Author: Mark Smith
Title: Plunging into the Pool
Summary: Mark and John hadn't seen each other since high school, but
John's return after 24 years leads to an encounter unlike anything either
of them had ever experienced.
Keywords: MM Bi Cons Solo Voyeur Literary

   Plunging Into the Pool: An Old Friend is Worth the Wait

   Copyright (C) 2012 Mark Smith

   This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike
License.  All other rights reserved.

   This story is inspired by actual events, but names, dates, places and
other details have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals
involved.  Any mention of businesses, celebrities or other trademarks does
not imply any connection to this story; there is none.  No other person
mentioned in this story has contributed to or is aware of it; it represents
only the author's views.  Not all of the events described in this story
actually occurred.

   Discuss this story anonymously on my website.  All comments are welcome!

   www.plungingintothepool.blogspot.com Act Two, Scene 2 Mark's home, after
the first time

   We got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.  Now, I would like to
imagine all this happening in the beautiful glass shower that I have now,
after the remodeling has been finished, but in actuality this was in the
rather dingy bathroom in the basement, that has a small tub with a fabric
shower curtain.  But somehow, with John in the shower with me, I didn't
notice the dinginess at all.

   As we soaped each other up, I just couldn't help lingering on his cock,
and soon enough I was kneeling next to him.  John looked down at me and
laughed.

   "Don't laugh at me," I said in a mock defense, but actually I was
feeling a little, well, defensive.  "I really just can't get enough of your
cock."

   As I continued my attention to his cock, and, I suspect, when he saw the
look of rapture I couldn't keep from my face, I felt him start to grow and
stiffen in my hand.  I just looked up at him and felt the lust wash over my
face as I saw the same expression appear on his, too.

   After a few minutes of silence, there was something I had to tell him.
"I was serious before, John.  You know that, don't you?"

   "`Bout what?" he said, breathlessly.

   "About wanting you to fuck me."

   He didn't say anything.

   "About wanting you to fuck me in the ass."

   I was kneeling before him, and this time I was not in the throes of
orgasm.  I think he understood what I was saying.

   "I've done it before, you know."

   At this, he looked very surprised.

   "Oh, not with a guy.  You're my first, John, you can be sure of that."

   "What d'you mean, then?"

   "I did it with a vibrator - a dildo."

   His eyes widened.

   "That's right.  One time I took my wife's vibrator and I wanted it so
much I shoved it up my ass.  All the way."

   "C'mon" he said, doubtfully.  "Was she there?"

   "No, I was alone.  I've never shared that fact with anyone other than
you, John." (And, don't worry, I cleaned it really well afterwards!)

   He kept smiling at me, a look of disbelief on his face.  I think he
thought I was pulling his leg.

   "I'm totally serious," I said, still enjoying the warm water flowing
over our bodies as I continued to slowly stroke his cock.  "And d'you know
what the point of my story is, John?"

   "What?"

   "That I know what I'm saying when I say I want you to fuck me.  I've had
a fake cock up my ass.  All the way up my ass, if you get what I'm saying.
With the vibrator turned on high, if you really get what I'm saying." He
was smiling at me.  "So I know what that's like.  But now I want a real
cock up my ass.  I want your cock, John, I want you to fuck me."

   Like he had before in the pool, he put his hands under my arms and
pulled me up next to him.  Then it was his turn to put one hand on the back
of my head and grab my ass tightly with the other as he pressed his tongue
into my mouth.  I opened my mouth completely for him, hoping that would
signal how I wanted to open myself completely to him.

   After that, we took our time in the shower, making sure that we had
soaped and scrubbed every last inch of each other's body.  When we finally
finished, I stepped out into the warm and steamy bathroom.  It was a warm
night.  I wasn't running the a/c and even with the window in the bathroom
being wide open, there was no chill in the air.  I found an extra towel for
him in the cabinet beneath the drawer with my swimsuits, and then casually
walked into the bedroom as I slowly toweled myself off.  John followed.

   After we entered the bedroom, I turned around and started to towel him
off, not saying anything.  He took the cue and started to dry me.  I loved
the physical closeness - the intimate familiarity with each other's body -
that was already developing between us.

   I also got a sense of the increasing comfort level between us by the way
he asked me, as he toweled off my shoulders and looked at me with a
contemplative expression, "Were you serious about what you said in the
shower?"

   I just looked back at him, telling him with my eyes to continue.

   "I mean, about you wanting me to fuck you?"

   I didn't know how to answer this question, and so decided to be just as
direct and open with him as we had been earlier.  "Yes, of course I was
serious." Then I added, "Does that bother you?"

   I tried to make my question as neutral as possible.  If he was bothered
by the way I acted or what I said, I wanted to know about it sooner rather
than later.

   "No, no, not at all.  Far from it," he quickly reassured me.  "It's just
that ..." he trailed off.

   "It's ok, John, seriously.  I'm totally serious.  I want you to enjoy
this.  I want you to enjoy me.  If there's something that's bugging you,
tell me right away."

   "No, no, Mark.  God no.  This is fantastic.  You're fantastic.  I can't
believe this is happening.  It's just that, well," he paused, then he
blurted out, "I don't have any protection!"

   I couldn't help but laugh, at first, at the way he said this.  But then
I realized he was serious.  Then I realized what he meant, I think.  It
wasn't just the protection.  It was, "Are we really going to do this?" And
just thinking about it like that, I knew I really wanted to.  I'd been
dreaming about it for years, and I really wanted it.  I wanted him to have
me, and I wanted it to be right.

   We both sat down on the bed, next to each other, neither of us having
made any move in the direction of getting dressed.

   "Well, you've been tested, right?" I asked, looking into his eyes.

   "Yeah, back when I got life insurance.  I think it's required."

   "Yeah, me too."

   We both were silent for a moment.  There was a shoe that hadn't dropped
yet.

   Finally, I dropped it.  "And you're ok, right?"

   "Yeah." He looked back at me with the same question on his face.

   "Me too," I said, and he relaxed.  But there was something else I wanted
to ask.  I had to ask.  I looked him in the eye.

   "And you haven't been with anyone else?"

   "No," he said.

   He paused.

   "Not in years, Mark."

   He paused again.

   "This is different.  It's special."

   I reached up to put my arms around his neck, and we kissed.  At first
gently, and then more passionately.  I reached down and stroked his
hardening cock, finding it easily even with my eyes closed and my lips
locked with his.  I really couldn't get enough of it ...  of him.

   But I started to think that there was another reality I had to
acknowledge.

   "John," I whispered after having broken our kiss and directed the
attention of my lips to his ear, "I really want you.  I really want you to
fuck me."

   He could hear the hesitation in my voice.  He pulled back and looked at
me, worried.  "What is it?" he asked apprehensively.

   "Oh, don't worry," I said, laughing now.  "It's just that I need a
little break.  I'd enjoy it a lot more if we got some food first.  And
believe me, I want to enjoy it."

   "Ok," he said.  I think he needed a break too.  I still wasn't keeping
track of time, but it was around two hours, at least, since we'd gotten to
my house.

   "Besides," I said teasingly, "How easy do you think I am?  Didn't you
know you'd have to buy me dinner first?"

   He made the only appropriate response to this that he could, which was
to grab me, push me down on the bed and press his body on top of mine.  "As
if," was all he said, as I felt his cock growing.

   But, to be honest, I wanted to let the tension build between us.  To
take some time to enjoy thinking about how he was about to fuck me.  How he
was about to take my virgin ass.

   I playfully wriggled out from beneath him and ran down the hall toward
the stairs.  He gave chase and caught up to me as I turned on the landing
of the stairs.  He pushed me forward, so that my hands gripped the higher
stairs.  But I guess I'm not too good at the resistance thing, since in
this position I was naturally tempted to raise my ass for him.

   He covered my body with his, putting his hands on mine, and bringing his
cock up against my ass and his lips to my ear.

   "What if I don't want to wait?" he growled.  "What if I want to fuck
your hot sexy little ass right now?"

   I wiggled around a little bit.  I loved this!  "Oh sir, unhand me," I
finally squealed.  "What sort of a guy do you think I am?"

   He gripped me tighter and I felt his cock starting to slide between my
cheeks, while I instinctively spread my legs slightly to open for him. 
"You're a hot, frustrated little slut who wants my cock pumping up his ass.
That's what kind of a guy you are." His voice was barely a whisper.

   "Oh, sir, no, you're mistaken," I continued, in a meek voice.  "That's
not me at all.  Whatever have I done to make you think that?"

   "You've wiggled your sexy little ass around in front of me, that's
what," he said, with a convincing intensity in his voice.  "The same way
you did in high school.  The same way you've been teasing me for 25 years.
That's what you've done, you little prick teaser."

   At this, I just had to laugh.  I dropped to one knee on the stairs, and
he relaxed his body and slumped against me.  I twisted around to kiss him.

   "See what fun this is?" I said.  "Let's go."

   We got up off the stairs and walked up and over to the kitchen, still
buck naked.  I started pulling out some of the snacks I had purchased for
my time alone at home.  I thought about opening a bottle of wine.  I really
wanted some, but I was worried about the effect it would have on us.  To be
blunt, I didn't want it to diminish the erections we were enjoying.  "Maybe
later, after ..." I thought to myself.

   I had two slices of salmon that I popped into the oven.  They would take
only ten minutes or so to cook, and I added some frozen fries, too.  After
this was accomplished, I stopped and looked at him, standing there naked in
my kitchen.

   He looked great, of course, but something wasn't quite right.

   "Hold on a second," I said.  "I'll be right back."

   Before he could reply, I ran to my bedroom and grabbed two of my
favorite thongs, made by Hom.  I had liked the first so much that I bought
another; they are in a nylon-lycra fabric that gives them a sexy,
shimmering appearance.  I brought them back to the kitchen.

   "Take your pick," I said, "Gold or purple?"

   He looked down to what I was holding in my hand.  "Holy shit, Mark, you
wear those?"

   "Of course I do.  Is that a problem?" I smiled at him.

   "No, it's just ..."

   "Why?  Don't tell me you've never worn a thong.  Please, don't tell me
that."

   "Oh no, of course I have.  It's just that ... I can't believe you do,
too.  It would be incredible on you." Maybe I'm embellishing, but I sort of
remember him spacing out with that thought.

   "You're about to see just how incredible." I paused.  "You choose."

   "No, it's up to you, Mark.  They're yours."

   "Well," I said, "I've always wanted to see you in this one.  I bought it
in London." I held out the gold - really more of a champagne color - thong
to him.

   As he put it on, I added, "Besides, it's what I was wearing when we had
drinks with Susan and Michelle."

   He stopped and looked at me, surprised.

   "Oh, don't worry.  I washed it," I laughed.

   He laughed too.  "It's not that, you idiot." He pulled the thong up and
settled it into place around his cock and balls.  I saw that he did the
same as I do, turning himself to the side.  But he was so big, he also had
to turn his cock up a little bit too, so it almost made a sort of
half-circle in the pouch.  He was only slightly hard, so it wasn't much of
a problem for him to fit into the thong.  "It just really turns me on
thinking that you would wear something like this to meet me," he continued.

   I just smiled, but kept my eyes on his cock as I pulled my thong on and
settled myself into it.

   "Wow, you really fill that out nicely, John," I finally said.  I
couldn't help but to reach out and cup my hand over his thong's pouch for a
moment, pressing my hand against him, feeling him throbbing slightly. 
"Wouldn't want to get the fabric too stretched out," I teased, pulling my
hand back and turning around to attend to dinner.

   I looked back over my shoulder at him , and saw that his eyes were fixed
on my ass, now adorned by the tiny triangle at the top of the thong's back
strap.

   "Oh, sorry," I said, still teasing.  "Looks like I'm not doing a good
job at easing the strain on that thong."

   He laughed, but he didn't really take his eyes off my hips and ass.  I
didn't want him to.

   "But, seriously, John," I asked after a moment, my back still towards
him as I worked at the counter.  "I was wondering.  Don't you have a hard
time finding underwear that has ... the room you need?"

   He laughed again.  "Not really.  The fabric stretches.  I usually like
boxer briefs."

   I turned around and walked back toward him.  "Hmm, nice choice," I said,
as I ran my hand down the side of his hip and around back to his bare butt.

   I leaned in close to kiss him, and then whispered, "There's something
I'd like you to do for me later."

   "What's that?" he replied as he ran his lips down the side of my neck.

   "Try on my favorite underwear for me.  You'd make a great model."

   "Ok," he said, still nuzzling me.

   "Have you ever thought about it?"

   "What?  Wearing your underwear?  All the time."

   I cracked up.  "No.  Modeling."

   "No way," he said.  I pulled back to look at him.  He was actually
blushing.

   "You should.  You've got the body for it." I looked him up and down; to
reassure myself of how incredibly hot he was, I guess.  "You know, I'm
serious.  I've heard recently that, especially for men, they want real
models these days.  Actual people.  And, God, with your body - they'd eat
you up.  You're fucking perfect, John!  Those abs, your chest.  Man!"

   "What about the face?"

   "Well, they could work with that."

   He laughed.

   Then I reached up, stroked his cheek, kissed him, and said gently. 
"Your face too, John.  Your face is an asset." Then I quickly reached down
to grab his butt again.  "Just not your best one."

   He pulled me close to kiss me deeply, and his hand too went to my butt.

   When we had disentangled, I had another question.  "Let me ask you
something else.  What about this tan line?"

   I ran my finger along the line across his lower abs, about a half-inch
above the thong.  The only other part of his body that wasn't tan was his
cute little butt.  "Tell me what you wear when you lay out."

   He smiled back at me.  "I have a tiny bikini; a lot like your little
green pair."

   I looked back at him in amazement.

   "Just a little more room in the front," he added.

   "Oh, John," I sighed, running my hands over his hips to his butt again,
"I'd love to watch you tan."

   "That wouldn't be a problem.  They have spray-on tan booths for two,
now."

   That deserved a spank on his butt.  "That's not what I meant!" I tried
my best to pout.

   "Well that's what I do.  You like how smooth my skin is, don't you? 
Spray on keeps it that way, you know."

   "Really, this is a spray?" I couldn't believe it.

   "Yep, but don't you try it.  I like your pale skin; it goes with your
hair.  It's very distinctive."

   "Oh, really?" I smiled back at him.  "Well, let me ask you about another
change I've been considering."

   "No!  No changes," he said, laughingly.

   "I think you might like this one.  In fact, you could help." I leaned
against him to whisper in his ear.  "I've been thinking of shaving."

   I pulled back to look at him.  I don't think he could let himself
believe I meant what I really did.

