____________________________
| |
/)| KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF |(\
/ )| DIRECTORIES |( \
__( (|____________________________|) )__
((( \ \ > /_) ( \ < / / )))
(\\\ \ \_/ / \ \_/ / ///)
\ / \ /
\ _/ \_ /
/ / \ \
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o o
o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o
o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o
o o
o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for o
o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o
o o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors. o
o o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Skittlepeak Diary (M+F, wife sharing)
by Ricardo Cabeza (heap@aracnet.net)
(c) 1997
Chapter One
May Days
Arlo called to me from the workshop in the spare bedroom just as I was
preparing our dinner. I checked the pot on the stove and finished pouring
the wine I had selected for the evening meal... a heady Cote du Rhone. I
carried both glasses in to see what he wanted and placed his in its usual
spot to the right of the computer monitor.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Sam kept a diary," he announced with that tone of voice he usual reserves
for pronouncements.
"Yah... so?"
"He kept it for the whole summer!"
I stared blankly at my room mate and tried to figure out why he was telling
me this.
"And... he kept it on his computer." Arlo looked at me expectantly, his
silly smile spreading in direct proportion to his assessment of the time it
might take for me to catch his drift. Eventually his smile faded along
with his estimation of my intelligence. His tone changed to the
long-suffering teacher's voice that he uses whenever I am particularly
thick... or perceived to be. "You know, the computer I gave him last
May... The one we just put the new hard drive into..." Arlo pointed at
the computer on his work bench. "That computer right there!"
"And?" I asked.
"And I found it!"
"You read his diary?" I put on my best expression of outrage.
"No... no... of course not... not yet anyway..."
"Then how do you know it's a diary?"
"It looks like a diary," Arlo hedged. "There's a whole directory of files
with dates for filenames."
"That doesn't make it a diary."
"Of course not, but the directory is called Skittlepeak."
"It's probably files from the hotel computer. Maybe Mom and Dad had him
trying to balance the books. Maybe they backed their stuff up to his
machine in case theirs went down."
"No, man, they're word processing files. They aren't spreadsheets or
databases."
"Well, if they are a diary, we have no right to look at them," I reminded
him.
"No, of course not," Arlo agreed. "What's for dinner?"
"Beef bourguignon..."
"Shouldn't you be cooking it?"
"It's cooking... You're gonna read it aren't you?"
"Of course not!" Arlo lied.
"It's private, you know... There might be something in it that you would
regret knowing."
"I said I wasn't going to read it!"
"Good... It's probably not a diary anyway."
"Of course it's a diary!"
"How do you know?"
"I peeked..."
"Well, if you've already looked..."
"Unh unh... I did a search on my name..."
"How many occurences did you find?"
"Twenty-seven..."
"Do mine."
"Thirteen..."
"You don't waste time, do you?"
"Aaron came up one hundred and twelve times."
"Yah, well they were living together... they still are."
"And they're only three doors down the hall, so we'll have to be careful."
"What are we being careful about?"
"When we read it of course!"
"Oh... of course... Don't you think we'd better think about this a little
longer?"
"Sure, if you want to..."
"Dinner will be in half an hour. It can wait until after we eat, can't
it?"
"I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking." Arlo hit the enter key
and the laser printer began to spew out the files.
"I only meant that we'd think about it until after dinner. I never said I
agreed to reading it."
"You will..."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because I'm withholding my sexual favors until you do," he answered
smugly.
"Well, in that case, I guess I have no choice." Arlo smiled a victorious
smile until I added, "Be sure you print two copies."
"No way!" he said and shook his head resolutely. "I'm reading it before
you do!"
"That doesn't seem fair..." I argued. "Why can't we both read it at
once? Why can't we each have our own copy?"
"Because I'm mentioned twenty-seven times and you're only mentioned
thirteen times."
"So?"
"So, I want to know what he said about me before I let you read it."
"Using that argument, shouldn't Aaron be the first one to read it? He's
mentioned a lot more than either of us."
"Of course he should... but he ain't here."
"I could get him... he's just down the hall."
"Never mind... I'll make you your own copy."
I smiled a victorious smile.
Beef bourguignon is a meal which cannot be hurried, either in its
preparation or its dispatch. I did not, however, leave Arlo alone with the
manuscript while it was being printed. Then I made him close down the
computer and accompany me to the kitchen. I sawed the baguette into chunks
and dropped them into the bread basket while he dished up the ragout and
refilled the wineglasses. We toasted each other and sat down to a meal
that was elegant in its simplicity and tastier than any concoction that we
could have obtained downtown at the Morrisey Hotel.
After dinner we got naked and adjourned to the bedroom with the manuscripts
and the remnants of the wine. We laid on the bed, each of us with a sheaf
of papers. We toasted Sam and began to read.
The diary took us back to Miami and the return trip we had made to
Skittlepeak in a seven passenger van with eight passengers in it. Arlo
nudged me as we both perused the first paragraph and I heard him snicker at
the remembrance of the heat and humidity that had turned the van into a
sauna on the first leg of the journey... in spite of the air conditioning.
