desire to hammer into the yielding warmth. When Chuck slid his legs from around Terry's shoulders, locking them around his waist, Terry leaned forward and pressed his lips against his lover's mouth, his tongue sliding into the warm orifice just as his cock had delved into his willing ass-hole.
Beads of perspiration pearling on his forehead, Chuck sucked gently on Terry's tongue, the milking motions of his mouth urging his lover to begin fucking him. His rectum, though almost relaxed, squeezed snugly around Terry's cock. He flexed his sphincter to signal his readiness, then sighed wetly around Terry's tongue as he felt the first withdrawal of the long prick from the depths of his bowels. It felt like his ass was being turned inside out.
Beneath Terry's grave silence, Chuck groaned, unsure whether it was from pain or pleasure. He could feel muscles twitching all over his body-in the hard flesh of his chest, the cords of his neck, the thickness of his thighs-as though his flesh was being shocked with bolts of electricity.
When Terry began the inward stroke, Chuck locked his legs tighter around him, his heels digging into Terry's tense thighs.
"Am I hurting you?" Terry asked.
"Mmmmmhhh ... No. All the way in. Deep."
Terry rocked forward and back, his long cock sliding effortlessly. He felt he could go on fucking like this forever. Each time he plunged slowly down he ground his lips against Chuck's mouth, loving the way Chuck sucked his tongue, taking strength from his lover's panting breath, quivering slightly as his own tension fed on itself until he could no longer maintain the slow, steady motions but, instead, began fucking with more strength each time, losing more of his control with each withdrawal.
"Aannggghhh ... Chuck groaned. "Terry! Terry..." His breath grew ragged as he gasped his lover's name a score of times. He was thrusting back now each time Terry fucked into him, yet it seemed to him that his body had gone wild, that he was unable to control it. This did not happen often, and when it did, Chuck was a little frightened by his own response. He felt a weakness, an emptiness overtake him, only to be deluged by a red wave of delight as Terry fucked into his contracting depths one more time. The world, it seemed to him, embraced him.
A drop of sweat dripped from Terry's nose, striking him in the eye. When Chuck looked up, he saw Terry's face contracted into the sure, sensual grimace.
"I can't wait!" Terry gasped, his body shaking with a spastic tremor as he fell heavily against his lover, his pelvis churning rhythmically against Chuck's entrapped erection.
Chuck clenched his ass-hole. He could feel the thickening throb of Terry's embedded cock stretching his rectum wider. Frozen in anticipation of ecstasy, Terry was motionless, only his swollen prick heaving within his lover's spasming ass-hole. Now Chuck continued the motion, heaving his buttocks up to meet Terry's spouting cock.
Chuck could feel the hosing wash of the first spatter of sperm burn into his ass. He wanted to feel it. But at that moment, his own orgasm claimed him. Trapped between his abdomen and Terry's chest, his thick cock belched out the foaming flood of his first ejaculation. He could feel its thick slickness grind against Terry's heaving chest. His ass-hole puckered, then widened to the second blast of Terry's second outpouring. He squeezed down as hard as he could, but he could already feel the muscles in his legs going limp. He wanted Terry deeper, hosing there within him forever. It seemed to him as though their bodies were melting together, or-even more strangelythat they were dissolving into each other like copulating ghosts.
Breathless, he felt the cooling slide of his sperm running down his side even as his cock continued to pump out its clotted load. Terry fucked once more into him, causing another ejaculation that basted their slippery chests. He clasped his lover to him, feeling as though their strength and weaknesses made them one invulnerable being. And he thought to himself, dimly aware of the record beginning to replay in the other room, Hieraten. Married. Then he lifted Terry's chin from his chest and kissed him very gently, very long.
They listened, their limbs tangled and relaxed, to the record as it played through again. Then they rose together from the bed, easy and familiar with each other as brothers in a shower room.
Within an hour they were in Chuck's Datsun, driving past Balboa Park on their way to the bar. They talked about their separate and mutual friends, laughing at their own foibles as they saw them in others.
On the steep hill that led down to the bar Chuck said, "There's a hitchhiker there. Shall we pick him up? He's probably going to The Club."
"Then let him catch a ride with someone he can trick with," Terry said. "Don't spoil his game."
When they parked the car on Kettner Street, it had begun to sprinkle. They locked the car, then hurried across the street to the blue building with the dark, wood trim. The big leather door opened just as they reached it, a collegiate-looking guy in a button-down shirt stepping out of their way as they entered.
"Hey, Ray!" Terry said, catching the boy by the arm. "Where you going so early?"
Chuck held the door open, unsure whether to go on in or wait for Terry. He didn't know Ray that well.
Ray smiled and shook hands with Terry. "You know me," he said. "The old chicken hawk."
"Going to the Pirate's Den?" Terry asked, his brown eyes twinkling in the pink neon light.
"That's where the young ones are," Ray said, glancing up at the rain. "If they're allowed out of the house in the rain."
Terry laughed. "You coming back later?"
Ray shrugged. "Not if I'm lucky."
Again Terry chuckled. "Well," he said, turning toward the open door, "if it doesn't work out, come on back and have a drink with us."
"There's supposed to be a party tonight," Chuck added. "After the bar closes."
Ray raised his hand to wave. "Maybe," he said. Then he turned and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, cut across the street.
In the bar, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the light, Terry said, "The old chicken hawk. That guy has got to be the only guy in town who goes to Kentucky Colonel just to get his rocks off."
Chuck had seen Alex across the bar, a foot taller than anyone else. He waved back at Alex's smile, then turned to Terry.
"Get me a Scotch and water," he said. "I see Alex over there on the other side of the bar and I want to ask him if the party's still on."
Terry faked a frown. "So I have to get the drinks?"
Chuck pinched him on the ass. "You said you wanted to be the husband, didn't you?" He turned around to Alex, who was stepping up to them around a clump of talking men. "So get your wife a drink, huh? Say, Alex," he said, turning to the tall dark-haired Greek.
Alex put his cigarette into his mouth and shifted his halffull drink to his left hand to shake hands. "Hi!" he said, the pitch of his voice sounding absurd. "I didn't expect to see you two queens in here tonight."
"We ran out of K-Y," Terry said, shaking his hand.
"Haven't you heard of spit?" Alex offered, arching his eyebrows and turning his head away in a fair imitation of Tallulah Bankhead. "God!" he added, balancing his drink as someone jostled him from behind. "It's more crowded in here than the orgy room at the Coral Club on Halloween. Fags everywhere, and not a man among them!"
CHAPTER TWO
Inside the bar Ray had seen an ex-trick, Mike something, talking to a black number back by the pool table. He was growing old, he realized once more. Three years ago Mike had been chicken, only seventeen. Now he could show his ID and get into The Club. At twenty-one Mike hadn't looked older than eighteen, yet when he had waved to Ray, Ray had cut him short.
Sitting in the brown Mustang, Ray wondered if he was sick. He had just left a bar where, he was sure (he had offers enough), he could just about have had his pick of the whole crew. But he hadn't wanted them. Young as they might look, he rejected them all. Now he would try the Pirate's Den, along with every other chicken coop in San Diego. It frustrated him that he could only get excited about the younger ones.
When he had tried to make it with someone his own age, he had either become bored and lost the trick or, worse, become so disinterested that he'd wound up getting fucked, which he didn't "like at all-at least not from anyone older than eighteen. The worst part of it was that ninety percent of the young ones started acting like nelly queens the minute they discovered they could get into an under-age bar like the Pirate's Den. Either that or they only wanted to fuck each other. Two months ago he had been told by a very pretty boy, "Frankly, you're too old for me. I don't go fuck anyone who's much older than I am. Sorry." The problem was that all the chickens were chicken queens themselves.
It was also dangerous as hell, as far as the law was concerned. At least if you picked someone up in The Club, you didn't have to worry about "corrupting the morals of a minor."
He had been caught once-in the boy's home by an irate and very violent father. Only the family's embarrassment had kept him from being arrested. But he had learned from the experience. He hadn't stopped craving un corrupted boy flesh, but never again would he let himself become so excited by the proposition that he'd try it in the boy's home. He kept his liquor cabinet at home stocked with sloe gin. And sometimes-like now-he felt like a dirty old man, or a spider waiting for its prey.
He pulled out and stopped for the light. The rain was still light, but enough to require wipers. He turned them on and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the metronome rhythm. His interest was drawn to the crosswalk ahead of him as two boys, obviously Marine recruits by their haircuts, ran across the street toward the bar. But then the light changed and, without looking back, he slid the car into gear and drove on down Kettner.
Two blocks further down the street he saw the blonde boy walking slowly along the shadows in the rain. He had almost driven past when he first saw him. Automatically his head turned and he slowed down. The boy looked back casually, his blonde hair bobbing in the wind as Ray passed.
Something in him sped up, but he turned the comer casually, almost as if he had intended to do so all along. A stoplight caught him at the next comer and he gunned the motor impatiently. A minute later he had turned onto Kettner again, going slowly this time, almost casual.
If the boy had someplace to go, he was taking his time getting there. Driving as slow as he dared, Ray watched his gangling stride as he walked along in the shadows on the left-hand side of the street, facing traffic. Then, as the car passed him again, the boy turned, his face caught in the light from the furniture store across the street, almost smiling as he stared while Ray passed again.
Ray turned at the same corner. He was sure the boy couldn't be over fifteen-and he definitely seemed interested. Ray could imagine him, too young even to get into the Pirate's Den, too horny to stay at home watching the movie on television, too curious to be satisfied with beating his cock off behind the locked bathroom door. He had walked with an insolent grace, his face turning slowly to watch the passing car, as if daring it to stop. He's got to be interested, Ray thought. And then he added to himself that there could be no other reason for a boy that age even being in the neighborhood of the bar. He's hoping somebody'll see him and pick him up.
This time he caught the light and rounded the corner without stopping. Aloud, he said, "Baby, you are going to get sucked off!" But when he had said it, he felt embarrassed. He glanced around him, as if there might have been someone else in the car who might have overheard his eagerness.
When he'turned onto Kettner again, the boy was gone. He slowed the car down almost to a stop, creeping along in the left-hand lane, peering between the line of parked cars. But the boy wasn't there. An empty sense of panic chewed at his stomach. Suddenly, at the disappearance of the boy, he felt as though he were the only person in the city, that the rest of the world had suddenly dissolved into empty space.
When he looked up, he saw him on the other side of the street, on the corner by the streetlight, his blonde hair glistening with rain. And he had his thumb out for a ride.
Ray made a little gasping sound of relief, then smiled at his own fears and good luck. But he had driven too far up the street before he had seen the boy. Now he had to go around the block a third time before he could stop to pick him up.
The light was red at the corner. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror and smiled. He smoothed his hair down. When the light changed, he was still smiling. He caught the green light in front of the bar, then swung the Mustang wide to the left. Half a block down he stopped for the boy.
Ray leaned across the seat to unlock the door. When he had pulled the button up and was about to reach for the handle, the door opened and the boy leaned down to look in.
Ray smiled, wondering how old he really looked.
"Where you goin'? " the boy asked, his voice surprisingly deep. He didn't smile as he had the second time Ray had passed him.
Ray sat up and looked him over. "Just driving around, I guess," he said. He wondered if it sounded as idiotic to the boy as it did to him. "Hop in." He moved his hand across the other seat and onto the gearshift handle as the boy ducked his head and slid in. He was wearing a denim workshirt and Levi's, both well-soaked by the rain.
"So!" Ray said, grinning as he started the car. "Where you bound for."
The boy looked away, out his window at the furniture store. At the nape of his neck his blonde hair curled up with the rain and the collar of his shirt was soaked against his skin.
"I was just. . . walkin', I guess," he said after a moment. He hesitated, then added, "Rain."
"You'd better be careful you don't catch cold," Ray said, studying the boy. His blue shirt was open halfway down his hairless chest and the rainwater beaded there like perspiration. His Levi's, perhaps because they were wet, seemed tighter than they might have been.
With his right hand Ray reached over and touched the boy's hair, aware that the boy withdrew as soon as he realized he'd been touched.
For the first time the boy turned and looked at him, his face not quite empty of expression, his eyes revealing their pale blue to the dash lights.
"You're soaked," Ray said, sounding surprised even to himself.
"I guess," the boy said.
"Your mother will kill you when you get home," Ray said.
"I guess," the boy answered. Then, after a moment's silence, added, "Probably not."
Ray glanced at his watch, then over at the boy. "She'll probably be wondering where you are," he said. "It's almost eleven o'clock. You want me to take you home or something?"
The boy turned to face him slowly. "It's Saturday night," he said. "I don't have to be in at any special time. She doesn't care." Then, once again, he turned to look out the window.
Ray didn't miss the opportunity to cruise the boy's basket. There was only the faintest trace of a bulge, but that was partially obscured by the way the boy was resting his hands on his lap.
"You going to see your girlfriend, or what?" Ray asked. It really sounded corny, so much so that he had to look away when the boy turned to stare at him. He felt the boy's eyes on him, but Ray could not turn around.
They had gone half a block before the boy answered, "No."
When Ray turned to look at him as they paused for a stop sign, the boy had looked away again. But he had, too casually, moved his hands away from his lap and now sat with his legs spread wider than before. The bulge was visible, though it was not big.
"Well," Ray offered, "where do you want to go? I mean, where shall I drop you? You ought to get out of the rain someplace."
"Where you goin'? "
He felt himself caught in a moment of embarrassment. "like I said," he explained, "I was just sort of driving around."
"Yeah," the boy said, the smile coming back for the first time. "And I was just sorta walkin' in the rain."
Ray smiled. When he looked over, the boy was just finishing what might have been an innocent scratch at his crotch.
But when the boy saw he was being observed, he moved his hand away. After a moment he said, "Say, I don't suppose you could be persuaded to buy me a six-pack? I got the money." His blue eyes were wide and hopeful. He wiped the long hair away from his forehead with one hand as he waited.
Ray looked straight ahead and smiled. "I don't suppose," he said, "you're twenty-one?"
The boy sat up a little straighter on the edge of the seat, turning to face Ray. "I guess not, huh?" he said.
Ray grinned at him. "How old are you?" he asked.
"How old do you think I am?"
"No fair," Ray said. "I asked you first."
"No, really..." the boy said. "How old do you think I am?"
Fifteen, Ray thought. He kept smiling. "You must be about a senior," he said. "Okay. Eighteen?"
The boy's smile widened into a grin. "Hmph!" he said. "No, I ain't eighteen. You were close though. I'm seventeen."
Ray looked over at him, one eyebrow raised.
The boy slumped back in the car, his arms crossed over his chest. "Okay," he said softly. "I'm sixteen. I ain't a senior, either. I just started high school." Then, after a minute he asked, "How old are you?"
Ray was caught unprepared. He hesitated a moment, then lied, "Twenty-three."
The boy said nothing for some time. They had already driven into downtown San Diego. Then he said, "Sure you wouldn't buy me some beer? like I said, I got the money."
Ray guided the car past Horton Plaza, hardly bothering to glance at the sailors sitting along the benches at the bus stop. He drove up Broadway, unsure whether the kid was really interested in sex, or if he was just looking for somebody to buy him a six-pack of beer.
When they stopped for the light at Seventh Street, Ray turned toward him once more. "Your mother know you drink beer?"
"Shit no!" the kid said, making it sound like one word.
"I don't want to get you in trouble," Ray said. "You drink a six-pack of beer before you go home, your mother finds you drunk on your ass, you wind up telling her where you got it ... your dad comes after me with the police and they throw my ass in jail."
"I wouldn't tell anybody," the boy said, sitting up a little, his eyes suddenly brighter. "Honest."
Ray laughed, even dared to reach across and pat the boy on the thigh, just once.
"Listen," he said, "I'm not going to buy you a six-pack and then wonder if you're staggering around San Diego drunk on your ass." He watched the boy slump inward once more, then added, "But if you want to ... Shit, I don't know. No. I don't think so."
The boy looked over at him, half-sullen, half-excited. "What?" he asked. "What were you going to say, man?"
Ray waved the thought away. "No," he said. "Forget it."
"No, man," the boy insisted. "You were going to say something. What was it. I'm all ears."
Again, Ray laughed-partly because the boy seemed so innocent, partly because the conversation was so trite.
"I was going to tell you, you could come up to my place and have a drink if you were that hot for it," he explained, keeping his eyes on the road as the light changed. "But I don't think so. Sorry, it was a bummer of an idea."
"Wow!" the boy said. "No, really. I'd like to, honest."
"Ever heard of 'contributing to the delinquency of a minor'? " Ray asked.
"I wouldn't tell anybody," the kid insisted. He had turned around in the seat, the bulge at his crotch even more obvious from a head-on view.
"It's late," Ray said, hoping he hadn't overplayed his hand.
"Sunday tomorrow!" the boy insisted.
Ray turned to face him. "You're anxious enough for a drink," he said. "If you were any older, I'd think you were an alcoholic."
Now the boy laughed. "How 'bout it?" he said.
"I'll even give you some dough if you want to stop and buy some beer."
"I don't drink beer."
"Okay," the boy said. "Rum, or whatever you want. I got about two bucks. I'll go in with you on it."
Ray turned the car north on Twelfth Avenue and drove up the hill toward the Naval hospital. "I don't want your money," he said, pushing away at the crumpled bills the boy had offered him. "I've got just about every kind of liquor you could want at the house."
"Far out!"
"Only I..." He hesitated, turning toward the boy as they passed the turnoff to the Ford Building. "Only I don't know. You sure your folks aren't going to be wondering where you are?"
"No, honest!" the boy vowed. "Lots of times on Saturday I don't even come home. Me and my buddies stay out a lot. My folks are used to it. Honest."
"My folks were never like that," Ray said. And he thought, How easy it would be for someone to murder you, Bud, now that you've spilled your whole Saturday-night life story. In his imagination he pictured the mangled and naked body of the boy thrown down an embankment somewhere in Balboa Park. Then, as he turned on Robinson Street, Ray became aware that the boy was waiting for his answer. "Okay," he said. "I feel sort of like having a drink myself. Only don't screw me up ... Say, what's your name anyway? Mine's Ray."
The boy smiled, again wiping the damp hair away from his forehead. "I'm Tim."
Ray reached over and waited until the boy awkwardly shook his hand. "Glad to know you, Tim," he said, holding onto the boy's hand perhaps just a second too long.
* * *
The light from the fireplace cast an orange glow over the thick beige rug where Tim had set down the glass of sloe gin and 7-Up. Behind them, on a straight-backed chair, the boy's pants and shirt steamed in the heat from the fire. It was raining harder now, and they could hear it drumming against the leaded windows above the slow pulse of music coming from the speakers on the other side of the room. Neither of them spoke.
When Ray stretched his bare legs out, his feet touched the boy's shoes where they had been carefully placed under the coffee table. Slowly, he reached out and ran his hand over the boy's smooth, hairless chest.
Tim didn't move. His hands folded under his head, he lay on his back, staring up at the moving shadows on the ceiling. His right leg-the one closest to Ray-was extended along the rug as gracefully as a ballerina's. The other leg was bent at the knee, the sole of his foot flat against the floor. He had said nothing since Ray had begun to caress him, nor had his face expressed either fear or surprise. Neither had it shown the slightest sign of pleasure. His expression was that of a boy alone in a quiet room. Only the flickering light of the fireplace seemed to change the direction of his stare.
Ray ran his palm along the boy's chest, over his abdomen, barely grazing the butter-colored curls of his pubic hair. The curls seemed to burn gold in the light from the fireplace. Tim had taken off his shirt and hung it on the chair without suggestion from Ray. After that it had been easy, sitting in the heat of the fire, for him to suggest that the boy remove his pants so that they could dry. When Ray had seen that the boy wore no underwear, he had been almost positive that Tim had been on the make. Now, after Tim's three drinks to his one, he was not so sure. The boy didn't protest being touched, he just didn't react. He hadn't even looked away as Ray stripped out of his clothes and lay down beside him on the rug.
The music droned softly, punctuated by an occasional crackling log from the fireplace. Stroking the boy's tanned abdomen, Ray wondered if he should give up the whole thing. He studied the boy's face, but it was expressionless. Then, when he brushed his hand down over the faint line of golden hair below the boy's navel, his fingers touched-for the first time-the boy's prick. It had begun to harden.
Ray glanced back at the boy's face, but Tim still refused to look at him. When he looked back at the pink flesh of his cock, Ray could see that it was still growing-slowly fattening, lengthening steadily without the usual erecting jerks as it filled with blood.
Gently, he closed his fingers around the young boy's lengthening prick. He felt it pulse in his hand. It was incredibly warm now. He imagined it fountaining milky cream over his fingers. He stroked down on it, breathless as the five-inch cock responded with a spastic jerk. Holding the pink prick erect with his right hand, he caressed the boy's balls with his other hand. He had expected them to be underdeveloped, but the sac was large and loose, the tender inner globes almost as large as walnuts. He couldn't tell if Tim's balls were as big as his own.
When he looked back at the boy, Tim had turned his head. His blue eyes lifted from where they had been watching Ray caress his cock and balls. He stared into Ray's eyes with wonder, his full lips parted as though to speak. But he said nothing.
Ray met his gaze with only a moment's hesitation. His fingers squeezed gently on the boy's cock.
"You've got a beautiful body, Tim," he said. It sounded stupid, but he was afraid to say more. He could feel his larger cock lifting its purple head and he felt embarrassed. He rolled over on his stomach and looked down at the delicately veined cock in his hands. He could see his breath stirring through the yellow curls around the root of the erection. Aware that the boy was watching his every movement, he swallowed slowly.
"You want to blow me, don't you?"
After the long silence, the sound of the boy's voice almost made him jump. He didn't look up. He watched his breath stirring the hair around the boy's cock, lifting them separately from their tight curls.
"You want to blow me, huh?" the boy repeated, his abdomen jerking slightly.
Ray turned slowly to face him. As calmly as he could, he said, "Do you want me to?"
"You can if you want to," he said, again looking at the roof.
Ray stared at him for several minutes. He felt absurd. He didn't know if the boy was tempting him-some kind of insolent blonde demon-or merely indifferent. The hardness of his cock didn't suggest indifference, though.
When he turned back to the cock in his hand, Ray's head continued the movement downward. His lips parted, his tongue slicked over them, and he lowered his mouth over Tim's erect cock until his nose was pressed into the boy's golden pubic hair.
Slowly, clasping the salt-sweet shaft with his lips, he lifted his head, churning his tongue along the pulsing cock in his mouth. He swirled his tongue over the head of the sixteen-year-old's cock until he could feel the boy's abdomen jerking with pleasure. Then he pulled back a little and, holding the cock erect with his hand, licked up and down the shaft until the entire erection glistened with a shimmering coat of saliva.
Gently he licked at the clinging hairs of the boy's balls. From the texture of Tim's balls he could tell that the boy was more excited than he had been willing to show. His nuts were drawn up so tight that Ray was afraid that the boy might shoot his creamy sperm at any minute.