   "You know," I said teasingly.  "Like you do." I reached over and ran my
hand along the light stubble that started right above the thong and
continued up to his belly button and over his abs.  Then I took his hand,
and said, "I want to shave all this off," as I put his hand on my lower abs
and then led it up over my tummy to my chest.  "And back here, too," as I
stepped forward to wrap his hand over my shoulders to my back.  Even though
I have only a bit of hair on my chest and back, I've always thought that
guys look better when they are completely smooth, and I wanted to look my
best for John.

   Then, I took his other hand and put his fingers down the front of my
thong.  "I'll even shave as much off here as you want."

   He was clearly turned on by my little tour of my body.  But still, he
managed to say (referring to my crotch), "No, not there.  I love it." He
paused.  "It's like gold."

   Then we went into a long, very deep kiss, which didn't end until the
beeping of the kitchen timer insisted that we attend to our food.

   We put the fish and fries on a tray along with some sliced fruit and
some cheese and headed back downstairs to the guest bedroom by the pool. 
Still wearing only the matching thongs, we stretched out on the bed to
enjoy our meal.  I joked to him how naughty I felt, eating in bed!

   At some point, John asked me, "Were you serious before?"

   "About what?"

   "About letting me shave you."

   "Of course I was serious, John." I looked right into his eyes.  I wasn't
annoyed, but I wanted him to know this about me, and I wasn't sure he
really got it, yet.  "You can do anything you want with me, to me.  That's
what I want, John, to give myself to you."

   He looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.  At the least, he
was a little unsure of himself.  At the worst ... he was horrified!

   That convinced me even more there was something I had to say to him. 
"That's what I feel, John.  Honestly.  That's what I want.  That's what I
want to be for you.  And, to be honest, I don't want to do this if you're
not sure what you're getting into.  I want this to be what you want.  I
want me to be what you want."

   His face got all screwed up, and in that same smooth but very abrupt
motion he leaned over, wrapped his arms around me and started kissing me,
pushing me back on the bed.  I loved it.  It was wonderful.  It was every
one of my dreams come true.  But I had to know this.  I had to be sure.

   "No, wait John.  Hold on." I pushed him back and he raised his head to
look at me, still holding me tightly in his arms.

   "There's something I want you to think about," I continued.  "Remember
what I said before, when I was humping on your cock?" I smiled "Do you
remember how I talked?  That wasn't an act.  That's who I am.  Or a part of
me, at least.  I want you to like that part of me, because that's who's
ready to give himself to you.  Who really wants you."

   He looked back at me.  I don't think he'd thought about this before, but
he was thinking about it now.  I could feel him soften a little.

   "Look, I don't mean to be always stopping you, but it's just that I'm
really into this.  I'm really, really into you.  But there's a certain way
I've always imagined this would happen, and I want it to be that way."

   I could see he was still thinking.  Maybe I'd put him off but I had to
know before we went any further.  This was too good to just stumble into.

   I knew what I had to ask him.  There was something I still needed
closure on.

   "Tell me about what happened that summer after graduation, John.  I need
to know how you remember it."

   As I had been speaking, John was listening attentively, but I couldn't
gauge his reaction.  When I finished, he seemed to be lost in thought.  I
assumed he was thinking back to that summer.  After a minute, he seemed to
gather his wits and he moved to sit up a bit, settling back on a pillow
against the headboard.  I offered him a plate with the rest of the salmon
and some fries, trying to make him comfortable.  Despite the importance of
the subject matter, I have to say that, to me at least, he looked really
cute as he munched on the fries!

   As he started to speak, he just looked a bit past me, focusing across
the room, on the doorway leading to the pool.  "This is kinda hard to talk
about," he started.

   "I know.  Take your time.  I want to hear whatever it is you have to
say."

   He thought for a moment more.  "Well, I guess I'd say that I remember
there was something going on for me, where you were concerned."

   "Oh?"

   "Yeah, like I noticed you, or something.  That's the way it was for me,
like I noticed you.  I can't put my finger on it."

   "What did you notice?"

   "The way you moved, I guess, and things about your body."

   "I like this, John.  Can you tell me more?"

   "Yeah, it was your hair.  Remember, we all had such long hair, and I
think yours was even a bit redder than it is now."

   "I liked your hair, too."

   He smiled.  "And your butt.  I definitely saw your butt.  Especially the
way you moved it around."

   "You said that before, on the stairs.  You said I wiggled my butt."

   "That's right.  I wasn't the only one who noticed, either."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah.  I remember talking about it with Emily, and Sue, too.  Remember
her?"

   I nodded.  She was a friend of Emily's.  We were all friends in high
school.

   "We talked about how you liked to wiggle your butt when you'd get up in
class to sharpen your pencil or whatever.  They laughed about it, but I
think they really liked it."

   "Did you like it, too?"

   "Yeah.  And I also remember liking when I talked about it with them. 
For some reason, it turned me on when I talked about you with them."

   "I talked about you too, with girls.  It turned me on, too."

   "Cool."

   "So what else?  What else did you think about me?"

   He paused, took a few more bites of food, and seemed to be thinking. 
"Well, it wasn't like with girls.  Like with a girl, I'd think about how
she had nice tits, or a pretty face.  All sorts of details like that.  But
when I'd think about you, it was more of an overall thing.  It wasn't
specific.  I thought about your body, your hair, that stuff.  I don't know;
maybe it was when we were drinking or getting stoned."

   "I'd be thinking about you at those times, too.  Smoking dope really
made me horny."

   "Really?  It did me, too."

   "So, what would you think, when you were stoned?"

   "I remember one day, it was pretty soon after graduation.  It was super
hot.  Really, really hot.  And for some reason it was just you, me, and
Gary, over at his house.  And he had just got some weed, so we didn't wait
for anyone else.  We toked up, and it was great.  Just a perfect,
do-nothing day.  And you and he started fiddling with something in his back
yard, some wood or something.  I think you were building a ramp that we
were going to send something flying off of, you know, like that crazy stuff
we used to do."

   I smiled at him.  Although I didn't remember that specific time, I knew
what he was talking about.  Those quiet times we had together were a great
memory for me.

   "You were wearing these really tight jeans," he continued, "like you
always did, like we all did.  And I was just watching you move around, the
way you would move, and I was super stoned.  And then it was like you were
in this cloud, and everything faded away and you were just floating around
in this cloud.  Just your body, floating around.  And I could just reach
out and grab you, and start fucking you.  There were no clothes or
anything. I really don't think I was thinking clearly about what fucking
you was, exactly, or exactly how two guys would do it, but somehow my dick
was up inside you and I was fucking you and it was bliss."

   "Wow, that's really hot.  I like that story, John."

   I put the last of the food on the plate between us, then I rolled on my
stomach on the bed next to him.  Looking up at him, I could tell he was
looking at my ass, and I just smiled at him.  "Go on, tell me more."

   "I think that after that I started to put 2 and 2 together and I
realized you were sexy.  I tried to put it all together and I thought,
that's what sexy is.  Mark is sexy.  Just like that.  I mean, I thought to
myself, and I knew, I wasn't gay.  I liked girls and wanted to go out with
girls, but I also knew you were sexy.  It was just the way you acted."

   "Anything else you remember, about the way I acted?"

   "Yeah.  It's like, after I figured this out, it made sense, and I
started to notice other things about you that just fit.  Sorta like a
puzzle being put together."

   "Like?"

   "Like the way you talked.  The things you would say.  No one else talked
like you."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah, I mean, you always came up with this strange way of putting
things, and you made all sorts of weird jokes.  You cracked us up,
constantly."

   "This was sexy?"

   "Yeah, I guess so, in a strange way.  Like, I remember thinking that,
from the way you talked, it would be really wild to fuck you.  Like it was
before, just now.  The way you started saying all that stuff.  You're a
superfreak, man." He started laughing.

   "Glad you liked it."

   "Definitely.  It's just, you were different, and it made me curious. 
It'd make me think, `I wonder what it would be like to fuck him?' And that
went along with how I'd watch you move."

   "Uh huh." I remember trying not to give him too much of a reaction.  I
just wanted to let him know I was listening, and I liked what he said, but
I didn't want to lead him one way or another.  I wanted to hear what he
thought.

   He'd finished the food, and I was just sort of curled next to him, still
mainly on my tummy, stroking his abs and chest.  Neither of us was really
hard; we were very relaxed.

   John seemed to have thought of something.  "Hey, you remember when we
were emailing the other day, about D&D?"

   "Of course."

   "That really got me going too."

   "It was a turn on for me, too."

   "No, I mean when we used to play D&D.  I loved watching you play; the
stuff you came up with."

   "Wow."

   He seemed to hesitate, like there was something he wanted to say.

   "Is there something else?" I asked.

   "You're gonna think this is weird."

   I just relaxed, and ran a finger along his divot, trying to get him to
relax too.  "Try me," I said.

   "Well, remember you always played as an elf?"

   "Yeah, I liked being an elf."

   "One day, I was home alone, looking at the D&D Player's Manual, and I
saw one of the pictures of an elf.  He had those ears, and the long hair.
And I started thinking how they have pale skin, and in the movies they have
sort of that sing-songy voice."

   "Sure."

   "And it's like the picture was replaced, and you were in the picture and
you were an elf."

   "Wow.  So what did you think?"

   "Well, I got really horny."

   "Yeah?"

   "And I took it out and I started jerking off."

   "Wow."

   We were silent for a minute.  I didn't look at him.

   "Did you think about me?"

   "Yeah."

   "I used to think about you, too, when I beat off."

   "Oh?"

   I could see his cock start to harden a bit.  Mine did too, and I pressed
it gently against his leg.  "Go on, John, I really like hearing this."

   "Yeah?" He paused.  "But that's kind of it."

   "That's all?"

   "Yeah, I mean, I liked looking at you, and the way you talked, and I
started having these weird thoughts, almost like you were some kind of
alien or something, and it would be really wild to fuck you."

   "Ok, but what about ..." I hesitated to ask this question, but had to
anyway.  "You know, what about that time with the Playboy your cousin gave
you?" I was starting to wonder, had I imagined that?

   "Oh yeah, sure.  But that was different."

   I was reassured to hear him at least acknowledge what we had done, but I
have to say that his reaction was not what I'd been hoping to hear. 
Frankly, I don't know what I had been hoping to hear, but this wasn't it.
"Oh?" was all that I could say.

   I could feel him softening again.  Maybe this was just as difficult for
him as it was for me.  So I tried to ask him about it, as gently as
possible, while I pressed my hand against his abs.  "Well, I'm just really
dying to know what you were thinking."

   "What were you thinking?"

   "No, I asked you.  You have to go first," I said with a little laugh,
trying to lighten the mood.

   "Well, I was really horny."

   "I remember that, yes."

   "I think that was about it, really.  It was a little while after I broke
up with Emily.  I think I was a bit sad and angry about that, and I was
sorta thinking, `I need to fuck someone.' Even though I had never fucked
anyone.  So my cousin had given me that magazine and I just had to look at
it.  I was horny as hell.  And I think we had been playing Third Reich and
I was like, `I don't care, I'll just do it now.'"

   "Do you remember ...  did you care if I was there, looking at it with
you?"

   "No, I didn't mind." He paused, as if he were remembering that day.  "So
I'm looking at the magazine and you were looking at it too and I'm getting
really horny so, well, I just really wanted to touch myself." He gave a
little laugh.

   "Yeah, I remember you had your hand on your cock.  It was pretty obvious
through your jeans." I paused.  "Did you think I would notice?"

   "Yeah, I sorta think I did.  I was just like, `I'm so horny, who cares?
He can see what I've got.' I didn't mind."

   "Can I ask you something?"

   "Sure."

   "Did you know then that you had such a big cock?" (A silly question,
maybe, but I was trying to get into his head; trying to understand how he
remembered the whole experience.)

   "Yeah, I think I did." (He didn't seem to mind the question.) "Like, I
couldn't be sure but I felt like it was bigger than other guys'."

   "Did you like that?  Did you like having a big cock?" (Ok, I admit I was
trying to flatter him, and play up his confidence.)

   "Oh yeah.  Still do, man." He reached down and ran his hand along his
cock, which was now straining against the fabric of the thong - my thong! -
he was wearing.

   "I like it too," I said, stating the obvious.  "I mean, I like it that
you have such a big cock."

   We both laughed.  The tension from before had dissipated.

   "Can I ask you something else?" I asked.

   "Anything."

   "Did you still think I was sexy, then?"

   "What?  Yeah, I did, but I don't think I connected it that day.  I just
liked the hot Playgirls."

   We were both quiet for a minute.  It seemed like he was thinking about
something, and then he hesitated, as if he decided not to say what he was
thinking.  "So that would have been it," was all he said.

   "Would have?" I asked, quietly.  I was very curious about what he had
been thinking, but I didn't want to press too hard.

   "I mean, if you hadn't told that story."

   "You remember that?"

   "Yeah."

   "What was it about?"

   "Some girl in a library, right?  Don't you remember?"

   "Yeah, I just wanted to see if you do too." I reached down and slid my
hand next to his to give his cock a little squeeze.  Feeling his growing
erection through the slinky fabric of the thong was an incredible turn on
for me.  "Go on," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral and not reveal
how urgently I wanted him to continue.

   "So, when you're telling that story, I'm like getting even more turned
on.  It's not the story, really, it's that you're telling it, and it just
sort of confirmed my suspicions."

   "Your suspicions of what?"

   "That it'd be really wild to fuck you.  Like, I think I said something
like, `I just wanna fuck those girls.'"

   "I remember that."

   "But for you, I was thinking, `Wow, he thinks up all these stories, and
shit.' And I could just think of everything going on in your brain.  All
these girls and shit dancing around in your head and I'm like, `Shit, I
want a piece of that.' Like I really wanted to fuck you and somehow it
would be like I was in your brain with those girls."

   We were quiet for a minute.  I guess each thinking his own thoughts.

   "So why didn't you?" I asked, finally.

   "I mean, you know, come on." It wasn't an answer, but it was.

   "Yeah, I understand.  But I think I wanted you to."

   We were quiet again.  I hope he understood how sincerely I meant that.

   "Back then?" he asked, finally.

   "Yeah, I wanted it."

   "Wow."

   "But it didn't happen."

   "No."

   After another moment of thought, I asked, "What about the next time?"

   "Well, I think my mind was sorta blown by the idea of you telling that
story, and for the next few days whenever I beat off I'd think about that
story.  And then I started looking at the Penthouse Letters my cousin had
left.  And before, I would mainly look at the pictures, or read just parts
of the letters, but this time I sat down and started reading them.  And I'm
thinking, `These are really hot.  These sound just like that story Mark was
telling.  He would really like these.' And at first, I think it was sort of
innocent, if you can call it that, like I thought you would like them.

   "So that day, when you came over to get the game, we started talking
about something going on at your college, right?"

   "Yeah, we were talking about that English class I was taking that
summer."