In order to pack everybody in, Arlo had given up his co-pilot's chair to
Norm, the largest man in our group. That made fitting three on the middle
seat possible... Vuko being jammed between Arlo and Bill. Aaron, Robert
and Sam shared the rear seat... but not in that configuration.
We had agreed before hand to include more stops on the return trip than we
had been able to allow on the way down. Everybody was given the option of
calling one stop, either rest or entertainment. This would allow us to get
away from each other for short periods, but for some reason, we all hung
together. As cramped as it was in the van, nobody seemed to want to be
inadvertently left behind.
We attended an alligator wrestling match the first afternoon. That was
Norm's contribution to the group cultural activities. It was all we could
do to restrain him from jumping in and having a go, himself. As Robert
later pointed out, we should have let him try. It might have meant a less
crowded van for the rest of the trip. But I pointed out that Norm would
probably have become a bosom buddy to the alligator and brought the thing
home with him.
"Does he always pick up with reptiles?" Robert inquired.
"Usually..." I affirmed.
"You should have met his last room mate," Aaron ventured. "His name was
Al... I think it was short for alligator!"
Norm grinned beside me in the co-pilot's chair, as we headed off towards
our next stop. Norm is affable and almost cuddly. The only time he
becomes anywhere near vicious is when he plays football.
Bill took us to the Kennedy Space Centre at Cape Canaveral the next
day. That took an eternity, and we were beginning to wonder if we would
ever make it out of Florida.
When I declared my group activity, we were well into our second day, and I
picked out a campground that advertised showers. We stopped overnight to
clean up and change. The showers turned out to be community jobs that were
housed by the swimming pool. We got a few looks when we showed up without
our swim suits, but we outnumbered everybody else in the place, so we went
ahead and got cleaned up.
The next morning we visited Atlanta at Aaron's behest. "I've never been
this far south before," he said. "I'm gonna see what's down here!"
Seeing Atlanta is not a one day thing, so we made Aaron define his option a
little more narrowly. He settled for a driving tour and a stop at a gay
bar.
Robert opted for Myrtle Beach and an afternoon swim the next day. That
kept the van moderately comfortable as we drove through the night and on to
Vuko's destination, Washington, D.C.
Sam and Arlo gave their options to Vuko. That allowed him to see the White
House, the Capital and the Lincoln Memorial. Bill and he spent a long time
in front of the Great Emancipator, and later that summer they returned to
take in the Smithsonian and Arlington Cemetary. I guess Bill felt a little
selfish about not having saved his option for Vuko and Washington too.
The truth was, though, that Arlo had given his option up in order to get
home sooner. I had suspected that Sam had done the same thing, and his
diary confirmed it. His diary confirmed a lot of other things as well and
explained the full story behind the pictures... but he didn't get around to
that until June, so I guess I will hold back too.
We dropped Bill, Vuko, Norm and Robert off and headed up to
Skittlepeak. The air was fresher, both outside and inside the van. Arlo
had regained his seat while Aaron and Sam sat behind us in the middle seat
as we drove up to the mountains and their new home.
Chapter Two
Sam Says
It was late afternoon by the time we arrived at Skittlepeak and got squared
away. We let Aaron show Sam around. Arlo and I were more interested in a
nice long shower and a dinner that did not come wrapped in paper or
cardboard. We did not see Aaron or Sam that night because we ate in our
room and took to our bed early. It had been a long trip and one that had
kept us apart even while it thrust us together with six other guys in a
space not much bigger than the average prison cell. We had some catching
up to do.
Across the hall things were a little different... according to Sam's
diary. Aaron and Sam were being polite with each other. Neither one of
them wanted to bring up the subject of sex. They were both intimidated by
being alone with each other after the constant companionship of the trip.
In Miami, things had been different. They had been thrown together in a
situation that presented itself. There was nothing permanent about
it. But at Skittlepeak they faced the prospect of being together at least
every night, in a room that was designed for a couple, but held two single
beds. It was as if the room was trying to tell them that there were house
rules, and reinforcing the fear they both had about mentioning any form of
sexual intimacy.
They had spent the afternoon and early evening exploring the hotel and its
outbuildings. Sam seemed to revel in the cool fragrance of the pines and
after they had eaten, they went to their room to unpack and watch a little
television. Sam opened the window to find a forest of pine just
outside. He was clearly overdosing on the smell. I guess that after
Miami, the clean smell of a pine woods was refreshing. In Miami the
predominant odor is of sunblock and partially cooked tourists... not an
altogether appealing combination.
After the trip back from Miami both Sam and Aaron were a touch on the gamey
side themselves. They both needed a shower, and Aaron asked Sam if it was
all right to shut the window because he was going to be showering,
Well, in spite of the fact that they were both nearly naked, they were
still being polite about the sex business. Sure they had been going at it
hot an heavy in Miami, but there was a hiatus of sorts on the trip back.