He glanced up at Tim-the boy's lips were parted moistly-then quickly engulfed the pulsing prick once more. He swallowed it, his throat clasping around the swollen head. He backed away for only a moment, then once again shot his lips down around the circumference of the boy's teenage prick, sucking harder than he would have liked had anyone done it to him. He could feel the boy losing control. When he released the clamping grip of his lips, the boy's cock jerked wildly against his palate and teeth. He could feel himself sweating, suddenly desperate for the flood of sweet milk to pour into his throat.
Ray made a little gasping sound and once again swallowed Tim's shuddering cock.
"Annhh! I. . . " the boy gasped. His pelvis bounced up from the rug, his marble-smooth ass-cheeks as hard as stone. His prick plunged even further into Ray's willing mouth.
Ray could feel his breath cut off, his throat convulsing against the suddenly deep penetration of Tim's cock. He tried to back away, but as the head of the boy's cock slid onto the back of his tongue Tim humped upward again, embedding his shaft even deeper into the older man's throat.
Ray gasped and backed away, his eyes watering.
"Ahhnnn!" the boy gasped, his hands shooting out, his palms gripping the rug. His legs stiffened against the carpet, arching his back away from the floor.
The first jellied blast of Tim's cream spattered against the roof of Ray's mouth, then slid thickly down against the root of his tongue. The cock in his mouth pulsed, then belched forth another foaming load.
By then Ray had thrown himself over the spurting prick, his tongue and lips working to contain the flood. Again and again he swallowed the thick fluid, shocked and excited beyond his hopes at the startling remembrance of how thick and scalding adolescent sperm could be. Lubricated by its own slick outpourings, Tim's spurting cock slid ever deeper into Ray's gulping throat. Ray could feel his teeth pressed against the boy's churning balls.
Only when the boy's cock had stopped spurting its heady cream into his throat did Ray back away. He pulled his mouth away and gasped for breath. Then, he lowered his mouth once more around Tim's still erect member. Carefully laving it with his tongue, he cleaned away all residue of the boy's thick sperm. Drops of it had drooled from the corners of his mouth as he sucked voraciously on Tim's cock; now he licked the pearly drops free of the clinging pubic hairs. When he was sure he had not missed a drop, he looked up at the boy.
"You like it?" the boy said dully, breathing heavily.
Ray licked his lips and smiled down at the boy beneath him. "I can take all you've got, baby," he said.
CHAPTER THREE
Ray loved it.
He lay on his back, his knees drawn up, his feet flat on the floor, his thighs cradling his heavy balls. Sitting on his' chest, the hairless ass-cheeks heavier than Ray had imagined, Tim straddled his head and pumped his inexhaustible cock forcefully into the clenched lips that Ray offered up to him. Since Ray had first touched it, the boy's erection had not softened.
Now Tim leaned forward, his hands resting on the floor, the light from the fireplace dancing on the sheen of sweat covering his chest. Grinding his groin against Ray's face, he forced his cock deeply into the gasping man's throat, sawing it back and forth with near jackhammer speed. His balls slapped wetly against Ray's chin where the combined spittle and sperm had smeared over his lips. The curly hairs at the base of his cock ground against his seducer's nose.
When the boy sat back, Ray felt Tim's cock slide against the roof of his mouth and he took the opportunity to gasp for breath. The boy was a screwing machine. He had managed to gulp for air only twice before Tim grasped him by the head and once again began to pump his slithering prick in and out of the tiring lips.
Ray's eyes widened with surprise as he saw the spastic contractions jerking across the boy's abdomen. Then, once more his mouth was flooded with foaming come. It came too fast for him to swallow. He could feel it sliding slickly from the corners of his mouth, running down his chin to pool in the hollow of his neck. The boy was thrusting into him so wildly now that his cock had become dislodged and slid greasily against his cheek. He felt a jet of sperm spatter against his eyelid and drip down into his ear. Twisting his head to the side, he again caught the fountaining cock, his mouth working steadily now, sucking hard as the spurting flood began to diminish.
Even when his climax had passed, Tim continued to thrust into Ray's mouth. Finally Ray had to push him away.
"My God," the older man said, wiping the slickness away from the corner of his eye. He gasped for breath for a moment as he sat up. Then he looked up at the boy-Tim now sat on Ray's crotch, the perspiration-sheened cheeks of his ass cradling Ray's heavy erection-and said, "How long can you keep that up?"
"You said," Tim gasped, his chest heaving, "you could take all I've got."
Ray reached for the glass of liquor near the fireplace. He swallowed gratefully, then handed the glass to the boy. "You practically drowned me both times," he whispered hoarsely.
"I ain't done yet," Tim said. He looked down at his hard-on and gave it an experimental squeeze. "You might not believe it," he said, "but I gotta have more. I'm still hurtin'. "
Ray shook his head, grinning. "You're really something else." He was satisfied. Tim had given him more than he could have expected. Now his jaw ached from trying to hold it open for Tim's plunging cock. He was tired. He would have liked it if the boy had decided to go home. He almost suggested it. He'd give Tim his telephone number and they could get together again soon. He wanted to do that.
"Would you let me fuck you?" Tim asked him.
Ray looked over at his young protege, wondering how many other men this boy had fucked. "I'm really pretty beat," he said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.
For the first time, Tim touched him-lightly, on the leg. "Come on," the boy said. "You wanted to blow me and I let you. Le'me fuck you."
Without speaking, Ray pushed the boy backward until he was sitting on the carpet. Then he untangled his legs and rose. He stood up, looking down at the boy on the rug. He had a peculiar sense of familiarity toward the scene they were enacting. For a moment he had imagined he was the boy's father. When the boy started to get up, Ray turned away and walked out of the room.
Tim hesitated a moment, then followed Ray into the bedroom. When his eyes adjusted to the darker light, he could see that Ray had lain face down on the bed, a pillow under his pelvis to elevate his ass. He lay as though dead, his arms at his sides, the hairy muscles of his thighs and calves completely relaxed and unmoving.
Tim crawled onto the bed on his knees, his hands caressing the parted inner sides of Ray's thighs. It felt peculiar to him to be handling a man's thighs this way, particularly when it was a man he was about to fuck in the ass. Tim would not have admitted it, but he had had only two previous homosexual experiences. In the first, his older brother had fucked him in the ass when he was twelve. In the second he had submitted to letting one of the boys in his sixth-period gym class suck him off after school one day; the boy had wanted Tim to reciprocate, but after he had shot his load into the boy's mouth he had walked away from the gagging boy and never spoken to him again.
"There's some Intensive Care on the night-stand," Ray said, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Tim reached for the big yellow bottle, juggled it in his hands, then squirted the lotion out into his palm. Meticulously he anointed his hard cock, swallowing hard at the pleasure that his own hand imparted sliding over the sensitive flesh.
"Shall I put some on you, too?" he asked, feeling suddenly embarrassed. He wasn't sure of the reply Ray had made, but he squirted out more of the lotion onto his fingers and, hesitantly, pressed it into the hairy cleft of Ray's ass.
He found Ray's ass-hole and massaged the lotion in, the tip of his middle finger accidentally penetrating Ray's anus before he even realized it. He pulled his hand back quickly, unsure what to wipe his fingers off on. He checked to see if Ray was looking, then he used the sheet to clean his hand.
He leaned forward, centering his cock in the dark valley of Ray's ass, his glans sliding slickly in the thick hair until it at last encountered-with a slight movement from Ray-the indentation of his ass-hole.
"Okay," Ray said. "Come on." He held his breath against the expected pain.
If Tim's cock had been any larger, Ray was sure he would have been ripped open. The boy plunged in to the hilt on the first stroke, his cock as hard and unyielding as a bone. Then, without waiting for Ray to grow accustomed to the size, he had begun fucking furiously, his lower torso bouncing against Ray's muscular hips.
"My God!" Ray groaned, wincing beneath the boy's battering prick. "Slow down!"
But Tim didn't slow down. Each stroke he made seemed deeper, more powerful than the last. And he seemed to go on forever. Ray felt his own orgasm approach, but it ripped through him before he was even ready for it. And still the boy fucked him, his prick feeling as jagged as a handsaw.
Then, abruptly, it was over. Tim collapsed over Ray's sweating back like a rag doll tossed away by a bored child. For the first time that night, the boy's breath sounded ragged in his throat.
Carefully, Ray rolled away from him. He felt like he might even be bleeding. Gingerly he rolled onto his side so he could face the boy.
Tim's eyes were closed, his abdomen heaving as he tried to catch his breath. At last, his erection was slowly wilting.
Ray touched his cheek, turning the boy's face toward him. "You want to use the bathroom first, or shall I?"
Tim opened his eyes and panted, "You go ahead. I'm ... wiped out."
"I should think so," Ray said. He lifted his legs off the bed, then stood up, his hand moving back to check the cleavage of his buttocks. Then he padded slowly into the bathroom and shut the door.
He looked at his face in the bathroom mirror. He did not look old. Then he turned on the faucets and began to wash his own ejaculation from his belly where it had begun to dry into the hair below his navel. The boy had almost been too much for him, he realized. More than you bargained for, he said to himself. "But, Jesus!" he said aloud, rinsing off his cock at the sink.
The boy had been a little cold at first, he realized. I never even tried to kiss him, he remembered. But when he had begun to come on, he had been something else.
Ray pulled down the purple towel from the shower-curtain rod and dried himself off. Then he walked across to the toilet and stood, shaking his cock for several seconds until the stream of urine began to flow. When he was finished, he unrolled a stream of toilet paper and gingerly wiped the hand-lotion residue from his sensitive ass-hole.
Before going back into the bedroom, he checked himself in the mirror once more, grinning widely to examine his teeth. He washed his hands again. Then he opened the bathroom door and walked back into the darkened bedroom. He could hear the boy in the living room.
"All clear!" he shouted, opening the drawer in his nightstand so that he could find a pencil to write down his telephone number to give the boy. "The bathroom's all yours!" he shouted.
He found the pencil and a slip of note paper from his office. He wrote the number out clearly, and above it printed his name. Then he tossed the pencil and notepad back into the drawer and stood up, listening to see what the boy was doing in the living room. Fixing a drink, he thought.
Then he glanced down at the foot of the bed at his trousers. They'd slipped off apparently when they had come into the bedroom. But when he picked them up, he knew instantly that his wallet was missing. The pants were too light.
Knowing that it was futile, he stepped into the living-room doorway. The boy was gone. The fire crackled. On the carpet by the coffee table lay his wallet. His breath seemed to go out of him as he walked over and picked it up. The boy had managed to take at least thirty-five dollars in bills, but he had not fooled with the credit cards. Ray wondered if he was lucky. Then he walked naked across the living room and stood in the open doorway for a moment, letting the cold rain spatter over him as he stared out at the dark night. For the first time since he had entered the house that night with Tim, he felt cold. The lights were out in the house. The night seemed to have rushed into the house to fill it with emptiness. Very quietly he stepped back and closed the door. He still had the paper with his name and phone number in his hand.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Fags everywhere and not a man among them!" someone shrilled behind him.
Without lifting his elbow from the bar, Kevin turned toward the door in search of the speaker. Then, uninterested, he turned back to the bar. Beside him, at the front serving station, a black-haired boy with a moustache had ordered drinks. He watched the barman's hands play over the buttons on the nozzle to the mix dispenser, then turned once again to look at the boy at the far end of the bar.
Kevin was sure he was a sailor. The Club was usually full of them on Saturday nights. He recognized them by their haircuts. This one was by himself. In the hour Kevin had spent sitting at the bar, the boy had ordered three Cuba Libres, and was now ordering another. He kept staring until he was sure the sailor had become aware, once again, that he was being watched. Then, when he thought he saw the glimmer of a smile, he raised his glass in salute. He grinned when the sailor returned the gesture.
He wanted to get up and go around and talk to the sailor, but could not bring himself to fight his way through the mob to his right. He glanced at the crowd between the small stage bar and the pool table, then faced the back of the bar again where the sailor was sitting. He kept cruising, his ego boosted by the fact that the sailor seemed just as interested in him.
He was about to take a drink when he felt the hand on his crotch. Swinging his head to the left, he broke into a grin.
The tall, thin boy pulled his hand away from Kevin's crotch and offered it to be shaken.
"Ron!" Kevin said, shaking his hand. "How are you? I thought you and Danny had died or something. I haven't seen you for ... I don't know how long."
Ron grinned, then leaned into the serving station. "We don't go out much any more," he said. "We've turned into home bodies."
Kevin grinned, then glanced back at the sailor. He was pleased to see Ron, but at the moment he was afraid that the sailor might get discouraged seeing him talk to someone else.
"Are you working yet?" he asked, turning again toward the angling boy in the western shirt.
Ron drew on his cigarette. "Oh yeah," he drawled. "Have been for about two months now."
"Oh wow!" Kevin said, grimacing. "Has it been that long since I've seen you?"
Ron turned his head slightly, lifting one eyebrow. "How long ago was it that you were over at the house?"
"It can't be that long," Kevin said. He remembered the afternoon he had tricked with Ron very well, but it seemed like weeks, not months.
"It was right after my accident," Ron said. "I'd only been out of the hospital a couple of weeks."
As much as Kevin might have liked to talk with Ron-Ron had the longest cock Kevin had ever seen, and he hoped someday to get back in bed with the tall boy-he also knew that if Danny was in the bar, there was no chance that he was going to wind up in bed with Ron. He felt irritated by the small-talk, especially since it might mean that the sailor would begin cruising someone else.
He glanced in the sailor's direction, hoping his expression would convey the fact that he was trapped in a meaningless conversation, that he and Ron were merely friends and had no intention of fucking each other. But the sailor didn't seem to be paying any attention; he was looking in another direction.
"So how are you feeling now?" Kevin said, trying not to sound bored. The idea of getting another chance at Ron's huge cock excited him in the abstract, but he wondered if it was worth the effort to keep the conversation going; if he and Ron ever did manage to fuck each other again it would have to be on the sly. Even though he didn't particularly like Danny, Kevin wasn't fond of messing around with someone else's lover.
"Fine, I guess," Ron said, picking up a maraschino cherry. "As well as can be expected." He stood up, a foot higher than Kevin's head. He pulled the cherry from its stem with his teeth, then tossed the stem on the floor. Kevin could see his eyes searching through the crowd, probably looking to see where Danny had gone, and with whom.
"We'll have to get together again," Ron said absently. "Real soon." Then he slapped Kevin on the shoulder and moved off into the crowd toward the dance floor.
Kevin looked back at the sailor and smiled as if to explain that the conversation was nothing. Once again, the sailor returned the smile.
"This is from Bud," the waiter told him, setting another vodka collins in front of him.
Kevin looked at the drink, then at the waiter.
The waiter nodded toward the back of the bar. "The guy at the end of the bar," he said.
Kevin looked up in time to see the sailor raise his glass in salute. He smiled back and mouthed the words: "Thank you." Then, when the sailor picked up his drink and started around toward the front of the bar, Kevin was sure he was going to fuck him.
* * *
Kevin sat on the sailor's unmade bed, his hand raised to grasp Bud's hard hips. The sailor had worked the fly of his white low-rise bellbottoms open one button at a time, his bulging crotch only inches from Kevin's slightly perspiring face. The off-white knit of Bud's Jockey shorts was distended grotesquely-so much so that Kevin had been able to see the dark tangle of his coarse pubic hair through the stretched fly opening. Now, the sailor pulled down the elastic band of the shorts, the fabric stretching over the hose-like bulge of his cock, to reveal fully the extent of his equipment.
Kevin swallowed at the delightful surprise of the disclosure. Self-consciously, he licked his lip, tasting the salt savor of his own perspiration which had beaded on his upper hp. His fingers kneaded the taut skin of Bud's hips as he leaned, ever so slightly, forward, his nostrils dilating as he inhaled the first waft of musky male fragrance.
Except for the head, Bud's cock was the color of warm toast-a rich, golden tan. Only beginning to pulse with the first signs of hardening, it arched thickly away from the coffee-colored thicket of hair at the base, the thick vein at the side snaking across it to divide in a faintly blue fork almost four inches from the base. The pulsing prick seemed weighed down by the bulbous swelling of the collared crown. The head was the color and shape of a raspberry-flavored gumdrop. It was ringed with the barest ruff of slightly darker foreskin, and as Kevin examined it, the sailor's prick slowly throbbed, thickening and taking on a deeper pink.
As the rush of blood flooded into the crown of Bud's limber prick, the downward angle of the crown changed somewhat and Kevin could see the magenta opening at the tip. The urethra was huge in proportion to the considerable diameter of Bud's prick. Even with the cock still soft, the opening was at least as big around as a pencil. Kevin could see almost an inch down the meaty tube, the inner channel gleaming redly. Already he was imagining the floor of foaming come that would boil whitely from the throbbing tip. Again, he licked his lips. He had to taste it. His saliva was slick in his mouth.
Kevin leaned forward, bending at the waist and twisting his head to the side, to come up at the cock from below. The heat of the bloating cockhead seemed to burn his lips even before he touched it. He opened his mouth and placed the weight of the heavy prick on his tongue toward the back of his throat. Instantly, his taste buds exploded with the desire for more, his saliva pouring around the spongy prick in his mouth. He felt it pulse against the hot roof of his mouth, hardening within the eager grasp of his lips.
"Suck it," Bud whispered above him, his hands closing on Kevin's shoulders for balance.
"Jesus, your mouth's hot!" the sailor whispered again. He made a short, guttural moan.
Relaxing, Kevin let himself sink down over the hardening cock in his mouth until he could feel the lower rim of the glans pulse against the opening of his throat. As long as Bud's cock was still partially soft, Kevin could swallow and clamp his throat muscles around the neck of that probing prick; but, he knew, once his cock was fully hard he would never be able to get it into his throat. He took his time, pressing the underside of the sailor's cock with his tongue until the tip of the thick prick bobbed up against his throat. He stifled a gag reflex and once again swallowed. Now he could feel his own cock erecting painfully against his right pantleg.
"Oooh, buddy!" the sailor groaned, his fingers tightening on Kevin's shoulders. He stepped back, his huge cock slurping wetly from Kevin's clasping red lips. "Let's get on it," he said huskily, beginning to hobble out of his pants.
Kevin didn't waste any time taking off his clothes. Before Bud could finish hanging up his pants in the closet, Kevin had stretched out naked on the wrinkled sheets, his hard cock loosely cradled in his hands, his eyes following the tensing motions of the sailor's hairy ass. In the bar he had hoped that the sailor would turn out to be a lady in bed. Now Kevin's ass-hole tightened and relaxed with the hope that this big stud was going to fuck his brains out. Ordinarily he didn't like taking it up the ass, but this cock was too good to pass up. It was not the size or length of Bud's cock that fascinated him, but the brute strength that moved behind it. He was almost certain that if he let this guy begin to fuck him the sailor would show him no mercy. His hard cock throbbed between his fingers at the perverse thought of being pinned helpless beneath this stud, of being hurt as the hard shaft fucked in and out of his bowels. Again, his ass-hole clenched at the thought of the pleasurable pain that he might know in a very few moments.
When Bud turned away from the closet, his cock was fully hard. The bullet-shaped head rose up from his groin to his navel. As he sauntered heavily toward the bed, his cock hardly swayed at all, so stiff had it become. Clumsily, he covered Kevin's body with his own.
Kevin moaned under the heated weight pressing him into the mattress as Bud's hairy chin rubbed against his cheek. Trapped between their abdomens, both cocks burned against each other, growing hotter with each blood-filled throb.
Kevin wrapped his arms around Bud's massive shoulders, his fingers sliding on the smooth, brown skin. He could feel Bud's slightly parted lips nuzzling his neck, but he did not know if the sailor would kiss him or not. He wanted it. He wanted Bud to grind his mouth down against him, the thick tongue sliding hotly into his gulping mouth. But he was also afraid to initiate the action himself.
But then Bud's tongue swirled in his ear and, before he could complete the gasp of pleasure, his mouth was bruised by the pressure of the sailor's demanding kiss. Bud's plunging tongue filled his mouth almost as fully as his cock had. Eagerly, Kevin sucked back on the slippery probe, his saliva washing thickly into his throat as Bud fucked his tongue deeper.
"Mmmmm," the sailor groaned into Kevin's mouth. "Buddy, I want to fuck you in the worst way!"
Kevin ran his fingers into Bud's hair at the nape of his neck, at the same time pulling him down into another even more forceful kiss. After what seemed an eternity, Bud pulled away and they looked at each other.
Kevin's eyes glistened in the light from the overhead lamp. He didn't want to be forced to tell Bud that being fucked was what he wanted. He hoped that his eyes were giving his consent.
Then Bud sat back on his haunches between Kevin's outspread thighs. He held Kevin's cock in his fist, squeezing gently as he held it erect.
Suck me, Kevin thought. Go ahead and suck it! He humped his cock back and forth in the sailor's hand.
But Bud released Kevin's cock and ran his blunt fingers into the growth of hair surrounding the base. He caressed the contracted sac of Kevin's balls, his fingers grazing downward with each stroke.
Feeling Bud kneading his nuts, the fingers probing lower with each pass, Kevin knew the sailor was going to fuck him. He could feel Bud's knuckles grazing the compressed crack of his ass. Then the motions of the hand on his balls stopped. He opened his eyes and looked up at Bud.
Bud rose on his knees, his body stretching goldenly across Kevin's chest until the long cock slid across Kevin's ribs. Bud fumbled on the bedstand for a moment, then slowly coiled back into his kneeling position. In his fist was a half-used tube of K-Y.
Wordlessly, almost ritualistically, he opened the tube of lubricant and tossed the cap onto the floor beside the bed.
Kevin watched almost breathlessly as the big sailor laid the tube aside on the sheets; then he let the muscular man between his thighs grasp his legs and lift them over his shoulders. In that position, Kevin watch the tube of K-Y disappear again into Bud's hand, then he turned his gaze to the ceiling as he felt the cool slime of the clear lubricant being massaged over the tight whorl of his ass.
Bud was too anxious to be gentle. His thumb circled Kevin's sphincter one time, spreading the greasy K-Y. Then he pressed in, his thumb slowly penetrating the yielding muscle until he could feel the heated insides of Kevin's clasping ass-hole. Only for an instant did he probe deeper with his thumb, wiggling it from side to side to loosen the channel, even though he could already tell that Kevin was not used to being fucked. The rectal muscles were too tight to have had much use in that manner.
When he pulled his thumb out of Kevin's ass, it took him only a moment to apply the glistening jelly to his own cock. He shuddered a little at the cool feel of the K-Y, but coated his cock well, spreading the stuff along the entire length of the shaft. In contrast to the K-Y, his cock felt even hotter than it had before. Then he tossed the tube onto the floor and wiped his fingers off on the sheets.