   "Right, but I just remember thinking about how you were a creative
writer type, and that dungeon you made up.  Didn't we talk about that?"

   "Yeah, we did." I remember being really flattered, and turned on, by how
much he remembered of that day, seeing as how it had been stuck in my head
all these years.

   "So I just remember thinking, as we were talking, `Mark would really
like these letters.' Not thinking any more than that, I think.  So that's
why I gave it to you."

   We were quiet again.  I guess that's all he had to say about it, and I
have to admit this is not really what I'd expected, or what I hoped to hear
from him.  I guess I was right, in a way, in that he hadn't really thought
much about those "somethings" that happened that summer.  But I wanted to
try to understand the whole thing, so there was one more question I had for
him.

   "What about that other time," I asked.  "With that girl in your car?"

   "Oh yeah, she was a trip, wasn't she?  That was super weird; I don't
know what I was thinking.  I think I was just freaked out from going to
that party and all the college kids there, all the girls especially.  So I
was sitting in the car and I just started making out with her, and she
didn't put up any resistance ..." His voice trailed off.  I could tell it
was still a happy memory for him.

   "Did you think about me being there, to watch?"

   "Well, I knew you were there, but I thought you wouldn't mind.  I mean,
it wasn't like I was gonna stop.  And then I remember I really wanted to
come, and I knew I didn't have to do it myself, she would.  So that's what
I did."

   We lay there for a while, quiet again.  This wasn't what I wanted to
hear.  There wasn't any closure; and it seemed to me that something wasn't
quite right.  There was something more he wasn't telling me.  So I thought
to myself that I have to go a little deeper.  Maybe this would make him
uncomfortable, maybe it would blow the whole evening, but I had to ask.

   "What about me, John?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "I mean, what did you think about me?" (I felt sort of silly; like the
stereotypical girl asking her guy about his "feelings." But I had to do
it.)

   "You know, what I said before." (Typical!)

   "That I was sexy, you mean?"

   "Yeah, all that shit, and you being an elf, and all that."

   I thought for a moment, then I asked, "Remember what you said, before,
on the stairs?"

   "What?"

   "You know, that I had teased you for 25 years."

   "Yeah."

   "So what about that?"

   "Well, that's what you've been.  You're a tease, and it's been 25 years,
so what?"

   He was getting defensive, and I didn't want to mess this up.  "It's ok,
John, really.  I just wondered what you meant by that, that's all."

   "Well, I meant you're a tease, ok?"

   "Ok." We were silent again.  I could wait.

   After a minute or two, he said, "Your hot little ass is a tease."

   "Oh, really?" I smiled.  Maybe my patience would pay off.

   "Yeah, you tease me with your hot little ass."

   "My hot little ass," I repeated, and gave it a little shake.  "Was I
just as much of a tease then?"

   "When?"

   "In high school."

   "Oh yeah."

   "You'd watch me walking down the hall, huh?"

   "Yeah."

   "In my tight jeans?"

   "Yeah."

   "And you wanted to fuck my ass?"

   "Yeah."

   "What's going on, John?  Tell me what you're thinking." I could tell he
was excited.  Not only was he getting hard, his whole body was tensing up,
his heart beat accelerating.

   "That ass, man."

   "Uh huh."

   "I want it."

   "So, take it."

   "No ... can't."

   This was a surprise.  "Why not?"

   He was getting agitated.  "Don't like this, Mark."

   "Hey, shh, relax.  What's wrong?"

   "It's weird, man."

   "What is?"

   "You know, all this shit."

   "It's ok, John, I'm here."

   We were silent again, and he relaxed.  Finally, I asked, "What were you
thinking?"

   "No," he said, "can't tell you.  It's too weird."

   I raised my head to look at him, and had to smile.  "Too weird, huh?"

   "Yeah," he said.

   I scooted up, pressed my chest against his, moved my lips right next to
his ear and whispered, "Listen, buster, an hour ago I was riding up and
down on your cock, squealing like a virgin and begging you to fuck me. 
Don't tell me about weird!"

   He had to laugh with me.  I liked that, and kissed his cheek.  Resting
my head on his shoulder, I asked, "Do you want to know what I thought about
that time in your car?"

   "Yeah."

   "Well, I thought it was just about the hottest, sexiest thing I had ever
seen."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah.  And you know what else?"

   "What?"

   "I thought you were just about the hottest, sexiest thing I had ever
seen."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah."

   "Wow."

   "Yeah." We lay there for a minute, then I continued.  "So tell me, what
did you really think, about me, I mean, that summer?"

   Maybe it helped that he wasn't looking at me.  He was just looking at
the ceiling and I was lying next to him.

   "I wanted to fuck you."

   "Yeah."

   "I wanted you to take off all your clothes so I could fuck you."

   "Why'd I have to take off my clothes?"

   "So I could see you naked."

   "You wanted me naked," I repeated.

   "Yeah, like you'd be naked and bent over in front of me and I'm fucking
you."

   "I thought of that too."

   "Yeah?"

   "Yeah.  What do you see?  Tell me what you see."

   "I see my cock plunging into your ass."

   "You like that?"

   "Oh yeah."

   "What else?"

   "Your shoulders, too, and your back, and your arms are trying to hold
yourself up.  And then your body is shaking and your arms are too weak and
they collapse and your face falls down to the bed."

   "Then what?"

   "And I keep pounding into you harder and harder."

   "You like that?"

   "Yeah."

   "I do too."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah.  I think about it all the time."

   He was quiet.

   "Then what?" I asked.

   "Then you're crying."

   It was my turn to be quiet.  I knew this was important.  After a moment,
I said, "Why am I crying?"

   "You don't want me to.  You want me to stop.  It hurts."

   "So what do you do?"

   "I don't care.  I keep pounding you even harder; pounding into you with
my hard cock."

   "Why do you do that?"

   "`Cause I can."

   "Why else?"

   "`Cause I know you like it."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah."

   "Is that what I want?"

   "Yeah."

   "Is that why I'm always wiggling my ass around?"

   "Yeah."

   "`Cause I want you to take out your hard cock?"

   "Yeah."

   I was stroking his cock now.  He was getting really hard and he was
coming out of the thong.  His cock was pressed up against his abs and the
thong covered only his balls and the lower third.  The rest of his cock was
uncovered and I was lightly running my hand along the underside.  I knew
how good that felt for him.

   "You wanted to whip out your hard cock, didn't you?" I continued.  "Just
like you wanted to when we were looking at that magazine, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Except that I don't just sit there, do I?"

   "No."

   I kept stroking his cock.  With a little more pressure now.  "You grab
me and rip off my clothes, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "And I'm all naked and you push me down over the table, so I'm bent over
in front of you, just like you wanted."

   "Yeah."

   "And I'm all like, `No, no John.  Stop.'"

   "Yeah."

   "But you know I want it, right?  I really want you to fuck me, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Just like I want you to fuck me right now, John.  Do it right now
John."

   As quickly as I could, not wanting to lose this moment, I scooted away
from him and flipped myself over and, just like I had said, put myself on
my elbows and knees.  Bracing my face on the pillow, I turned my head to
one side so I could see him and keep talking to him.  I spread my legs as
wide as I could and arched my back as far as possible.  I knew this was
probably gonna hurt at the beginning.

   I saw him get up and I could feel him moving into position behind me.  I
could see his hair and face out of the corner of my eye.

   "C'mon John, now.  Fuck me hard right now.  Just like you said.  Fuck me
hard just like that."

   I could sense him pulling his cock and balls the rest of the way out of
his thong, and then I heard him stroking to get himself as hard as he
could. I could hear a squishing sound and I could smell his precum.  I knew
he was lubing himself up.

   "You're wearing the thong," he said, mindlessly.

   "I don't fucking care about the thong," I said, urgently.  "Just push it
out of the way and put your cock up my ass!"

   In a weird way, I was talking like this on purpose.  Sure, I liked to
talk like that, but I also knew it was getting him going, and I knew that
the quicker he started, the better.

   His right thumb pulled my thong to the side and he steadied his left
hand on my hip and cheek.  I could feel his right hand brush against the
back of my leg as he gripped his cock to get it in position.  I reached
down to my own cock and pulled it out of my thong, and gave it a stroke or
two.  I thought it was really sexy how each of us still had a thong wrapped
around our hips, although we had pulled our cocks out of them.  "That's the
beauty of a thong," I found myself thinking.  "You can leave it on when you
fuck ... or get fucked!"

   Then I felt the tip of his cock right against my hole.  It was warm and
slippery.

   "Oh yeah, John, I love your cock.  Put it inside me.  I want your cock
inside me."

   He gave a little push forward and I responded with a little push back.
We were finding our rhythm; it was fantastic.  We both let out a long, low
moan, right at the same time.

   He pushed again, still tentative, and I strained to push back as hard as
I could.

   "You're gonna have to go harder than that, Johnny.  This ain't like
slipping into some pussy.  You're gonna hafta fuck me hard!"

   He laughed, but my urging worked.  He pushed harder, and I could feel
the head of his cock just starting to open my hole.

   "Oh God, yes John, like that.  Harder."

   He gave another thrust, really hard, and I arched my back and slammed
back against him.  But his cock just slipped up and its entire length slid
along my crack, his precum dripping out on the triangle of my thong at the
small of my back.  That, itself, felt good, but it wasn't what I needed.

   He settled back, and I could feel him gripping his cock again.

   "Now just slow and steady.  Hold yourself and I'll push back against
you." (I guess it was appropriate for me to give advice like this, since I
think I had more experience forcing something up inside myself than he had
fucking guys!)

   Again, I felt the warm tip of his cock right on my hole, right where I
wanted it.  "Hold on," I said, breathlessly.  Using all the strength I
could muster from my legs, I pressed back against him until he had about
three inches inside of me.  It was incredible!  I could feel the blood
throbbing through his veins.  "Oh God, yes John."

   At that moment, I felt him grab my hips in both hands and he thrust
forward while pulling be back as hard as he could.  I felt his cock pop
through my sphincter and I knew he was in for good.

   "That's it, Johnny.  Now fuck me, fuck me hard."

   I sensed John was happy to oblige - happy to finally make my long-held
fantasy come true.  First, he pushed himself forward a bit, until the
entire length of his cock was buried in my ass.  Then I felt him sort of
relax and settle his weight on his knees.  I imagined that he was both
priming himself to put his full force into what he was about to do, and
also just enjoying this moment.  I hoped that when he looked down at my
body stretched before him, he knew how much I wanted this - wanted him.  I
too, braced myself on my elbows and knees, and arched my back to raise my
ass - to "present" myself as best I could to him.  To let him know I was
ready to be taken.

   If that's the signal I gave, he responded with gusto.  After a pause of
only a few seconds, he immediately began to thrust his hips back and forth
as fast and as hard as he could, which also meant that he was thrusting his
cock in and out of my ass as hard as he could.  It was beyond wonderful,
and I immediately tried to start my own motion of my hips back and forth to
match the rhythm he set.  Quickly, we were moving in unison - he would pull
back and I would lean forward until he had only about 3 inches of his cock
inside me.  Then, I would push back and he would slam forward, so his
monster cock pounded my ass with his full force.

   It was so much better than I ever imagined it could be!  I almost
laughed at myself when I thought of previous times when I had thrust my
fingers up my ass as I masturbated, or even when I had that vibrator all
the way up my ass and turned on high.  It wasn't just that there was no
comparison - the comparison was completely ridiculous!  To have John's
real, live, hot throbbing cock inside of me was part of it, but the way
this very athletic, very strong man was thrusting his cock against me and
up into me took it to a whole other level.  He was really going at me, and
I found myself hoping - for her sake - that John didn't pound his wife like
this.

   Even given how muscular and strong my ass and thighs are, it was all I
could do to keep up with him.  Frankly, it hurt.  Quite a bit, actually. 
The friction of his cock in my ass wasn't really the problem; it was more
the pressure of the way he filled me up, combined with the effort of
rocking my hips back and forth as fast as I could while bearing the force
of his thrusting against me.  Thankfully, he had his hands under my hips
and he was pulling me up with all his strength.  Without that support, I'm
sure I would have quickly collapsed on the bed.

   But while I say it was painful, it was in no way unpleasant, of course.
It was that good kind of pain, like when you're running really hard on a
sun-dappled trail through the trees, or you're making a final push to hike
up a trail to a mountain peak.  That's the way I thought about it.  Being
fucked by John was (no surprise!) a very athletic, incredibly masculine
experience.  If sex with a woman was like rolling in rose petals or
floating on a cloud, then sex with a man (I was learning) was like the
hardest, most intense physical workout imaginable.

   As he fucked me, as he pounded his cock in and out of my ass, I actually
found myself imagining all sorts of raw, rhythmic, masculine actions -
chopping wood, lifting weights, working on some huge machine all covered
with sweat and dirt.  It was incredibly erotic and just so - manly - in a
way that I guess I had never expected.

   But despite the power of these erotic images running through my mind, I
still was not that aroused, actually, and I didn't have any feeling that I
was about to come.  That was no surprise - as I had found out with my
wife's vibrator, it seems to be impossible for me to come from penetration
alone, and even though John was a million times more exciting than that
vibrator had been, the pleasure of having him inside of me was
counterbalanced by all the work I had to do to keep up with him.  Instead,
I just sort of tried to enjoy the whole experience, and steeled myself to
go on as long as John wanted to continue fucking me.

   I can guess, however, that the experience was quite a bit different for
John.  It seemed as though he was really getting off, for sure.  Not only
did his cock remain rock hard, but he really started to - well, "vocalize"
would be the word for it - more than he had at any time before.  He wasn't
saying anything coherent, really, so much as just words like, "Oh yeah,
Mark, fuck, fuck your ass, you're so tight.  Yeah, Mark.  Take it, take it
hard.  Fuck.  Fuck you Mark, take it."

   I certainly knew from the way he was talking that he was really excited,
and he never slowed the very fast rhythm he had set at the beginning of
fucking me.  It seemed that he had taken me at my word - that I really
wanted to be fucked, that I really wanted him to fuck me - and he was
determined to give me exactly what I wanted and to do me more and better
than I had ever imagined.

   As I felt him getting more and more excited, I tried to encourage him as
best I could.  It was difficult to talk - not only was I completely out of
breath, but my face was mashed up against the pillow - but I did manage to
grunt out, "Oh yeah, John, that's good, that's what I want, fuck me, fuck
me hard, I want it.  Fuck me!"

   Eventually it seemed that everything came together for him.  I could
feel his cock starting to throb even more and I guess I knew from sucking
him off before that he was about to come.  I have to say that was the best
thing about the whole experience of him fucking me in the ass that first
time - I felt like I had succeeded; that my goal had been to make him come
and now he was just about to empty his load in me.