Now, the question becomes, how do you re-establish that sort of thing
without taking a chance that the other guy is going to say, it was just a
one-time thing while we were in Miami and now that we're living together,
maybe we shouldn't see so much of each other.
Sam didn't want to be the guy to suggest it, because now they were on
Aaron's turf... more or less... and so they had laid around the room since
seven o'clock doing nothing but talking and watching a little
television. Then when Aaron mentioned the shower, Sam sort of perked his
ears up.
"Do you want to shower with me?" Aaron asked.
Sam said he thought that would be great since he really did need somebody
to scrub the sweat off his back.
"Yah, me too," Aaron said.
So they both got naked. But even then there was nothing sexual about
that. They'd both been in locker rooms before. Aaron adjusted the water
temperature and they climbed in, taking turns soaking themselves, and after
a road trip that cover the length of the country, it sure felt good. They
lathered themselves up and then Aaron turned around and Sam did his back
for him. He did it all the way down and even slipped into the crack of his
ass. Sam felt Aaron sort of shudder when he hit pay dirt, so he figured
there was some interest there.
Then Aaron did Sam.
Now when I say that Aaron did Sam, I mean he washed him all the way down to
his feet, and he scrubbed each one of them for him too as Sam leaned
against the tub enclosure and tried to pretend that he wasn't ticklish.
Naturally, Sam reciprocated and did Aaron's feet too, then they rinsed off
and got out of the tub.
They still hadn't mentioned sex to each other, so Sam was sort of wondering
why the guys came all the way to Miami to find him, if they really weren't
interested in him.
Aaron dried himself off and got out of the bathroom before Sam. Sam didn't
know whether it was that he was in a hurry to get his clothes on or what,
but he figured he would try another route. He wrapped a towel around
himself and hurried after Aaron. He caught him pulling up his boxers and
noticed that he had an erection. Aaron seemed a little embarrassed.
Sam pretended that he had not seen it, and asked Aaron if it was too late
to get a massage. It was about ten o'clock by then, but Aaron smiled at
him and told him that he did not mind giving him a massage any time he
wanted it. He got out his bottles of goop and told Sam to lie down.
Sam thought that he had perceived an interest so he took off his towel and
laid down butt naked on his bed. He laid on his stomach so as not to
appear too anxious, and also because he was getting hard anticipating what
the massage might lead to.
As Sam recorded in his diary, "Aaron has himself a good ass, and I had made
use of it in Florida on two or three occasions... well, five if you count
the first time I poked him in the shower."
"Aaron has great hands too and I almost went to sleep as he worked my
muscles for me and worked that special lotion of his into my skin. It felt
just great. When it came time for me to roll over I discovered that he had
removed his boxers and was standing straight up. I had lost my hardon as I
relaxed while he massaged me, but I felt it beginning to return. And when
he asked me what he asked me, it was all I could do not to pop a boner on
the spot."
"'Sam, will you let me dock with you?' he asked. 'I'd sort of like to feel
what it's like to have foreskin. Mine got ripped off nineteen years ago.'"
"'Sure, man," I said. I didn't know what else to say. In fact I thought
it was kind of nice to be able to let him use what I had, since I'd been
using what he had quite a bit. So I stood up and faced him and we brought
the tips of our cocks together."
"I felt a sort of a tingle pass through me and right out of the head of my
dick. I noticed that Aaron shuddered too, but it was nothing to the shiver
that I felt him pass back to me when I drew my foreskin down over the two
of our cock heads. He seemed to wobble a bit, like his knees were about to
buckle, but he steadied himself and took hold of the skin to rub it back
and forth along his glans, until of course, I was rock hard and had taken
most of it back."
"When he looked up at me, there was no need to speak and no doubt at all
about the way we both felt. We left the rest of the massage for another
night and I pulled him down onto me as I sat down onto my bed. I felt
between his legs as I kissed him, and found the spot where I had entered
him so many times in Miami. It grabbed my finger and squeezed me as I
pushed into him, and soon enough he reached for the oil and a condom and
slipped a sheath onto me."
"We had sex there on my bed, and it was an unspoken agreement that we would
feel free to touch and fondle and kiss one another, not only that night,
but whenever the spirit moved us... except, of course, during working
hours."
Arlo closed his copy of the diary when he read that. He looked at me with
that silly grin he gets when there's something going on in his brain.
"What?" I inquired.
"Do you want to play a game?" Arlo asked.
"What game?"
"Sam Says..."
"Is that anything like Simon Says?"
"A little..."
"Are you going to tell me the rules, or are you going to make them up as
you go along?"
"Probably a little of each. I thought that we would agree right now that
every time Sam mentions any sort of sex in his diary that we will stop
reading and act out whatever it is that he describes."
Well I had to admit that it sounded like fun and a little kinky too, but I
still had my reservations. "Who plays Sam and who plays Aaron?"
"We'll flip for it. You got a quarter?"
"In my pants... I think they're in the kitchen."
"What are they doing in the kitchen?"