He positioned himself on his knees, guiding the blunt head of his greasy cock into the warm cleft of Kevin's buttocks. Glancing up, he could see the mingled fear and desire etching Kevin's face. Then he pushed his glans into the tight hole of Kevin's ass and began to lean forward.
Kevin tensed. He could feel the tightness of his rectum resisting the continuous pressure of Bud's cock, the pressure transforming itself into a burning heat. He knew from the force of Bud's cock against his ass-hole that if he didn't relax he'd be torn. Already he could tell that the sailor was trying to fuck him with the biggest prick that had ever tried to pass the portal of his resisting ass. Choking back a groan of pain, Kevin opened his mouth and gasped for air.
The greased pole plunged into him instantly. Bud's weight came down on the underside of Kevin's thighs until his own knees were forced down against his chest and Bud's tongue, seemingly in the same motion, slid into his mouth at the same instant that he felt the sailor's hairy groin pressing into his upturned buttocks. Kevin was filled with cock and he knew from that moment on that it was going to be good.
At first it felt like his ass-hole was distended big enough to accommodate a beer bottle. But as the melting heat of the sailor's strokes loosened the grip of his muscles involuntarily maintained, Kevin found he could almost relax under the slow, steady strokes. If only he could keep from thinking about the incredible length of prick that was being repeatedly stuffed into his bowels, he could keep from clamping down on Bud's cock with his anus. But when he tightened up on the thick prong, the burning came back and he felt like he was being stuffed by a huge pole with each plowing motion of Bud's big prick.
"Jesus, you're tight ... " Bud murmured, his voice no more than a whisper now. "like a virgin cunt, buddy..."
Kevin forced himself to relax. Twice now he had caught himself on the verge, of chanting out the words: Fuck me! Fuck me! Ram me deeper, harder! Give it to me with all you've got! Oh, sweet God that's good. Fuck me, fuck me. . . But each time he felt the burning prick withdraw partially from his gulping ass-hole, he held his breath. And each time the cock fucked back into him, his eyes seemed to cloud over with a pulsating mist of orange and magenta, as though the pressure were being applied to his eyeballs instead of his prostate gland. So he was not yet relaxed enough to begin responding to Bud's grinding thrusts with a motion of his own.
He counted himself lucky to be able to move his hands up to where he could feel the flexing tension of the sailor's churning ass, the hard muscles ballooning and flattening beneath his slithering fingers. He toyed with the idea of pushing his finger into Bud's ass-hole, but he knew the position they were in would never allow him to do it. Also, he was not quite sure what the sailor's reaction might be. So he let himself get fucked.
He could feel the coarse hair of Bud's groin grinding against the cheeks of his ass and it seemed to him that each hair had become a glowing copper wire, burning with its own heat into his sensitive skin. Then he felt the muscles in his legs begin to relax. And when he began to slide his legs down from the sailor's shoulders, he knew that he had stopped stiffening up. Bud was fucking his ass without resistance.
Keeping his ass turned upward to receive the increasing frequency of Bud's fuck-strokes into his bowels, Kevin locked his legs around the sailor's waist. Each time Bud plunged into him now, Kevin heaved his ass up, knowing he was growing desperate to take the hot lance of Bud's cock ever deeper. He ground his ass against the sailor's throbbing cock until he could feel the thick head stretching his guts like they'd never been stretched before.
They were both beyond words now, or any pretense of kissing. Muscles straining, they lunged against each other desperately. Sweat from Bud's face splashed down and spattered against Kevin's mouth.
Kevin could feel the prickly contraction of his balls as Bud's ramming hard-on battered his loosened ass-hole and rubbed his prostate. Over the sailor's heaving back, Kevin's hands sought for a grip and found only the slick film of sweat that covered them both.
"Anngh! Anngh-" Kevin groaned, his legs gripping tighter around Bud's waist as he felt his anus clenching around the rapidly pounding cock. "I'm going to shoot!" he gasped. Already he could feel his cock jerking spastically where it was trapped beneath Bud's hot belly.
Viciously, Bud fucked into him again, his cock shooting as deep as it had ever gone before. Kevin's head shot back against the mattress, his neck arching up as his mouth groaned out an animal moan. Agonizingly, his cock belched out the first scalding wash of sperm against his belly and Bud's chest. At the same moment, he clamped down on the sailor's cock with his ass-hole.
"Unnhhh!" Bud groaned, his body going rigid, his hard cock seeming to burrow even deeper into the spasming flesh beneath him. He grasped Kevin's shoulders, his hips making the slightest bumping motions to wedge his cock even deeper into Kevin's tightly gripping anus. "Now!" he choked. "Now!"
Kevin's throbbing cock jetted forth another load of slick, hot come as he felt the thickening contractions of Bud's cock in his ass. He couldn't stop himself from squeezing down on the hosing cock. The pain was intense, but at the same time, he ground his tense buttocks into Bud's groin, as though to erase the burning pressure. Even so, his own pleasure was overwhelming. The third spurt of his fountaining cock had been so powerful that he could feel it drooling down across his right nipple.
They gripped each other like terrified wrestlers, the slightest movement from either body intensifying the pleasure and pain of the other.
Then, suddenly, Bud raised himself to his knees once again, supporting Kevin's buttocks with his knees. Bending forward at the waist as though in pain, he lifted Kevin's softly drooling cock and sucked it into his mouth, his tongue washing wildly over the slippery, hot glans.
Kevin stiffened even more, trying to pump his cock into the sailor's throat, but afraid to lunge upward too far for fear of dislodging the prick fucking his ass. He had thought that his orgasm was fading, but now the demanding suction of the sailor's mouth was bringing back the prickling electricity of his climax.
Bud jerked his head up quickly and gasped, his hand squeezing down on Kevin's ass, "Fill my mouth with it!" Then, once again, he threw himself at the erection just in time to catch the thick wad of come gushing from Kevin's long cock.
Kevin writhed with pleasure, his ass-hole gripping the sailor's burning prick, his own cock being milked by the suction of Bud's mouth. He could still feel the throbbing pulsations of Bud's cock in his anus, so he knew that the sailor's climax was still continuing. And he had a crazy image of Bud's hot spunk somehow pouring into a secret channel to be hosed up through his cock into the sailor's own mouth.
Then, deftly, Bud leaned away from Kevin's cock; a trail of sperm spilling from the comer of his lips, he leaned back and lifted Kevin's left leg over his belly. Careful to keep his cock lodged firmly in Kevin's ass, Bud twisted delicately to the side and lay down on the bed, his arm snaking under Kevin's neck until they were lying together in relaxed positions, even though they were still joined cock-to-ass, spoon-fashion.
Neither of them said anything for several minutes. Lying on his side with Bud's thick arm for a pillow, Kevin studied the close-up view afforded him of the heavy veins in the sailor's hand. Bud's hand hung off the edge of the bed, his fingers slightly curled.
Bud's other arm curled over his waist, his hand gently cradling Kevin's damp balls. Kevin could feel the somehow greater heat of the sailor's palm against the loosening sac of his testicles, but he stared at the gracefully posed hand before him as though it were the thing responsible for his pleasure. He wondered if this was the hand which had guided Bud's thick cock into his ass. He could still feel the warm penetration of the erection between his buttocks. It seemed, incongruously, as though he had always had Bud's cock fitted into his ass this way. It felt so natural to have that smooth penetrating heat there that he imagined he might even be able to go to sleep with the sailor's cock still within him.
Then Bud drew his hand up from Kevin's balls and ran it along the boy's chest to his nipple. His fingers circled teasingly around the liver-colored disc and he said, very softly against Kevin's back, "I'm going to fuck you again, buddy. You're too good to waste on one shot."
Even though he knew that Bud's cock hadn't really softened, Kevin was surprised at the sailor's statement. But he smiled softly against Bud's lower arm as he felt the slow withdrawal of the fat erection in his ass, followed by the sure stroke back into his depths. There was no resistance now. He let the sailor fuck him again, pleased to discover himself growing hard again under the expert driving strokes of the man behind him.
As wildly violent as their first session had been, this time they both kept the action going slowly, smoothly. Kevin realized that, almost for the first time in his life, he was enjoying the feel of another man's hard-on sliding in and out of his ass. Little by little he bumped softly back at Bud's plunge forward, his buttocks smacking softly against the sailor's hipbones. It was a different sensation from fucking someone, Kevin realized, but he was not at all sure that it wasn't even better being the one in whom the hard cock pumped.
"Deeper ... " Kevin whispered, unsure even whether Bud had heard him. "Fuck me," he breathed, his eyes closed to the ecstasy of having a horny stud fuck him so well. "Oh, Bud," he whispered, moaning lowly, "fuck me good. Fuck me and fuck me ... and don't stop. It feels so good having you in me." He shuddered a little at the pleasure of feeling the sailor's hand close over his hard cock. "Fuck me," he repeated, pushing his ass back around the cock nosing into it again.
* * *
An hour later, Bud lay on his back, his hands around Kevin's waist. Kevin, his knees on either side of the sailor's hips, was bouncing slowly up and down over the cock wedged solidly in his well-fucked ass. He couldn't get enough of Bud's cock, and he had willingly admitted it more than once. He kept his ass rotating in circles as he raised and lowered himself around the long prong which had already spilled its load three times into his belly.
"Wait a minute," Bud said, increasing his grip on Kevin's waist.
Kevin opened his eyes and looked down at the grinning sailor beneath him.
"Wait a minute," Bud repeated, raising himself up on his elbows. He smiled back at Kevin, then frowned. "I don't mean to be a spoiled sport or anything," he began, "but it's almost two o'clock."
Kevin began to hump himself up and down again on the big cock. "So?"
"So," Bud said. "I've got buddies." He looked up at Kevin, his cock flexing in the warm channel of the boy's willing ass. "Roommates, I mean," he said. "They'll be getting off work at the hospital pretty soon and..."
"And you'd rather not have them walk in on you while you're fucking me? Is that the idea?"
Bud smiled. "Yeah," he said, raising his eyebrows. "That's the idea."
Kevin tried to make himself laugh, his ass-hole winking around the prick within him. "Okay," he said. "This last time and I'll haul ass out of here, okay?"
Bud shook his head, grinning. "When I first walked out of that bar with you," he said, "I thought we were going to wind up having a wrestling match to see who was going to fuck who." He shook his head. "I sure didn't think you were going to-"
"It's not my thing, either," Kevin said, feeling a little foolish. "Ordinarily, I mean," he added. "I don't know why I got turned on to it tonight."
"This is a first for me, too," Bud said, grinning. "I don't know why, but this is the first time in ... I don't know how long that I've been able to keep it up for more than one or two times in the same night."
When he laughed, Kevin could feel the cock inside him jiggle back and forth. "Okay," he said. "One more time and then we call it quits ... for tonight, anyway."
"Okay," Bud said. "Only ... Listen. I don't know if you're game to try this, but. . . I've never done it this way before and I'd sort of like to try it on for size, if you know what I mean."
Kevin cocked his head and looked down at the man who had fucked him so thoroughly. "What?"
Bud sat up. "You lay down on the edge of the bed," he said. "I stand behind you and give it to you that way."
Again, Kevin grinned. "I never did it that way, either," he said, gingerly lifting himself from Bud's slippery erection. "I guess we can call it 'the grand finale' or something."
They both laughed as they got into position-Kevin on his knees, leaning over the bed facing the door, Bud half-squatting awkwardly behind him.
Wincing involuntarily as Bud again slipped his heavy prick into his ass, Kevin asked, "What's this called, anyway? Dog-style, or what?"
Bud didn't answer, but began fucking awkwardly into the gulping grip of Kevin's ass, his cock probing deeply with each ass-jarring stroke he made.
Kevin held on to the sheets with both hands. In this position he couldn't fuck back at the cock he had grown to appreciate so much that night. Without that control, he noticed for the first time since Bud had initially forced the thick cock into his ass, the violence of the sailor's fucking. Almost before they got going good, Kevin was half-wishing he had not insisted on a last go-round.
Bud thrust into him savagely, so forcefully that Kevin gasped for breath with each lunge. Whether it was the fact that his stomach was being battered against the edge of the mattress, whether he had merely become exhausted with the intensity of their fucking, or whether Bud was actually trying to hurt him this time, Kevin didn't know. But he knew it hurt-not so much the friction of the thick cock rubbing against his sensitive sphincter, but somewhere inside where his organs were being thrust apart with each shocking stroke of the hard cock fucking in and out of him.
Even so, he felt obligated to let the thing go to its natural culmination. He had, after all, insisted that Bud fuck him again. And, beyond that, he could not admit to the sailor that he had had enough. It was stupid, he realized, to let his masculine ego enter into it-particularly since he was getting fucked in the first place.
But, without realizing it, he found himself groaning once more, "Fuck me! Deeper! Give it to me as hard ... as deep as you can!"
That was when Bud froze behind him, his cock hesitating in midstroke.
Kevin twisted his head to the side to look back at Bud, but as he did so something else caught his eye. A wave of panic and horror washed over him as he raised himself up from the bed at the waist.
Standing in the doorway stood three sailors.
"Far fucking out!" the blonde in the center said, a grin spreading from ear to ear across his boyish face.
"Oh, shit!" Bud spat, pulling his cock from Kevin's ass.
Kevin looked from left to right, unsure whether to make a dash for his clothes or merely freeze and brave it out.
"That corks it!" Bud spat, slamming his fist against the wall. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled a cigarette from the pack on the bedstand.
Kevin looked guiltily down at the tube of K-Y by his bare knee, then back at the three sailors in the doorway. For the first time since he had seen them there, he noticed that the blonde was nude from the waist down; not only that, but below the them there, he noticed that the blonde was nude massive erection.
The blonde leaned against the bedroom doorway, blocking the entrance of his two smiling cohorts. All three of them seemed to be grinning as though their suspicions had finally been confirmed.
"This a private party?" the blonde sailor asked. "Or can anyone play?"
Feeling horribly exposed, Kevin turned to Bud for help, but he sat with his back to his roommates, quietly smoking a cigarette. Then, after a moment, he turned to Kevin and said, "Well ... What'd you say your name was? Kevin?" He nodded toward the doorway. "These are my roommates."
Kevin swallowed hard as he got up off his knees and sat on the bed. He looked at the three grinning sailors and saw that the dark-haired one behind the blonde was in the process of skinning out of his bellbottoms.
He blinked his eyes a moment, then croaked, "You mean you're ... all gay?"
The blonde swaggered across the room and sat down on the other side of the bed. With one hand he snapped the cigarette out of Bud's mouth, and with the other he began to caress Kevin's leg. "We all work at the hospital," he said. "I guess that ought to tell you."
By that time, both of the other two sailors had shucked their clothes and were edging themselves onto the bed. The only person wearing anything was the blonde, and he only had his white top on. Kevin's eyes widened at the circle of four hard cocks that surrounded him.
The dark-haired sailor reached out and squeezed Kevin's cock, giving it a tentative up-and-down motion within his fist. "So you like to get fucked, huh?" he asked.
Again, Kevin looked to Bud for help.
Bud took his cigarette back from the blonde and grinned at the dark-haired sailor. "Does a cat shit in the woods?" he asked.
"Wait a minute, fellas," Kevin began. "Sure, I like to get fucked, but I sure as hell don't have any intention of taking you all on, if that's what you've got in mind."
The dark-haired sailor grinned, still squeezing Kevin's cock. "Don't worry about it," he chuckled. "Mark here don't even like to fuck. All he wants is a mouthful of come and he's happy!"
The blonde landed a swift right to the dark-haired sailor's shoulder. "Shiiit!" he grinned.
Kevin could feel himself being pulled down between Bud and the blonde.
"Wait a minute!" he gasped, trying to keep his balance. "Wait just a fucking minute!" When they let go of him, he said, "I think I've got an idea. Just hold on a second..."
CHAPTER FIVE
"I'll be there," Ralph promised as Alex stepped out of the bathroom into the crowd waiting around the door.
Looking in the mirror above the sink, Ralph inspected his teeth. He was past the point now of wishing they were straighter, or whiter; he just didn't want to spend the evening trying to pick someone up if he had a piece of spinach hanging from his front teeth. He leaned closer to the mirror and brushed at the shoulder-length brown hair that framed his well-tanned face.
"Dirty hippie," he joked with his reflection in the glass. Then somebody came out of the John and Ralph jumped back self-consciously from the mirror. "Excuse me," he said, side-stepping into the toilet area, closing the door behind him.
He stood at the urinal, shaking his cock back and forth waiting for the urine to flow, when the door opened and a red-headed dude about six feet tall slid in beside him at the other urinal.
"Don't mean to crowd you, man," the redhead said, producing a long, pink liverwurst-sized cock, "but I just never could hold beer!"
Ralph couldn't help staring at the redhead's prick. It was mammoth, even though it wasn't even hard. The stream of piss shooting out of the tip of it came with such force that Ralph was surprised it didn't splatter back on the redhead's brown bellbottoms. Seeing the volume of water hosing out of the other boy's prick started his own piss. Before he was finished, the redhead had backed away from the urinal and was busy tucking his cock back into his fly. Ralph backed into him, somewhat less than accidentally.
"Excuse me," he said, trying to be as slow as possible as he tucked himself back into his pants.
Off balance, the redhead had rocked back into the wall. "It's all right, man," he said, trying to zip his fly. "I just don't seem to be able to get this zipper up."
Ralph looked over at him, unsure whether he was serious or not.
"Aw, now, come on!" the redhead pleaded. "Swear to Buddha I ain't trying to do nothin' to you or nothin'. I had more'n I should have drunk and I just can't get the fucker up!"
Ralph grinned, his dimples showing for the first time. "That's quite a piece of meat you're waving around there, man." He caught the zipper and yanked it up, his knuckles barely able to feel the bulge beneath the fabric. "I'm not surprised you got your fly fucked up with that thing behind it."
"It just looks big," the redhead said, patting him on the ass as he opened the door. "Someday when I'm not so wiped out, maybe you'll give me a chance to-"
"Too big for me!" Ralph called after him as the door closed.
The redhead was nowhere to be seen when Ralph came out of the bathroom. Standing on the bottom step that led up to the closet-like restroom, he looked down the line of boys waiting to use the restroom.
"How's it goin', Fred?" he asked, pausing to talk to the Black with the high forehead and the slightly misshapen Afro.
Fred shook his head. "I just spent about an hour and a half trying to put the make on this guy over there-Don't look! And now it turns out he's a Marine drill sergeant!"
Ralph elbowed him in the ribs. "Fred," he said, "you're a real cunt!" He wiggled his eyebrows up and down to show his envy of Fred's success.
"Yeah," Fred answered, kicking at a cigarette butt on the floor.
"So are you going to take him home?"
Fred looked up, his eyes shining, a faintly amused expression trying to assert itself on his face. "I don't know," he said dismally. "Jerry's over there. He says I ought to do it."
"You ought to," Ralph said, turning to see if he might catch sight of the redhead again. "He's probably-"
"Yeah," Fred said sarcastically. "I know-he's probably nelly as hell in bed. Don't I know all Marines are women when they hit the sheets?"
Ralph looked back at him, then reached out and gently squeezed him by the wrist. "No," he said, already starting to walk through the back hallway to the other side of the bar. "What I was going to say was that he's probably hot to try some black meat!"
"Cunt!" Fred called after him.
Going through the crowded back hallway, just for a moment, he thought he might stop there. He felt the hand slide down over the cheek of his ass, the soft squeeze. He even backed into it. But when he finally turned to look at who had groped him, he couldn't be sure who it was. There wasn't anybody in the crowded hallway he knew. He waited to see if the action would be repeated, but when it wasn't he slowly made his way through the dance-floor crowd and once more positioned himself near the Mexican girls sitting at the bar.
Anyone who wanted to get through to the back room would have to pass by him. So he turned his ass toward the dance floor and faced the bar, his eyes scanning the far side of the bar for the redhead.
He tapped one booted foot to the music, then reached across the two Mexican girls to pick up his drink from the bar. He was all too aware that as he leaned forward the flapping pocket on the back of his pants raised up, exposing the bare, tan flesh of his ass.
He smiled to himself as he lifted one foot to the bottom rung of the stool that Gloria was sitting on and leaned forward, the drink in his hand.
Once, in Los Angeles, at the Jaguar, he had done the same thing-leaned forward to pick up a drink from the crowded bar-and when he had stepped back he'd found a hard cock lodged in the crack of his ass. Ever since then he'd worn the Levi's with the torn pocket from time to time whenever he'd been feeling good. He'd been fucked that way only once-and that at his own initiative, at the old Doll Room in Mission Beach, in the dark, sitting on an ex-lover's lap in the back room. Now, remembering that, he leaned forward as far as he could, wondering who might be getting the view from the rear. But there were, he realized, too many people. Anything below the waist wouldn't even be visible unless you were on your knees. Behind him and on both sides, people were bumping into him and jostling him so much that he more than once had come close to spilling his drink down Gloria's back.
"How come you're not dancing?" someone asked him.
Ralph smiled. "Too crowded," he said, lifting his drink to his lips. He wondered if maybe he ought to go back to the other side of the bar and find Fred and Jerry. He wanted to see what Fred would do when he told him about the size of the redhead's cock-or what Jerry would say about it. Something tacky, no doubt, he thought.
It was then that he realized that for some time now someone had been feeling his ass. Distracted with his thoughts concerning the redhead, he'd thought it was just someone else trying to get by between him and the dance floor. Now he was sure that wasn't it at all. Somebody was actually groping his ass-not crudely. If it had happened crudely, he would have realized it right away-and everyone else around would have seen it as well. But now, glancing to the left and right, Ralph was sure that no one knew he was getting his ass groped. He wondered if he should turn around to see who it was. His first thought, once he realized what was happening, had been that it was one of his friends. But it had continued too long for that to be true. He was about to turn around and confront whomever it was that was caressing his cheeks when he felt the finger slide under the torn pocket onto his bare skin.
Amused at the stranger's discovery, Ralph faced the two Mexican girls and let the exploring finger make its hesitant way into the dark crack of his ass.
"Pardon me," someone said behind him. He felt the finger torn away from his ass-cheeks as someone squeezed by next to the dance floor. He held his breath, waiting for the mysterious caress again. Then, as the crowd re-formed behind him, he felt the finger enter his pants for the second time. And now he leaned back a little-far enough that he trapped the finger between his ass and the stranger's crotch.
The hand didn't jerk away. Ralph guessed that the stranger must be getting uncomfortable. Then he stepped forward a little and set his glass down on the bar once more. With his hands free, he stepped back and, as casually as he could, brought his hands behind him. It was only a matter of seconds before the bulge of a man's sizeable basket was pressed into his palm. He squeezed back on the man who had so pleasantly groped him, then-glancing behind the bar and to either side to make sure no one was noticing-tried to unzip the fly guarding the basket behind him. In that position, it was almost impossible.
"Coming through!" someone said.