   I steeled myself to endure the final onslaught as he started to pound
into me even harder, and I mustered the strength to encourage him directly.
"Oh yeah, John.  Come for me.  I want you to come in my ass.  Fuck me, John
- I'm yours - come for me."

   And then my mind shot back to that very first time, and I was bent over
the table and the Third Reich pieces were flying everywhere.  And then I
heard John's voice saying, "Ah ... ah ... ah" and then he was coming and
his cum was spurting out of his cock but this time not on the table but
right up into my ass and it was everything I had ever wanted.

   "Oh John, yes, yes John, yes," is all I managed to pant as he thrust
himself forward and held still.  His hands were digging into my hip bones
as he gripped me as tight as he possibly could and held me completely
motionless as his cock throbbed and emptied itself inside of me.

   We just stayed like that as long as we could, not saying anything, as
our breathing returned to normal and I felt his cock shrink slightly,
finally relieving the enormous pressure in my ass at the same time that he
relaxed his grip on my hips.  It seemed that every muscle in my body was
burning - my arms, shoulder, back, abs and thighs all seemed to be locked
in place.  I had never felt completely worked over in every possible way. I
had never felt so completely ... fucked!

   After remaining locked in place like that for a few moments, I finally
felt his breathing slow and then he pulled back and I felt his cock slip
out of me, along with a copious amount of cum that trickled down the inside
of my leg.

   He just sighed, and then fell down on the bed next to me, rolling over
on his back.

   Still on my elbows and knees, and still unable to move my body, I turned
my head to look over at him.  He was spent.  He was covered in sweat and
still breathing hard.  He was amazing.

   After another moment, I was able to start to move my limbs, and then
extend them fully, and then to move out of my crouching position to lay my
body down on the bed.  After taking another moment to collect myself, I
scooted over to snuggle against him.  "That was fantastic, John.  Thank
you," I said.

   He acknowledged me with a little grunt, but said nothing.  We lay there
quietly for a moment.

   Then I asked, "Was it as wild as you thought it would be?"

   Another little affirmative grunt.

   "To fuck me, I mean, was it as wild to fuck me as you thought?"

   "Uh huh."

   I smiled.  "Is that what I am, John, your wild little fuck?" A pause. 
"Your wild little elf fuck?"

   I could feel his smile before I looked up into his face.  He just smiled
back at me, still saying little.  I laid my head back on his chest, and
enjoyed feeling him come down from the wild fuck I'd just given him.  The
wild little elf fuck.  I liked thinking that.

   My cock was lying on top of his thigh, very hard, and my thong, and his,
were still twisted around our hips, each completely soaked in sweat and his
cum.  At some point he reached down and idly stroke my cock, lightly.  "You
still didn't come," he said, with a little disappointment.

   "No, I didn't think it would make me come," I said.  "But I still
enjoyed it.  A lot."

   He was quiet.  I think he didn't know what to do now.

   "Do you wanna make me come, John?"

   "Yeah."

   "Then talk to me.  Talk to me more like you just did.  I liked that." I
rolled over on my back and stretched out before him, stretching my arms
above my head before relaxing them on the pillow above me.  My head was
still even with his chest.  "Tell me about my body."

   He rolled over on his side and looked at me.  "Your hot sexy little
body?"

   "Yeah.  Tell me what you like about my body."

   He reached over and squeezed my pectoral muscle, before running his hand
down to my tummy.

   "Everything."

   "Like ...?"

   "Like your arms," he said, reaching up to run the back of his hand along
my bicep.  "And the way your shoulder leads up to your neck." His hand went
there.

   "That's nice, John.  But I wish I had a body like yours."

   He seemed genuinely a little shocked.  "Oh no, I wouldn't like that."

   "You don't like your body?"

   "No, it's not that.  It's that I wouldn't want your body to be like
that. I never imagined it like that."

   "How did you imagine my body to be, John?" I was smiling; this was good.

   "Just like this.  I mean, I really can't believe how perfect you are. 
This is just how I wanted you to be.  Just how you were ..." He trailed
off.

   "Just like I was when?"

   "Just like you were in high school."

   I smiled at him.  This was hot.  I felt my cock throbbing and didn't
even feel the need to touch it, for either of us to touch it.  "You like
those high school girls?"

   "Yeah." I could see he was getting into it too.

   "And high school guys?"

   He didn't answer.  He lowered his head and nuzzled against my neck and
ear.  I loved that.

   "Do you want me to be your high school guy?"

   "Unh unh, not exactly." He barely formed the words.

   "How `bout your high school girl?"

   He didn't say anything.  I felt his hand reach down and grab the side of
my hip, his forearm pressing my cock up.  That felt good.  I was glad he
was into this.

   I moved my head to bring my lips right against his ear, and said in the
barest whisper.  "I can be your high school girl, you know, John.  I'd like
that."

   After another long moment of snuggling against me, he finally raised his
head and looked at me, and then settled down with his arm bent at the elbow
to support his head, his other hand still holding my hip and sort of moving
gently along the base of my cock.  "This is really weird." He didn't seemed
bothered; just an observation.

   "It's ok.  I like it."

   "I mean, I think this is what I've been thinking all along."

   "All along since ... ?"

   "Since high school."

   "Cool.  Tell me.  That's what I want to know, John.  Watcha been
thinking?"

   "Well, don't take this the wrong way."

   "Of course."

   "But I don't think I ever thought of you as a guy."

   "Ok."

   "But I didn't think of you as a girl either.  You were just ... Mark. 
You know, like I said before.  You were different from everyone else."

   "Your wild little elf."

   "Yeah."

   "And you liked that?"

   "Yeah, you were wild and really sexy."

   "Go on, John.  Talk to me." I started moving my hips up and down
slightly, to rub my cock against his arm.  He started flexing his arm to
grip my hip and move with me, but at the same time I felt the muscles in
his forearm tensing and relaxing, which was the most delicious sensation
against my cock.  So sensual and yet so delicate.

   "And that's what your body is.  This wild little elf body." He looked me
over.  "Like you're a mix of a girl and a guy in a really strange, sexy
way. Your arms are strong, but not muscly.  Your shoulders and chest, too.
Toned but not bulky.  And I love your tummy, too.  Everyone talks about a
six pack, but this just looks right to me.  Like I can just see this hint
of muscle running up and down the side here."

   He dropped his head and ran his lips along that muscle.  Not really
kissing me.  I just lightly felt his tongue.  This was incredible.  I felt
so adored.  All I could say was, "Oh, John."

   "You like that?"

   "Oh yes."

   I think my encouragement was working.  He was opening up.  Letting
himself express desires I imagined he had held inside for a long time.  It
was incredibly erotic and sexy.  I wanted this to last forever.

   He brought his head up so his lips were at my nipple.  I gave a sigh of
contentment and dropped my hand down to the back of his head to signal he
shouldn't move.  Tentatively, he opened his lips and pressed his mouth
against my nipple.

   "Yes, John," I sighed.

   I felt his tongue come out and press against me.

   "Oh yes."

   He gradually became more aggressive, sucking me into his mouth, then
using his teeth lightly, and swirling his tongue over my nipple.  He
settled one side of his hips against me, so that now my cock was sliding
back and forth along the side of his hip and his hand reached around to
grab my ass.  His other hand supported his head, while I kept one hand in
his curls.  My other hand reached up and around his shoulder to explore the
muscles in his back.

   With all this going on, the focus of my existence at that moment was my
nipple, my nipple in his mouth.  I flexed my pectoral muscle in an effort
to push it further into his mouth.  He responded by sucking harder and
pressing his tongue more forcefully against me.  He knew it's what I
wanted, I didn't need to encourage him any further.

   After as much of this as I could take, I wanted this same sensation to
move over my body.  I wanted it on my cock.  I needed to give him some
direction.

   I shifted my legs a bit, to start opening, and said to him,
breathlessly, "get on top of me, John."

   Feeling my legs moving, he shifted over to settle his hips between them.
I raised my legs up slightly and hooked them right at the top of his
thighs, right under his ass.  We still hadn't removed the thongs we wore,
even though each was now just a strap around our hips and our asses.  I
felt incredibly sexy, and just as I wanted, John instinctively used the
weight of his hips to press my cock against my belly, where his slightly
hard cock also rested.

   "Get up on your arms, John, and look at me."

   He did.  The look on his face was incredible.  I've never seen such
passion; it's like he was possessed.  This was perfect.

   "Look at my body, John.  Look at your little elf's body.  Look at how I
move."

   I started trying to twist and writhe my body around in every way I could
imagine, while still keeping us joined at our cocks.  That is, the base of
his cock pressing against the base of mine.  He started to move with me,
wiggling his hips from side to side in time with my movement.

   I raised my arms up, running my hands along his arms, stroking his
biceps and triceps as they flexed to support his motion, then doing the
same to his shoulders.  It was sort of like we were dancing, as we tried to
match our rhythms with each other.

   My God, it was the most amazing sex I'd ever had.

   "Look at me, John." I struggled to form the words through this exertion,
but I think he understood me.  "Remember when you said about that time when
you imagined I was floating?  Was this what I looked like?  Was this what
my body looked like?"

   "Yeah, that's it," he grunted back.  I could see from the glazed look in
his eye that I'd brought him back to that moment.

   "Is this what you wanted?  Is this how you wanted to fuck me then?"

   "Oh yeah."

   "You're getting it now John.  You're getting to fuck me now John, just
like you wanted.  And I'm loving it John, I'm loving you fucking me.  I
always wanted it just like you wanted it."

   This really got him going.  He started thrusting harder and faster
against me.  I dropped my hands to grip his ass, hard, and he really sped
up, flailing back and forth against me.

   He dropped his body on top of mine and an I could feel his breath
against my neck.  Our bodies were hot and sweaty and slipping against each
other.  My hands were glued to his ass, that perfect round ass of his, and
he was slapping against my body, hard.  This was going to do it.

   "I'm gonna come, John, you're gonna make me come.  You're fucking me
just like you always wanted and it's gonna make me come.  Make me come,
John."

   And it happened.  I felt my cock throbbing and then pulsing and then all
sorts of cum spurted out between us, only adding to the lubrication.  I
realized that this time, John was making me come.  Before, I had ridden his
cock.  I had used him - used his cock - to make myself come.  But now, John
was making me come.  It was the first time he had made me come.  He had
done it for me.  It was a wonderful thought.

   I naturally slowed the movement of my hips and just pressed against him.
But since John hadn't come he kept up the same motion, the same frantic
thrusting between my legs.

   This was fine with me.  I just tried to hold on as best I could.  I
tightened the grip of my ankles around his legs and moved my hands up to
his back, grabbing my wrist with my hand to hold on as best I could.  It
was almost like he was levitating me off the bed, as I held on to him.

   Finally, I think he just got it out of his system.  I felt him slow, and
then his body relaxed.  I relaxed my grip too, and nestled my legs down at
each side of his, still lightly embracing him.  One hand went to his curls,
and my other reached through the strap of his thong to grab his ass.  We
were each drenched in sweat and cum and it was incredible.

   We lay there for a while, just catching our breath.  I could feel his
breath on my neck and the top of my shoulder.

   Then, finally, he summed it up in one breathless word.

   "Fuck."

   We both laughed.  Act Two, Scene 3 Mark's bed, after coming for the
second time

   By now it had become quite late.  I wasn't watching the time but I think
it was around midnight.  The only sound in the room was the chirping of the
crickets outside, which drifted in through the open windows.  It was a warm
night, and I felt quite comfortable laying naked (except for the thong!) on
the bed.  Our bodies were each coated in sweat and cum, which, to tell you
the truth, made me feel very dirty and nasty, but didn't bother me at all!

   We each just lay on our backs for a while, resting after what was, after
all, an incredible exertion.  Then I found the energy to turn on my side to
look at him, and was reminded of how incredible he looked to me, in every
possible way.  He turned his head to look at me, and we just smiled at each
other.

   I didn't want this evening to end, and I wasn't feeling tired at all.  I
found myself thinking back to everything he had told me so far, and I
wanted to hear more.  I was actually wondering which was better - him
fucking me, or him talking to me - and I decided that I wouldn't try to
choose, since it seemed I could have both!  So if we were going to keep
talking, I had an idea.

   "How `bout I open a bottle of wine?" I asked.

   "Sounds good to me."

   We each rolled out of bed and finally removed our thongs - as disgusting
as they were, by now - and dropped them on the floor.  I went upstairs to
the kitchen, and he ducked into the bathroom.  I thought about cleaning
myself up a bit, but then thought, "What the hell." It was his smell on me,
anyway, and I didn't see any need to remove it.

   Coming back into the bedroom with a bottle of pinot noir, two glasses
and a few crackers for snacks, I found him waiting for me, completely nude
of course, and propped up against the headboard.  He was quite a piece of
eye-candy, that's for sure!

   I poured the wine and we each took a few sips.  I settled next to him,
putting my head on his chest.  I can't remember the conversation exactly,
of course, but I'll just try to lay out the gist of it.

   One thing I've discovered is that it can be surprisingly useful, in
getting a conversation going, just to state the obvious.  It's interesting
how sometimes there can be something that everyone in the room is thinking,
but no one will say.  So, at some point I got the ball rolling just by
saying.  "I really liked that, John.  It felt like ... like we were doing
it our way, you know?"

   "Yeah, man.  I know.  It was like, you're way stronger than any girl
I've ever been with.  I didn't have to be gentle."

   "You sure weren't." I paused.  "I liked that.  It was way different from
anything I've ever experienced." I paused again.  "I really liked how hard
you went at me; I want you to know that."

   He gave me a squeeze at the shoulder, pulling me closer to him.  "That's
cool," he said.  "I'm glad I was able to do that.  I really like your body,
man."

   It was incredible for me to hear him say that, to hear that I had
pleased him and he liked me, physically.  It made me just want to lay it on
the line for him, to let him know exactly how I felt.  "I'm here for you,
John.  Anything you want.  Really.  Do anything you want to me, and I'll
love it."

   I could feel him tense up just a bit.  I didn't know if it was in a good
or bad way, but I knew I had thrown him a bit.  I said nothing further,
just letting this sink in for him, and finally he said, "Why do you keep
saying that?  Why do you keep saying all these crazy things, man?  It's
like you're out of control."

   I sort of turned my head to look up at him, and smiled.  Trying to
reassure him, I said, "Well, that's it really.  `Control' is a good word. I
don't want it.  I'm tired of always being in control, being calm and
collected.  I want to be out of control, I want to give up control."

   I kept looking at him, and I think he understood a bit.  At least, I was
hoping he understood that I wasn't crazy!

   "I want this to be what you want.  I want you to be in control," I
continued.

   "Why?"

