THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB Guy Written by Lady Poetess egiggles at moose-mail.com /~bbp Please do not reproduce on any website without permission. This story has no resemblance to anyone dead or alive. ONE "Breathe, damn it!" Harrison Ford was fifty-six, way too old for this shit. He pressed into the man, and was rewarded by the man's coughing up seawater. "Yes, that's it, pump out those water," he told the unconscious man, giving the latter yet another press. Twenty minutes later he was sure the man would live. He lay back on the sand, too exhausted himself, and studied the man before him. Wait a minute - Harry recognized the man now. He was the pretty clever singer in that evening act last night, singing something in what seemed like Irish. Great tune, Harry had thought then. The man looked classy too, in his well-groomed hair and smart tux. Well, the singer's face was now pale, and there was a nasty bruise on his forehead. Harry judged the man to be around thirty, and from the man's smooth hands, Harry judged him to be one of those unused to labor. Probably one of those prissy arty singer-types, although if he had to sing on a barely first-class cruise ship like Delirium, he couldn't be doing too well for himself. Yet the man's frame was tightly muscled, probably from gym, and when Harry carried the man on his shoulders as he staggered to the beach, the man was quite a weight. Of course, it could be because Harry was getting old, and now his aching bones testified to him that he wasn't thirty or even forty anymore. Right now, as Harry felt his strength slowly return, he would look to setting up a fire before they both freeze to death. When the unconscious man was up and could take care of himself, Harry would look to finding help for them both. Guy woke with a soft cry from a nightmare of screams and darkness and sinking ship. "Next time I won't watch Titanic before bedtime," he told himself, wondering why his bed was so hard and wet. He closed his eyes again and wished to die when he realized the whole nightmare was real. He was actually alive, that was for sure. Guy was too practical to panic, and he was sure he would be rescued soon. Probably even now rescue ships were nearby, looking for survivors. After all, this was the twenty-first century and people didn't get stranded on deserted islands any more. If there were anymore unmapped deserted islands around in the first place! No, he would be rescued and be back in New York in no time. Hallelujah, thank you God, he was alive. He moved and was pretty pleased when his body didn't hurt like he expected. There was an awful pain in his forehead, but he touched a clean dressing where he expected a wound. That meant he wasn't alone in this nightmare, for which he was doubly grateful. A man of middle-age years appeared in his sight. Guy blinked - maybe he was dead and in some sort of heaven, because he found himself looking at a man who was so damned. handsome. The face was weather-beaten, tanned, with lines around his eyes and on the forehead, but my, was he distinguished-looking. Guy looked down, at the man's body, bare except for a pair of boxer shorts. The man's body was rangy but well muscled, with the inevitable signs of age and wear. And the shorts clung to shapely, well-muscled thighs and framed a hint of an intriguing cock bulge. Well, Guy had to be recovering very well if he was slowly getting aroused while lying on the sand. "Well, are you going to lie there all day?" the man said. Guy sighed softly. Even the voice was so. manly, for the want of a better, more descriptive word. Low, husky, the baritone made Guy think of hot, sweaty tropical nights in smooth, satin sheets. "Yeah, I am," he said weakly, his voice hoarser than he thought. He accepted the man's outstretched hand and let himself be pulled up. "Ow!" he howled when his joints finally protested. "Easy, you have been lying there for so long. There, move slowly now, that okay?" "Yeah," Guy said through gritted teeth, the pain ebbing now as he staggered to his feet unsteadily. He stumbled, and collapsed into the man's arms. Oh wow, he thought as warm, hot bare skin closed around him. The man's chest was firm under his right cheek yet the skin was soft and tender. He held on to the man's shoulders, his hand reveling under the feel of hard muscles and supple, tanned skin, and he let himself breathed in the scent of the man's skin. For one second, time seemed to stand still as he was in the man's arms. Then he was roughly steadied upright. Guy took a tentative few steps, slowly regaining