Ralph stepped toward the bar as a curly-haired blonde waiter passed behind him, carrying a tray of drinks.
Still he was afraid to turn around. He knew he was getting excited-he could feel his tight Levi's tightening around his crotch-but he didn't want to end it by turning around. Then, too, he could admit to himself that the fact that this casual contact was taking place right out in the open, where anyone might see it, was part of what excited him the most about it.
Once, in high school, he had walked home from a football game with his cock and balls pulled out to hang loose in front of him as he walked the night streets. That had given him a similar kind of thrill, but this was even more kinky because it involved another person. He didn't know if it could be called exhibitionism or not since, if it was carried off right, no one else would even know what had happened even though it had been going on within touching distance. But it gave him a secret feeling of power'to know that it was entirely possible that he was going to keep this kind of thing going on all night-maybe even get fucked-right there on the edge of the dance floor, and no one would even know it had happened.
He felt the hand on his waist, the slight pressure turning him.
"Perdoneme, chato."
Ralph turned, brushing his long brown hair away from the side of his face. In front of him stood a rather short boy dressed in a lavender long-sleeved sweater and purple pleated bellbottoms.
"Me llamo Carlos," the boy said, extending his hand.
Ralph couldn't believe that this was the same person who had been so erotically titillating the cheeks of his ass only moments before. Almost stunned, he took the boy's hand.
"Hi," he said, vacantly. "I'm ... Ralph." When the stranger released his hand, Ralph felt suddenly awkward. He didn't know where to put his hands. "You a ... from Tijuana, or ... what?"
Carlos smiled. "I am from Spain."
Ralph nodded encouragingly, as though he had known it all along. "Well," he said, "that's ... a ... far out."
"I greatly admire your pants," Carlos said.
Again, Ralph smiled. Suddenly, he didn't know what to say. He glanced from left to right, then back at the Spaniard. "Yeah," he mumbled, glancing down to check out the basket he had felt a few moments earlier. "I greatly admire your pants, too," he added after a moment.
"Might we go somewhere together?" Carlos asked him.
"I ... a ... well..." Suddenly unsure of himself, Ralph again glanced to see who might be watching them. Then, satisfied that he and Carlos had drawn no one's attention, he leaned forward, cupped his hand to the Spaniard's ear, and whispered softly to him. When he stood back, he could plainly see that the Spanish boy was shocked at the suggestion.
"No," Ralph said. "Really. I think it's a kinky idea."
"Kinky?"
"Yeah, well ... do you want to try it, or what?"
"Are such things done here?"
"Well, no ... not ordinarily. But I think we can get away with it and nobody'll be any the wiser. I can dig it, if you can."
Carlos seemed to regard him skeptically.
"Really," Ralph whispered to him confidentially. "If you just do it like I told you. Nobody saw you goosing me, did they? And nobody'll see this, either, if we're careful." Then he turned his back again and faced the bar to show that he was serious. He knew, as he leaned forward to pick up the drink again, that his ass was showing through the torn pocket. Once he had the drink in his hand, he didn't turn around again.
The heat of the crowd around him seemed even greater than it had been before as he waited for the Spaniard's touch once more. He sipped the drink and looked blandly at Gloria and her Mexican girlfriend. It crossed his mind that Carlos might be a friend of theirs.
Then he felt Carlos' hand on his hip. He could feel the warmth of it seeping through the fabric of his Levi's. As he shifted his weight to the other foot, he lost his balance as someone close jostled him, but when he had regained his footing he could feel the strong bulge pressing into the hillocks of his ass from behind. Then, after a moment's desperate fumbling, he felt the blunt warmth of the Spaniard's cock pressed through the hole beneath his pocket and into the damp valley of his ass.
Ralph forced himself to look as casual as possible while the Spaniard worked his cock deeper into the warm recess of his buttocks. He sipped his drink and smiled at the two Mexican girls in front of him, both of whom seemed suddenly to have taken an interest in him. He wondered if the intensity of their glances at him was real or imagined.
Pretending to have lost his balance, he rocked back just as Carlos had centered his cock on the proper spot. The corners of Ralph's mouth twitched a little as he felt the Spaniard's hard-on slide into his ass-hole. He hadn't expected it would be so easy.
He glanced to the right and left-people all around him. That was the beauty of it-no one would even guess what was going on.
He began tapping his feet to the music, each tap inching the cock in his ass deeper and deeper. He had to glance down at his own basket to see if his erection was showing. Fortunately, it was pointed straight up along his thigh, the head of it just barely protruding above the waistline of his Levi's beneath his loose blue-striped shirt. Now he could feel the Spaniard beginning to make the first tentative strokes. Ralph couldn't believe that it was actually happening. A wide grin spread over his face as he felt his sphincter give way to the slow, persistent pressure of the Spaniard's cock. He was being fucked on the dance floor, just as he'd imagined-and nobody even knew it!
Carlos whispered something behind him, hesitating in his short strokes now that he was well-embedded in the hippie's willing ass.
Ralph didn't understand what Carlos had said, but he recognized the questioning tone of his voice. Casually, he reached back with one hand and pressed the Spaniard's prick deeper into him.
Carlos took the cue. As though he, too, were bobbing to the wildly bumping music blaring from the overhead speakers, he began to be more assertive in the strokes he made into the hippie's moist cleft. When his knees bumped into the back of Ralph's legs, Ralph responded by sinking down a little lower, his knees bent slightly.
Ralph couldn't believe that the Spaniard was fucking him so well. He could feel his sphincter forced inward, then retreating out around Carlos' withdrawing stroke. It couldn't have been more perfect if they had both been naked and in bed together. In fact, he admitted to himself, feeling the pleasant heat caused by the friction of the Spaniard's cock, I wouldn't mind taking this dude to bed at all. He could hear Carlos breathing behind him, and he realized that the Spaniard was holding him tighter and tighter around the waist. His own hand seemed altogether too slippery around the glass; he hoped he wouldn't drop it. He had to take a stronger grip on it as the Spaniard made a particularly intense thrust into him.
Again, he noticed the two Mexican girls looking at him.
"Hi!" he said, saluting them with his glass, as though to convince them that nothing out of the ordinary was going on. It was a little difficult to do, however, because the intensity and frequency of Carlos' strokes had begun to jiggle the fluid in his glass so much that he had to keep it carefully balanced to avoid sloshing it out on himself or someone else. The two girls seemed fascinated by him. He wondered if they could see the Spaniard's hand on his hip.
Across the bar he could see Alex in earnest conversation with a bearded number in a Levi jacket. Even though Alex didn't look up, Ralph nodded his head and mouthed the word "hello" to get the Mexican girls' eyes off of him.
In the first few moments when the Spaniard had pushed his cock into Ralph's ass, the hippie had thought that it would end with them both shooting their loads-he into his own shirt. Now he was so concerned about no one noticing the action that he could hardly feel erotic about it at all.
Carlos thrust hard into the resisting sphincter.
Ralph glanced back, but couldn't see his ass-splitting new friend. When he felt someone tap him on the hand, he turned around quickly.
"I see you've met Carlos," Gloria said to him, her smile too wide.
"Who?" he gulped, squeezing his cheeks together in a vain effort to dislodge the Spaniard's cock. He could feel the spastic throbbing of the boy's cock jerking in his rectum and he knew the Spaniard was pumping his hot load deeply into him.
"My cousin," Gloria said. "The guy behind you. I saw you talking a few minutes ago. If I'd known you were interested, I'd have been happy to introduce you. All you have to do is ask."
"Oh, yeah," Ralph gulped. He couldn't shake the Spaniard loose now. He could feel the thrust and contraction of Carlos' cock deep within him, a sensation that would have been only too pleasurable under any other circumstances. His own cock had begun to throb with the need for release. He wondered if Gloria could read what was happening in his face. "Yeah," he said weakly, "we sort of ... introduced ourselves."
"It looked like you were doing more than introducing yourselves," the other girl said. She touched Gloria on the knee and nodded toward Ralph. "Are they fucking, or dancing?"
Gloria sat back heavily in her chair, her drink in her hand. She looked amusedly at Ralph, taking him in from blushing head to toe. "If they've got their clothes on," she told her girlfriend, still looking at Ralph, "they must be dancing."
Ralph couldn't stand any more. He stepped away one step, just far enough to feel the cool exit of Carlos' slippery cock. Then he backed up again to give the Spaniard time to arrange himself.
Pretending to cough into his hand, he waited until he judged Carlos had been given enough time. Then he cleared his throat and turned backward. "Carlos," he said, glancing down to be sure everything was in its proper place before he led the boy around to his side. "Why didn't you tell me you were Gloria's cousin?" He put his arm over Carlos' shoulder as though they were brothers. Then, winking at Gloria, he leaned forward and said, "Say, Gloria, Alex's roommates are giving a little party tonight." He glanced at Carlos, wondering what it would be like with the Spaniard in a real bed. Then he turned back to Gloria. "Do you think Carlos might like to come?"
The other girl raised one eyebrow as she turned partially away. Over her shoulder she said to Ralph, "If he hasn't already, why don't you ask him yourself. He's a big boy now."
Embarrassedly, Ralph turned to the Spaniard. "Let's dance," he said. "I think you're going to like this number." Around them, the people were packed so closely together that it was difficult to squeeze through to the dance floor, even though they were only about two feet away from the main group of sensually weaving dancers.
CHAPTER SIX
Had he not been more than half-drunk when it began, Alex might never have gone home with the bearded number. He might have milled around the bar gossiping with Chuck and Terry, Ralph the hippie, David and John (his quasi-roommates), and whomever else he happened to come across. David and John had decided to give an after-hours party that night, and it would have been more in character for Alex to have accosted the hunkiest-looking numbers in The Club, inviting them all to the party whether he knew them or not-and despite his roommates' protests that only known friends be invited to the bash. He might have careened through the dense crowd, alternately imitating Tallulah Bankhead and John Wayne as was his usual style on Saturday nights.
But Alex was a fool for anyone butch. Not only that, but he also thought that there was nothing more enjoyable than "bringing out a straight."
So, when he met Bob that night, he cast his usual bar habits aside, pursuing a determined course which he hoped would land him in bed with the bearded construction worker.
It had been difficult for him to even get the bearded blonde to talk to him. Bob didn't, as his first words to Alex conveyed, want to be bothered by "a fuckin' swish who doesn't know whether he's got a cunt or a cock!" Alex had dropped his Tallulah imitation immediately and might even have disappeared into the crowd had not this self-professed "straight" seemed to eye him with more than casual interest. Later, it had been Bob's admission that he'd never been to bed with a man and didn't see how it was possible for two men to "do anything in bed" that had definitely caught Alex's interest. Speaking as frankly as he could manage-all the while forcing himself not to touch the irritable man beside him-Alex had drawn Bob into conversation concerning the ins and outs of homosexual love. Bob had admitted, frankly, that he was curious ... and Alex had jumped at the chance. It had been less difficult to convince the construction worker to take him home than Alex had imagined it might have been.
"But I don't want nobody to see us go out together," Bob said over his beer.
Now that the guy had admitted he wanted to try it, Alex almost wanted to tell him that if he was willing to go home with him then he ought to at least be willing to walk out of the bar in the company of the person he would soon be fucking.
"That's sort of insulting, don't you think?" Alex asked him.
Bob turned toward him, his shaggy beard glowing in the red lights over the bar. "I don't want anybody to think I'm a fag," he said flatly.
"Of course not," Alex answered without looking back at him. He found it strange that he could be so attracted to someone who could be so repulsive in so many ways. Bob wasn't even all that good-looking, though he might have been if he'd bothered to change out of his work clothes. Alex wondered if the guy had even gone home from work before coming to the bar. It certainly didn't look like he had. And if he hadn't, then he must have been damn horny when he got off work. And it passed through his head at that moment that he might be wiser to call the whole thing off. But just then Bob turned slightly on the stool, the tight fit of his plaid shirt accentuating his rolling shoulder muscles.
"Okay," Alex said, setting his drink down and leaning across the bar on his forearms. "So how do we work this little charade?"
"You mean you're ready to go now?" Bob asked.
"Sure," Alex said. "We might as well. If you still want to."
Nervously, Bob looked around him-as though he expected to be arrested at any moment. "Okay," he said. He drained the bottle of beer in his hand, then looked around him again.
Leaning on the bar, Alex waited, watching with amusement.
"I'll go out now," Bob said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Wait a few minutes, then come on out."
"You've got your own car?" Alex asked. "Yes. You can ride with me if you-"
"I'll follow you in my car," Alex interrupted. "Where do you live?"
"Ocean Beach."
"Okay. I'll meet you outside then in a few minutes." He watched the studied casualness as Bob grabbed up his Levi jacket from the chair and began to edge his way through the crowd. When he saw him disappear out the front door, Alex picked up his drink and squeezed over to where David was talking to Chuck. "I'm ... going elsewhere, my dear," he said to his roommate.
"What happened to Santa Claus?" Chuck asked him.
Alex drained his glass and slid it onto the bar.
"He has gone out to his sleigh to prepare an early present for me."
"You're not going home with that prick, are you?" David demanded.
"I am," Alex said, affecting his Tallulah voice.
"What about the party?"
"Darling!" Alex cooed. "Have you ever known me to miss a party? Even the ghastly ones?" He turned to Chuck and touched him delicately on the shoulder as he nodded toward David. "David and John are such dear sweet parents," he confided, "but they worry so much about me that it positively curdles their Vaseline!"
"You're not planning to bring that creep back to the party with you, are you?" David demanded.
"Only his essence, my dear," Alex said, turning away. "Only his essence."
"Flush his essence before you get back, you whore!" David called after him.
Alex wouldn't have been surprised to find that his straight trick had disappeared by the time he got outside. But the lights of a Ford pickup flashed on as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. He walked down to the truck and leaned on the running board.
"I'm parked down the street a little," he said. "Wait a minute and I'll follow you." He didn't wait for an answer, but turned away and walked down the street to his own car. When he had pulled up behind the pickup, he once again had a moment's doubt about whether he should be doing this or not. But he pushed it out of his head as the light changed and he began to follow the truck. Already he had decided to give Bob the full worshipping treatment-undressing him slowly, running his hands over the man's hard body, licking him from head to toe, teasing him with the slowness with which he would approach sucking his cock for the first time, then bringing him almost to climax before he shut him off and rolled over to be fucked. When I get through with you, he thought, you'll be just as gay as the rest of us. Then, as he followed Bob down Highway 5, he amused himself with fantasies of the butch construction worker going down on him or begging to be fucked just one more time.
"It's a fantasy world we live in, Mr. Butch," he sang to himself as they turned off the highway to Ocean Beach.
Bob's house wasn't far from the beach. Alex noticed as they got out of their cars that, once again, the man was looking around to see that they weren't being watched. Down the street some kids were sitting on the front steps of a house, their cigarettes burning redly in the dark, guitar music floating up on the night breeze.
Without speaking, Bob led him down a narrow walkway to a small house in back of another one. He glanced down the alley at the trash cans glowing in the moonlight. He waited for Bob to fumble with the keys at the door. Then he followed him inside.
The living room was small-a cheap sofa, a leather recliner, and a coffee table decorated with bent, empty beer cans, a full ashtray, and at least three magazines-all of them open to pictures of racing cars. Under the edge of the sofa Alex noticed a yellow comic book.
Bob had carried in his silver hardhat from the car. Now he tossed it onto the sofa, then stood silently in the middle of the room, his eyes searching the room as though looking for some way out.
Alex touched him on the shoulder, almost amazed that Bob was almost a foot shorter than himself. "Don't be so nervous," he said softly.
"You're sure you want to do this?"
Bob turned away. "I think I want a beer," he said, stepping into the tiny kitchen area. "You want a beer or something? All I got's beer."
Alex sat down on the couch. "No thanks," he said, his mouth working hard to repress a smile at Bob's nervousness.
"You're sure you don't want a beer?" Bob asked, coming back into the living room.
"Sure," Alex said, again repressing his smile as Bob sat down on the edge of the recliner. Alex was sure now that Bob actually had never had sex with another man-it was too easy to see in the way he kept looking away, keeping his eyes from resting more than a second on Alex.
"Why don't you come sit over here?" Alex suggested.
Bob looked as if he had been struck. Then, after a moment, he shrugged across the room and heaved himself down on the couch, his head resting on the back of the seat, his feet stretched out beneath the coffee table in front of him. "Wow," he said, "I'm really beat!"
Alex could feel his own heart beating wildly now. The succulent bulge in the front of Bob's pants was almost too much for him to resist. But he knew he had to go slowly.
As casually as he could, he lifted his hand and laid it on Bob's upper thigh, his fingers curling inward toward the bulging crotch.
Bob sat up instantly, gripping the beer bottle with both hands. "Look," he said as Alex drew his hand back, "I don't know what you guys do when ... Shit!" He glanced at Alex, then looked away. "I ain't no cunt!" he said.
"Don't be so nervous," Alex told him. "I'm not going to hurt you or anything."
Bob stood up and paced to the other side of the coffee table, his brows knitted, his eyes flashing. His beard seemed to bob absurdly when he spoke.
"It just feels queer as hell feeling another guy's hand on my cock, that's all. I didn't think it was ... I didn't think it was going to be like that. I don't know what you expect me to do, but I ain't going to..." His voice died out unexpectedly. Almost as if his own silence surprised him, Bob looked away, then took another swig from his beer.
"You said you were curious," Alex said softly.
"Okay!" Bob retorted, his voice like gravel.
"So what did you expect?"
Bob turned and paced back to the recliner. He sat down, holding the beer bottle between his knees in both hands. "Hell," he said, his voice still too loud, "I don't know what I expected. How could I know?"
Alex leaned back on the couch, a queasy feeling churning through the pit of his stomach, but not yet willing to admit that Bob's outburst had scared him.
"Well," he said slowly, "what do you want to do? Do you want me to leave, or what?"
Without lifting his head, Bob shook his head. He made a vague gesture with the hand in which he held the beer bottle. "No," he mumbled. "I didn't say I wanted you to leave." He hesitated, still not looking up. "I just thought..."
"You want to fuck me?"
For a long moment, Bob said nothing. Then, slowly, he lifted his head and stared at Alex. His brown eyes seemed ready to burst into tears. Then he said, very slowly, very softly, "You want me to fuck you?"
"If that's what you want to do," Alex answered. "I'll do whatever you want to."
Bob sipped from his beer. "Don't it hurt you to have a guy's cock in your ass?"
"Sometimes."
Bob shook his head disbelievingly. "Sometimes," he mumbled. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at the floor.
"Is that what you want to do?".Alex asked him. "I'll let you fuck me if that's what you want." The flat tone of his words irritated him.
Bob looked up. "What else is there?" he asked blankly.
Alex leaned back on the sofa. "There's a lot," he said, almost laughing.
"Did you ever blow a guy?"
Now Alex couldn't help laughing, but he cut it short when he saw Bob's expression. He wanted to say, I never fucked a parrot, but Vve kissed a cockatoo. Instead he said, simply, "Yeah."
Once again, Bob shook his head with disbelief.
After a moment Alex said, "Do you want to go to bed or not?"
It seemed to take forever for Bob to answer. He scratched at his beard, then slowly rose. "Okay," he said. "I guess so. But I ain't never fucked a guy before."
Alex stood up, glancing toward the dark doorway of what he supposed was the bedroom. "It's pretty much the same as fucking a chick, I guess," he said.
Bob shook his head. "Shit!" he said. "Am I drunk!"
"That the bedroom?"
Faced with the immediate prospect of going to bed for the first time with another man, Bob lapsed back into silence. He nodded his head, then took another drink of the beer as if to fortify himself for the ordeal.
Alex walked into the bedroom. The two men stood for a moment, facing each other across the bed. Then, when Alex bent down to begin taking off his shoes, Bob turned and set the beer bottle down on the cluttered dresser and began to undress. He did not look at Alex as he removed his clothes and tossed them onto a chair near the foot of the bed.
Alex hurried to remove his clothes, glancing as often as possible at Bob as the construction worker slowly shed his work clothes and dropped them on the floor. Even in the darkness, Alex could see that Bob's chest and arms were impressive. The blonde's biceps bulged as he peeled off his shirt and tossed it to the side. Across his chest a thick mat of dark hair fanned out around the curve of his pectoral muscles and his hard belly was covered with a shadow of the wide line of hair running down to his pants. It amused Alex, as he kicked out of his own trousers, that Bob took off his boots and socks next-hobbling on one foot to do it rather than touch the bed. Naked, Alex lay down and waited while the blonde dropped his boots at the foot of the bed. Only when he had nothing left to remove but his Levi's and shorts did Bob glance at Alex's naked body on the bed, and then only for an instant. Looking casually into the living room the muscular construction worker then snapped open the buckle of his pants, popped the buttons loose on his fly, hesitated, then pushed his trousers down around his knees and stepped out of them. The furry rounds of his buttocks and thighs rippled in the half-light as he kicked the pants away from his ankles. Then, still not looking at Alex, he lowered himself slowly onto the bed and lay looking up at the ceiling.
Lying on his side, his head supported on one hand, Alex had a good view of the construction worker's heavy balls, but could see only part of the thick half-loop of the blonde's cock. Even so, he could tell Bob's cock must be at least seven inches long. The fleshy tube rested against the man's thigh, the mushroom-shaped head guarded by a putty-colored covering of unclipped foreskin.
Alex wished that he could see Bob's face, but that was obscured by the darkness of the room. He, himself, would have preferred to turn on the lights to see what he was getting at, but he knew that Bob would no doubt prefer to keep them off. They 're never too shy to fuck you, Alex thought, but they sure as hell don't want you to see them doing it-or see themselves doing it.
Watching the dark outline of Bob's face, he moved his hand over and rested it on the construction worker's softly heaving abdomen, pleased and astounded by the more than normal heat of the man's skin.
"Don't do anything," Alex whispered to him. "Just let me do the work at first."
Slowly, he slid his hand down Bob's hard abdomen until his fingers met the thick, dark mat of fragrant hair and the base of the construction worker's thick cock. He kept his hand moving gently until he could cradle most of Bob's cock and the two heavy balls in his hand. He didn't squeeze yet, but merely held them lightly in his hand, wondering why the blonde had not begun to harden. He could feel his own hard cock trapped between his abdomen and the bed. And he was not sure whether he was merely beginning the first motions of exciting Bob or whether he might be, almost unconsciously, examining the hot skin of the cock and balls in his hand for some sign of venereal disease. He didn't like to think about that possibility; but he took his time with the fondling of Bob's prick and balls until he was satisfied that, at least, there weren't any scabs. He wondered what Bob was thinking. He could see the blonde's eyes moving in the darkness.
Then Alex twisted on the bed, lowering his head toward Bob's crotch in one motion. like a ballet, he thought. His left hand caressed the furry abdomen while his right lifted the'thick meat of the long cock to his lips. He could feel it hardening even before he sucked it into his mouth. Bob stiffened a little beneath him, then seemed to settle back into the mattress, his cock growing strong in Alex's mouth.