   It was a fair question, I guess.  I thought for a moment, then answered.
"Well, for whatever reason, I don't understand it myself, but I've been
obsessed with you for years." I paused, hoping he wouldn't freak out. 
"Like I said, I can't explain it, but I've always wondered what it would be
like to be with you.  And I've always wanted to know if you wondered the
same thing.  I've always wondered what you thought about me."

   He looked at me for a long while.  I kind of got the impression that
maybe this was starting to sink in with him; that he was finally
understanding how much this meant to him.  And it was almost like the depth
of feeling - the sincerity - that I expressed, brought out a sort of
confession from him.

   "Let me tell you something, Mark."

   "Ok."

   "Let's see what you think about this."

   "Hmm, hmm." I was getting kind of nervous, hoping that this would be
something good.

   "What would you think if I told you, I had been wondering the same
thing."

   I paused.  "Wow," is all I could say.

   "What if I told you how excited I was when I called you that first
time?"

   He paused.  I thought it was a rhetorical question, but then I realized
he really wanted an answer from me, before continuing.  "That's just
incredible, John.  It's perfect.  I was really excited when you called,
too. Really, really turned on." I thought for a moment, and realized there
was only one more thing I could say.  "Please tell me more."

   "Well, like I said, I had wanted to call you before, the last time I was
in Charlotte, a few years ago.  But I didn't."

   "I understand," I said.  And then, thinking about it, I asked, "how did
you know I was in Charlotte?"

   "Good question," he smiled.  "It was back after 9/11.  I remember
thinking about my friends; you know how it was."

   "Uh huh," I said.  I understood.

   "So I thought about you, and I looked you up on the internet."

   I smiled to myself., to know that someone had been looking for me. 
Imagine that it was John!

   I think he could tell from my relaxed state that I was happy just to
listen to him.  "So I saw where you worked, and I read some of the finance
articles you'd written." He paused.  "I even saw some of your 10K race
times.  You were doing a good job!"

   "Thanks, man," I said quietly.  This was incredible!

   "But, you know, in a strange way, I felt sort of shy.  I saw everything
you were doing and ... well, I thought you wouldn't be interested in me."

   He paused for a moment.  "Nothing could be further from the truth," I
said quietly, almost to myself.

   "I know, Mark, but you know how it is.  So after thinking about calling
you in 2008, it all sort of came together for me when I found out I would
be coming back to Charlotte this summer.  And, well ... well, I was really
determined this time, I should say."

   "You know, I could tell, John.  From that first phone call.  I mean, I
have to say, I was blown away.  I could really feel it in your voice. 
Looking back on it now.  I mean, I was just blown away."

   "I wanted you to be, Mark.  That's what I wanted."

   We were each quiet again.  I guess it was just hard for us to believe,
that for something as important and as extreme as this, that we would ...
well, we would coalesce like this.

   "So after that first phone call," he continued, "I knew that this had a
chance of working out like I wanted.  So I met you for dinner and man, I
have to say, you were just like I remembered.  You were just as sexy as I
remembered from high school."

   My heart literally leapt at this!  "You too," is all I could say, as I
turned my head up to kiss him on the cheek.

   "And our waitress, too.  Lisa.  She really got me going."

   I laughed.

   "I'd been thinking about telling you about college; you know, about the
girls there.  I guess that somehow, I wanted to see how you'd react to it,
and I guess I wanted to brag a little too.  And I could tell how it really
got you going.  But I have to say, that I never expected what you would
tell me, about Elizabeth.  That was really amazing."

   He paused again.  "And then those emails, Friday.  Wow.  I've gotta tell
you, Mark, I couldn't stop thinking about you that whole weekend.  I was
really horny."

   I reached my hand down to his cock, which was starting to get a bit hard
again.  I squeezed it, and all I could say is.  "Me too, John.  Me too."

   "So that's when I came up with the plan about seeing you after work.  I
spent most of the day Friday, and then again on Monday, talking with Susan
and Michelle about you.  I don't know why I did that, or what I was
thinking, but I mentioned it to Michelle, first.  I didn't really say
anything, other than that there was this friend from high school that I
wanted to see, but I guess she figured it out really quickly, or I just
made it obvious, and she just kind of teased it out of me.  I think she
just thought it was ... well, it was ... romantic, in a way." (I smiled to
myself at this, I understood why he was shy and I knew not to press it.) "I
guess it's no surprise, really," he continued, quickly rationalizing.  "The
fact is, like I told you on the phone, working on site like this is really
boring, actually.  There's not much to do.  So after I talked to Michelle,
she talked to Susan, and it was really they who came up with the plan, not
me.  I mean, it's obvious, I guess.  They wanted to set up a situation
where we could be together, but not under any pressure, you know?"

   "Yeah, I know," I said.  "I'm sorry I screwed it up.  I was just
clueless."

   "Yeah, I understand.  Once we got to the bar, and we were all together
there, I think we were all just as clueless as you were.  It sounded like a
good idea, in principle, but it was hard to pull off.  After you and
Michelle left, Susan and I just kind of looked at each other.  I guess we
knew the evening wasn't a total loss.  She said you were kind of cute,
actually.  She could tell how jealous you were.  I guess she could read you
better than me.  And then when I talked to Michelle the next day, about
what you had said to her, I knew it was just a setback, really, not a total
loss.  That's how I was able to call you up the next day with such
confidence.  I just knew we would have another opportunity."

   We paused again.

   "But I gotta tell you, man, it wasn't until we were sitting on your
couch that I really knew it was gonna happen.  You should have seen your
face, Mark." He laughed.

   "What?" I said, laughing too.

   "I mean, you were so ready to be fucked!"

   "I was, man.  What's wrong with that?" Now, I could laugh about it.  He
was right, after all!

   "Nothing.  Except - and don't take this the wrong way - I've never had a
guy look at me like that before."

   "I should hope not!"

   "Right.  And so I knew then that it was gonna happen, I just had to
figure out how, and all of a sudden I remembered your pool." He paused.  I
could tell he was happy.  "And the rest, as they say, is history."

   We just lay there for a while, thinking about everything that had
happened.  I poured us each a bit more wine, and then settled my head back
on his chest.

   It was my turn for a question.  "So John, I know you've had it before,
but how'd I do ... you know, how'd I do, sucking your cock?"

   He just laughed.  "Mark, how can you ask such a question?"

   Then he looked down, and saw me looking up at him.  I guess he saw the
look of expectation, mixed with doubt, on my face.  "You were fantastic,
Mark.  Fantastic."

   I smiled.

   "I mean, to tell you the truth, you really sucked it all out of me!  I
mean, I was spent." He paused, then continued.  "When you suggested we take
a break, at first I thought, `My God, is something wrong?' but as soon as
we got some food, I was thinking, `Man, he was right, I really needed
this.' And I've gotta tell you, man, all that stuff you started telling me,
about shaving yourself and all that, and your thongs.  I mean, it really
got me going, and I'm like, thinking, `This is really gonna happen.  I'm
gonna fuck Mark.  He's like, completely ready for me!'"

   "Did you like that?"

   "Yeah!  I mean, I was like, blown away.  And then we came down here and
you knew just what to say, just what to ask, and it was like I couldn't
help it, it all just started pouring out.  And I gotta tell you, Mark,
until tonight, I didn't know all that stuff.  It had been in my head for
years, for like, twenty fucking years, but until tonight I didn't know it."
He paused.  "You're incredible.  You know that, don't you."

   I didn't say anything; I couldn't think up any response to what he just
said.  I just hoped he would continue.  Like I said, I didn't know which
was better.

   Strike that.  Hearing him tell me all this was way better than him
fucking me.  I can't believe I can say that, but it's true.

   "I guess I just hadn't thought about it.  Thought about why - why I
wanted you so much.  Just that I had for so long but I had never asked
myself, why." He paused.  "It's like for so long I always knew you were
sexy.  There was this equation, in my mind, `Mark equals sexy.' But there
were no details about it, it was sort of disconnected from everything
else."

   I could hear in his voice that he was struggling with his feelings about
me, in the same way that I was struggling with my feelings about him.  But
I kind of got the sense that I was ahead of him in this area.  Not to put
too fine a point on it, but I had already confronted the question of
whether I was gay, and if I wasn't (since I loved women so much!), then why
I could feel this way about him.  It was so gratifying to me to hear him
open up like this, that I just had to reach out to him, and help him along.

   I asked him the first question that popped in my mind.  "Let me ask you
something.  Do you watch much porn?"

   "Sure."

   "What d'you like?"

   "You know, the type of girls I described at dinner.  Young, blonde. 
Perky." He paused.

   "Like on Twisty's?  You ever look at that"

   "Yeah, like that."

   "I know what you mean." I paused.  "You ever look at guys?"

   "Yeah, I have." He thought about it.  "But they really don't do much for
me."

   I think he was being honest.  I mean, at this point, why would he lie
about that?  But I wanted to be honest with him.

   "They do something for me," I said, quietly.

   "Really?" he asked.

   "Yeah."

   "Like what.  What d'you like?"

   "Guys like you."

   He laughed.

   "I'm serious," I said.

   "Really?" he asked again.  I could tell he was trying to understand. 
"Like what?"

   "You know," I said.  "Really good looking, built, nice muscles, curly
hair." I paused, and stretched up to put my lips right next to his ear. 
"Nice big cocks."

   "You're joking," he said.

   "No, I'm serious."

   "Size matters?"

   "Size matters."

   "So how do I ...?"

   I knew what he wanted to ask.  "Measure up?" I completed his question.

   "Yeah."

   "You are off the scale, John, off the scale." I paused.  "A dream come
true."

   "See," he said.  "That's what I just can't believe."

   "What?" I asked, wondering why he couldn't believe how amazing he was.

   But he explained what he meant.  "It's like, you're exactly the way I
thought you would be."

   "You thought I would like big cocks?  Wow." I was actually puzzled.

   "No," he laughed.  He looked down at me again, and I swear his eyes
actually sparkled.  Then he laughed again.  "It's like I said before, man,
you're a superfreak." He squeezed my shoulder, and kissed my forehead. 
"You're wild."

   "Your wild little elf fuck," I said, contentedly.

   "Yeah," he laughed again, but I could tell he was starting to
understand. To understand me, that is.  "You like that, don't you?"

   "What?"

   "That I thought of you as an elf."

   "Yeah," I said, trying to be serious.  "I like it a lot."

   "Why?"

   "It's sexy," I said, shrugging.  "It's different.  It makes me feel
special." I paused, and turned my head to look him right in the eye.  "Like
I'm special to you."

   I could see he was taken aback.  Like he just retreated a bit.  "I'm
sorry," I continued, sincerely.  "Does that bother you?  I didn't mean it
in a bad way."

   "No, not at all.  It's just ..." He paused, thinking.  "It's just weird
because I think that's what I've always wanted."

   "Cool." I smiled.  Then I thought about what he said.  "What d'you mean?
Tell me what you wanted."

   "I wanted you, I guess." I smiled, and he continued.  "Really.  When I
came here to Charlotte, I think that's what I was thinking.  That I wanted
you.  Like I had to capture you, somehow." He drifted off.

   "Just say it," I said.  "Just describe what's running through your
head."

   He thought for a moment more, then just started talking.  "That time
when I was watching you in Gary's back yard.  You were building something
and I was watching you.  Watching you move around the yard in those tight
jeans; then you were just floating.  I think that's how I always thought
about you.  Like you were floating somewhere."

   "Where was I floating?"

   "Out in space."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah."

   "How did I get there?  Was I an astronaut?"

   "No, it's not like you went to space.  You were just there."

   "I'm just there," I repeated.  "Like I came from space?"

   He looked at me with this funny, crooked smile.

   "What?" I asked.

   "No," he said, "this is too weird."

   "C'mon."

   "No, you'll think I'm making it up."

   "So what?"

   I guess he realized it didn't matter.  Like anything he said now could
be weirder than what we had already said.

   "So I remember reading this story online," he continued.  "It must've
been at least ten years ago, or more.  You know, we don't need Penthouse
Letters anymore."

   "Tell me about it." I laughed, and he smiled.

   "Right.  So this was back in the `90s.  I read this story about a guy
who captured an alien.  You know, it was the same old thing, how the alien
ship crash lands in the desert.  And he runs over and the alien is still
alive.  A sole survivor, you know.  So he takes it home.  But the thing is,
this alien is super sexy.  Like the guy starts getting really turned on by
the alien and he wants to fuck it.  But at first, he can't figure out how.
How to do it, y'know."

   "Uh huh, go on."

   "But he figures it out and he fucks the alien and it's great.  But he
can't communicate with the alien so he doesn't know if it likes it, or not.
But he likes fucking the alien so much that he gets worried it's gonna run
away, or escape.  So he makes this cage in his house and he puts the alien
there, and he only takes it out to fuck it."

   "Wow.  Is that all?"

   "Yeah."

   "Did you like that story?"

   "Well, it just stuck in my head.  And when you said that, about you
coming from space, I thought about it again."

   "Did you like thinking about it?"

   He looked down at me, and smiled.  "Yeah, I liked it."

   I smiled back at him, conspiratorially.  "So before, when you were
reading that story years ago, did it get you off?"

   "Yeah," he smiled more.

   "More than once?"

   "Yeah."

   "Like you wanted your own alien - an alien you could keep in a cage and
fuck whenever you wanted?"

   "Yeah."

   "Well, you know what I think?" I asked.

   "What?"

   "I don't think he needed the cage at all."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah."

   "Why?"

   "`Cause the alien really liked being fucked.  It really liked when the
guy fucked it."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah."

   "Is that what aliens like?" he asked, teasingly.  "Do they like being
fucked by guys?"

   "D'you think I can speak for aliens?" I asked.  We looked at each other.
I leaned up close to him, put my lips right next to his ear, and whispered.
"Do you think I'm an alien, John?" He murmured.  I could feel him getting
harder and I felt his heart beat getting faster.  "`Cause that's what I am,
John," I said, still whispering.  "Your wild little alien elf fuck."

   I started kissing his neck and wrapped my arm more tightly around his
shoulders.  We'd put our glasses down and we got more comfortable.  He
reached one had down to run it over my back and my ass while I kept
talking.

   "And when you came to Charlotte," I continued, "you were hunting.  You
were gonna find the wild little alien elf fuck that you'd been dreaming
about for so long.  And when you found it, you'd capture it, and you'd fuck
it.  You'd fuck you wild little alien elf, right?"

   "Hmm hmm," he murmured, affirmatively.

   "Remember, you told me how you'd fuck it."

   "When?"

   "You know, when you talked about bending me over and I'm crying and
saying, `No, stop.' But you just kept fucking.  Fucking me harder and
harder."

   "Yeah." This didn't diminish his erection, which was now nearly full.  I
was glad.

   "Well, that's good, John," I continued.

   "Why?"

   "`Cause that's what wild little alien fucks need."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah."