"That's where you pulled them off me, remember?"
"Oh yah... I guess mine are there too..."
"So, what do we do tonight?"
"We start where they shower together. Don't forget you have to wash my
feet, not suck the dirt off them."
"That's assuming you're Sam..."
"You don't read too well, do you? They both washed each other's feet."
I checked my copy of the diary. Arlo was right... as usual.
"And no sneaking ahead and finding out what's coming up," Arlo
ordered. "We do it the same way Sam and Aaron did it, understand?"
"What if they don't have sex for the rest of the diary? We could have a
very boring love life for a while. Or what if Sam or Aaron has sex with
somebody else?"
"Are you starting to make rules too?"
"No, but I do think we should sort things out a little before we start."
"Let me worry about the details, Rick. Get your ass into the bathroom..."
"Kitchen..." I corrected.
"Yah, right... the kitchen..."
We flipped the quarter and I became Aaron to Arlo's Sam. Arlo liked the
way that turned out, so he kept the quarter for all future tosses. He
wedged it into a crack in the headboard of our bed. Then he locked the
diaries into his filing cabinet and led me to the bathroom, where I washed
his feet for him and then he did mine.
I hurried out of the bathroom as Aaron had done and Arlo found me in the
kitchen pulling on my undershorts. He was wrapped in a towel.
"Is it too late for a massage?" he asked.
"No problem..." I answered.
"No, no, no, no, no!" Arlo complained. "You have to say what Aaron said."
"How the hell am I supposed to know what Aaron said? You locked up the
diaries!"
"I was right, you don't read too well! Do you really need a script?"
"I could use one..."
"It isn't that difficult, Rick..."
"I'm Aaron, remember?"
"If you were Aaron you wouldn't need a script! Now pay attention... Aaron
told Sam that he didn't mind giving him a massage any time he wanted
one..."
"That's what I said... No problemo!"
"Just try it my way, will you?"
"So what do I use for lotion? About the only thing we have in a squeeze
container is the ketchup... or the mustard, but they're both in the
fridge."
"You aren't covering me with ketchup!"
"Well, Aaron used some lotion on Sam, I remember that much."
"Fine... go and get it!"
"What?"
"The lotion... go and get it. They're just down the hall."
"I'm in my underwear!"
"I'm in a towel... it's just down the hall..."
I grabbed a towel too and wrapped it around myself. Then I took the
apartment key that we keep on a chain in the hall closet for whenever we
have to do the laundry, and hung it around my neck. It wasn't that I
didn't trust Arlo to let me back in, but he was feeling a little frisky
that night.
There was no one in the hall as I crept along towards Aaron's and Sam's
place. I rapped on the door. It took forever for someone to come. When
the door opened, I noticed that there was a chain across it.
"Yah?" Aaron asked.
"Let me in, will you?"
"Ahh... sure, Rick... just a minute."
The door closed and opened to admit me a few seconds later. Aaron was
wrapped in only a towel himself.
"I'm sorry... I didn't disturb anything, did I?"
"Naw... nothing important, Rick. What's up?" Aaron asked.
"I need to borrow some of your lotion. Arlo wants a massage and he won't
let me use ketchup."
"Ahhh... sure..."
"You aren't using it, are you?"
"No... not right now... I have extra anyway. Wait here... I'll get you
some."
Now to say that Aaron seemed distracted would be putting it
mildly. Usually we had the run of each other's apartments. I was
immediately suspicious that he was trying to hide something from me... so
naturally I had to know what it was. Whatever it was, it was in his
bedroom. I needed a reason to get in there. I opened the door and waved
for Arlo to come down.
When Aaron returned with the lotion, he found Arlo and I waiting for
him. I hadn't had time to explain things to Arlo other than to tell him to
go along with everything I said.
"Ahhh... hi Arlo."
"Hey, Aaron..."
"We have another problem, Aaron," I ventured. "Arlo came down to see what
was keeping me, and he accidently locked us out of the apartment."
I caught Arlo glancing at me out of the corner of his eye just before he
agreed with me.
"How are you going to get back in?" Aaron asked. "Do you want to call the
Super?"
"No, there's no sense bothering him," I smiled. "I have a spare key in the
van. If you can let me borrow some clothes..."
Arlo nodded and smiled beside me.
"Ahhh... I..." Aaron stammered. "I'll get you some..."
"That's okay," I said, "I can pick something up myself. I know where
everything is."
"You can't go in there," Aaron snapped, stepping in front of me as he did.
"What's the matter, Aaron?" I asked.
Aaron seemed at a loss for words. When my answer finally did come, it came
from the bedroom.
"It's okay, Aaron... You can let them come in," Sam called.
Arlo looked at me out of the corner of his eye. Aaron glanced at the two
of us too. But he looked a little worried as he stepped back and allowed
us to go through to the bedroom.
We found Sam naked and spread-eagled, his ankles and his wrists tied to the
four corners of the bed.
"Hi, guys," he grinned. "What's up?"