Pushing back the loose foreskin with his lips, Alex laved the exposed cockhead with slick flashes of his tongue. As though the swelling glans were a sugar-coated candy cane which he did not yet wish to chew, Alex savored the feel of the organ expanding within his mouth. Then, before the prick had reached complete stiffness, Alex pushed himself down around it until the fat hard-on slid clear to the opening of his throat before he had to withdraw to keep from gagging.
Now that Bob's prick was fully hard, it had gained at least two inches in length, and it was too big around for Alex's fingers as he milked the circling skin up and down around the pulsing shaft.
"You've got a nice cock," Alex said, pulling away from it to catch his breath. Bob twitched as Alex lifted his cock to a perpendicular position and, once again, began to lick it.
Beginning with his nose pressed into the blonde's dark thatch of pubic hair, Alex ran his tongue over the upper side of Bob's cock, traveling upward to the bulbous, spongy crown. He narrowed his tongue to a point and swirled it around the opening at the tip, then spread it flat to lap the sensitive underside of Bob's twitching glans.
For the first time Bob groaned a little. But it was almost inaudible in the darkness.
Shifting his position, Alex ran his tongue down the underside of the mammoth cock, licking up the salt savor of the residue glistening along the shifting outer skin. Then he rolled toward Bob and, as the construction worker stiffened apprehensively, rose and once again swallowed the long lance, positioning himself between Bob's thighs as he did so. He let the thick prick go clear to his throat once more, his tongue channeled to suck along the underside, working the foreskin back around the glans.
Still holding the big cock erect, he pulled his mouth away from it and lowered his lips to the loose folds of Bob's heavy nuts. Alex let his saliva flow out as he licked the shifting, hairy sac of the man's balls. He lifted the egg-sized globes within the scrotum with his tongue, wondering if he dared try to get such huge balls into his mouth. He decided against it. The one thing he didn't want to do was hurt the trick, however slightly, before he managed to get his own ass plugged with his massive rod. His cock pulsed against his abdomen to think about it.
Running his tongue slickly between the two huge balls, Alex traced his way back up to the shaft. Once again he sank down on it, his cheeks ballooning with the effort to take the whole thing. But he knew he couldn't do it. It was just too big. Now that he could judge the size of it in his suctioning mouth, he even wondered if he would be able to take it in the ass. But he also knew that he'd taken bigger cocks. Not easily, but he had taken them up to damn near twelve inches. He could take this one, too.
He satisfied himself with half of Bob's cock in his mouth. He rippled his tongue along the underside, laving the gill-like cleft of the lower side of the glans until he could hear Bob groan once more. Now he twisted his mouth around it more quickly, the saliva drooling thickly from the corners of his mouth. When the construction worker began thrusting up toward his throat, Alex backed away. He rolled over Bob's leg and lay on his side as he wiped his mouth with one hand.
"You didn't want to come that way, did you?" he asked softly, moving a hair out of his mouth with his tongue.
Bob was breathing heavy. In the dim light his cock bobbed up and down above his swelling abdomen.
"What do you get out of that?" the blonde asked after a moment. He closed his fingers around his cock.
Alex reached over and pulled Bob's hand away from the pulsing organ. "You come pretty easy?" he asked when Bob turned to question him.
"I. . . Shit, I don't know!"
"Well," Alex said, "if you do, you shouldn't squeeze your cock like that after somebody's gone down on you."
"I wasn't jerking off!" Bob groaned.
"No, but you might come that way without meaning to. I've seen guys do it before."
"You've sucked a lot of guys, haven't you?"
Alex grinned in the darkness. "That's sort of a personal question, wouldn't you say?"
Bob blinked in the half-light, then turned toward Alex, his eyes moving over the boy's face. "But you have, haven't you?"
Alex shrugged indifferently. "Sucked guys off? Yeah, I guess I have."
"Did you ... I mean, did you suck them off all the way?"
"All the way?" Alex snorted softly. "You mean, did I let 'em come in my mouth?"
Bob nodded, his beard grazing his chest.
Alex chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "Haven't you ever had anybody go down on you before."
"Not a guy," Bob said slowly. "You spit it out, though, don't you?"
"The come?" Alex shook his head. "I always thought it was very rude not to swallow it." He glanced up at Bob's disbelieving face. "I mean," he said, "if you're willing to suck a guy's prick, then what difference does it make? If you'll let somebody come in your mouth, what difference does it make if you swallow it? Too late to worry about germs by that time." He reached over and touched Bob's hard cock. "Besides," he added, "where you going to spit it? On the sheets?"
"But doesn't it make you sick?"
"No."
"Fuck..." Bob looked over at Alex, his eyes narrowed. "What do you get out of it, though? Does it turn you on, or what?"
"You seem awfully hung-up about it," Alex said, daring to chide him a little now that Bob seemed more relaxed. "If you're so fascinated, you ought to try it yourself."
Bob rolled onto his back again. "Shiiit!" he sighed. "I ain't no cocksucker."
"But you don't mind somebody else going down on you." Alex chuckled silently. "Well," he said, "I guess everybody gets their jollies however they can." He reached over and took Bob's erection in his hand. It was hard and hot, and still pulsing. Gently, he stroked it up and down, trying not to exert any pressure on it that might bring on the blonde's orgasm.
They lay in silence for some moments, Alex's hand working slowly up and down on the construction worker's long prick. Then, so suddenly that Alex gasped with fright, Bob rolled over and crushed him against the mattress, their legs tangled together and Bob's hairy chest weighing heavily on his lungs.
"I'm going to fuck you!" Bob rasped. "I'm tired of playing around while you get your kicks suckin' on my cock."
Alex let the blonde pin him to the bed for a moment, then said, catching his breath, "Okay, okay. Only get off of me for a minute. You're crushing my nuts with your knee."
Startled, Bob climbed off him, resting on his knees at Alex's side.
"Horny stud, aren't you?" Alex asked, his voice filled with an irony he knew Bob would never catch. He ran his hand through his black hair, then cocked his head to one side as he looked at the heavy prick throbbing between Bob's muscular thighs. "I don't suppose you'd have such a thing as K-Y."
"What the fuck's that?"
Alex sat up on the bed. "Any Vaseline?" He grinned at Bob's vacant look. "I certainly don't intend to have you ramming that tree up my ass without some kind of lubrication, Butch. Have you got anything like Vaseline or something?"
"What would I be doing with Vaseline?"
"Hand lotion? No, I don't suppose you've got that either. How about something like Brylcreem?"
"I don't use hair oil," Bob answered, beginning to stroke his prick. "You don't need that shit. Just-"
"Yes, I do," Alex said, sliding off the bed.
"Where you goin'? " Bob asked, almost making a grab for the retreating body.
"Just hold on," Alex said, stepping into the living room. "I'll be right back."
When he came back, he had a tub of butter in his hands.
"Don't get excited," he told Bob, scooping out the butter. "If you're going to fuck me, I'm sure as hell going to grease the way."
Bob watched him lift one leg and rub the butter into his rectum. "But that's butter!" he said.
"How observant you are," Alex grinned, scooping out more of the butter from the tub. "Here, just let me grease up the old pole there." He reached forward and in one caress, coated Bob's cock with butter. "Otherwise," he said, "you'd never get in." He set the tub on the floor, then climbed onto the bed, glanced around, then wiped his fingers off in Bob's pubic hair. "Okay," he said. "The easiest way is for me to lay on my stomach with you on top. Okay?" He lay down with his ass pointing up at Bob. "Climb on, Butch," he said. "Or in, whichever the case may be. Only let me put it in."
"Christ, you talk like a queer!" Bob groaned, maneuvering himself into position over Alex's buttocks.
"You're the one who's getting ready to fuck a guy in the ass."
"That don't make me queer," Bob insisted, his voice growing slightly menacing.
"Okay," Alex said, twisting his head to the side to look back. "That don't make you no queer." He reached back and helped Bob to center the head of his cock against his rectum. "Now just lean into it-but slowly!" he said, still holding the shaft of Bob's greasy cock with his hand.
The pressure began. It felt like a beer can being shoved into his ass. Alex closed his eyes against the pain and gritted his teeth as he felt the huge shaft moving slowly into his resistant ass-hole. He knew from the pressure that, hard as it was, Bob's cock had buckled from the effort to enter his ass. Then, with gut-wrenching suddenness, the shaft slid into the channel and shot forward into his clenching bowels.
"Ahhhnn!" Alex groaned. "Go slow..." But he could feel himself being steadily impaled on the stretching length of the burning, hard cock. Forcing himself to relax, Alex buried his face in the pillow and gripped the sheets in both fists. He could feel his bowels being opened, his resisting colon stretched to accommodate the thickness of Bob's thrusting prick. He felt as though his insides were being pushed aside to make room for the invasion of the burning intrusion.
"Wait!" he gasped. "Wait! Pull out a little. I can't take it yet!"
Bob reached up and shoved Alex's face back into the pillow. At the same moment, the construction worker came down on him with his full weight. The tearing shaft was plunged into Alex's resisting ass until Bob's hipbones were flush against the flattened cheeks of Alex's buttocks.
"You can take it!" Bob groaned. "You asked for it!"
"Ahhnnn..." Alex groaned, trying to wriggle away from the burning impalement. He had not been torn, but he felt his sphincter stretched so far that it was sure to rip as soon as Bob began to fuck into him. "Wait a minute!" he gasped, trying to raise himself beneath Bob's weight.
But Bob whipped his hips back and for the second time ground his cock into the tender clasp of Alex's ass-hole.
Alex collapsed beneath him, forcing his rectum to relax. "You're hurting me, you fucker!" he groaned against the pillow.
Bob grunted as he began to catch a rhythm with his ass-crushing strokes. He held Alex by the shoulders, pounding into his ass again and again, sinking his cock to the root with each lunge.
Alex felt Bob's prickly beard grate on his back. The pain was diminishing now, but the pressure remained. The blonde kept him stuffed with cock. He could feel it hammering his ass, hard, hot, insistent. The withdrawing strokes were almost soothing, but when Bob slammed it back into him it seemed to set the nerves on fire in his ass-hole. He felt as though the inside of his ass was lined with black powder; and each time Bob thrust the thick cock into him, the powder was ignited.
When he caught his breath, Alex knew he could stand it. He had been on the verge of bucking the construction worker off. Now he lay beneath the man's body, willingly receiving the fierce fucking Bob was giving him. It was, he realized, this aspect of being forced which always attracted him to the surly straights he occasionally encountered. Servicemen were usually the worst-or the best-when it came to that. Once they found themselves in bed with another man, they had to assert their masculinity by fucking just as long and hard as they could. It wasn't rape, but Alex couldn't help but wonder just what kind of fantasy Bob was having as he reamed into his ass. Did he imagine himself raping a woman? Was he punishing a fag? Or was he blind to all possibilities-merely an animal unleashed in all the power of its sexual fury? Whichever the case might be, Alex had relaxed into it. The hard-on which had wilted beneath him in the first moments of pain now asserted itself once more. He could feel it pulse against his rectum each time Bob thrust that hard, hot prick into his welcoming insides.
Now Alex lifted his ass to meet the blonde's downward strokes, churning his buttocks from side to side as the greasy shaft fucked into him. The beard scraping across the backs of his shoulders ceased to irritate him. He spread his thighs even wider and sighed as Bob slid even deeper into the red-brown heat of his clasping ass.
"Sonofabitch!" Bob gasped, fucking into him with shocking force. "You like it! Don't you?"
Alex smiled and humped back at the blonde's slamming cock. "Just fuck," he sighed. "Just fuck me, that's all."
Bob adjusted his angle of entrance, coming down harder with each stroke. When he lifted himself up, the hair on his abdomen clung to the hollow of Alex's back; when he came down, their perspiring skin made little farting noises as the air was forced out between them.
"I'm fuckin' a fag!" Bob groaned, his breath gusting from his throatBut he held on tight to Alex's bare back as he worked his horny prick in and out, in and out of the slithering heat of the boy's ass. Driving his cock to its deepest reach, he held it there, grinding himself against Alex's buttocks. He slipped his hands under Alex's armpits and grasped the boy's shoulders from underneath, punching his cock in and out of the loosened sphincter without pause. Then he hesitated, his cock buried to the hilt as Alex began a new motion beneath him.
Rotating his ass in slow circles, Alex felt the buried length of the long shaft stir within him, twisting into the recesses of his bowels, stroking electrically against the contracting flesh of his prostate. He knew he was going to shoot his load against the sheets, but he wanted it to last, to go on as long as possible. He humped back slowly, fucking himself on Bob's motionless hot cock.
"I'll be damned..." Bob groaned, "if you don't fuck just as good as any cunt I've ever fucked."
"Honey," Alex sighed against the pillow, still grinding himself up around the delicious prick in his ass, "I'm more of a woman than you'll ever have." He groaned with pleasure as the head of Bob's cock once more prodded his prostate. "And more of a man than you'll ever be."
"What'd you say?" Bob whispered against the nape of his neck.
"Forget it," Alex moaned, pushing his ass up until he could feel Bob's cock stretching his insides with fiery pleasure.
"You fuckin' freak!" Bob yelled. He pulled himself back and forced his cock so deeply, so forcefully into Alex's ass that the boy cried out. "I'll show you who's the man and who's the fag, freak!"
Again Bob fucked brutally into Alex's ass, grinding down, pushing himself ever deeper. His strokes began to take on jackhammer speed-each one crushing Alex's buttocks, his cock jarring the breath from him each time Bob plowed forward.
Alex felt himself coming. His cock pulsed hotly against his abdomen, and as the sizzling semen washed out of him, he ground himself back against the killing strokes Bob continued to inflict. He knew he was hurting himself, but he wanted the stud's cock deeper, harder. He thrashed wildly beneath the man fucking him, but it was only to swallow more of the hard, bruising shaft into his ass-hole. It was good, good.
"Fuck me, fuck me," he groaned, his breath gusting from his throat. His back ached beneath the heavy strokes of the fat cock wedged into him. He could feel his stomach slick with his own come, and still his cock continued to belch forth its thick, tingling load. "Annhhh ... annhh..." he groaned.
Bob's teeth cut into Alex's shoulder, his eyes squeezed tight, his face in a grimace of painful ecstasy. Again and again he slammed his ramming cock into the burning embrace of Alex's spasming ass-hole.
Alex, beyond the swirling delirium of his own climax, could feel the throbbing spasms of Bob's huge cock as it reburied itself in his ass. The construction worker was coming, blasting his insides with hot, white drool.
"Fuck me!" Alex begged, banging his ass back against Bob's hipbones. "Fill my ass with your cream, you bastard! Oh, come, come! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
Gasping against Alex's shoulders, Bob hammered his cock back and forth in Alex's ass-hole as though he had lost all control of his body. His strokes ceased to be human, but cruelly mechanical-the hard, length of his shaft pistoning through the deepest reach of Alex's guts.
Alex, now that his own orgasm had dwindled, once again became aware of the burning pressure tearing at his ass. The action of Bob's cock fucking in and out of his sensitized tissues had gone beyond the point of giving either of them pleasure. He knew Bob had already pumped him full of come. But he held on to the sheets, waiting for the stud's fury to abate.
But Bob didn't stop. He continued to fuck his burning cock back and forth over the tender opening of Alex's rectum. Alex tried to wait it out, but the pain seemed to mount upon itself, redoubling with each scalding stroke the blonde made into his body.
"God," Alex gasped. "For Christ's sake, stop! You're killing me!"
"That's just what I plan to do, fag!" the blonde gasped above him.
For the first time, Alex realized that Bob was pinning him down. Now he pushed up with his hands, lifting the man on his back with him. But Bob slammed into his ass again, at the same time knocking his arms out from under him. Alex collapsed, Bob's cock rushing into his bowels with even greater force. He was afraid, and he realized it for the first time.
His first impulse was to try to buck the blonde from his back again. But when he lifted his head, Bob slammed Alex's face down into the pillow and held him there until he was forced to relax beneath the construction worker's grip. And still Bob shafted the burning cock into his ass. The grating red pain of it now was too great for him to stand. While he tried to wriggle loose, his ass-hole clamped down on the rushing cock within him. Unable to stand it any more, he went limp.
But this only seemed to increase Bob's frenzy. The huge cock pounded in and out of him with ever-growing fury. On one withdrawing stroke, the whole thing slipped out, but it was thrust back with such violence that Alex was sure it had ripped his rectum as it plowed inward.
"Aiiieee!" Alex wailed, his hands working on the bed to pull him away from the impalement of his ass. Deep within him a liquid fire drilled at the walls of his bowels like salt rubbed into a cut. He could feel himself being filled. And as Bob wriggled above him, driving the point of his prick ever deeper, Alex realized that the construction worker was pissing inside him. It felt like a scalding enema. He could feel it backing up, gushing out from his ass around the spitting length of the blonde's hard-on.
Alex grabbed the bars of the headboard and yanked himself forward as hard as he could. Then he shoved backward. He could hear, as well as feel, his ass-hole vomiting a mixture of shit, piss and come over Bob's cock and abdomen as he freed himself from the impalement of the cock. A hot spatter of Bob's piss sprayed into the cleft of his ass before he could hurl himself free of the bed, and he could feel it running down his legs once he was on his feet.
Bob lunged for him immediately, but Alex side-stepped just in time to avoid a hard fist in his stomach. His mind was racing over what to do. Clearly there was no reasoning with the man now. It was the gay's nightmare-going home with a trick who turns out to be an insane sadist.
"Just stop!" Alex heard himself shout. "I've had it!"
But at that moment the construction worker caught him by the wrist and yanked him back onto the bed. Alex thought his shoulder had been dislocated.
"What's the matter with you?" Alex gasped, trying to twist free. "Are you crazy? Let me go, you stupid bastard!"
"Freak!" the blonde growled, clawing at his shoulder to keep him pinned down on the bed.
Alex raised one leg and planted the heel of his foot squarely against Bob's chin. When he had shoved him back, once more Alex managed to get to his feet. He glanced at his clothes, then back at Bob, who had been shoved off the bed.
The bearded blonde had come up from the other side of the bed with a knife in his hands.
Alex's stomach tightened at the sight of the gleaming blade. He took a step backward. "Don't be an ass," he said. "Put that thing away."
"I'm going to cut your balls off, freak," the blonde growled lowly, advancing around the foot of the bed in a half-crouched position.
All of the knife-fights Alex had ever seen in movies or television flashed through his head as he watched the naked blonde advance toward him.
"like hell you are!" Alex spat, jumping suddenly onto the bed. Bob was blocking the way to the door, but he knew it would be harder to get hurt from a position above his attacker. But he also realized that the bed was poor footing.
He jumped down on the other side of the bed and-for the first time-noticed the bathroom door. Without even thinking, he jumped through it and slammed the door. But the blonde was against it instantly, heaving inward with his shoulder.
Pushed back, Alex was hurled against the sink. His feet slipped just as he looked up and saw the knife coming in straight for his gut. Even as he fell backward, he kicked out with his feet at Bob's legs. He felt the hot slash of the knife across his shoulder as he caught himself with one hand on the sink. His head slammed against the tile wall and his other hand caught at the lid of the toilet for support. He had successfully kicked Bob's legs out from under him, and now-as Bob caught himself, his knife-hand in the toilet bowl-Alex's hand closed on the neck of a bottle toppling from the lid of the watercloset.
He swung hard with the bottle and-as if in slow motion-watched it explode against the side of Bob's face. Then he jumped.
He was across the bedroom without knowing it and standing naked in the living room. He could hear Bob groaning through the bedroom after him.
The first thing he saw was the metal hardhat on the sofa. He grabbed it by the canvas straps inside and swung with it just as Bob came through the doorway. He connected solidly to the side of Bob's face, knocking the blonde into the other side of the door. Then, as the construction worker dropped his knife and sank down, Alex grabbed him by the head and thrust him down, bringing his knee up against the blonde's forehead at the same time.
When he pushed Bob away, he was aware for the first time of the blood. Not only was his own shoulder bleeding badly, but the side of Bob's face where he had been hit by the bottle was drooling redly as well.
Alex stood back from the body, grasping his shoulder for the first time. The blood oozed out between his fingers, but he could feel no pain from the cut.
He wondered if he could have killed the blonde. Kicking the knife under the sofa, he knelt down beside Bob's naked body and slapped his face.
Bob rolled his head to the side, groaning.
That was enough for Alex. He stood up, hurried into the bathroom and ran warm water onto a towel. He didn't take much time to clean himself up. He wiped off his ass and thighs, then threw the towel into the toilet and side-stepped the broken glass as he made his way into the bedroom.
Glancing at Bob in the doorway, still rolling his head from side to side, Alex got into his pants, not bothering to even look for his underwear. Still keeping an eye on the body in the doorway, he grabbed his shirt and shoes and crossed the room to step over Bob. The room he saw now, for the first time, was a mess.
He nudged Bob with his foot. "Are you all right?" he asked.
Bob let his head hang to the side, but his eyes rolled open and he looked up at the tall boy in front of him. "You'd better get the hell out of here, freak!" he said between clenched teeth. The blood from the side of his head was running down into his beard.
Alex turned away and walked through the open front door, carrying his shirt and shoes in one hand.
Only when he had gotten into the car and started the engine did he begin to shake.
"That fucker could have killed me!" he said out loud.
Then he turned on the lights and drove away from the curb. His shoulder was still bleeding, though less so now. But it had run down over his arm and onto the car seat.
He stopped and rummaged in the backseat until he found an old T-shirt. He cleaned his arm as best he could, then pressed the shirt against the cut in his shoulder.
Then he was heading home. He wondered how he could explain what had happened to his roommates. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard and realized that, at least, he would have thirty minutes or so before people started showing up for the party.
He was sweating, even though he felt icy cold. And his hands were shaking so badly that he pulled as far as he could to the right on the highway.
Just what I need to do now, he thought, is pass out while Fm driving. "Don't faint, dahling," he said aloud, trying to affect his Tallulah voice.
Then the engine sputtered and the car began to slow down. He stepped on the gas, but nothing happened. He swerved over onto the shoulder of the highway, but the car had already died. He turned the key off and on, but the car only sputtered and coasted to a stop. The gas gauge showed empty.
Holding the bloody T-shirt to his shoulder, Alex opened the car door and stepped out onto the freeway. About thirty feet up the road he read the sign for the Texas Street offramp.
"Well," he said to himself, "I almost made it home."
He was definitely going to be late for the party. Alex, he thought to himself, you have been fucked half to death by a madman, stabbed, and scared shitless. And now, while you may be bleeding to death, you run out of gas on the freeway! The one consolation is knowing that, no matter what else happens, you've had it for the night!