his balance. "Okay, so when's the rescue squad coming?" he asked the other man. "Or are they here already?" The man only shook his head. Uh oh. "I've not seen any plane or ship, and it's been almost one day. We may just have to wait a little longer. I have scavenged a first-aid kit and some canned food from the shipwreck remnants washed onto the shore. You hungry?" Guy nodded. "Are there any others?" "Just me and you." That sounded terrifying. But panic didn't set in, as Guy watched the man rummaged through a pile of scavenged detritus. The other man exuded quiet strength and reliability. Guy watched appreciatively at the way the man's shorts hugged his buttocks, stretching taut as the man bent to pull out some canned tuna. He couldn't help running his tongue over his dry lips, and he absently rubbed his hand over his erection. He'd bet the man was probably from the army, what with his air of confidence and competency. And this army guy was probably straight and would not hesitate to pound Guy to pieces if he knew what Guy was fantasizing. Guy tried to distract himself from the man's delicious butt by trying to help. They would need fire, right? He saw some dry sticks piled higher up the beach, away from the tide's break, and he decided to start a fire. Hey, everyone needed fire, right? Never mind that he flunked Boy Scouts when he was eight, after burning down the quartermaster by mistake. He rubbed his hands and knelt before the pile of sticks. How did it go? Rub a stick on another stick, that was he saw people do on TV. Ten minutes later he was sweating and cursing under his breath. Those people on TV did it so easily; he started to suspect that maybe they were aided by special effects. He threw the broken twig angrily. Only then he realized the other man had been watching him, a bright twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he scooped out cold tuna from a can into his mouth using his fingers. He was grinning when he tossed a lighter to the sand before Guy. "Here, try this. It may help." Somehow the lighter survived the ravages of seawater. Guy accepted the other can of tuna and felt his gorge rise. "There's no spoon here?" he asked. The other man shook his head in mock seriousness. "I'm going to heat this first," Guy said, wincing at the soggy mess in the can. "Suit yourself. I'll go prepare our beds," the man said, tossing away his empty can and walking away. Guy yelped when the fire burned him. He dropped his can and watched miserably as his dinner spilled onto the sand. He turned, and saw the man grinning again at him. Guy groaned and fell back on the sand. He really was in hell. He had to be. The man had prepared some makeshift bed out of shed coconut leaves piled together. "This is the best I can do," the man said. Guy looked at the so-called bed, too numb to care. He was hungry and he was tired. He had stripped off his ruined shirt and pants and stood in his shorts like the other man. "Great," he said weakly. "Say, I don't even know your name. I'm Guy, Guy Pearce." "Harrison Ford, call me Harry," the man said, already climbing onto the pile. "Come on," he said, patting the spot beside him. "It's not that bad." Guy froze, his lust going overdrive at the thought of sharing the sleeping arrangements beside Harry. And his skimpy shorts wouldn't hide the lascivious fantasies currently playing In Guy's mind vividly - fantasies of himself spread wide, and Harry mounting him, the man's swollen cock impaling Guy. Guy bit back his moan, climbing on the pile of leaves and turning his back to Harry so that Harry couldn't see his erection. Harry was right though, he realized as he placed his head carefully on the leaves. It wasn't that uncomfortable. He lay there, unmoving, not daring to breathe, fully aware that Harry was just behind him, breathing and alive. And so close. At length he heard Harry snore, and he relaxed. He closed his eyes, but he could still see Harry's buttocks, smell his skin, and yearn for his touch to drive this madness away. His left hand reached into the waistband of his shorts, slowly - as not to wake Harry - massaging his painfully hard cock. Only when he finally came in a shudder, pulling down his shorts and shooting his semen onto the sand below as he panted, did he finally could sleep. TWO "We are traveling off Tika-Kiri when the ship sank," Harry said the next morning, "so I guess we are on one of the many islands of the cluster." "Any chance this island is inhabited?" Guy asked, looking at the horizon of the sea in vain for a ship or plane. "I've searched while you were sleeping. There seems to be nothing but forests here. Come on, let's get ready to move inland." Guy turned. "Is that wise? What if they are even now looking for us and misses us?" Harry shook his head. "Do you know anything about these islands? It's March now. Hurricane Celia is approaching fast, and I guess it will be here any day now. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be out here in the open when the storm hits." "This is a nightmare," Guy muttered, looking helplessly at the empty horizon. "This is a fucking nightmare." "Live with it," Harry said not unkindly. Harry was surprised when Guy didn't protest their moving into the forests. The man was quiet, probably in denial, but he surprised Harry by valiantly keeping up with him in their trek even when it was clear Guy was exhausted. Harry let them stop so that Guy could catch his breath, but not once did the man grumble and whine like he did the day before or this morning. Guy was a bungler, which was for sure. Harry trapped them some mousedeer, which he skinned with a knife he scavenged, but Guy only threw up and couldn't do anything but to stare in horrified stupefaction at the blood and raw meat. But the man couldn't eat the final, roasted meat soon enough. Curious about the man, Harry asked, "Not much of a camper, eh?" Guy sat back against the tree, looking most pleased at having his belly filled. "No, I'm not an outdoor type." "So what do you do?" "I'm a musician. Hey, don't laugh. I'm not actually a pop star, of course, I'm more of a classical type. I play the violin, the clarinet, the harp, the piano of course, the Uelean pipes, and I am a first tenor." "Whoa." Harry couldn't play any musical instrument and he was called tone-deaf more than once. "So how come you're singing on that ship?" "Classical musicians aren't exactly hot properties at the moment," Guy said simply. "How about you? The army?" "Navy SEAL, retired. But it doesn't matter now," Harry said. "I was on my vacation when the ship sank." "I understand how you feel," Guy said, smiling almost shyly. "It just struck me, Harry, you must be pretty much used to situations like this." "I'm no longer young, Guy," Harry answered with a grin. "No matter how used I am to this, trust me, I'd rather be in a first class bunk sleeping on a first class bed." "Amen," Guy said, "say, I'm thirsty, is there any water around here?" Harry took out his knife and cut a familiar plant. "Here," he said, gesturing at the sap in the hollow center of the plant. "It's green, but it's water," he said, enjoying the look on Guy's face. He was starting to enjoy himself, he realized with a surprise. Guy met his look with insolent defiance, and took a deep gulp. He choked and sputtered, and Harry surprised them both by releasing a shout of laughter. THREE Harry woke up to the feel of arms holding him. Guy, he realized. Guy was holding him in a lover's embrace in his sleep. Harry made to gently detach those arms from him, then hesitated. He knew, even when Guy thought he didn't, how Guy had looked at him when Guy thought Harry wasn't looking. The notion that Guy might be gay didn't perturb Harry who had seen more unnerving sights in his life. If Guy was gay, Harry had no problems with that. But if Guy looked at Harry that way, Harry didn't know what to think. He was flattered, but he was also disturbed. He had never encountered any gay men, any open ones at least, and he had no idea how to let Guy down gently. He didn't want to hurt Guy, for over the past few days he had started to feel protective over this man. Poor Guy, who was obviously out of his league. Harry didn't know why, but he liked Guy. Guy was funny, and Harry had lived long enough to value laughter in his life. He hence decided to let Guy hold him. After all, they were sleeping ten feet above the ground, and Harry hated to see Guy fall and break his neck. Satisfied with himself, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He couldn't help inhaling Guy's scent, however, and he slept to the scent of warm skin. Guy figured he wasn't doing too bad, looking at his handiwork proudly. He had tied the medium-sized tree trunk pieces Harry had chopped with his ax into a floor large enough to accommodate the both of them. It was his idea to build a tree house where they could stay in one place and weather the incoming storm, and he was surprised when Harry agreed. Now, he looked at Harry tying the wooden frames of the tree-house structure with vine, and he marveled at the man's ability to build anything out of nothing. With a scavenged fireman's ax and knife, Harry was building a