   "Even though they don't know it, that's what they need?" he asked.

   "Yeah, that's what they need." I paused.  "They need to be fucked really
hard by a guy like you.  Fucked really, really hard."

   "Why?" he asked.

   "Why what?" I responded, teasingly.

   "Why do wild little alien elf fucks need to be fucked really, really
hard?" he obliged.

   "`Cause when they are ..."

   "Are what?"

   "Fucked really, really, hard."

   "Uh huh."

   "`Cause when they are," I continued.  "They find out that's what they
really want.  What they really need.  They need a guy like you to fuck `em
really, really hard."

   "That's what you need?"

   "What am I, John?"

   "You're my wild little alien elf fuck, Mark."

   "So that's what I need." Act 2, Scene 4 Mark's bed, morning

   Even though we'd been up very late the night before, I woke up Saturday
morning as the sun came up - around 5:30am.  I think that I just didn't
want to waste any time that I could spend with John by sleeping.  As soon
as I awoke, I looked over to see him lying on his stomach next to me, nude
and uncovered.  Sure, I enjoyed looking at him, but I couldn't resist
reaching over to run my hands all over his muscular ass and back.  But when
I saw that he was soundly asleep, I knew I would have to wait.

   I got up and went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up.  Then I
returned to the bedroom to check that he was still asleep, before heading
upstairs to my own bedroom.  The one I share with my wife.  I went to my
dresser drawer and spent a quiet moment going through my underwear.  I
pulled out one of my favorites - a white CK cotton thong - and slipped it
on.  Then I looked again in the drawer and thought about what I would like
to see John wear.  I remembered my fantasy, where I came back from dropping
my wife at the airport to find him in my kitchen in a tiny bikini, and so I
pulled out one of my skimpiest bikinis - a pair made by Hom with blue and
grey vertical stripes.  Its side straps are only half an inch wide, and
it's so small on me I had to wonder if John could even squeeze himself into
it.  I wanted to see him try, so I tiptoed down to the guest bedroom where
he was still fast asleep, and tossed it on the bed next to him, hoping he'd
take the hint when he woke up.

   As I left John sleeping downstairs and went upstairs to start the day, I
have to say that I began to feel a bit nervous and confused.  I think it
was difficult for me to reconcile the mundane surroundings of my own home
with what John and I had done the night before.  It was jarring to remember
the passion we had felt, how vigorously we had had sex, and the secrets
that we had shared with each other, and then to wander into the kitchen and
be surrounded by all the "debris" of a normal family life.

   Starting up the coffee maker as I did nearly every morning, a worry
began to form out of the back of my mind.  "What if in the light of day,
John's feelings change?" I wondered.  I remembered that over the past few
days, I had gone to bed thinking one thing, and then had woken up feeling
quite different.  What if John had the same attitude reversal?

   I poured myself a cup of coffee, went to the kitchen table and just sat
there, looking out the window at the trees, wondering what would happen
next.  I was apprehensive that John would not be happy when he realized
where he had woken up.

   About 15 minutes later, John walked into the kitchen, wearing only the
underwear that I had chosen for him.  I will admit that he looked
incredible in that skimpy bikini - his cock filled out the pouch just as
well as it had filled out everything else I had asked him to wear the night
before - and when he looked over at me and smiled, he looked even more
incredible.

   "I guess my clothes are still where I changed last night, and I found
this to wear," he said, with an innocent tone that made me wonder if he was
too sleepy to realize that I had left it out for him, or if he was just
toying with me.

   He smiled at me and I tried to smile back, but I suddenly felt very
self-conscious.  Sitting in a chair on the side of the table nearest the
kitchen, I became aware of how exposed I was to him, wearing only the
thong. I twisted away to hide myself as best I could, and I suddenly felt
silly for sitting there nearly naked, and I was sure he must be angry at me
for putting him in the ridiculous position of wearing a bikini that barely
covered his ample manhood.

   But if John was angry at me, he didn't show it; nor did he seem to feel
shy about how he was barely dressed.  Instead, he just looked over at the
coffee pot and motioned as if to ask whether he could have a cup.

   "Sure, go ahead," I said.  "There are mugs in the cabinet above the
coffee-maker."

   I watched as he moved across the room and opened the cabinet to grab a
mug.  Even through the nervousness and apprehension I felt, I couldn't deny
the arousal I felt as I noticed how amazing he looked in that bikini.  My
mind fixated on wondering how he had managed to squeeze into it.

   He poured himself some coffee and then leaned back against the counter
to look at me.  I was transported back to my favorite fantasy.  This was
exactly the scene that I had imagined I would see, coming home from
dropping off my wife.  This only made me more nervous.

   Like I did when I first showed him the pool, I displaced my nervous
energy by getting up from the table and bustling around the kitchen to
start on some breakfast.  I went to the fridge and took out some bread,
eggs and butter, then without looking at him I put four slices of bread in
the toaster and moved to the stove to start some eggs.  As I did this, I
tried not to think that my bare ass was revealed to him by the thong I was
wearing.  I was so preoccupied that I went back to the fridge to get
something, and then realized I had everything I needed.  Feeling foolish, I
turned around to see him standing at the stove, scrambling the eggs.

   "Don't worry, I've got this," he said, over his shoulder, without
turning around.  "Have a seat."

   I went back to the table and sat down, my heart thumping as I wondered,
"Is he angry at me?"

   I looked over and still couldn't help musing about how sexy his back was
- how sexy he was - as he attended to the eggs for another minute or two.

   Then he turned off the stove and turned around to face me.  I didn't
know what to say and I couldn't read his expression, so I just looked at
the floor.

   The sound of the toast popping up startled me, and I looked up at him. I
could see sympathy in his eyes, but also concern - for what, I wasn't sure.

   "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

   I looked at him and I'm sure the reluctance I felt was obvious.  But the
sympathetic look on his face allowed me to confess to him what I was
thinking.

   "It's like in the movies, I guess."

   I paused to look at him.  I could detect just a trace of irritation with
me, so I tried to get right to the point.

   "You know," I continued, "every time something like this happens, the
people wake up in the morning and one of them, or both of them, are really
uncomfortable.  Usually one of them sneaks away, like they regret it."

   I could tell from the look on his face that he understood what I was
saying, but I couldn't tell what he thought about what I was saying.  I was
nervous as hell that I had described his feelings precisely.

   "So?" That's all he said; all the feedback I had to work with.

   I soldiered on; I had to be honest with him.  "So I don't want you to
regret anything.  I don't want to find out you regret it," I whispered.

   I think he could tell how strongly I felt about this, so he was calm
when he asked me, "Is that how it always happens?"

   I didn't expect this.  "Huh?" is all I could say.

   "Do they always regret it?"

   I couldn't tell where he was going with this, but I thought the best
response was to be honest with him.  I thought about how every movie
doesn't happen the same way, even if nearly all of them do.

   "Well, not always, of course," I answered quietly, looking down at the
floor.  I felt like he was testing me.

   "So?" he asked again.

   "So ..." I repeated.  I didn't know what to say.

   "So what happens when they don't regret it?" He paused, like he realized
how dense I was, and he had to make it clear to me.

   I still didn't know what to say.

   "What happens then, Mark?  What happens when they don't regret it?"

   I looked at him and I'm sure he could see the desire in my eyes - not
just a desire for him, but a desire for him to make it clear for me, for
him to tell me how it would be, and hopefully for him to make things like
they were before.  A desire for him to take us back to the way we felt and
acted the night before.

   He set down his coffee and walked over to me slowly, stopping in front
of me.  I could see his cock getting incredibly hard, and then the head
pushed out from the waistband of that tiny bikini only inches from my face.
Without saying a word, I reached up and slowly pulled the waistband down
just enough to free his cock.

   * * *

   I finished servicing him by wrapping my lips tightly around the head of
his cock and using my hand to milk out every last drop of what he had to
give me.  I was proud of myself that only a bit dribbled out down my chin.
He reached down with his finger to wipe it off, which he offered to me to
clean.  Without saying anything, he then turned and walked back to the
stove to get our breakfast, while I sat quietly watching him.

   He returned to the table with two plates of eggs and toast.  We ate in
silence.  The events of the past few minutes and the night before ran
through my mind, and I couldn't help smiling at him.  About halfway
through, I put down my fork and just looked at him with what was probably
an expression of pure puppy love on my face.

   If this bothered him in any way, he didn't show it.  Instead, he smiled
back at me and took a bite of his food.  I just watched him.  Then he
reached over to my plate with his fork and picked up a bit of egg which he
raised to feed to me.  I compliantly opened my mouth and let him slide the
fork inside.  He watched me eat, and then looked closely into my eyes
before doing the same thing again.  After I allowed him to feed me a second
mouthful, he put down his fork and looked at me.  It seemed that he was
thinking about something - but I wasn't sure what - and neither of us said
a word.

   Then it seemed he had made some decision.  He reached over to my plate,
tore off a bit of my toast and held it out as if to offer it to me.  But
when I leaned forward and parted my lips to take it from him, he pulled his
hand back and smiled teasingly at me.  As soon as I closed my mouth,
however, he offered me the toast again.  I moved forward tentatively, but
he moved his hand toward the edge of the table.  As my lips followed his
hand, I realized what he wanted, and what I needed.  I needed to be off my
chair and on my knees.  I felt such relief as I slid off the chair and
settled on the floor next to him.

   John fed me the rest of my breakfast in that position, and finished his
own.  Then he put his hands on my biceps to pull me up to sit on his lap
and we began kissing.  I just surrendered myself to the feeling of his lips
on mine, and his tongue in my mouth, until I somehow sensed a signal from
him that it was time to get up.

   Without saying a word (actually, I don't think we had spoken since he
walked toward me with his stiffening cock) we walked together over to the
living room, drawn by the warm sunlight that was now streaming in from the
east-facing windows.  We stood in the sun and started to kiss again and ran
our hands all over each other.

   After a moment, I became aware that we were standing right next to the
sofa, which has a chaise longue at one end.  Bathed in the morning sun, it
is one of my favorite places to relax.  With only the barest of focused
thought, I half guided him and half let him guide me there.  He laid me
back onto the sofa and then covered my body with his own.

   We kissed a few more minutes and then he broke the silence between us by
saying simply, "Now it's my turn."

   He moved down my body until he reached my hips, and then he slid the
thong down my legs and to the floor.  When he started kissing my crotch and
nuzzling my cock and balls, I whispered "You don't hafta."

   "I want to," he whispered back, before he ran his tongue back and forth
along the underside of my cock.  That felt wonderful, but I think he
somehow knew that I didn't want him to suck my cock.  That just wouldn't
have been right.

   Instead, he moved lower, running his tongue over my balls before
attending to the sensitive spot right beneath them.  As he worked his lips
closer to my hole, I lifted my legs straight into the air and raised my
hips to offer myself to him.  It was an indescribable sensation.

   Raising his head to look at me, he brought his hand up and started
working his thumb on that sensitive spot beneath my balls.

   "Oh God, John."

   After a few minutes of this, I felt him move two fingers across my ass,
then to my crack, and I gasped as I felt him force them inside me in one
swift motion.  I started moving my hips up and down to match his rhythm as
he pumped his fingers into my ass.  It was an incredible feeling - but it
wasn't quite what I wanted.

   "I want your cock inside me, John."

   Still keeping to few words, I felt John reposition himself and release
his cock from the tiny bikini.  He mounted me and slipped into my ass
easily, then started thrusting back and forth.  Within minutes, we came
together.

   We lay there for a while, maybe half an hour, our bodies warmed by the
sun and our own exertions.

   Finally, he raised himself up on his arms and looked down at me.  He had
a slightly amused, but almost flummoxed expression on his face.

   "What is it?" I asked quietly.  I didn't think he was mad, but I knew
something was bothering him.

   "Well, don't take this the wrong way, but ..." He paused.  "Doing this
with you in your house, in your kitchen and living room, well it's exciting
but it's also a little weird."

   I looked around the room.  He was right.  He had sensed the same thing I
had felt just after waking up.  "I know what you mean," I said.  "What do
you suggest?"

   "Let's go back to my place.  It's so ... anonymous.  It's perfect."

   "You want to take me back to your place?" I asked suggestively.

   "Uh huh," he said, smiling.

   "To your anonymous little love shack, huh?  Your fuck nest?"

   He was laughing harder now.  "You can make anything sound dirty."

   "I'll take that as a compliment.  Just give me a few minutes to get this
place cleaned up."

   "Ok, I'll go take a shower.  Do you have some underwear I can wear?" he
asked with a smile.

   "Do I?  Just wait here."

   This was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.  I wiggled out from beneath
him and scampered back to my bedroom.  I rooted around my underwear drawer
for a minute, considering several options, until I settled on a bright red
cotton hipster I'd found at H&M.  It was rather small, but it had an
interesting stretch fabric in a vertical weave, so I was sure it would fit
John well.

   I returned to the living room and handed it to him.  He looked at it and
smiled lasciviously at me, but said nothing.

   "There's an extra toothbrush and stuff in the bathroom downstairs.  Take
your time."

   He went downstairs and I went to the kitchen to put our dishes from last
night and from breakfast into the dishwasher.  I straightened up a bit, but
aside from the guest bedroom we really hadn't touched much around the
house.

   I went back to my own bathroom, the one I share with my wife, and took a
very quick shower and got cleaned up.  Back in my bedroom, it was when I
started gathering some clothes for the weekend that all of a sudden it hit
me again.  I was planning to leave my home in a few minutes to spend the
rest of the weekend - and maybe more - with a guy I knew from high school.
It was exciting but also overwhelming.

   Just then, I heard him come upstairs and call my name.

   "I'm back here," I responded.

   I heard him walk down the hallway and then stop in the doorway.  I
turned to look at him.  He was dressed in his t-shirt and shorts from the
day before.  I also noticed that he was hesitant to enter the room.

   Then I realized, this was my bedroom - where I slept with my wife.  He
hadn't been in this room yet.

   "It's ok, come on in," I said gently, trying to relax myself, I think,
as much as him.  "I'm almost ready, just need to get a few more things."

   He came over and sat on the bed, watching me.  I pulled out one of my
favorite pair of shorter shorts and a small t-shirt, but as I got dressed I
started to feel more nervous.  I opened the closet and suddenly I couldn't
remember what I would need for the weekend.  My mind was a complete blank.

   "Mark?"

   I just stood there, looking into the closet, not saying anything.

   "What's going on Mark?"

   "I don't know, man," I answered, still not turning around.  "I just
don't know."

   "What don't you know?"

   "You know," I said, not realizing how silly that sounded.  "This." I
turned to face him, hoping he would understand.

   By the look on his face, it did seem that he understood, but I also
detected, for the first time that morning - for the first time since I'd
met him for dinner the week before, in fact - a hint of impatience on his
face.