His bare feet were freezing on the pavement. When the first headlights hit him, he turned, cussing as he dropped the T-shirt, and stuck out his thumb for a ride.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The last thing Jim saw before he was pushed into the back of the police car was two men-one black, one white-watching him be arrested from the corner in front of the bar.
He sat with his hands cuffed behind his back, watching the back of the policeman's head as they drove up the hill on Laurel Street. He wished that he'd stayed in the bathroom longer with the brown-haired hippie. He tried to remember the smell of the hippie's hair when he had bent over to pull up the tab on his fly; he couldn't be sure, but he thought that it smelled like clover. It was a cinch this cop's hair wouldn't smell of clover, though. The squad car he was being hauled away in smelled unused-of leather and dust, laced faintly with stale cigarette smoke.
Jim studied the cop's eyes in the rearview mirror. The officer was young, not much older than Jim himself. But his eyes were hard blue, and they never moved from the street ahead.
Sobered somewhat by the experience of having his hands handcuffed behind him, Jim leaned forward against the metal guard-screen and asked, "Aren't you at least supposed to tell me what I'm being arrested for?"
The cop lifted his head from the road just enough to glance back at his prisoner in the rearview mirror. "Call it disturbing the peace if you want," he answered curtly, his baritone voice startling in its resonance.
Dismal with the knowledge that it might be two days before any of his friends might think to look for him, Jim sat back in the seat as well as he could with his hands locked behind him. It was the first time in his life that he had ever been arrested.
When the car stopped for the light on Fifth Avenue, Jim asked, "Will they hold me long? In jail, I mean?" He waited for the cop to answer, but the young policeman made no response.
Jim leaned forward, about to repeat his question, as the car started through the intersection. But he said nothing. He turned to the right and looked down Fifth Avenue toward the downtown area of San Diego, then turned back to stare at the cop's eyes in the rearview mirror. They weren't going the right way if they were going to the jailhouse. A swirl of empty fear moved in Jim's stomach. He sat back in the seat, as though to move as far away from the steely-eyed cop who was taking him ... he didn't know where.
But the squad car turned left just before Cabrillo Bridge. On a sideroad of Balboa Park, the cop guided the car into the darkness beside huge pines that obscured the view from the Fifth Avenue side of the park. When Jim looked out the window to his left, he realized they were parked just above the park fire station. Had he not been so frightened, he would have thought it ironic that, had the policeman turned to the left instead of the right, they would have been in the prime cruising grounds of the tearoom queens of San Diego. Instead they were in an area of the park where virtually no one passed at this hour of the night.
Jim held his breath as the cop cut off his lights and, by the light of a flashlight, scribbled something on the clipboard at his side. Not far from here, down the canyon beyond the fire station, picnickers had discovered the naked body of a man only four months earlier. The man had been strangled with his own shoelaces, Jim remembered. But, worst of all, there had been marks around his wrists-as though he had been tied up ... or handcuffed.
"How-" Jim began, his voice cracking as he caught sight of the cop's eyes again in the rearview mirror. "How come we're stopping here?" he managed.
Without answering, the cop turned in his seat, the door at his side opening without a sound.
Jim squirmed against the far door as he watched the cop slide out and shut the door behind him.
Then the back door opened. Jim blinked, his throat going dry with fear as the cop leaned in, the light reflecting eerily on his icy eyes.
"Don't make any noise," the cop said, "if you know what's good for you. And don't fight me."
Jim wedged himself harder against the door as he watched the cop reach up and turn off the overhead light. The darkness seemed to magnify the sound of the cop's breathing as he crouched down into the car, edged onto the backseat, and closed the door behind him. The backseat seemed to have shrunk to half its former size.
"Don't hurt me, please," Jim heard himself saying absurdly. He gasped as he felt the cop grab him by the belt buckle.
"Damn it!" the cop whispered. "I told you not to make any noise! That means talking, too."
"Yes, sir," Jim gasped. He tried to see the cop's face in the darkness, but the policeman was only a dim silhouette in the dark of the car. It was only then that Jim realized his fly was down, his pants spread open from the waist.
"Don't say anything!" the cop warned him again.
Jim flinched, his arms aching, as he first felt the cop's fingers on his abdomen. He was afraid to believe what his senses told him was happening. The sound his throat made as he swallowed seemed abnormally loud in the car. But it was true. The cop was insistently pulling his pants down around his knees.
The cop jerked Jim's pants off. But Jim could not help but jerk with surprise when he felt the cop's hand gently lift his cock and begin to rhythmically squeeze it in his fist.
"Keep quiet," the cop whispered huskily. With his free hand, he whisked his cap from his head and laid it on the seat behind him. Jim could see the patent leather brim gleaming in the darkness.
With a gasp of surprise, Jim watched as the cop bent forward from the waist, his head moving steadily toward Jim's crotch. His stomach twitching, Jim felt the heat of the man's hand on his stomach as the policeman braced himself with one hand. The other hand continued to knead Jim's Umber cock. And then Jim moaned with mingled horror and surprise as he felt the sensitive head of his cock sucked into the sudden moist heat of the policeman's clasping mouth.
"Jesus H. Christ!"
Expertly the policeman sucked on Jim's cock, his tongue skinning the foreskin back to get at the sensitive underside of Jim's glans. Sucking on the red-haired boy's long cock, the policeman exerted pressure with his spit-moistened lips around the circumference of Jim's prick. He gently massaged Jim's balls, using an upward rolling motion.
He worked this way for some minutes before he sat up, Jim's saliva-coated prick still loose in his fist. "Can't you get hard?" he whispered, his voice grown hoarse so that it almost sounded like a plea.
Jim swallowed hard. This is not for real, his mind said. He stared at the silhouette. This can't be happening.
But, again, the policeman bent forward and slurped the cool, limber cock into his lips. He pressed it hotly against his palate with his tongue, then churned his lips in circles around the tender cockhead as he continued his steady sucking motions.
When he lifted his head this time, his whisper was deep and husky. "Get hard, damn it! I've got to suck you off!"
"It's hard," Jim whispered, his voice weak, "to get into it too much with my hands behind me like this."
The policeman hesitated, then asked, more soberly, "If I take the cuffs off, promise me you won't try anything?"
Jim nodded his head. "I promise," he whispered.
It was awkward. The policeman had to straddle Jim's thighs to reach behind him with the key for the handcuffs.
In a moment the cuffs were loose, the policeman looping them through the grillwork of the guard-screen.
Barely moving, they both sat nervously, appraising each other now that the relationship had changed, at least somewhat, from that of policeman and prisoner.
Jim felt the policeman's hand against his thigh. Trying hard to control his breathing, Jim watched amazedly as, for the third time, the policeman bent to suck his cock. And this time Jim could feel the flesh of his pale prick begin to harden in the churning cavity of the cop's mouth.
But what's going to happen when he's through? Jim wondered, Even so, his prick was flooding with blood, thickening, lengthening, so that the nerves seemed to be stretching themselves taut, moving closer to the surface in preparation for receiving the dizzying surges of pleasure to come. Perhaps because of the cop's expert sucking of his cock, Jim felt his prick hardened steadily, in one motion, without the usual pulsing jerks as it lifted itself to erection. His long, hard cock was nudging into the throat of the cop whose head bobbed rhythmically between his thighs. And it was hot, and good.
Now, as the cop pressed down over him so far that he could feel his cock slide into the warm clasp of throat muscles, Jim lifted his hand and placed it gently across the nape of the cop's neck. The sandy hair was fine and soft, the skin below the cop's hairline smooth and warm. At the same moment that he was delicately caressing the policeman's neck, the cop was gulping his cock just as hard and deeply as it would go. But the moment did not last long.
Jerkily, the cop rose, gasping. Jim watched as the policeman wiped first at his eyes, then at his mouth.
"My God, what a prick!" the cop rasped huskily, already moving down on it again. "Fill my mouth with your come, kid," he whispered.
Jim's hard-on twitched as it was once more engulfed by the cock-hungry cop. No one will ever believe it, the redhead thought to himself, once more resting the palm of his hand on the policeman's bobbing head.
Returning to his original motions, the cop was once more massaging Jim's nuts, his fingers expertly titillating the sensitive line of nerves between Jim's balls and ass-hole. He could suck cock like a champion.
Jim's buttocks tightened beneath him. His thighs quivered against the cop's wrinkled trouser leg. He pressed hard against the door with the back of his head, his body straining with the effort to keep from pumping his tingling cock deeper into the cop's throat. With each downward swoop of the cop's lips and tongue, liquid electricity seemed to fill Jim's pulsing erection. He jerked his hand away from the cop's hair, his hand smacking audibly against the leather seat. At his sides, both hands became fists in the darkness.
"I'm going to come," he gasped. "I'm going to-"
His cock turned into a Roman candle. Each spurt of his thick sperm seemed to burn along the channel of his cock. The clotted outpouring foamed against the cop's palate, then rushed back hotly over the sensitive tip of his cock. His hips writhed on the seat.
"Ahhh ... hhh," he sighed, his cock still jerking as a signal to his intense pleasure. It felt as if the cop were blowing the sperm back into the prickling core of his cock. "Ahhh-" he groaned deliciously.
The car door flew open then, and the cop seemed to roll over backward, as if he had been jerked from the seat.
Instantly, Jim sat up and pushed his softening cock quickly into his pants. He could see the cop outside, bent over at the waist, his back heaving. The sound of gagging was only softly muffled.
Jim stepped out and buckled his belt. He watched the cop spitting and choking, his breath rattling in his throat.
Jim stepped forward, his hand on the cop's shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked softly, his eyes sweeping down to the holstered pistol on the cop's hip. It was, he thought, a vulnerable position for a cop to be in.
After a moment, the cop stood up, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes.
"Are you all right?" Jim repeated, seeing for the first time the boyish good looks of the man who had just gone down on him so pleasurably.
The cop coughed again, spitting to the side in the moonlight. "That was really a heavy load," the cop said, wiping his mouth again with the back of his hand. "But I never can manage to swallow it. I had a guy push into my throat once just as he was about to come. I think he must have shot it straight into my stomach." He looked embarrassedly at Jim. "I puked on him before I could even get his cock out of my mouth."
Nervously, Jim glanced down the road to their left.
"Don't worry," the cop told him. "Nobody ever comes around here this time of night. Up the road, yeah. But down here ... We don't even bother to patrol on this side of Laurel much."
Jim smiled. "You really surprised me," he admitted. "That sure wasn't what I was expecting when you slid into that backseat with me."
"Scared you, huh?" the cop said, grinning as he combed his fingers through his short, sandy hair. "I must have. You were about as hard as overdone spaghetti!"
"So ... What do we do now, Officer?" Jim asked, his voice betraying his amusement even if his smile hadn't.
"You sober?" the cop asked, stepping past him to retrieve his cap from the floor of the car.
Jim nodded in the moonlight as the cop softly shut the door of the car.
"Okay," the cop said. "Where can I drop you off? Back at the bar?"
Jim stared mutely for a second, then stuttered, "I ... ah ... I didn't drive down there. I ... ah ... came with friends."
"Club's closed now, anyway," the cop said, opening the front door of the car. "Go on around to the other side. I can drop you off somewhere, if it's not too far away."
Slowly, Jim made his way around the front of the white car. The whole world seemed to glow strangely. "Illinois and El Cajon?" he suggested meekly.
"Get in."
Still unbelieving, Jim waited by the door until the cop leaned across the seat and let him in.
When they were both inside, the cop smiled and slapped himon the leg. "Feels a little different sitting up front, doesn't it?"
Jim could only nod as the cop made a U-turn in the dark street.
"Listen," the cop told him. "I don't want you to think I make a habit of this kind of thing. I don't. It's just that I-Well, to put it bluntly, I'd been feeling horny as hell all night, and when I saw you out in front of the bar I thought, well..."
"Have you ever done that before?" Jim asked weakly. "With somebody else, I mean?"
"Only once," the cop said, almost too softly to be heard. "More than a year ago it was. But that was really more of an accident. I picked the guy up same as I did you. Drunk in a public place. Only, on the way down to the jail, I got a radio call. When I got up there to the park, I had to cuff him to the screen while I went outside. It turned out to be a false alarm, a wild chase through the park. Then, when I got back to the car and got a good look at the guy I had in the backseat ... Well, I sucked him off. I hadn't logged him in before I got the radio call, so when I'd gone down on him, I just let him loose in the park."
Jim shook his head. "Incredible," he said. "Aren't you afraid you'd get caught? Somebody'd turn you in?"
"I only did it that once before," the cop said, his face totally serious.
"But you're gay, aren't you?" Jim demanded incredulously.
"I don't think of myself as being gay, no," the cop answered. "I just like to suck cock now and men. I picked it up when I was in the Navy. When I got out and joined the police force, I just couldn't give up the old habit. Some people smoke cigarettes."
"But you can't just arrest somebody every time you feel like going down on somebody!"
Now the cop chuckled. "No. You've got a point there." He looked over at Jim as though deciding just how much he dared to confess. "I get a day off now and again," he said. "Sometimes I drive up to L.A."
"The baths?" Jim asked, his mind forming a mental picture of this cop dressed in nothing but the red towels of the Corral Club.
"Sometimes," the cop admitted. "Not often, though. There's too much chance that I might run into somebody else on the force there."
Jim shook his head. "There can't be more gay cops from San Diego."
"I told you," the cop said. "I don't think of myself as gay." He cleared his throat meaningfully. "I mean, I don't get fucked, for one thing."
Jim eyed him speculatively. "Ever tried it?" he ventured.
"I've thought about it a couple times," he said flatly. "Whenever I saw somebody I thought might be able to get the job done without killing me in the process."
"You ought to try it," Jim said.
Now the cop turned toward him. He smiled. "With you as the fucker, I suppose?"
Jim shrugged.
"Here's your stop," the cop said, nodding to the sidewalk as he slowed the car to the curb.
Jim opened the door, then turned back to grin and offer his hand. "Thanks a lot ... I guess," he said, shaking hands with the sandy-haired cop.
When he had stepped out on the curb and shut the door behind him, he shivered as the cop called him back.
"Hey," the policeman said. "Maybe we could get together again. If you want to, I mean. And if you've got a quiet mouth."
Jim weighed the offer in his mind.
"I've got a day off in a couple of weeks," the policeman said. "Maybe you can persuade me to take up another bad habit." He handed Jim a business card. "Think about it," he said, starting the engine. "And give me a call if you think I might be adaptable. But I'll warn you, old hungers die hard."
Jim looked down at the card. Written in neat script was the name-Walt. It was followed by a telephone number from somewhere in the La Mesa area.
The cop waved goodbye. "Don't forget I got your name and number when I arrested you."
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Do you want to come over tonight?" Ron leaned his arms on the bar.
Mike exhaled the smoke slowly, the corners of his toofull mouth turned up in the barest concealment of a wry grin. "What about Danny?" he said.
Ron nodded his head up and down. He shifted the angle of his lean frame from one booted foot to the other as if to consider the possibilities of the situation. His long fingers plucked nervously at the rim of the glass in front of him.
"Danny and I've got an agreement now," he said at last. His green eyes regarded Mike placidly. "An arrangement." He paused, his fingers playing over the rim of the glass. "I guess you ought to know as well as anyone. We were ... Well, I guess I've got to admit that I was doing most of it, rather than Danny. We were tricking out on each other a lot. Whenever the other one wasn't around." He paused meaningfully, his thick black eyebrows raised to emphasize his point.
To cover an embarrassment he didn't know why he should feel, Mike lifted his drink to his lips. As he sipped the cool rum, his eyes skimmed the faces near the pool table to see if Danny was there, watching them.
"It was getting to the point," Ron went on, "where we had to do something or give up on the whole relationship." He pushed the glass across the bar ahead of him for the waiter to pick up. "You know, Danny and I have been together for almost four years," he said flatly. "Anyway, if you're going to come home with us, I guess you ought to know the situation." He hesitated, lighting a cigarette. "Anyway," he said, "we finally decided that both of us-if we were honest-were interested occasionally in other people. Not that we wanted to split up or anything, understand. Just that maybe we'd come down to the bar and, sometimes, one or the other of us would see someone we wanted to go to bed with. I guess maybe it was my idea, because, really, I was usually the one who wanted to take somebody else home. Without meaning to sound too egotistical, I think Danny is pretty well satisfied with our relationship, as far as sex goes, anyway."
Mike nodded. "If I was him," he said, glancing at Ron's bulging crotch, "I might just be satisfied myself."
Shyly, Ron looked down at the bar. "Anyway we finally agreed that we could both have one night to trick with somebody else during the week. I thought that was a pretty good idea. Only it turned out that I was the only one who was doing the tricking. After about three times when I'd brought somebody home ... Well, you know how quiet Danny is. I don't know whether it was because he just wasn't hot to trick with anybody, or whether we've been together so long that he's forgotten how to go about it." He put out his cigarette. "Anyway, now that I more or less had permission to make it with whoever I wanted to, I started feeling guilty. Not because I was taking guys to bed, but because Danny wasn't tricking out at all."
"You're a saint," Mike observed.
"No," Ron protested. "Seriously. It was worse than when I was fucking around on the sly."
"So you had another fireside chat," Mike guessed, unable to keep his amusement at Ron's earnestness from coloring his voice.
Faint irritation showed on Ron's long face. "Anyway," he said after a moment, "to make a long story short, I decided it would be a better deal if, instead of tricking separately, we gave ourselves the option of having a ... a three-way once a week. One week I get to pick out the trick, the next week Danny. It seems to be working out pretty well so far. You might not believe this, Mike, but. . . it's actually brought us closer together than we were before. This is the third week."
"It's probably saved your marriage," Mike observed. "So, which one of you picked me? If this is the third week, it must be your turn again, right?"
Ron closed his eyes in mild disgust. "Do you want to come home with us, or not?"
"You got somebody else in mind if I say no?" Mike wanted to know.
"If you don't want to do it, that's okay. I mean, I know you don't know Danny that well and ... Well, it might be sort of awkward, considering that you and I've tricked before and all. Danny doesn't know about that, by the way. If you come with us, you've got to be sure to show him some attention, too."
"Ron!" Mike grinned. "I'm offended! You underestimate my sensitivities!"
"Shall I tell Danny you're coming over, then?"
"I can't stay all night," Mike explained.
"That's okay," Ron said, nodding his head. "There's really not room in that bed for three people, anyway." He looked up. "Well, I guess you remember the bed, huh?"
"I remember the bed."
"Okay, then. I'll find Danny and let him know that you'll be coming over, then."
"You want to go right now?"
"If Danny's ready," Ron replied frankly. "Did you want to stick around a while?"
Mike glanced at the faces around him, then back at Ron. He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess not."
"Okay. You wait for us here. I'll go drag Danny back here, okay?"
"Okay," Mike said. He watched for a moment as the tall boy slowly dodged and zigzagged through the crowd at the door toward the pool table.
Then someone emphatically cleared his throat behind him. Turning, he grinned at the husky blonde with the curly hair. "Danny! Ron just went to look for you." He turned to see if he might be able to catch Ron's eye and call him back. But it was impossible through the milling crowd on the other side of the bar.
Danny edged sideways into a space along the bar. "I know," he said. "I saw you two talking. I take it you're coming home for the gala three-way."
Mike grinned, almost sheepishly.
"I'm glad," Danny said. "I was afraid you wouldn't think it was such a hot idea."
Mike grinned. "How could I turn down such a swell offer?"
"Yeah, well ... maybe. Only ... Listen, Mike," he said, glancing around them and lowering his voice, "Ron doesn't know about us. If he thought you and I had ever tricked, he wouldn't have invited you over tonight. So, for Christ's sake, when we get in bed, don't neglect Ron. He'd really get his feelings hurt if the two of us just sort of let him lay there by himself." He glanced up to check Mike's reaction, adding, "You know he's got about thirteen inches, don't you?"
Mike sat up in his chair. "Don't you remember that nude swimming session we had at that party last year?" He chuckled, then leaned closer to the muscular blonde. "Not that I'm a size queen, Dan, but I think that's more than I can handle."
Danny pushed his empty glass across the bar and squeezed roughly on Mike's lower thigh. "You can handle it, I'm sure."
Mike lifted the drink to his lips. "I don't know if that's a compliment, or an insult," he said.
"It's an insult, of course," Danny said quickly. "Only, really, don't try to ignore Ron, okay? You don't have to let him-" he dropped his voice "-fuck you, but show him some affection, too, okay?"
"I'm not all that tactless, Dan!" Mike insisted, setting his glass down. "Give me some credit."
"Okay, okay," Danny said, raising his hand in a quieting gesture. "I just didn't want Ron to start getting suspicious. You know, he thinks it was his idea to invite you up."
"Wasn't it?"
Danny smiled, his dimples showing. "What do you think?" he asked.
Mike wasn't sure whether he had winked or not.
* * *
Standing over the blue porcelain toilet, Mike held his six-inch cock in one hand and waited for the stream to flow. He turned to smile appreciatively at his naked reflection in the mirror, aware that beyond the tanned image of himself in the glass, beyond the lacquered door, Ron and Danny lay together on the bed, waiting for him.
He watched the arc of spiraling yellow pour from the creamy pink head of his cock and wondered how he could permit himself to perpetrate this charade without laughing aloud. Two months before, shortly after the three of them had met at a skinny-dipping pool party, he had called Ron one morning-the result of which found them both in bed together that noon while Danny was at work. Mike had been amazed at his own attraction to the tall, cowboy-like Ron; but, when he had analyzed his feelings, he had been sure his desire to repeat their frenzied lovemaking that noon had nothing to do with the fact that Ron sported the longest, most perfectly formed cock he had ever had the pleasure of being fucked by.
A week later, he and Ron had repeated their infidelity, this time with the sexual positions reversed. He and the tall sandy-haired cowboy had never gotten together again, partly because of Ron's guilt over having cheated on Danny, partly because they had never again been able to arrange another time when they were both free and Danny was at work. Mike was sure Danny had never known.
Perhaps Danny's suspicions had never been aroused because he, too, had skeletons in the marital closet which he didn't want rattled. Between the two times Mike and Ron had tricked together, Danny had shown up unexpectedly one evening at Mike's apartment. He and Mike had begun talking over the problems of gay marriage, each of them with a glass of wine in their hand. But they had wound up the evening on the carpet of the living room, in one of the wildest sixty-nine sessions Mike had ever experienced. Now, whatever the new relationship of the two lovers, it was very clear to Mike that Danny had never confessed his infidelity to Ron any more than Ron had confessed to him.
Mike shook the last drops free of his cock just as Ron knocked on the door once and stepped in. Stepping away from the toilet with a less than casual look at Ron's lean, naked body, Mike started into the bedroom but turned back when Ron motioned him over.
He glanced down at the hose-like, putty-colored cock Ron aimed at the water below. Mike was sure it had to be the longest prick in San Diego, even though it didn't lengthen much when it got hard.
"Don't let on," Ron whispered to him, shivering a little as his piss poured into the water, "that we've fucked around."