house out of wood. "Ready?" he yelled. "Yeah," Harry yelled back, and Guy pulled the rope, sending the floor of the tree house up to Harry. Pulling the crude pulley tested all his gym-rat physique, and Guy was soon gritting his teeth in determination. He had vowed to make himself useful, and he would even if he had to break an arm to do it. And that vow, made out of a need to stop Harry from pitying him as well as to repay Harry for saving him, soon became an agreeable habit. Guy soon lived for Harry's grin of approval, that crooked grin that made his heart beat faster. He admired Harry's skill and ability. He also lusted after the man. The fact that he woke up every morning with a burning erection in an empty "bed" (Harry always woke up early to hunt), dreaming of touching, fucking, and being fucked by Harry was bad enough. It was worst when Harry's shorts started to wear out, the fabrics fraying to reveal hints of tight buttocks and enough cock to send Guy's libido soaring to heaven. Now, he looked up, and he wondered if Harry knew he could see right up Harry's shorts. Guy gave a last pull, and Harry took over, lifting the heavy piece with surprising ease. Guy looked, unable to resist (hey, he was human), up Harry's shorts, and swallowed heavily at the teasing glimpse of Harry's hairy balls and dark shadow of pubic hair. Then Harry shifted, and Guy found himself looking at Harry's butt. The shorts pulled down in a low 'U', revealing the start of Harry's butt curve, and the fabric stretched tight over those curves. "Hey, Guy!" Harry yelled. Guy blinked, feeling as if cold water was just doused over his senses. "Yeah?" Harry looked down at Guy, his crooked grin as always in place. "If you're done drooling at my butt, I'd appreciate if you'll come up here and give me a hand." "You don't mind me drooling at you?" Guy couldn't help asking when he lay down on the newly built tree house that evening. Harry was across from Guy, lacing long, thick leaves to act as window covers. He turned to look at Guy. "No, I don't. Just as long as you keep your hands to yourself, I'm fine with that." "Then you don't mind if I ask to see you naked?" Guy asked mischievously. "Now that I mind." Harry moved to sit across from Guy. "I won't stop you from looking, as long as you know nothing will come out of it." Guy was disappointed, but hey, Harry was being a good sport and he was okay with that. "You don't feel uncomfortable, do you?" he asked. "If so, I can always sleep somewhere else." "I'm sure we can both control ourselves," Harry said. "Well, it's evening and I better go hunt something before we both starve." Harry couldn't sleep. He could hear Guy's soft snores beside him. Turning over to look at the man, he found himself looking at the handsome face of the other man. Guy looked just like one of those fucking models in those men's magazines Harry had read while at the dentist's, chiseled, polished, and cultured. The man was a musician, for fuck's sake. Guy's youth was making Harry feel quite old. Harry grinned at his own foolishness - hell, he was still fit, and he could still fuck as well as anyone, without needing that pill too. Maybe he wasn't fucking as much as he was when he was twenty and had a woman in every port, but he was still getting some regular pussy. He turned his back to Guy, secure in his virility, this time fully intending to sleep. He froze, however, when he heard the man call his name softly. "Guy?" he whispered, then relaxed when he realized the man was just murmuring in his sleep. Guy just turned and crashed right into Harry. Harry froze when the other man's arm fell on Harry's cock. Harry's instinctive reaction was to shake that hand off, but he looked at Guy's face, and again felt the reluctance to hurt this man. He lay back and looked at the night skies, and then at Guy's sleeping face. Tenderness welled up in Harry. He reached out and touched the other man's cheek. He jumped, however, when Guy's hand started caressing his cock. Harry hissed a deep breath - shit, a man was playing with his cock. He sat up and was about to wake Guy up when the man did something really good that made Harry gasped in pleasure. His cock was hard now, and the man was fondling him like he had never fondled before. He shut his eyes, trying to imagine it was a woman playing with him. But there was no mistaking Guy's scent or the way the hand is running up the erect shaft confined in his boxers, or the way the hands played with his balls. Harry couldn't help it, he pressed his crotch up into Guy's hand, then gave a soft cry when he came in his shorts. He