Chapter Three
All Tied Up At The Moment
"So," I inquired, "how have you been keeping lately, Sam?"
"Sorry, guys... I'd get up, but I'm a little tied up at the moment," Sam
apologized.
"We noticed that," Arlo assured him. "But you're looking good... er,
well..."
"Never felt better in my life," Sam assured us. Then he smiled at us. We
smiled back at him. Then we smiled at Aaron.
"So, how's the new computer coming?" Sam asked.
"You can pick it up any time you want," Arlo answered. "That is, anytime
you're free."
I wasn't looking at Arlo when he said that, but I am sure that there was a
twinkle in his eye.
"I'll be over later, then."
There didn't seem to be anything else to add. I borrowed a pair of Aaron's
pants and his slippers and we left them alone to finish whatever it was
they had started.
We got back to our apartment and Arlo looked a little worried as I slipped
out of Aaron's pants and tossed them onto the couch.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm just wondering if we should have read all the way through the diary
before we started acting it out," he answered. "Do you suppose we'll find
stuff like that in there?"
"If we're lucky..." I grinned. "You're the guy who made up the rules of
this game, Arlo. Are you chickening out?"
"No... of course not! It's just that, I'm a little... sensitive... you
know, to touch."
"You're ticklish aren't you?"
"Didn't I just say that?"
"Well, you'd better just hope that if we ever do get into stuff like that,
your lucky quarter will know which side of the game to put you on. Now, I
believe we had got to the part where I told you I didn't mind giving you a
massage any time you wanted one."
"Actually, you said 'No problemo!'"
"Do you want the massage?"
"Of course I do."
"Then haul your scrawny ass into the bedroom!"
"I don't think Aaron ever told Sam that he had a 'scrawny ass.'"
"Sorry about the 'scrawny' thing." I pulled Arlo's towel away from
him. "You know I love your ass."
"You spend enough time with it."
"And I'm looking forward to spending a lot more in... er, with it, real
soon. Are you sure you want that massage?"
"Of course I want it, and by the way, don't be too anxious. I get your ass
tonight... It's in the book."
"We could always flip again... How about best two out of three?"
"Sorry..."
"Well, then... maybe when we're finished..."
"We'll see... But if you don't get started..."
"Yah, it's getting a little late, isn't it?"
I grabbed Arlo's cock and pulled him into the bedroom. The thing about
Arlo is, when you have him by the cock, you pretty much have the majority
of him under control. Of course, the longer you hold onto the thing, the
more of the thing there is to hold onto.
I laid him face down on the bed and surveyed the territory that I had come
to know and love so well. I couldn't help leaning over and kissing him on
the back, just below the neck. One thing led to another and before I knew
it, I had repeated the kiss at intervals along his spine roughly equivalent
to the intervals of his vertebrae. When I reached the crack of his ass, he
protested a little.
"Aaron never did that to Sam."
"Aaron is just an amateur," I argued and explored a little farther south.
"Stick to the script," Arlo ordered.
"I'm editing the script."
"You're also giving me a hard on. I'm supposed to be losing my erection,
remember?"
"I don't think Sam complained as much as you do."
"Sam probably has trouble writing dialogue," Arlo answered. "Are you gonna
give me a massage... sometime tonight?"
I pulled my tongue from between his cheeks and grabbed the lotion. By now
I was a pretty fair masseur. I applied a smidgen to Arlo's shoulder
blades. Then I slipped out of my shorts and placed my finger tips
tentatively onto his back.
Arlo sighed and I felt the tingle of a shiver as I probed the sensitive
areas of his arm pits. His sighs turned to moans the further south I
traveled and when at last I had reached his ass crack again, I could feel
his body more or less completely relaxed as I explored his nether region,
revealing the spot between the mounds, and the seam that ran from it to his
testicle sack, just visible between his legs. I did each leg separately
and ended with his right foot.
This was where the script took over again and I tried to remember my part.
"You'd better have a boner when I roll over."
I remembered my part.
"Don't worry, I've got one."
Arlo turned his head and looked up at my stiff cock.
"Are you going to roll over?" I asked him.
"Don't rush me!"
I recalled that Sam was to have been flaccid when he rolled over.
"You've got a boner too, haven't you?"
"Don't make me think about it. How the hell did he do it? I get a
goddamned erection every time somebody touches me!"
"Sam started to get a boner when Aaron asked him to let him dock with
him. We could cut straight to that part."
"Yah, I think we're gonna have to."
Arlo flopped over onto his back and his flagpole sprang up wobbling in his
lap.
"Are you gonna have enough foreskin to dock with me?" I inquired.
"I don't think so..." He sprang to his feet and headed for the
bathroom. I heard the water running. A few moments later he was back and
under control. "You'd better be quick about it," he ordered. "I'm not
sure how long I can contain it."
"You don't have to contain it. It has to contain me... remember?" I
brought the tips of our cocks together. I noticed right away that his was
cold and wet. "You could have dried the thing off," I complained.