Mike made an irritated face.
"And give Danny a lot of attention," Ron added. "You can fuck him if you want to. He--likes it."
Groaning almost audibly, Mike turned away and closed the bathroom door behind him.
Pale skin glowing softly in the dim light of the bedroom, Danny lay nude on the brown cotton bedspread, one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out in what might have been a fair imitation of a ballet pose, were it not for the creamy thickness of his cock resting across his thigh.
Mike slid onto the bed, his right leg sliding up to nestle between Dan's thighs, his arms running along the blonde's chest to his shoulders until Mike's downward motion brought their chests together.
Mike felt his cock thicken as Danny parted his lips to admit the slow, hot slide of Mike's tongue into his mouth. Gently, Mike kissed him, their only motion that of their slickly churning mouths and the steady hardening of their crossed cocks.
When Mike lifted himself from the warmth of Danny's mouth, the blonde whispered, his hands moving over Mike's shoulders, "Remember not to concentrate on me. If you let Ron fuck you, that'll probably satisfy him and he'll go into the other room to sleep."
Smiling in the dimness, Mike rolled away from Danny and onto his back just as Ron came in and kneeled on the bed. For a moment, the three of them lay quiet, without moving, not even aware of each other's breathing.
Then Ron reached forward between his lover's legs and lifted Danny's cock from the butter-colored curls cushioning its base. Stretching forward until even his neck seemed to have lengthened, he lowered his thin lips around the hard length of Danny's cock.
Mike thought it was a nice gesture that Ron had begun the threesome by paying homage to his lover. He watched Ron's cheeks working as they expanded and contracted around Danny's fully engulfed shaft. When he shifted his gaze to Danny's face, the blonde closed his eyes, either from shyness or pleasure.
As if moved by the same impulse, both Ron and Mike slowly rearranged themselves on the bed. Leaning toward the offering of Ron's thickening rod, Mike twisted his hips and reversed his position on the bed, even as Ron-Danny's cock still embraced by his lips and tongue-lifted his feet from the floor and rotated on the mattress so that his long legs extended horizontally across the foot of the bed.
With one hand moving to the side of Mike's face, Ron guided the black-haired youth's mouth over the ballooning glans of his cock. In his own mouth, Danny's erection twisted to the side against his teeth as Ron felt his lover twisting to engulf Mike's prick in his mouth.
Mouth-to-cock, the three friends lay in a crudely formed triangle on the softly squeaking bed. Mouthing each other's cock, they sucked, their heads bobbing over one another's hard-on.
Holding Ron's cock around the base with one hand, Mike sank his mouth over the long shaft until his lips met his finger and thumb. At the opening of his throat, Ron's glans bumped swollenly, beginning to secrete its slick, golden honey. It astounded him to realize that he had taken little more than half of the huge cock before it cut his wind off. He backed off, rolling his tongue hotly over the rubbery cockhead just as Dan was doing to him.
"Mmmmm ... " Danny hummed, his lips slick around the circumference of Mike's cock. The depth of his strokes pressed his nose into Mike's furry scrotum with each thrust. He pumped to the rhythm Ron had first established by sucking Danny's cock into his throat.
Too close to explosion, Mike twisted away from the ministrations of Dan's powerful jaws. Content merely to suckle on the rubbery cock between Ron's long legs, he pulled far enough away to signal to Dan that he did not wish to be touched. But, in order to give Dari something for depriving him of his mouthful of hard dick, Mike reached over and caressed the blonde's abdomen. He combed his fingers into the yellow tangle of curls, snaking his hand around the base of Dan's cock. He could feel the slickness of saliva drooling down from Ron's cock. And he let Ron mouth one finger, enjoying the feel of his finger being sucked right beside Dan's pulsing erection. His own cock bobbed with excitement.
Turning awkwardly on the bed, Mike pressed his ass against the long cock he had just deserted with his mouth. He fitted himself as well as he could against Ron's body, feeling the long cock hot between his thighs. He clamped down on it as hard as he could. Then, pressing his cheek against Ron's face, he pushed toward the juicy action of Ron's lips over Dan's cock. While Ron held the blonde's cock against the side of his mouth, Mike slid his tongue into Ron's mouth, lapping Dan's saliva-coated hard-on at the same time. He and Ron traded the cock off between them, passing it slowly from mouth to mouth, slavering over it until their combined saliva had run thickly down to mat the blonde's pubic hair and drool coolly over his contracting balls.
"Turn a little," Ron mumbled to his lover, pushing upward on his thigh.
Mike ducked his head and pressed his mouth and nose into the fragrant nest of hair and churning flesh at the base of Dan's balls. With open mouth he moved toward Dan's hairless ass-hole. Ron had swallowed Dan's cock to the root, his throat contracting around the pulsing glans. Though he could not see it, Mike could feel Dan's hand caressing the satiny, swollen head of Ron's cock between his thighs.
"Hold off," Danny gasped, pushing Ron's head away from his jerking prick. "I don't want to come that way."
Mike let Ron twist his head back. The long-cocked stud held Mike's head with both hands, fucking his tongue hotly back and forth in the warm clasp of Mike's lips. Mike could taste Dan's cock from Ron's mouth.
Between Mike's thighs, Dan twisted to teasingly lick first at Ron's cock where it thrust between Mike's muscular legs, then at the more freely accessible hard-on thrusting up from the black bush of Mike's densely furred crotch. As he licked one cock, he squeezed the other with his hand.
"Jesus!" Mike gasped, twisting away from the dizzying fucking Ron was administering to his mouth with his spearing, hot tongue. Slowly, he pulled his cock away from Dan's greedy lips. When he rolled into the position the blonde had just occupied on the bed, he turned to watch Ron draw Dan forcefully into his arms. And he marveled at the eroticism of the two lovers as they slowly ground their mouths together.
But at the same time, Mike became aware that Ron's free hand had found its way to the hairy cleft of his ass. He could feel Ron slowly trying to insert his finger into the narrow aperture of his ass-hole. He twisted away, but did not resist as, once again, Ron began worming the long fingers into the winking brown rosette of his anus. Mike didn't mind being fucked, but it irritated him to have somebody vainly trying to loosen him up with a probing finger. Even so, under the circumstances, he decided it was wiser not to resist.
When the two lovers broke their kiss, Dan rolled onto his stomach in the middle of the bed. As if on cue, Ron produced a tube of K-Y from his side of the mattress.
Smearing the glistening lubricant into the twitching cleft of Dan's buttocks, Ron nodded to Mike.
Mike took the cue. Raising himself to his knees as he straddled Dan's willing ass, Mike allowed Ron to coat his prick with K-Y, then leaned forward.
Dan shivered. "Let Ron guide it in, Mike," he breathed against the now badly rumpled bedspread.
Ron closed his hand over Mike's slippery cock, aiming it down into the clasp of Dan's ass-hole.
Mike gasped at the sudden heat which enveloped his cockhead. Dan had not been this easy to enter the day of their meeting; in fact, the tightness of the blonde's ass had been the main reason why they had eventually wound up rocking back and forth on the carpet, their cocks foaming into one another's mouths.
Slowly, Mike leaned forward, feeling the length of his blood-hardened prick easing through Ron's fingers into the hot, gulping suction of Dan's bowels. When Ron pulled his hand back, Mike realized he was all the way in. His balls were cradled against Dan's satiny buttocks, the base of his cock clamped firmly in the" now squeezing grip of the marvelous sphincter, and his glans bathed in a nearly molten heat that made him gasp with desire. His impulse was to fire his cock into Dan just as hard and fast as he could, but he held back, sliding it gently in and out as he maneuvered his hands beneath the blonde. As Dan humped up with his ass, Mike grasped his cock with a firm grip.
Now Dan pushed up with one leg and, cock plugged firmly into grasping ass-hole, Mike and Dan rolled onto their sides.
"I can't take it with anybody on top of me," Dan explained breathily. "Just to get in."
"Don't talk," Ron growled softly behind them. "Just fuck him, Mike. Fuck him good."
"Try to make it last," Dan whispered, his ass-hole nipping at Mike's slowly thrusting cock.
Mike felt the K-Y squeezed into the cleft of his ass, cold and-as always-runnier than he expected. He maintained his slow thrusting into Dan, the action of his hips rubbing the K-Y into his rectum as he backed against the steady pressure of Ron's thumb. Without pain, he felt Ron's thumb slip deeply into him, his ass-hole closing greasily around the last knuckle. When Ron pulled his thumb away, Mike was sure he wasn't going to tighten up when he felt the huge cock pushed against his anus.
But he did tighten up. Afraid of the dangerous prick almost as much as he wanted it plunging within him, Mike clenched his ass-hole against the blunt nose of Ron's well-lubricated cock.
"Relax," Ron whispered against his ear.
Mike could feel his ass-cheeks being spread apart to accommodate Ron's big cock. He knew Ron was being patient, but when he felt the heat and pressure of the plum-sized cockhead against his ass-hole he tightened each time. He felt Ron add a second application of lubricant.
This time when the head of Ron's prick pressed against his rectum, Mike felt it move in. But no sooner had the thick glans pierced him than, once again, Mike clamped down, stopping the penetration by giving himself considerable pain.
Mike held himself still, his cock beginning to soften in the warmth of Dan's churning ass.
"I'm sorry, Ron," he gasped. "I can't take-"
Ron slapped him hard on the ass.
And, as Mike gasped at the stinging shock, Ron's cock slowly eased forward, probing inward like a snake crawling into its den.
Mike moaned, unable to tell whether he was receiving pain or pleasure as the thick prick moved into the heated hole of his ass. He caught his breath as Ron began to pull back a little, then gasped as he felt the long cock slide into him again, a little faster this time, a little deeper. And he knew he wanted the whole thing if he could manage it.
"Am I hurting you?" Ron whispered, his hand snaking over Mike's hip and Dan's hip to grasp his lover's cock away from Mike's hand.
"Not yet," Mike moaned, afraid to thrust into Dan again for fear of the sensation it would also bring to his terribly stretched ass-hole. "But keep it coming."
"You can take more?" Ron breathed incredulously.
"I think so," Mike groaned. "Go slow, though. I feel stuffed already."
"I've got about nine inches into you already," Ron whispered. Then he laughed. "I don't mean to be egotistical."
Mike tried not to chuckle. "I want the whole thing if I can handle it," Mike gasped, already feeling the big cock being stuffed into his bowels. "But don't laugh, though," he added, pinching Dan on the nipple. "It only hurts when you laugh."
"Don't hurt yourself, Mike," Dan warned. "Even I can't take the whole thing."
Swallowing hard, Mike pushed forward into the resilient cushion of Dan's clasping buttocks. Then, very slowly, he pulled back, his cock retreating a little from Dan's anus as he pushed his own rectum back around Ron's cock.
Ron had stopped trying to gain any greater depth. Taking very short strokes, he was beginning to fuck his mammoth prick into Mike's ass as gently as he could.
Mike felt the huge cock sliding back and forth within him. He was sure he could take the entire length if he didn't rush it. For the moment, at least, he tried to concentrate on the delicious grip of Dan's hairless ass. He pulled Dan closer to him until he could feel his cock buried in the hot, liver-like suction of the blonde's ass-hole. Then he began to establish a rhythm. He could feel Ron stop thrusting into him, and he knew that the big cowboy was merely lying there, letting Mike's thrusting motions do the work. Each time Mike pulled back a little from Dan's ass, he was fucking himself onto Ron's thick prick. Mike was grateful that Ron was giving him that control.
When Ron slipped his hand between Mike's groin and Dan's ass to feel the slithering slide of the connection, Mike once again grasped Dan's cock. Sandwiched between the two lovers, Mike fucked forward, impaling Dan once more with his wildly tingling cock-then backward, splitting himself each time on the long lance of Ron's gut-stretching cock. Mike was sure that Ron's cock was at least as big around as a man's wrist. He was amazed, as he had been before, that he was taking it.
Now Mike could feel Dan's cock jerking in his fist. Anticipating the blonde's climax, he threw himself violently into the widening valley of Dan's ass. Then, as he hurled himself back, he felt the tickle of Ron's pubic hair against his ass.
"Mmmmmm, God!" Ron groaned, pulling his hand from between Dan and Mike to embrace the dark-haired boy by the shoulders. Now he, too, began to fuck and thrust his cock into the writhing body beside him.
Mike realized that he was taking the full thirteen inches of Ron's cock into his ass with each stroke. But he didn't have time to think about it. He was too busy fucking Dan.
Mike hesitated long enough to catch the rhythm of the cock pounding into his ass. Then he squeezed down on Dan's cock with his fist and began his fuck strokes once again.
"I'm ... coming!" Dan groaned, hurling his ass back to fuck himself violently on Mike's hard cock.
Mike felt the hot gush of sperm flow over his fist as Dan began to unload. Driving hard into the blonde's spasming ass-hole, he could feel his own orgasm beginning to tingle at the base of his balls.
"Oh ... fuck me-" Dan gasped, hammering his ass around Mike's wildly pistoning cock. Again and again his prick fountained a white splatter of come onto the dark bedspread. Dan's eyes rolled as he pushed back to force Mike's cock deeper into his churning ass.
Buried deeply in Mike's tightly gripping ass-hole, Ron's bull-like cock pulsed slowly once, then again, expanding to a greater diameter as he felt himself being worked off by the hot milking motions of Mike's self-impalement.
Mike's glans seemed to be swelling so much that it would explode. The first searing clot of spinning sperm burst from his cock like a skyrocket.
Mike groaned, slamming into Dan's contracting sphincter. He hurled himself back, his buttocks pressed against Ron's hipbones and ground himself into the stallion-sized cock stuffed into his ass. He felt Ron's hand clench at his shoulder as his insides were flooded with the hot wash of the cowboy's foaming come.
Again Mike's cock belched its molten pearls into Dan's ass. The flood of sperm flowing into Mike's guts from Ron's throbbing erection made the dark-haired boy in the middle of the masculine sandwich shudder and writhe, his eyelids fluttering, his legs jerking in the tangle of hairy limbs that embraced him.
It was as if all three bodies had been touched by a current of electricity. Together and separately, Ron, Mike and Danny shivered and shuddered through the exhausting ecstasy of a mutual orgasm.
Danny was the first to roll away. Lying on his stomach with pools of Mike's still splattering sperm forming on his hips and the small of his back, the blonde caught his breath, then stumbled around the foot of the bed and into the bathroom.
After Danny got up, Ron stroked into Mike's ass twice more, then rolled over on top of the dark-haired boy. The muscles of his hairy ass rippled and contracted in the darkness as he fucked the huge prick into the unresisting ring of Mike's battered ass-hole.
Humping himself back at Ron, Mike could feel a second orgasm coming on.
"Oh, God, Ron!" he shuddered. "Fuck me, fuck me."
Sweat dripped down from Ron's nose onto Mike's shoulders as the lanky cowboy powered home his thrusts.
"Oh, stud!" Mike groaned, writhing like a beetle on a pin. "Fuck my ass. Give it to me! Give it to me again! I'm going to shoot again!"
Ron drilled him, his hips working in blurred frenzy. A full ten inches of hard, hot, greasy cock were being hurled in and out of Mike's widely distended ass-hole.
Then, abruptly, Ron stiffened, he arched back, his mouth thrown open in a silent scream.
Mike shivered beneath him as the huge cock vomited within him for a second time, basting his insides with a river of scalding, thick come. The heat and pressure were so intense, Mike couldn't move.
"Hnnaaahhh!" Ron growled huskily, his muscles suddenly drained of strength as he collapsed over the sweating body of the boy beneath him.
Panting for breath, Mike and Ron lay together on the bed, motionless except for the heaving of their chests.
Only when Danny came back into the room and lay down beside them did Ron slurp the limber hose of his cock from Mike's widely stretched rectum and fall backward onto his back.
Feeling as though his ass-hole might be permanently stretched open, Mike twisted awkwardly from the bed and hobbled into the bathroom. That, he rasped to his reflection as he closed the door, has got to be the fucking of your life!
It took Mike a very long time in the bathroom. When he came out, both Ron and Dan were apparently asleep. Danny was sprawled just where Mike had left him, but Ron had crawled up and cuddled himself into the muscular embrace of Danny's arms.
When he was dressed, he stood over the bed looking down at the two naked men on the bed. Already what they had just done together seemed somehow distant to him, almost unreal.
A faint trace of a smile crept over his face. He leaned over them and softly touched his lips against Dan's limp, warm cock. He could taste the perspiration as he kissed the furry round of Ron's lean buttocks. He rose again to look down at them. Then he turned softly in the darkness and walked out of the house, leaving the lovers to dream in the faithless security of one another's arms.
CHAPTER NINE
In the darkness, the contrast of Fred's meaty black cock rippling into the pale white buttocks of the Marine was not so great. The unseen contrasts were greater.
At twenty-six, Fred was just beginning to make a success of his practice as a psychiatrist. Lewis, the Marine, was a thirty-four-year-old drill sergeant at Camp Pendleton. Fred had spent three black years suffering through the Air Force before he had been released to return to college. Lewis had lied his way into the Marines at sixteen to avoid finishing his senior year of high school; he was a lifer.
Holding the older man with both of his black hands locked around the Marine's waist, Fred stood on his knees, barreling the flashing piston of his cock into the groaning man's ass-hole. It was, strangely enough, a position they both preferred.
"Fuck my ass dog-style!" Lewis had demanded, landing on his hands and knees before the chunky Black. Fred had been only too happy to accommodate him.
* * *
"But that guy is our drill sergeant!" the baby-faced blonde protested. His name was Ernie.
He and his taller, more masculine friend had just approached Jerry to confirm the fact that Fred had walked out of the bar with Lewis, the Marine.
"Well," Jerry told him, "that's more interesting than I'd thought, but it still doesn't change the fact that he and Fred walked out of here together."
"They're not going to trick together?" Ernie gasped.
Jerry glanced at the other boy, then back at the blonde. "I think that's what they had in mind," he said.
"I can't believe it!" the blonde cried, holding his hand to the side of his face.
"How come you're so interested in the sexual activities of your drill sergeant?" Jerry asked them both. "He been going down on you up at Pendleton, or what?"
"I don't give a fuck what he does to get his rocks off," the dark-haired boy said, shaking his head. "But when Ernie and I walked in here and saw him talking to you and that black dude, we just about shit down both legs."
"Well," Jerry said, lowering his glass to check out the two recruits, "I'm glad you didn't do that."
"I can't believe it!" the blonde laughed. "Stone-face Johnson is a cocksucker!"
The dark-haired boy frowned distastefully. "People in glass houses," he said.
"It's so rich I only wish we could go back to the base and tell the guys," the blonde gushed.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Jerry offered. He glanced down at the dark-haired boy's crotch, giving his basket an appreciative once-over. "What's your name, anyway, Big Stuff?" he asked.
"His name's Steve," the blonde giggled. "And that's the real thing you're looking at."
"Yours, I suppose," Jerry said blandly, "is a pair of socks."
The blonde hung on his friend's arm, giggling.
"I just wish I could see old Stone-face Johnson sucking on that black cock," Steve said quietly.
Jerry turned toward him. "You got something against black meat?"
"No," Steve said evenly, meeting Jerry's eyes. "But if you'd heard that drill sergeant on the parade ground, you'd sure as hell think he did."
"You're sort of bitchy, aren't you?" the blonde laughed. "What's the matter? That black guy your lover or something?"
Jerry wondered if there might be some way to separate the blonde from Steve. It might, he thought, be worth the effort. He stared hard at Steve's eyes.
Jerry shoved his glass of beer away from him. "No," he sighed, "he's not my lover or something. We tricked a couple of times in college. But we're just friends now."
"Sisters!" the blonde giggled.
"What about you two?" Jerry asked Steve, ignoring the blonde.
"Buddies," Steve said huskily. He lifted his thick, bushy brows and added, "Nothing more. If I wanted to fuck a cunt, I'd find me a woman."
The blonde whirled away. "I think I'm being insulted," he whined.
"Oh, shut up, Ernie," Steve said. "You don't have to be so nelly, do you?" He pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket. "Got a light?" he asked Jerry.
Jerry fished the matches from the pocket of his Levi's and struck one for the Marine.
"I just wish I could see what was going on between your friend and our sergeant," Steve said, puffing on the cigarette. "That would be something to see!"
Jerry regarded him with frank interest. He picked up the beer and took another sip. As he put the glass down on the bar, he asked, "You really want to see it?"
"You've got to be kidding!" Ernie squealed, his face contorted with delight at the possibility.
Steve grinned. "If you can arrange it, I'd sure as hell like to see it."
"Well," Jerry said, once more trying to make Steve aware that he was being visually undressed, "voyeurism isn't usually my bag. But if that's how you want to spend your evening, I can arrange it."
"Oh Jesus!" the blonde giggled. "I can't believe it!"
Steve leaned closer. "I just said I'd like to see old Stone-face Johnson getting a cock up the old dirt road," he told Jerry. "That doesn't take all night, does it?"
Jerry grinned, the corners of his eyes wrinkling now with real pleasure for the first time. "Okay," he said, finishing off his beer. "It just so happens Fred left me his car in case he didn't get back. Let's go deliver it to him."
* * *
"Fred?"
"Is that you, Jerry?" Fred grunted from the sofa-bed.
"I brought a couple of friends," Jerry confessed. "Shall I turn on the light?"
"Shit no! Don't turn the light on," Lewis' voice ordered from the bed.
"Who you got with you?" Fred asked, thrusting his cock deeply into Lewis's widely splayed ass.
Jerry ushered the two recruits into the room and shut the door behind them. "Just a couple of horny studs from the bar," he answered.
"You ... wanna use the floor?" Fred gasped, wriggling his groin against the hairless buttocks Lewis had offered him for the past fifteen minutes.
Jerry cleared his throat. "I ... That is, we were kinda hoping you might want some company." He had to kick Ernie in the leg to keep him from giggling. On his other side he could feel Steve's warmth close to him.
"I thought you two weren't roommates," Lewis panted, thrusting his ass back on the impalement of Fred's hard meat.
"We're not," Fred said. "Jerry can't stand kinky hairs in the bathroom soap. Yeah, Jerry. We can stand some company, can't we, Lou?"
"I can't see anything!" Ernie hissed.
Jerry pulled him closer. "Go over there," he whispered in the blonde's ear, "take off your clothes, and get the sergeant to suck you off." Ernie had moved toward the bed before Jerry could even warn him away from Fred.
Moving into one another's arms in the darkness, Jerry and Steve watched silently as Ernie slipped out of his clothes and scooted onto the edge of the bed.
"Just don't try to fuck me," Fred growled in the darkness.
"Oh, brother," Steve whispered, watching Ernie get to his knees in front of Stone-face Johnson.
Ernie lifted his cock to the sergeant's lips, swiping it across the panting mouth at least three times before he managed to sink it.