   I realized that my hesitation was finally getting to him, and I felt
myself start to panic.  My breath came a little quicker, and I heard my
voice crack when I said, "I'm just not sure."

   "What d'you mean, not sure?" I could tell from his voice that this
wasn't what he wanted to hear from me, which only increased my anxiety.

   "Well, I mean I'm leaving home, John." I looked at him and I could feel
my face twisting up.  "I'm, like, leaving home to go be with you."

   "Isn't that what you want?" He seemed confused, and I couldn't blame
him.

   "Of course it is.  Like I said last night, I can't tell you how long and
how much I've wanted this.  But now that I'm doing it, well ..." I looked
at him and I hoped that he didn't think that I was pleading with him, but
at the same time I wanted him to think that.  I wanted him to know how much
I was relying on him.

   But he seemed more exasperated than anything else.  "Well, it's a choice
you're gonna hafta make," he said, curtly.

   I knew he was right, of course, but at the same time I still felt
uncertain but it wasn't about whether I wanted to go with him - I knew I
wanted to go with him, but I was still unsure about the same thing that was
bothering me when I first awoke that morning.

   "A choice I have to make, a choice I have to make," I said, feeling
desperate.  "Why do I have to make this choice.  Don't you think I might be
interested in what you want?"

   "What I want?  Goddammit, Mark I can't fucking believe you'd say
something like that." I literally stepped back from him, it came out so
strong.  I don't think I'd ever seen such passion.  He continued, without
letting up in the slightest.  "Weren't you here last night?  Don't you
remember what we did?  Did it occur to you that that is what I wanted. 
What did I fucking say to you when you fell in the pool yesterday?"

   He paused.  I couldn't even manage to open my mouth.  I was trembling.

   "Come on, what was the first thing I said to you?"

   "I've got you," I managed to whisper.

   "That's fucking right.  I've got you." As he said this, he walked across
the room until he was standing so close to me that he could poke me in the
chest with each word.  "That's what I want, Mark, if you're too fucking
dense to figure it out.  I want you.  I want all of you, completely and
without reservation."

   He paused again, and turned to walk back and sit on the bed.  I could
feel my heart pounding in my chest.  I couldn't believe I was hearing this.
I couldn't fucking believe it.

   He turned to look up at me.  His eyes were burning into mine.

   "I want you." He paused.  "That's what I want, man.  That's what I
want." The last sentence was a whisper.

   That's when I knew.  That's when I finally understood that this is what
I had always wanted.  I walked slowly and tentatively across the room. 
When I reached him, I felt my legs turn to jelly and I slumped to my knees,
on the floor next to him, clinging to his thighs.

   I looked up at him and saw him looking back at me.  That has to have
been one of the most intense moments of my life.  My heart was pounding, I
could barely catch my breath.  I was still shaking, as I had been since he
started talking.

   And now, I saw John, looking back at me with an expression of ... I'd
have to search for the word to describe it.  It definitely wasn't anger. 
There was a bit of pride, a lot of desire, and satisfaction too.

   He knew.  But he asked me anyway.

   "Am I going to get what I want?"

   "Yes," I said, simply but without hesitation or reluctance.

   I saw him smiling back at me, relief now appearing on his face as well.

   We remained like that for a few minutes, me kneeling next to him on the
floor, my head resting on his thigh as he played with my hair.  We said
nothing, each letting our breathing get back to normal.  Finally, I gently
kissed him once on the top of his thigh, and then I stood up, holding my
hand out to him.

   "C'mon, let's get going to your place."

   We quickly gathered our things, went out to the car, and took the short
ride back to uptown.  Act 2, Scene 5 John's apartment

   When we got to John's building, he guided me into the underground
parking, and then to the elevator and up to his apartment.  I deliberately
let him take complete charge at this point.  The fact was, it was
incredibly exciting for me to be led back to his place.  I felt my heart
beating out of my chest when we entered the elevator, he pressed the button
for the twelfth floor, and I saw the doors close.  On a level that seemed a
hundred times more powerful than the resolution I had made in the pool the
night before, I now felt that he was in complete and utter control of me. I
was being taken back to his apartment and the fact was, I had to admit, he
was stronger and more athletic than me.  I wouldn't be able to escape if he
wanted to keep me there, and I wouldn't be able to resist anything that he
would try to do to me.

   But what was far more important than the physical control I relinquished
to him was that the events of that morning had revealed to me that I had
surrendered to him emotionally, as well.  I think I was aware by then that
the emotional rollercoaster of the past ten days or so had taken a toll on
me, had worn me down.  I had been up and down so much, wondering about his
intentions, and wondering about my own desires, that by now I was really
feeling a sort of mental exhaustion.  True, I had plenty of energy left to
enjoy him, but I didn't have much of an inclination to question anything,
or to think things out too seriously.  As you've seen from my description
of Friday evening, I had done a lot of thinking then, so by Saturday I was
ready to turn everything over to him.

   The other thing I've noticed, more strongly now as I look back on it and
write this all out than I did at the time, is that in many ways John was
more confident about the whole experience than I was.  After all, he had
been in control in one way or the other since the beginning.  He had called
me in the first place, he had directed the conversation at dinner, he had
set up our next meeting, he had taken the initiative to "reboot," and of
course he had taken charge once we got going on Friday night.  I don't
think I put all of this together then, but looking back on it I really was
incredibly lucky that he was as confident and driven as he was.  He had
made it all happen.

   When he opened the door to his apartment and let me step in before him,
I realized immediately what he meant, and how right he was to suggest that
we come here.  The place was perfect, for our purposes at least.  True, as
an actual apartment it left a lot to be desired - it was very small and the
decorating was as generic as the most stereotypical Holiday Inn - but that
was exactly what we needed.  There were no distractions of any sort.  This
apartment could have been located anywhere; it had absolutely no
distinguishing characteristics.  We could focus only on each other.

   He put the food that we had brought from my house in the kitchen, and
then led me over to the bedroom.  Given the blandness of the surroundings,
I noticed only the king sized bed that almost filled the room.  I turned to
him, dropped my bag, smiled, and said, "Thanks John.  This is perfect,"
before we embraced and then went into a very long kiss.

   Instead of leading me over to the bed, he directed me back to the couch
in the living room , where we sat down and basically started making out. 
For some reason, I felt like I was in high school again, and our parents
could walk through the door at any moment.  Of course, this made it only
more exciting to be with him, and I played at being timid again.  I stroked
his huge erection through his shorts, rather than taking him out and
sucking him forcefully into my mouth.  I knew there would be plenty of time
for that later.

   But I have to admit that all the exertions of the past 18 hours or so
were really starting to catch up with us, and it wasn't more than five
minutes later that we were each deeply asleep, entwined with each other on
that sofa.  We wouldn't wake up until early evening.

   And that is a good place to end my story.  There we are, John and I,
napping peacefully in that bland but incredibly erotic apartment.  And the
curtain falls.  The End

   Now don't worry, there is an Act 3, I wouldn't leave you hanging like
that!

   But, you have come to the end of my story.  Of course, I would love to
go on in complete detail about the rest of the week that John and I spent
together, but this story is already very long and, well, I guess this is
all I can share with you at this time.

   In Act Three, I will tell you briefly what happened the rest of that
week, including how Susan and Michelle made their reappearance.  (You knew
they would, didn't you?) And I'll tell you how John and I left things
between us.  Finally, of course, I'll have a few last thoughts about how I
look back on the whole experience with two years' perspective.  Act Three

   John and I woke up a few hours after we had drifted off to sleep on the
couch in his anonymous apartment.  It was late afternoon and I remember the
apartment being very warm because of the sun coming through the windows. 
We didn't know quite what to do with ourselves or what the next step should
be.

   At some point, John suggested that we go to the small gym in his
building.  Just to stretch, really, and think about what to do.  I was
happy to have an excuse to change into my short workout shorts and a skimpy
t-shirt, and to see him in the same.

   We went to the gym and started stretching and playing around on the
equipment.  We were alone in the room and it was quite fun, but after no
more than ten minutes or so, who should walk in but Susan and Michelle?!  I
always wondered, but never found out, if John had set this up.  Anyway,
they looked absolutely amazing in their short shorts and very tight
athletic tops.  We said hello and were goofing around for a few minutes. 
Then I noticed that John had drifted away to talk with Susan.  Although I
was a little jealous it didn't really bother me - since I knew the way John
felt about me - and in fact it was kind of exciting to see him with her.

   Also, I was quickly distracted by Michelle.  I think she had figured out
what was going on the moment she walked into the room and saw me there with
John, and I could tell that she was eager to talk to me and find out
whatever details she could about what exactly he and I had done.  It was
very exciting for me to talk with her, because although I didn't actually
tell her any details, she was very flirtatious and she teased a lot of the
story out of me in a very double entendre sort of way, without me ever
telling her anything at all.  She was obviously very pleased that
everything had worked out between me and John.  I remembered how John had
said that he had spent much of the day Monday (that would be, five days
earlier at this point) talking about me and of course it was on Tuesday
that I had messed everything up, so I can see why Michelle would be
relieved to see me and John together on Saturday.  I found myself wondering
if she would be surprised to know exactly what we had done - and how many
times we had done it!  All in all, I was starting to like her very much,
which was a very pleasant sensation because there was John who I was really
interested in, so we could talk without any of the pressure I would
normally feel when getting to know a woman I was attracted to.

   At some point John came over and was talking with us and I got the
impression that he had made some decision and we were ready to go.  I hould
point out again that after what we had said that morning and then coming to
his apartment he was now firmly in control of the situation and I was very
pleased to let him take charge.  So I quickly wrapped things up with
Michelle, said goodbye to Susan and we headed over to the elevator.  In the
elevator, I remember him being quiet but like the cat who swallowed a
canary, and when we got back to his apartment I decided just to wait and he
would tell me when he was ready.  It was only a moment later, though, that
he told me what we would be doing that evening - Susan had invited us to
their apartment for dinner.  More important, though, John revealed to me
that he had some marijuana.  I was quite angry at him, for a second, for
not telling me earlier, but I quickly realized that we had had so much fun
without it, it was better that we hadn't smoked any.

   Then John let the canary loose, as it were.  It turned out that Susan
had some Ecstasy, and John really wanted to see me try it.  That is, he
wanted to stay straight and see the effect the "love drug" would have on
me. I was more than willing to do so, even though I realized that this
would push the concept of me placing myself entirely in his control to the
limit, and maybe beyond.  John told me that what Susan and he had planned
is that the four of us would get together for dinner, smoke a little dope,
and then Michelle and I would drop the Ecstasy and he and Susan would sort
of manage the evening for the both of us.  I was beyond excited about doing
this.  Even though I guess I knew there was some risk of the whole thing
going too far, I think I was willing to trust that John would keep
everything under control.

   He started to show me how "in control" he was when we went to take a
shower together after sharing a few bong hits.  Smoking dope with him
brought me to a new level of horniness and I was very tempted to service
him as I had done before, but he rebuffed my advances while keeping me in a
state of delicious arousal and frustration.  He upped the ante when we got
out of the shower by suggesting we try on some of the underwear I'd brought
with me.  Seeing him in my sexy underwear while modeling others for him
would have been enough, but doing so while stoned was ... well, more than
enough.  But we didn't do anything other than kiss, so we each stayed in a
state of extreme arousal.

   It was about 7 pm when we knocked on the door of Susan and Michelle's
apartment, which was two flights above and only slightly larger than
John's. They looked incredible of course, and we all shared a chaste peck
on the cheek.  After talking for just a few minutes, we smoked a little
with them and then started making dinner.  It wasn't dinner, really, so
much as organized snacks.  We were all very excited and not interested in
food, but we prepared some cheese, crackers, fruit and so forth to give us
energy for the upcoming evening.

   About an hour later we were all sitting together on the couch.  We fell
silent and just looked at each other.  I knew I was ready, and I think
Michelle was too.  She actually reached out to give my hand a squeeze, and
then kept a hold of me.  Susan looked at us and smiled, then gave us each a
small tablet.

   Of course, I really want to tell you about our whole evening (or, at
least, what I remember of it) in complete detail, but I have to confess I
just don't have it in me to do so at this time.  For those of you readers
who are interested, go over to my web site at
plungingintothepool.blogspot.com, and you will soon be able to see some of
the description of that evening that I will post there.  I hope that
eventually I will complete it and I promise that when I do, you'll be the
first to know!

   Instead, I'll skip forward to about 5 am the next morning, when we did
something that was maybe more incredible than what we had done up to that
point.  I think the Ecstasy had pretty much worn off for both me and
Michelle, and the four of us were just lounging in bed.  I was pretty sure
we were about to go to sleep when an idea struck me.

   "Look everybody," I remember saying.  "I know this feeling.  We're about
to crash.  Now I'm not saying that's bad, but I just thought of something,
one last thing.  For me, it would make this whole experience complete.  I
don't know what you'll think about it ..."

   Of course, they were all like, "C'mon tell us." So I explained that
whenever I'm up all night on a summer evening like this, if I play my cards
right I can get a second wind around dawn.  Taking advantage of that second
wind had led to some incredible experiences.  One time was actually with
John, when he and Gary and I (and I think one or two other people) went out
to the countryside after being up all night.  He remembered this too, which
I was happy to hear.  Anyway, I wanted to do the same thing again.

   I told them about Crowders Mountain state park, which is about an hour
away.  It has a trail that takes only about another hour up to a nice
meadow at the top of a hill.  I told them that all we had to do was to get
ourselves dressed and into the car.  We could drive out to the countryside,
get some breakfast at a diner, and then hike up this hill.  It would be no
later than 8 or 9 in the morning, then, that we could crash in that meadow,
in the sun, rather than in the apartment.

   I think I'm even more thankful that they agreed to this, than I am
thankful about everything else we had done that night.  Anyway, that's what
we did.  We took a quick shower - the four of us in the bathroom together
was beyond incredible in itself - and John and I scampered back to his
apartment wrapped in nothing but towels in order to get dressed.  When we
met at my car in the garage, the girls were sporting matching pairs of very
short denim shorts, of course, and looked just incredible.  It's another
story I want to share someday.

   To wrap it up, we slept until mid-afternoon on that hill, and then drove
back to town.  It was a very quiet drive.  I think we all realized that as
wonderful as this experience had been, it would never be repeated.  When we
got back to the apartment building, Susan and Michelle each gave me a very
heartfelt peck on the cheek, and a very tight hug, and we went our separate
ways.

   What John and I did for the rest of the evening is yet another story.

   * * *

   When I woke up in John's bed Monday morning, I was exhausted and spent.
Not much was going on in the office so I had no reason not to call in sick.
Since John was "on assignment" here in Charlotte, he had to at least be
present in the office for most of the day (whether he had to actually
function was another question!).