"I didn't want to rub it too much."
Arlo slid his foreskin over our two heads. I waited. Nothing...
"I'm sorry," I told him. "This does nothing for me. It feels sort of...
normal, only a little crowded. How about you?"
Arlo shook his head. "I guess one of us would have to be circumcised..."
"Don't even mention it!" I pulled my cock away from his. "Where do you
keep your condoms?"
"I don't have any anymore."
"We'll have to get a stock of them. I wonder if they're cheaper by the
gross."
"Do you really think we're going to need that many?"
"Judging from what we saw at their place tonight... yah. We're lucky they
decided against having sex during working hours."
Arlo got his grin going again, and grabbed me. He pulled me down onto
him. I felt his tongue seek my mouth and I let him into it. Arlo is a
world class kisser. He quite takes my breath away sometimes... in every
sense.
I was gasping for oxygen when we finally broke and I felt for the lotion
bottle. He took it from me and prepared me for mounting. Already he was
rock hard again, and I felt the unmistakable penetration begin as he raised
my legs to his shoulders.
I gave myself over to the sensation and floated in my euphoria as Arlo
worked me from above and his lips twitched at the corners of his mouth as
the inevitable ecstasy showed itself on his face. I felt him rising within
me, his cock becoming ever harder as he stroked me and my ass clutched at
him. He was experiencing the euphoria too. He was about to come off. It
was the tickle before the sneeze, if you will.
Then the door bell rang.
He tried to ignore it. But the moment was gone. There was no way to
recall it either. Now, regardless of whatever his brain had done to bring
him to the verge of orgasm, there was another piece of information floating
around in there with it. Somebody was at our door.
It didn't help to know who was at the door, and that they had told us that
they were coming, and that we deserved to be interrupted by them the same
way they had been interrupted by us. Nothing helps the futile useless
feeling that you are not going to get off, and about the only thing you can
do is get off the other guy and go take a leak.
That's where Arlo went.
I wrapped myself in my towel and went to the door.
"I hope we aren't interrupting anything," Aaron smiled.
"Naw..." I told them, "come on in, guys."
"Where's Arlo?" Sam inquired.
I toyed with the notion of telling him that I had strung Arlo up to the
balcony railing, but before I could formulate the idea, the toilet flushed
and the question got its truthful answer. Moments later, Arlo joined us.
"Oh, hi..." he smiled. "I thought I heard the doorbell."
"We're sorry we interrupted you," Sam apologized.
"What makes you think you interrupted something?" Arlo inquired, all
sweetness and light.
"Well, for one thing," Aaron answered, "you're both still wearing
towels..."
"...and for another," Sam added, "your clothes are on the kitchen floor."
"We're just lousy housekeepers," I assured them. "All of our clothes are
dirty, and we haven't done a laundry lately. I suppose you're here for you
pants and slippers."
"And my computer," Sam added, "but we also wanted to invite the two of you
over for dinner tomorrow night. Are you doing anything?"
I looked at Arlo. Other than reliving another page from Sam's diary, I
couldn't think of a thing we had planned. Neither could Arlo.
"Great!" Sam exclaimed. "Aaron is going to try a recipe that Philippe
showed him. Philippe showed us both a lot of things. I think even you
will be impressed, Rick."
"I'm sure I will," I grinned.
"What are you two cooking?" Arlo inquired.
"It's a surprise," Aaron told us.
"You two are just full of surprises lately, aren't you?"
"Oh, that... We were just trying out a little bondage," Sam shrugged.
"Do you do it often?" Arlo inquired. I never cease to be amazed by his
nerve.
"That was our first experiment... together," Sam explained.
"But you have done it before?" Arlo pursued.
"Only in the pictures," Aaron reminded us. "You remember... the bondage
pictures started showing up just before we met Vuko, Bill and
Robert. That's what made us think about trying it. We were looking
through the pictures and I said they made me sort of hot. Sam thought that
was a good enough reason to try it... not that we need a reason to try
anything... I mean if we want to do something, we usually just do it."
Sam smiled an embarrassed smile.
"Sometimes, it even works," he grinned.
There was an embarrassing silence. Sam looked at Aaron and Aaron looked at
Sam. Arlo and I did the same. Then Arlo made the suggestion.
"Why don't I show you the system I put together for you?"
Sam agreed gratefully and followed Arlo to his workshop. I picked up our
clothes and tossed them into a much neater pile in the corner of the living
room.
"You seem happy," I mentioned to Aaron as we opened a couple of beers and
sank onto the couch.
"That's only because I am, Rick," he grinned.
"I'm sorry we put you guys on the spot tonight," I apologized.
"You know, I'm kind of happy you did. Once I got him tied up, I had no
idea what to do with him. I've never done that sort of thing before. It
sort of requires a different mindset... one that I didn't know anything
about. I was failing miserably until you got there. I don't have what it
takes to be a dungeon master. It would probably have been better if he had
tied me up."
"So how did we help?"