"Shit!" Lewis growled, stopping his backward motions with Fred's cock halfway out of his ass. "What the fuck is this? You call this a cock? It's hardly bigger than a clit."
Jerry guffawed. "Go ahead and blow it, Lewis," he called, his chest jiggling against Steve's.
"Shit!" the sergeant growled. "The stupid fucker's shooting all over my face!" He twisted his head to the side, trying to catch Ernie's spouting prick with his mouth. "Put it in my mouth, you dumb-ass!" he groaned, licking the cum from his lips.
Jerry and Steve groaned together at the comedy before them. "What you need, Lewis," Jerry called to him, "is a little light."
"Jerry, you sonofabitch!" Fred groaned as Jerry flicked on the overhead light.
The three figures on the bed were frozen in a grotesque tableau. Fred, caught in the act of trying to slip his black cock back in the ass-hole before him, frowned, then grinned at the recognition that Jerry was pulling something both of them would laugh about later.
Ernie stared in horror as his thin, pink cock continued to spatter come into the face of his naked drill sergeant. Lewis, his ass-hole pried open by Fred's heavy prick, his face being spattered by the blonde boy's jism, tried to blink the come out of his eyes, then slowly rose to an upright position on his knees as he recognized the terrified boy before him.
"Crenshaw!" the naked sergeant roared, his big hands rushing forward to catch Ernie by the shoulders. "What in the fucking hell do you think you're doing here?"
"He's coming, Sir," Steve laughed, his head thrown back.
Lewis jerked his head toward Jerry and Steve. "Young!" he gasped. He sputtered a moment, then groaned. "I might have expected this from Crenshaw. But you! Young, don't tell me you're a fag, too!"
Fred centered his cock in the Marine's ass, then pushed forward until he was once again deeply lodged. Only then did he ask, "What the hell's going on here, Jerry? Are you two going to get undressed and come to bed, or not?"
Jerry stepped toward the door. "Is that what you want to do, Steve?" he asked.
Steve grinned, one hand casually adjusting his cock in his pants. "You got something better in mind?"
"I sure do," Jerry said, opening the door.
Steve followed him out the door. "I'm with you," he said, squeezing Jerry's arm.
"I'll call you in the morning, Fred," Jerry called, closing the door. He followed the butch Marine down the stairs, watching the firm slide of Steve's muscular buttocks and thighs beneath the tight trousers. "Hey, Steve," he laughed, "wanna go to a party first? It's in my apartment building."
Steve turned, his hand on the stair railing. "What kind of a party?"
Jerry caught up with him. He ran his hand firmly over the hard rounds of Steve's ass. "What kind do you think?"
* * *
Lewis shuddered as Fred began powerhousing into him once more. He could feel the Black's swollen cock gouging deeply into the gulping maw of his insatiable ass.
"All right, Boot," he said, pushing Ernie down until the boy was eye-level with his cock. "You got a pretty smart mouth, kid," Lewis said. "And from now on I aim to try it on for size whenever I'm in the mood to dump a load. Start sucking!"
"Thank you, Sir," the blonde recruit stuttered, his red lips parting slickly to engulf the sergeant's brown, bobbing cock.
Fred held on to the sergeant's shoulders, his chocolate-colored hips whipping back and forth against the Marine's ass. "Oh, brother," he said aloud, thinking of Jerry and the dark-haired number. "With this kind of friends, you might as well go straight."
"That Young," the sergeant groaned, taking the full length of Fred's cock into the gripping warmth of his ass at the same time that he thrust his throbbing cock into Ernie's gobbling mouth. "That Young's going to be a fine Marine someday ... Did you catch the size of his basket?"
Fred leaned back and flicked the overhead light off from the switch by the bed. He pumped harder into the sergeant's ass and, in the darkness, said, "Don't even think about it. Just shut up and fuck."
CHAPTER TEN
"All I have to say about it," David said, passing a bowl of potato chips to Chuck and Terry, "is that it's a damn good thing that cunt isn't here." He glanced through the layers of smoke hovering over the crowded living room, then turned back to Chuck and Terry. "Half the freaking people here I don't even know. Alex invited them. I'm not kidding you. I hope that creepy bearded bastard fucked his lights out, that's all. Just fucked his lights out! Hand me that ashtray, will you, love?"
Ralph leaned over the edge of the couch, his dark hair falling in a cascade over the arm. "David," he said, "you've got to learn to quit talking in italics like that. You're beginning to sound absolutely like Alex!"
"Who was that?" David asked Chuck, arching his eyebrows in a bad imitation of Ralph.
Terry reached out and pinched David on the cheek. "As if you didn't know," he grinned, shaking David's cheek.
David rose with the ashtray in his hand, threatening to spill it on Ralph's lap. "I may have blown him a couple of times," he said, turning to cross the room. "But," he called over his shoulder, "you certainly can't expect me to remember his name!"
Chuck watched closely as Terry lifted a potato chip to his mouth. He waited until his lover had started to chew it, then asked, "You having a good time, Terry?"
In mid-chew, Terry rolled his large, brown eyes as if to say: Need you ask?
Again, Ralph flopped his head over the arm of the sofa, his hair grazing down along Chuck's cheek. "Hey, down there," he said, his face flushing. "Either of you guys got a match?"
"I didn't think you smoked," Chuck said, tossing a packet of matches onto the hippie's chest.
"Only weed," Ralph groaned, finding it difficult to pull himself back up. "They're for my friend."
He extracted a match, struck it, and held it to Carlos' cigarette.
"Thank you," the Spaniard told him, drawing lightly on the cigarette.
"It's nothing," Ralph grinned, tossing the matchbook over his shoulder without looking. "So how do you like the party?" he said, putting his arm over Carlos' shoulder. "Wait till it gets going. Then it'll be really far out."
Carlos adjusted the hippie's legs on his lap. "Do you always go to the bar with a hole in your pants?" he asked.
* * *
Curt leaned against the bedroom door, his eyes roving over the sweaters and bottles on the dresser. "You live here?" he asked the boy who was sitting on the bed.
Jeb turned toward the door, his silky blonde hair falling over his forehead. "No," he said quietly.
"Well, then, are those your pants hanging over the shower rod in the bathroom?"
"Do I look like I've lost my pants?"
"You look like you might want to lose them."
"Who are you, anyway?"
"I could be your next lover."
"You think I just jump on horny Neanderthals at the first opportunity? Anyway, I've got a lover."
"He doesn't seem to be around here anywhere."
"He went with John to the drugstore to get some more ice. Actually, I think he's upstairs in the bathroom, fucking the guy whose pants you saw in the other bathroom."
"You don't seem too upset about it."
"Listen, whoever you are, when you've been a fag as long as I have, you'll know better than to say something like that. Of course I'm upset. But then, no, I'm not. I expect my lover will fuck the hell out of me when we get home tonight. Tricking out on me gets him excited. So, I don't mind all that much-except that most of my friends know what's going on and they think I'm a fool not to do something about it. So what could I do about it? When you work in a gay bar, infidelity is a way of life."
"Do you work in a gay bar?"
"No. I just thought that sounded like a pithy epithet."
"Does your lover work in a gay bar, then."
"Yes. He does. If you were at The Club tonight, he probably flirted with you over the melting ice cubes."
"I don't know many people here. None to be exact. The guy who invited me isn't here, either. How would you like to get even with your lover by having about a fifteen-minute affair with me?"
"You mean, right here on the bed? Now?"
"Unless you know of a better place."
"No thanks ... But I will introduce you to the people who sleep in this bed ordinarily. Walk this way, please."
"I don't think I can walk that way."
"I know, I know."
* * *
"He was cute enough," Jerry admitted. "Only when we got into bed he wouldn't take one of his white socks off. Bizarre, I thought."
"Maybe it had grown to his foot," David suggested. "Some of the tricks you drag home. I don't know. It wouldn't surprise me if he didn't even have a foot."
"Should I say thanks?" Steve asked, taking a swig from his beer.
"I didn't mean you, Steve," David conceded. "Although I don't see what you see in Jerry. You know you could always hang your uniform in my closet."
"If you could get him out of it," Jerry shot back.
"You are a hard-rock monster queen, Jerry," David said, tossing his head. "You'll be punished someday."
"I've already been punished," Jerry said. "I met you, didn't I?"
"Such flattery! Have another free beer, you leech," David said, shoving a cold Coors into Jerry's hand before he backed out of the kitchen.
Steve sipped his beer. "So what happened to the guy with the sock?"
"It's a grotesque story. Bizarre. I really felt like a prick for mentioning it to him. He'd been in-count 'em-not one, but two motorcycle accidents. Tore the meat almost completely off his leg. Skin grafts, infections, the whole thing. He had to wear the sock to keep the leg from getting infected. He couldn't even take a bath, he said. Stood on one leg in the shower with the hurt leg held out of the water."
"Whatever happened to him?" Steve asked, sobered.
"We became lovers and I threw him out of the house six months later for dropping two raw eggs on the kitchen floor. Aside from fucking, he was absolutely incompetent."
* * *
Ted's belt buckle dragged and jangled against the bathroom floor. Hobbled by his pants, he kicked one foot back, his cock slipping deeper into Tim's young ass.
"Oofff!" the teenaged blonde groaned, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the towel rack. "Not so hard!"
"Take it like a man," Ted groaned, grinding himself into the boy's smooth buttocks, his cock fairly skinning itself in the virginal grip of the boy's ass.
"I'll bet you don't. . . fuck your lover like this," Tim panted, pushing back with his buttocks. He could feel the hard knob of Tim's cock probing the lining of his colon.
"You're not my lover, though," Ted groaned, thrusting forward so hard he knocked the boy against the wall, "are you?"
Tim gasped for breath, his hand slipping on the towel rack. "If you just ... want to hurt me like this ... why did you want me to ... meet you outside the bar?"
Ted thrust his cock forward, jarring the boy once again into the wall. "Why don't you shut up?" he whispered huskily, once more kicking back with his foot to free himself from the tangle of his pants. He made a series of piercing thrusts into the boy's resisting ass, trying to lift Tim off the floor with his cock.
Tim pushed back from the wall, twisting his ass to the side until Ted's brown-stained erection popped free of his battered sphincter. He spun then, his back to the wall. "Forget it," he said. "I don't have to take that kind of pain-not from you, not from anybody. You wanna rape somebody, go rape your lover." He pushed Ted away and stepped over to the sink.
Ted reached down and pulled up his pants. "You think you're pretty hot shit, don't you?" he spat, tucking his prick back into the pants. "Get a few beers into you and you're really something." He grabbed the boy by the shoulder and spun him away from the mirror. "Just remember, baby, you were the one that wanted to get fucked!"
"Get out of here," Tim demanded. "Just leave me alone. Go serve a few drinks to the guests."
"How much did you have to drink before I picked you up?" Ted demanded, shoving the boy against the sink. "What'd you do, convince some swab to buy you a six-pack?"
Shoving Ted's hand away from his chest, Tim smiled and told him, "You're not the only guy in town who can only get it hard if he thinks he's fucking a teeny-bopper, you know!" He grinned to see the flash of anger in the waiter's face. "Now you just go find Jeb," he said. "And when you get in bed with him tonight, Ted, just try to convince yourself that that baby-faced prick really isn't any older than I am. But don't ever pull that butch shit on me again. Being young doesn't mean shit to me. I can hardly wait till I'm old enough to go where I want to go. But to you ... to you, youth is all. Face it, buster, you ain't Peter Pan!"
Ted spun out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. On the way out he knocked John over.
The tall curly-headed blonde sailor tossed his hat onto the bed and looked back at Tim. "Who the hell was that?" he asked, loosening the snap of his belt buckle.
* * *
Jim sat back on the couch, a cigarette in his hands as he related his adventure to Carlos, Chuck and Terry. "I was scared shitless," he said. "When he opened that car door and climbed in on top of me, I thought I might as well give up the ghost."
"He was police?" Carlos questioned.
"Police," Terry said, grinning as he shook Carlos by the knee.
"He was indeed!" Jim affirmed.
Chuck pursed his mouth and rolled his eyes up at Jim. "You sure you just didn't have a leather queen's nightmare, Jim?"
Jim flicked his cigarette vaguely in the direction of an ashtray on the floor. "I'm not shitting you," he said. "I admit I was pretty drunk. But I sobered up real quick when he snapped those handcuffs on me.
"And he really went down on you in the back of the police car?" Terry repeated.
"like it was going out of style."
Carlos shook his head, glancing around the room to see where Ralph had disappeared to.
"Naturally," Chuck suggested, "you reciprocated."
"Listen, you hair-burner, that cop was a hunky number! If I hadn't been so scared, I would have jumped at the chance to return the favor. And so would you." He took a puff from the cigarette, his face relaxing as he remembered the cop standing in front of him in the moonlight.
"So when you realized he wasn't taking you to jail, why didn't you come across for him?" Terry asked.
Jim snubbed the cigarette out. "When I came, he started puking," he said.
"I would have, too," Terry admitted, glancing at Chuck.
"We both got out of the car and I was slapping him on the back and stuff to keep him from choking-"
"Real romantic scene, huh?" Chuck asked.
Jim shrugged. "Then he jumped back into the squad car and took off like a bat out of hell. "That's the last I saw of him."
* * *
Mark's mouth churned with thick saliva as he pumped his lips around John's up-thrust cock. Kneeling between his host's legs at the foot of the bed, he dropped his head forward and let John's cock nose its way clear into his throat.
"We've got company," John said, tapping him on the shoulder.
Mark's head bobbed up as though it were on springs. Half-rising as he turned toward the bedroom door, he groaned, "Go bother somebody else, Phil."
Wearing nothing but the white bellbottoms he had donned before Kevin had led him and the three other sailors to the party, Phil lounged lazily in the doorway. "I might have known I'd find you with a cock in your mouth," he said. He nodded politely at John. "Don't let me interrupt anything," he said, sliding across the room to lay down on the edge of the bed. "Go right on with your business, Mark," he said. "I mean, it's not the first time I've seen you with a strange cock in your gullet. Chow down, buddy!"
Mark pushed John back down on the edge of the bed, again settling himself on his knees, his hand gripping John's cock. "Couldn't you find one to sit on?" he said to his roommate.
Just then Phil caught Tim's wrist as the blonde boy tried to slip out of the bathroom. "Chicken!" Phil cried, pulling the boy down on his chest, the bare buttocks only inches from his face. "Where'd you come from, Sonny?"
"Fuck off!" Tim shouted, trying to wrench his wrist free as he attempted to stand up.
"Don't rush off," Phil laughed, pulling the boy down on top of him again. "You'll miss the fun," he said, smiling up at the boy.
* * *
Carlos stared and shook his head with disbelief as the sailor with "Joe" tattooed on his bicep shook his hips, the white bellbottoms slithering down around his ankles in a wrinkled puddle.
"Divine decadence!" David cried out on the other side of the room.
"Joe", his well-tanned muscles rippling through his thighs, lifted one leg, spun on the other, then kicked the pants into the kitchen.
"Oo-eee!" Curt cheered. "More, more!"
"How much more can there be?" Chuck asked dryly.
Terry frowned at his lower. "You like that potato chip, Chuck?" he asked, indicating Chuck's hand. "You like it? Eat it."
His legs spread in unabashed invitation, the naked sailor did a limbo step across the carpet, his cock and balls bouncing. When he stopped in front of David's chair, he bent backward at the waist, his abdomen jerking. With each twitch of his corded belly, his cock bobbed up higher, stiffening within inches of David's transfixed eyes.
"Suck him!" Curt hollered, licking his lips.
David turned his head away, his eyes rolling. "I'm on a diet," he murmured.
Then, as the nude dancer spun to face the other side of the room, his lean buttocks clenching and unclenching, Jim skidded across the carpet on his knees.
"I'm on a diet, too!" the redhead announced. He grabbed the sailor's bobbing hard-on and unceremoniously plunged it into his mouth.
"My God!" Ralph gulped from his position in the kitchen doorway. "It's the redhead!" As though in a daze, he stepped into the living room and shuffled across the carpet toward where the sailor was now busy fucking his long cock into the redhead's rapidly swallowing mouth.
"That does it," Curt groaned as Ralph pulled back on Jim's shoulder, forcing the sailor's cock to pop up and splat against his corded abdomen. Curt glanced down at the Spaniard, wondering how Carlos was reacting now that Ralph was beginning to get in on the act. Then he turned around and started up the stairs to the bathroom.
He wasn't prepared for the scene that greeted him in the upstairs bedroom, either.
Six male bodies twisted on the king-sized bed in various stages of undress, and even more varied sexual positions. The good-looking sailor he'd seen earlier strolling around in the bottom half of Navy whites was getting fucked both in the mouth and in the ass-and the blonde kid pouring the cock to his buns couldn't have been more than sixteen years old. The dark-haired boy standing on the bed to feed his prick into the sailor's mouth, Curt didn't recognize. But the guy with the glasses lying over the edge of the bed while the curly-haired blonde sucked him off was one of the guys who owned the apartment. Stretched out in the middle of the bed, a second sailor was stroking the meaty tube of his own meat with one hand and fondling a dark-haired sailor's nuts with his other.
Bud looked up from the bed at the husky blonde standing in the doorway. He let go of Phil's cock and leaned up on one elbow. "Drop your clothes by the door," he suggested, already shifting his position to make more room on the bed. "Back up a little, Kevin," he said over his shoulder, still watching the blonde in the doorway. "Come on in," he coaxed. "The water's fine."
Curt didn't need to be asked twice. He stripped out of his clothes and let them fall where they might. Then he crawled onto the bed, sliding into Bud's open arms.
With the shift of weight on the bed, Kevin lost his balance. His cock slurped out of Phil's mouth and he had to catch himself on the top of Curt's head to keep from toppling over the two husky bodies tangling themselves together at his feet.
"Jesus, Kevin," John groaned, fending off the body he imagined was about to fall over him. "Will you sit down or something before you kill somebody?"
Pushing Bud's leg out of the way, Kevin settled down on his knees, once more guiding his cock into Phil's waiting mouth. "It's not my fault," he said, balancing himself against Curt's shoulder. "You should have bought a bigger bed, John."
"Bigger!" John groaned, his cock fountaining thickly against the roof of Mark's fiery mouth. "Any bigger and it would have to be ... a fucking football field!"
"Let me suck you," Curt whispered, his tongue licking hotly at Bud's full lips. He could feel someone's hand-he couldn't be sure whose-slipping over the downy hillocks of his ass. He didn't look back. He ran his tongue over Bud's eyelid. "Let me suck you off," he repeated. "You've got a beautiful cock."
"Who's stopping you?" Bud moaned, his hand snaking upward to embrace Phil's swaying balls.
* * *
Alex let the service-station attendant push the door open for him. For an instant he hesitated at the sight of the naked bodies writhing together on the living-room carpet. Then he said, "Don't be afraid," and pushed the embarrassed teenager ahead of him. "Just a few friends of the family," he said, dropping his shoes by the door as he closed it behind him.
David rose instantly from his seat on the other side of the room, his eyes wide with horror. "Alex! My God, what happened to you? Where have you been?"
Alex sank down on the couch, his knees wobbling. "Oh, Mary, don't ask," he groaned, not quite catching the right accent to make the quote recognizable.
David stepped across Jim's bare, outthrust leg and dodged around the coffee table, Chuck and Terry following him from the stairs. "My dear!" David cried, his eyes riveted on Alex's bleeding shoulder. "Where have you been?"
"I've been in trouble," Alex groaned, lifting his head from the back of the couch. "By the way, David, this young man in the mechanic's uniform is Hank. He helped me start my car."
David glanced at the service-station attendant. "How do you do?" he said. "Just help yourself to whatever you want."
"Are you all right, Alex?" Chuck questioned, not quite daring to touch the bloody shoulder.
Alex waved his hand away. "I'm all right!" he said. "Terry, go drag my mechanic out of that dog pile before he fucks somebody."
"What happened to you?" Terry asked gently, glancing at the mechanic who was trying to pick his way through the tangle of nude bodies on the floor.
"Oh, nothing!" Alex said. He managed to affect the Tallulah accent. "I shall be all right now, dahling."
David wrung his hands. "All right?" he fairly shouted. "Alex! You're bleeding all over the damn couch!"
Alex looked down at his shoulder. "Well," he said, smiling innocently up at his roommate, "if I'm bleeding, I guess you'd better bring me a vodka collins and a Tampax. In that order."
David stood up, shaking his head, and went toward the kitchen. "If he's joking around like that," he told Jim (who had sat up from the pile of wriggling flesh), "he can't be hurt too badly."
Terry glanced over at the mechanic on the other side of the room. "Well," he said to Alex, "I see you weren't too badly damaged. You could still bring home a trick."
Chuck smiled, patting Alex on the leg. "You better call us tomorrow with all the bloody details," he said. Then, he turned to Terry. "I think maybe we ought to get going toward home." He glanced over to where the service-station attendant was being undressed by Ralph. "Things are getting too wild here for an old lady like me."
Terry rose, but protesting. "Every time we go out," he said, faking a whine, "just when things really start getting interesting, you want to go home." He turned to Alex. "Chuck's a sex maniac, you know. He can hardly wait to get home and try to poke me with his nasty peter."
"The word is 'cock', my dear," Alex protested.
"Push that dirty hippie down, will you, before he bites that poor mechanic's cock."
Chuck tossed Terry his coat, then turned to where the little Spaniard was still sitting on the stairway. "Hey, Carlos," he called. "You need a ride somewhere? Terry and I are leaving if we can drop you off somewhere."
Carlos rose gracefully to his feet, dusting off the seat of his maroon pants. "Thank you very much," he said. "Do you know Gloria Velasco? I'm staying with her. I think it's not far. Mississippi Street?"
"We're going that way," Terry told him. "Come on, we'll drive you."
In the doorway, Chuck turned to wave at David. "Goodbye now," he called. "Thanks a lot for the party. It was . . .well, peachy," he said, lowering his voice. "We really did have a good time. You call us tomorrow, huh, Alex?"
"Good night," Terry called as Chuck shut the door.
"Alcohol!" Alex sighed, taking the cloudy drink from his roommate's hands as David sat down beside him on the couch. He drank half of it in one gulp, then stared as Ralph managed to finish pulling the mechanic down to the rug.
"We give peachy parties," David observed dismally. "Who are these people anyway?"
Alex laid his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, the glass tilting in his hand.
"You all right, Alex?" David demanded, shaking him by the thigh. "You look like you either wrecked the car or got worked over by a spike-heeled dancing slipper."
"My bearded wonder turned out to be a bit of a sadist," Alex admitted.
"You should have told him that wasn't your thing," David suggested. "You didn't let him tie you up, did you?"
Slowly turning his head toward his roommate, Alex narrowed his eyes to vicious slits, one eyebrow arched to heighten the effect. He snorted a little, then-shaking his head wearily-drawled, "Oh, Auntie Em! There's no place like home..."