lay back, gasping his breath when Guy turned and his hand left Harry's crotch. Shit, but that Guy was fucking good in playing with Harry's cock. An insidious thought snaked into Harry's mind - God, what could Guy's mouth do to his cock? He couldn't shake off that thought no matter how hard he tried. "Shit," Harry cursed, pressing his still hard cock into the leaves. What was wrong with him? The thought of Guy's hand and mouth playing on his cock were too irresistible, however, too seductive. He shoved his hand into his shorts, rubbing himself as fast as he could. It was only after his third ejaculation that night that he could finally sleep. Even then, he dreamed of clever mouths and naughty fingers playing with him, sucking him off, and blowing him. Harry woke up with his shorts a fucking mess. He had to hand it to Guy - Harry hadn't had a wet dream since he was thirteen. Something was wrong with him, Harry realized later that evening. He found himself unable to tear away from the sight of Guy's shorts stretched taut against his tightly rounded buttocks. Harry's mouth actually watered as he found himself thinking of sinking his teeth into those succulent-looking cheeks. Madness, of course - he told himself this was just because he hadn't got laid in weeks. But Guy's butt was sure driving him crazy. Those luscious cheeks moved, rubbing against each other sensually as Guy climbed down the coconut tree. Harry's cock was throbbing painfully in his too short boxers, making an obscene tent with every step he took as he walked towards Guy. "Here, let me help you," Harry said, reaching out to steady Guy when the man was about four feet from the ground. He found himself looking right at those buttocks, and he froze. His awareness of his hands on Guy's bare waist burned him, and he looked at the thin fabric of Guy's shorts. He couldn't help it - his blood roared in his groin, and he was so in lust that he groaned and buried his face in the cleft of those buttocks. Guy almost let go of the tree when he felt Harry's mouth on his butt. "Harry, what are you doing?" he cried in surprise. Harry's only answer was to tug Guy's shorts down his hips. Then Harry buried his nose and mouth in Guy's butt cleft, his rough callused fingers parting the cheeks in a rough grip. Guy let go then when Harry's mouth found his anal pucker. He fell heavily onto Harry, and they fell onto the sand. Guy hurt his elbow, but that was nothing compared to Harry's head buried between his legs, that tongue snaking along his cleft, licking him clean of sweat before toying with the tight ring of muscles under his balls. Harry was now pushing his tongue between the tight folds, lapping at Guy's anus. Guy moaned as Harry started to lick and suck at him, and cried out when he felt teeth gently nibbling the rim of his ass. He spread his legs, gripping his own cock and pumping it slowly, then he arched his back in blinding pleasure when Harry's tongue lapped at a sensitive spot deep up him. He spurted, shuddering, spraying his chest and stomach with his ejaculation. Then he heard Harry groan softly, and felt the man shudder. Guy looked in amazement at the sight of Harry's thick, huge cock, his shorts waistband pushed under his balls, Harry's right hand rubbing that slick, throbbing cock in wild, uncontrollable lust. "No, don't," Guy said urgently, climbing over Harry. Harry looked at Guy staring at his cock hungrily, and he clenched his buttocks, arching his back so that his cock grazed Guy's lips. He didn't care that he was urging a fellow man to suck him, not when his cock was so hard like this that he needed to come or he would go mad. He felt hot, tight wetness close over his cock, and looked in amazement at the sight of Guy, legs spread wide, straddling him, Harry's cock head slowly disappearing between Guy's legs. He was actually fucking another man, but strangely, he felt no revulsion or disgust. He gripped Guy's hips and thrust up, drawing a wild cry from Guy. Christ, the man was so tight, he was sheathing Harry's cock hotter and tighter than any cunt or female ass he had ever fucked. Instinct overrode his caution, and he rammed his hips up even as Guy bucked down, their pubic bones colliding hard. Harry's hands reached up to grip Guy's chest, pinching the man's nipples. So different from a woman's breasts, Harry thought in marvel, yet just as soft and wonderful to touch. He had to taste them. He pushed his upper body up and latched his mouth to one erect nipple, licking it in circular swirls of his tongue until it was throbbing urgently, then he sucked it. Delicious - he even found himself liking the way the fine hairs around the man's nipple felt in his mouth. And that ass! God, if only he had known fucking a man was this hot! He cried, writhing even as he bit gently into the nipple in his mouth, as the warm rush in his groin started. His balls boiled, and his cock only swelled more painfully before his orgasm hit him. He fell back on his back, staring at Guy's pain-pleasure wracked face even as he thrust up so hard that his buttocks left the ground - then he was coming, his semen spurting up the hot, willing receptacle that was Guy. FOUR The storm hit them the next morning. Harry had the foresight to stock up on water and fruits and herbs that became their meal, and their tree house was sturdy enough to withstand the storm. Actually the thick canopies that blocked the worst of the force of the storm protected them as well. Harry spent the days in the storm fucking the very willing Guy. He couldn't get enough of that tight ass, fucking Guy until the latter was sore and begged for mercy. Even then, Harry used the man's mouth instead. Guy was a hot fuck, better than anyone he could remember in his whole life. He even tried Guy's semen, and while he didn't like it that much, he wasn't adverse to sucking Guy off or kissing the man and tasting his own juices on the man's lips. He adjusted the leaves covering the windows, and smiled when he felt Guy's mouth moving up his right leg. He shut his eyes when that mouth reached between his legs. He licked his own lips in anticipation of eating Guy after this, and spread his legs wide to accommodate Guy's head. That tongue that pierced his most vulnerable depths was now licking his inside even as it plunged in and out of him. A thought tantalized Harry - if a tongue felt this good, how about a cock? "Guy," he called hoarsely. "Fuck me, Guy." Guy didn't answer, but Harry felt the man move to stand between his legs. Harry balanced himself on his spread legs and palms on the wall and shivered in fear and anticipation when he felt Guy's wide cock head pressing at his untried anus pucker. "You sure, Harry?" Guy asked softly. Harry nodded, unable to speak, then cried out in pain when that cock pushed up him. He clenched against the cock instinctively, then forced himself to relax when Guy asked him to. Guy started pumping shallow thrusts, an inch or so at a time, and Harry soon felt the pain numb slightly. With each thrust, Guy's cock sank deeper and deeper, and soon Harry was surprised to feel Guy's cock bush meshed against his butt. He had Guy's cock up his ass - and shit if it didn't feel good. No wonder women loved this, he thought, bucking his ass at Guy's pumps. This was great, almost as good as fucking - the invasion was so intimate and personal it aroused the thrill of being invaded and owned. Then Guy's cock hit his prostate, and Harry was utterly lost in his cataclysmic climax, so powerful that he was barely aware of Guy's drenching his insides with hot creamy juices. The storm ebbed three days later, which was fortunate as their food was running low. Harry pulled on his frayed shorts and stepped outside the tree house, rubbing his chest absently as he inhaled the fresh morning air. He spared a look at Guy, asleep on the mat of leaves that were their bed, and smiled to himself. Who would've thought this shipwreck would turn into such an adventure? The last few days were a blur of sexual excesses, and what he and Guy did would put even the most torrid porn fantasies to shame. Guy had totally destroyed Harry's inhibitions, making him a shameless man that begged and craved as well as one who dominated and mastered. Harry saw the plane then. At first he thought he was imagining things, but no, it was really a plane. He made to wake up Guy, then hesitated. He looked at the sleeping man, and then at the sky. When they leave this island, he would lose Guy. They both had so different lives. Guy had told Harry of his concert performances, his face enraptured by the memories and music, and Harry couldn't even imagine the life Guy must have led. Young, vibrant Guy who surely had a life ahead of him. Harry couldn't see himself in Guy's life - not that he wanted to be in Guy's life, he told himself stubbornly. He was so tempted to let the plane fly by and leave them both here, where Guy would always be Harry's and Harry's alone. But he knew Guy deserved better. He smashed his fist into the wall in his frustration and made to wake up Guy. It was over. Guy looked at the quiet man, now dressed in shirt and trousers just like Guy, sitting beside him on the plane. Trust