"You broke it up. You ruined the mood and after you left there was no
chance of recapturing it, so I just did what I wanted to do to him... and
he had to let me."
"Doesn't he usually?"
"Yah, sure... but being tied up like that, it put me in total control."
"I think you're probably getting close to the original intention there."
"Yah, I suppose so, but I still didn't like the idea of putting the clothes
pins on his nipples... so I put them on mine."
"You guys didn't experiment with anything even remotely like this up at
Skittlepeak, did you?" I felt the need to know, and Arlo had made me
promise not to peek ahead in the diary.
"Naw, things were pretty tame up at Skittlepeak. We both had a lot of work
to do up there, Rick. Don't get me wrong... I love the place and I want to
go back next year... but it doesn't leave a lot of free time for fooling
around."
I nodded. If what he said was true, the game Arlo and I were playing would
probably fizzle out after the first week. I took a swig of beer. It
emboldened me a little.
"But you guys did get it on up there, didn't you?"
"Oh, sure... just nothing very kinky."
"No trapezes?"
"Nope."
"No straight jackets?"
Aaron laughed.
"And no mud wrestling either!"
"I'm glad to hear that!"
"Why the interest in Skittlepeak, Rick?"
"Because Arlo and I are going up this weekend to get in some tennis. I
wanted to make sure the employee wing would still be standing."
"Don't worry, it's still there. I wish Sam and I could go along with you,
but he's got a seminar this Saturday."
"There'll always be another time, Aaron."
"Yah... I know... and it's kind of neat to know that. This has been a
pretty special year for me, meeting you guys, getting my ass kicked out of
my house, finding the man of my dreams, learning to cook and knowing that
there's nothing wrong with me. It sort of makes you wonder what you can
possibly do for an encore."
"How about graduating?"
"Yah, I suppose that would sort of top the list."
"What list?" Sam asked.
He and Arlo were back with Sam's new portable system.
"The grocery list," Aaron grinned. "We still haven't got everything we
need for tomorrow's dinner. Are you going to pick up the wine?"
"Yah, how about a nice sangria?" Sam suggested.
"As long as you're only serving gazpacho..." I sneered.
"I don't think there really is such a thing as a nice sangria, is there?"
Aaron wondered.
"Stick with French wine and Swiss cheese," I suggested. "The original wine
and cheese party."
Aaron and Sam took their leave, and Arlo joined me on the couch. He looked
at me kind of funny as he finished Aaron's beer for him.
"Did you want to try again?" I asked.
"I was hoping you would offer," he grinned.
I finished my beer first and then he led the way to the bedroom.
"By the way," I noted, "Aaron tells me that things were pretty tame up at
Skittlepeak this summer."
"Hmmph..." Arlo snorted. "According to Sam, we have a wild ride ahead of
us."
"So one of them is a liar," I observed.
"Seems so..." Arlo concurred.
"I wonder which one it is?" We both said it at once.
Then Arlo fucked my brains out.
Chapter Four
Dinner For Four
I had a busy day the next day. I had a full slate of classes on the last
day before the long weekend and a meeting with one of my professors for a
little extra help. He wanted to know how to make a good soufflé and I
agreed to share my secrets with him. It never hurts to make a good
impression... on the professors, not the soufflé... a good impression on a
soufflé can be disastrous.
I got home to find Arlo working on one of the specialty systems he
assembles for his parents' business. I couldn't help noticing that the
filing cabinet was open.
"Been reading ahead, have we?" I inquired.
"Be very careful," he warned me, without looking up from his magnifying
glass. "I have a soldering iron in my hand."
"That isn't part of tonight's workout, is it?" I inquired.
"You'll see..."
That sounded rather ominous, so I decided I'd better wait until he wasn't
quite so busy, or at least until he was unarmed, before I pursued the
matter. My next stop was the bathroom. If we were going to dinner that
night, it wouldn't hurt to get cleaned up a little early, I decided.
I brushed my teeth, shaved, adjusted the water and had just stepped into
the tub when Arlo joined me. We shared a deep long kiss before setting to
the task of scraping each other clean.
"So, where does the diary take us tonight?" I asked.
"The boathouse," Arlo answered. "But I don't think we'll make it there
tonight."
"Sam worked in the boathouse when we first got to the lodge," I
remembered. "Dad had him scraping and caulking old Eleanor."
Old Eleanor is an inboard motor boat that my father managed to buy one year
at an antique boat auction. She is sleek and sedate, but not too fast.
"That's right, and Aaron had every afternoon off because he worked mornings
and evenings in the kitchen. Guess where he spent the afternoons?"
"The boathouse?"
"Very good!" Arlo beamed. "Old Eleanor was not the only one that got a
good shellacking out there."
"Actually, they use marine varnish."
"Yah, but it makes a lousy metaphor."
"But dad didn't leave Sam alone with Eleanor until he was sure he knew what
he was doing."
"That's why we have tonight off. They didn't get the place to themselves
until the following day, and only after your father was called away by your
mother. Then they discovered where that ladder in the wall leads to."