   I didn't get out of bed that morning until nearly noon.  I had a quick
bite to eat and then went back to my house to get some things so I could
stay with John until Thursday evening, when I had to get ready for my
family's return on Friday.  I planned to take advantage of every moment
until then to be with him.  I got the rest of my underwear, mainly, and a
few more clothes, including a kimono I hadn't worn since my twenties.  It
was a dark blue, light cotton robe that came to mid-thigh.

   That afternoon, I relaxed around John's apartment, and slowly recovered
from what had been a very intense weekend.  Around 4 pm I finally gave in
to myself and took a few tokes of pot.  Under this influence, I started to
fantasize that I was John's housewife (sort of like the girl in the ad that
I had told Elizabeth about!).  I called him at work and very flirtatiously
told him what I was up to and that I'd be ready for "my man" when he got
home from work.  I met him at the door with a drink in my hand, wearing
only the kimono and a thong.  It was an amazing evening.

   In the state he left me in, I had to call in sick Tuesday, as well.

   That night, Tuesday, he took a Viagra.  I told him he didn't have to,
and he probably didn't, but he really wanted too and I can't really say I'm
sorry he did.  He went at me for over an hour.  It was incredible.  I
started out sucking an erection that seemed more massive and rigid than
even seemed possible.  I sure wasn't able to get all of him in my mouth but
I would say I managed to swallow about 6 inches, or two-thirds, of him. 
Given how thick he was I thought it was quite an accomplishment.  He
certainly seemed pleased!  I continued as long as I could, but after what
seemed like forever (it was probably about ten minutes), I had to admit it
was all I could do.

   After seeing so much of his cock disappear into my mouth, he was ready
to go so I just lay back and let him hump on top of me, stroking his huge
cock along mine until I came.  Although he enjoyed watching me come, it
didn't have much of an effect on his erection and I was happy to let him
pound away at me as long as he wanted.  It gave me about 30 minutes to run
my hands all over his ass, back and chest.

   When he was tired, he brought his nipple to my mouth and I got the
opportunity to play with those curls.  This got both of us all hot and
bothered pretty soon and I was ready to open up and take his rock hard cock
into my ass, which he did while I remained on my back.  I think that's kind
of a tiring position for him, and for me too if I wrap my legs over his
shoulders, so after another 15 minutes we thought we should try our best
for him to finish off.

   I got on my elbows and knees and spread myself wide open for him, and he
thrust into me as hard as he could.  I said every dirty, slutty thing I
could imagine to get him to come, but it just wasn't happening.  If I was
going to be walking the next day we'd have to try something else, so he lay
on his back (he really needed the rest) and I gave him the best hand job I
could while continuing to tell him how much I'd been dreaming the past 25
years of doing just that.  But still no success!

   In the end, we realized that a guy knows his own cock best.  And we
figured that if we went back to square one, mentally, it might have the
right effect to put him over the edge.  So I simply laid on my back and
imagined I was back in high school.  I told him the story of the woman
watching the guy next door mow the lawn as best I could remember, and he
jerked himself off.  I added plenty of embellishments and when I saw it
starting to happen for him I begged him to come all over me, just like I
had hoped and dreamed of these past years.  That worked!  He covered me in
his cum.

   On Wednesday, I managed to make it to the office by mid-morning, despite
the intensity of the night before.  Everyone said I looked like shit.  Very
well-fucked shit, I thought, but they were probably right.  I hadn't slept
much the past five nights, and I really couldn't walk that comfortably.  I
stayed there about two hours, and then walked back to John's place for our
last night together.

   We did it for a final time mid-morning Thursday.  We had woken early
that morning, had sex, and then drifted back to sleep.  After waking up
again, I can remember lying on my back, with my right leg pressed against
his chest and my left wrapped around his ass, letting my hand play along
his abs.  It seemed so natural and comfortable, now.  He slowly moved back
and forth inside me and we just talked.  I think we both knew that this
wouldn't be happening again anytime soon, if ever.

   After he went to work around noon, I cleaned up as best I could and
gathered all my clothes in a duffel and went home to throw them in the wash
machine.  Then I crashed.

   I woke up refreshed Friday morning.  I had taken the day off work, so I
had no problem getting to the airport around 10 am to pick up my family. 
Even though I'd had a good night's sleep, I couldn't really be good company
for them that weekend.  I told my wife I had a bit of a cold and I just
stayed to myself whenever possible.  John was still very much on my mind.

   I arrived at the office on Monday the next week, not knowing what to do
with myself.  Some things had piled up from the previous week, but I didn't
have the energy to tackle them.  Around 11 am, John sent me an email.  I
think I wondered what had taken so long.  We exchanged a few aimless
messages and then made plans to have lunch later that week.

   The lunch was very weird, and I'd rather not describe it.  At one point,
he just said, "This isn't going to work." Not in anger or sadness, just
recognition.

   As we were leaving, my most definite memory is of stopping out on the
sidewalk and putting my hand on his arm, knowing it could be the last time
I would ever touch him.  I looked in his eyes and said, "John, I just want
you to know that I like who I am with you.  I really, really, like that
person." He looked back at me, knowing what was coming next.  "But that's
not who I am," I concluded.

   He just gave me a wan smile and nodded slightly.  Then he turned and
walked away.

   Since then, we've emailed from time to time, just keeping up with each
other.  But we've rarely spoken, and we haven't seen each other.

   I still think about him, though.

   All the time.

   Afterword

   I don't think John and I deliberately broke contact with each other or
anything like that.  On the other hand, the experience we shared was
incredibly intense, so if it was something that we wanted to continue I'm
sure we would have found a way to do so.

   Since we haven't really talked since then, I don't know what John thinks
about the whole experience.  In fact, I don't think I ever will know what
he thinks, and I'm ok with that.  Nothing he did indicates that he regrets
what happened.  So I'll wrap up this long story with just a few of my
thoughts about what happened, and a few guesses about what he must have
thought about it.

   First of all, I will admit that I definitely have thought about hooking
up with John again, and if I had the opportunity and he were interested I'm
sure that I would.  I know that in those first few weeks after it happened,
I thought constantly about what we had done - not only the amazing sex, but
how much I enjoyed being with him and liked him as a man and as a person.
And of course, I've constantly fantasized about it since (and I'm sure that
fantasizing has embellished my memory of the events!).

   I think about him every time I'm in my pool, obviously, or running or
biking.  That physical activity gets my blood pumping and I imagine him
being with me - his incredible body working out right next to me.  And
inevitably when I shower after that hard workout, he's there in the shower
with me.

   But to this day, I'm not surprised that John is the only guy I've
fantasized about in this way, and I've come to understand that he's the
only guy I've ever really wanted.  For whatever reason, he alone is
attractive to me; other guys just don't do it for me.  I just can't
emphasize enough how special John is to me in that way and how happy I am
that he turned out to be the one.

   But there's another topic that this story brings up for me.  I hope it
won't be a surprise to you that I don't hold any credence to the "soul
mate" theory.  Instead, I think that there are multiple aspects to every
person's romantic nature and sexuality, both at any one time and as they
develop over time, and for each of these aspects there can be more than one
person who will be compatible.  I actually think it's kind of insulting to
the seven billion people on the planet to say that for each of us there is
only one other person out there.

   I don't think this is bad or a problem at all; in fact, I think the
problems develop when people try to force themselves to be attracted to
only one person and can't understand that it's natural to be attracted to
more than one.  So here's the way I see it, based on what I've been
thinking over the past few years and as I've thought more about this in
writing this story.

   Emily was definitely the one for me when I was in high school.  I really
sincerely liked her in every way at that time.  But as we've each grown and
changed over the past decades, I have no reason to think that we would have
remained especially compatible - maybe we would have, maybe not.

   My wife is the only person I've ever wanted to make a home with and have
a family with.  There's a lot more to that than just that one sentence of
course, but there's no need to go further into that here.

   Elizabeth is really the one who appeals to my "sophisticated" nature. 
If I were with her, it would be all nice clothes and fancy restaurants,
living in London and going to experimental theatre and art galleries.  I
can see why you might think my feelings for her are sort of superficial,
but they go deeper.  Still, it's a life style that, while I would enjoy it
very much, is not the life I've chosen.  And I can't imagine her going out
hiking and giving the dog a bath and all that, but on the other hand, who
knows?  Also, I have no idea whether we would be sexually compatible, or
not.

   That leaves John, of course.

   Frankly, it's a lot of fun for me to speculate about what John really
thought about me.  I say "fun" because of course I have no way of really
knowing and there's no reason it really matters (so long as he doesn't have
any seriously negative feelings, which I don't think he has).

   While I can't be sure, there's no reason for me to think that he was "in
love" with me or that he wanted to set up housekeeping with me in a
romantic way.  Although we enjoyed our week together and sort of played at
that one night or two, I always thought it was a game and he didn't seem to
take it seriously.  It's also significant to me that neither of us acted
like we were "cheating" on our wives during that time.  It was a bit
strange, in fact, that when we did have to speak with them on the phone or
otherwise deal with that aspect of our lives during that week we spent
together, the other one would just sort of step away.  I don't think that
either of us felt guilty about it; instead, it really was just like we were
playing together while our families were otherwise occupied.

   It wasn't only pure sex however, in the no-strings, no-consequences mode
that you see in the movies sometimes.  I do think he really liked me and
felt affection for me as a person, but to come right out and say it, I
don't think he's homosexual or even bisexual, and I don't think he really
saw me as a "man" during that week together.  This may get a little
complicated to explain, and I will confess that this is just as much my
hope or fantasy about what he was thinking, as it is my best guess about
what he really was thinking, but it all fits together and is consistent
with the way he acted.

   My guess is that John came closest to telling me how he really felt
about me when he told me that story about the alien.  (And I'll admit that
this is what I would most want to be for him, and I find the whole idea to
be very erotic and exciting, so maybe I'm a biased judge, but whatever.) My
guess is that when his sexuality was developing, I happened to be in the
right place at the right time, and I was lucky enough to become the subject
of a strange erotic fixation for him.

   The main reason I think this is for a reason that you, the reader, may
understand even better than I.  Since high school, and continuing to this
day, one thing that people have consistently remarked about me is that I'm
different from other people - that is, I think differently, I act
differently and I say things that other people would not normally say. 
However, I don't really understand this, because I don't feel different
from other people.  I don't feel like an outsider.  I don't feel like I
have thoughts or emotions that other people don't have.  In fact, quite the
opposite.  I see movies and TV shows, and I read books, where I feel quite
empathetic with the main characters and I feel like those stories really
speak to me on a personal level.  I've mentioned Lost in Translation, and
Sideways and Little Miss Sunshine are two other examples along these lines.
But maybe that just means that I have a lot in common with the small
subculture of people that write screenplays and books.

   Anyway, I will admit that I was different from most of the people in my
high school, and in a lot of ways I didn't try to be a typical guy, but nor
was I feminine or effete.  I was just my own person, and as John said I was
very intense emotionally and intellectually, and very articulate and
outgoing in an unusual way.  So when you put the whole package together, as
you would say, and combine those aspects of my personality with my long red
hair, slim body and, may I say, perfect ass, you can see how John would, as
he said, look up one day and just notice me.  I can imagine him that day,
watching me in Gary's yard, and just starting to think, "What would it be
like to fuck Mark?  He is so unusual and intense, it seems like it would
just be really wild to fuck him."

   So in the same way that I fixated on him because his body had developed
and girls that I knew had fixated on him, he fixated on me sort of because
my body had not developed like his and my personality had developed in
unusual ways.  Anyway, I was incredibly flattered to hear him talk about me
the way he did, and it still turns me on to remember him describing me as
he did.  I guess most people in high school feel somewhat out of place and
it really just warms my heart that, if only subconsciously, he had found a
place for me.

   Thinking back over this whole experience, and to digress for a moment,
one of the funny things is that I never really got any "closure" on what
John and I did in high school.  It seems pretty clear that he didn't wonder
about it as much as I did, or wonder why it happened.  I wouldn't have
expected this, but I think he actually had more confidence in high school,
and after, than I did.

   For example, it seems like he'd had the same raging hormones as me, but
he had more drive to actually go out and get the girl.  As for me, I was
probably giving off some unusual signals in high school, which would
explain my lack of success with girls.  I think they just didn't really
know how to deal with a guy like me (and John didn't either, it turns out).
I'm referring to my intensity, intelligence, articulateness (is that a
word?), the unusual way I put ideas together, my outspokenness - the whole
package.  All of which, thankfully, becomes much more attractive to women
in college and later.

   Anyway, getting back to John, I can imagine him going off to college and
his sexuality developing in a very powerful way.  The confidence that he
already had from being so attractive in just the right combination that
proved to be catnip for girls in high school would have really taken off in
the situation he found himself at college.  (And who knows what role his
huge, beautiful cock played in developing his confidence!) So I think at
some point there must have developed in the back of his mind the idea that
he was an intensely powerful sexual being who could have anything or anyone
he wanted.  And although he married and repressed that feeling, the story
he read sometime in the 1990s reminded him of it, and when he read it he
thought - that's just like Mark.  It's like Mark is some being not of this
world; some hyper-sexual being who is neither man nor woman, but who has,
well, the perfect ass to fuck.

   Since John is the respectable man that he is, this idea just sort of sat
in the back of his mind until he found himself in Charlotte for the second
time, knowing that I was there too, and finally being at a point in his
life where he had established his family and his career and he was, well,
looking for something.  What's more, he was starting to have a better idea
of what he was looking for.

   If a person's actions speak louder than words, then maybe I can
understand what John thought about me by how he treated me.  And in this
case, if I had to sum it up, I would say that, sexually speaking, John
treated me like an animal - in all the positive sense of the word.  When he
really got going, and dropped his inhibitions, he was very forceful, which
I found to be very exciting.  He'd grab me and push me around, thrust into
or against me very roughly.

   So I have to say that he did treat me just like I said that a wild
little alien elf fuck deserves to be treated, and really wants to be
treated.  Clearly, that was the best part of the whole experience for me.
Aside from how wonderful it was to see him again and to see how well he had
matured into a very attractive man - physically, emotionally and
intellectually - the very best part was how we turned out to be so sexually
compatible (at least in the short term).

   I have to wonder what went into that mix, that compatibility.  Maybe it
was some signal we gave to each other, starting back in high school,
perhaps.  Maybe we gave off the right signal at our first dinner together.
Maybe we were each very perceptive and attuned to each other.  Maybe it was
coincidence.  But it was obvious to me that he wanted to chase, capture,
grab and fuck, and that I wanted to run, surrender and be fucked.  I wanted
a body like his, and he wanted a body like mine.  He wanted to be forceful
and in command.  I wanted to unquestioningly submit.

   It was bliss.  If only for a week, it was pure bliss.  * * * * *

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