Jeremy to discover their whereabouts, Guy thought, looking at the man piloting the plane, and didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Harry," he whispered. Harry didn't look at him. "Yes, Guy?" "Will you visit me in New York?" Guy asked tentatively. Harry turned to look at him then. "I will," he said softly, almost tenderly. Guy bit back a sob and rested his head on Harry's chest. Harry's arms reached up to envelope him in that muscular warmth he knew so well, and Guy slept a dreamless sleep. Guy's hopes were utterly dashed when he saw the lovely young woman running into Harry's arms the moment they stepped out of the plane. "Is that his daughter?" Guy asked, his voice breaking slightly. Jeremy looked at Guy pityingly. "If so, I would be really disturbed by the way he is kissing her and has his hand on her ass." Guy shut his eyes in pain. At that moment, he realized just how much Harry had gotten under his skin in those few weeks. Harry was his alone during that time, in their own Eden. Now, he had lost Harry and he was slowly dying inside. "I must admit he is well preserved for a man of fifty-six," Jeremy said. "Was he good?" "Shut up Jeremy." Guy said, looking out of the window. He hated this place. He wanted to run back to the wilderness of the tree house where he could be naked and be with Harry. He looked at Jeremy and in that brief moment, felt an unreasonable hatred for his friend for rescuing him and Harry and destroying their bliss. "Just shut up," he said, his voice breaking. Jeremy stopped the car outside an unfamiliar apartment block. "Here, this is your Harry's address. Why don't you drop by and ask him for a ride home?" Guy just looked at his friend stupidly, then opened the door. Jeremy smiled to himself and drove away. Guy's hand paused in its act of knocking. He didn't know why, but he placed his small bag down and pulled out a penknife from his pocket. A minute later he opened the door and walked into Harry's apartment. Harry lived simply, the place predominantly lined with sports and outdoor game trophies on the wall, on the TV, on shelves, and god knows where else. There was also a large golf bag filled with clubs in the corner, and Guy also saw a tennis racquet beside it. And there were numerous certificates on the wall driving home the fact that Harry was one of those macho, physical sort of men. Guy couldn't see himself living here, and for the first time, he understood what Harry might have felt. Guy's life of concerto and sonatas had to be as bewildering to Harry as Harry's life started to seem to Guy. A woman's high-pitched keening cry jolted Guy from his reverie. Despite knowing what he would find, he couldn't stop himself from walking silently to the sound. A low masculine growl following the unmistakable sound of wet slapping flesh seemed to warn Guy to stay away, but his shaking hands only pushed the bedroom door slightly ajar. There was Harry, on his knees, gripping the thighs of the woman Guy had seen him kissing passionately at the airport. Just like Harry held Guy when they fucked in that position. Guy could only watch as Harry's thick, red cock, shiny with the woman's labial juices, pumped smoothly in and out of the woman's red-fleshy cunt, each withdrawal had the man's thick veins rubbing the woman's clitoris and drawing loud cry of pleasure from her. The woman, on all fours, cried out for Harry to fuck her harder. The increasingly frequent slapping sound proved how obliging Harry was. Guy, fighting back tears, walked away. EPILOGUE He saw Harry standing outside his door when he walked home two days later. And at Harry's feet was the bag Guy had left at Harry's house. Guy looked at Harry defiantly. "It was a goodbye fuck," Harry said simply. "We parted friends, Sheila and I." "Good for you. Why are you here Harry?" Guy asked, not moving. "I'm sorry you have to see it. I'm also not happy at you for breaking into my place, but that's okay. I know I'm old and maybe not up to your sort of crowd, but hell, people start relationships with less than what we already had." Harry smiled that crooked, lovable smile. "So how about you and me going on a date? And we can fuck afterwards." The man was incorrigible. Guy felt the reluctant start of a smile on his lips. "Why are you here?" he asked again, his voice trembling only slightly. Harry's smile dimmed slightly, and he looked at the bouquet of roses in his hands. He extended it to Guy. "I came for you," he said simply. For Guy, that was enough. "Come on in," he said, opening his door. Harry's roguish smile followed him into the room.