"My dad's attic?"
"Uh-huh..."
"They used my dad's hiding spot?"
"And his old sofa. That's where we continue the saga, tomorrow
afternoon... after I whip your sorry ass on the tennis courts." Arlo
turned me into the shower's spray to rinse me off.
"That'll be the day..." I got a mouthful of water and spit it over my
shoulder at Arlo. I was having a hard time accepting that my friends had
violated the one space I had never been allowed to enter... my father's
inner sanctum... the holy of holies... But what made it even more
difficult was that tomorrow, I would follow their lead. I, too, would
become a trespasser. Even though Arlo assured me that my father would
never know that we had been there, I could not get over the absolute
certainty that I always would.
But there is nothing that I can refuse Arlo, so I set myself to become a
criminal... at least in my own eyes, and those of my family. And then we
got dressed for dinner.
We were just about ready to go when the doorbell rang. This time it was
the downstairs doorbell, the one in the lobby. I picked up the intercom
phone and said hello.
"Rick, it's me... Norm. Can I come up for a minute?"
"We're just going out to dinner, Norm... will it take long?"
"Not really, man... but I would appreciate it if I could talk to you guys
for a couple of minutes."
We had gone from one minute to a couple. Next it would be "five minutes...
tops!" So I pushed the buzzer and opened the lobby door. Thirty seconds
later the other doorbell rang.
"Thanks, Rick," Norm said as he barged into the living room.
"What's up?" I asked and Arlo joined us as I did.
"I'm having room mate problems again," Norm confessed.
"Robert?" Arlo asked. "What's wrong with Robert?"
"He's not the problem," Norm winced. "I think I am."
"We've always known that, Norm," I smiled, "but what drew it to your
attention?"
"He told me I'm a slob."
We looked at him. We hoped there was more to it than that. There
wasn't. But being a slob is rather all-encompassing and a full-time job
for most people who are that way.
"Did he say he was moving out?"
"No..."
"Did he say anything else at all?"
"No..."
"He just sort of hit the main point and left it at that, huh?" Arlo asked.
"Yah..."
"This is what you wanted to talk to us about?"
"Yah..."
"Was that all you wanted to say? I mean, you told me it would only take a
minute, but I think you have another twenty seconds left. Did you want to
elaborate?"
"I just wanted to get your opinions," Norm confessed.
Arlo and I looked at each other. Norm was my friend though, so it was up
to me to provide the response.
"Yah, I guess we'd pretty much have to agree with Robert on this one big
guy."
"No, man... I mean, do you think I have to worry about it? I know I'm a
slob... I'm a football player, after all! Football players are supposed to
be slobs. Well the defensive team is. It's my job to be a slob! What I
want to know is, do you think it's right for Rob and I to be arguing all
the time?"
"Do you guys fight?" Arlo asked.
"No way, he's just always putting down football players. And he makes me
clean up the place too."
"That's not so bad," I told him. "I've been in your room, Norm. It could
use an occasional pitch fork."
"Do you argue with him too," Arlo asked.
"Of course. I tell him that Lacrosse players are pansies."
"So it's pretty much give and take then."
"Yah, but I thought when two guys were making it, that they really should
have a lot more in common."
Arlo looked at me.
"You guys are making it?" I asked.
"Yah..."
"When did this start?"
"In Miami..."
I looked at Arlo. He was looking at Norm... from a totally new
perspective. Miami was almost six months ago.
"But you're always arguing?"
"Yah... even when we're making it. You guys both know that I've had a lot
of room mates and some of them I have even had sex with. I used to try to
make them happy and do things for them, but they always split after a
couple of days. When Rob moved in, I decided that I would not try as
hard. I didn't want to be hurt again, so I figured I would just be
myself. That way, if he didn't like it, I wouldn't feel like he took
advantage of me. It didn't seem to matter to him. We were always arguing
anyway, but it didn't stop us from having good sex. That's what worries
me. Is that normal?"
"It seems to be normal for you two. I wouldn't worry about it, Norm... as
long as you guys keep making it. It sounds like you both treat sex as a
sort of a competition."
"Well, yah... You mean, it isn't?"
"It's whatever gets it done," I assured him. "You and Robert seem to feed
off each other's egos. It's probably because you both feel dominant. That
could account for the arguing."
"So it's normal?"
"There's no such thing as normal, when it comes to sex, Norm. Sex is what
you make it. You work with what you have."
"So, we're all right?"
"Sure you are. I hate to mention this, Norm, but we have to leave in a
couple of minutes."
"Yah... well, that's all I wanted to ask you."
Norm strode for the door and his hand was on the handle when I heard Arlo
ask him, "Do either of you guys keep a diary?"
"Not me," Norm answered. "Why? Do you think I should?"
"Definitely not," I told him.
Norm smiled a confused smile and made his way through the door. I glared
at Arlo.
"Well, it could've been fun," he shrugged.
"I think we're already having enough fun, don't you? Are you ready to go?"
Arlo grinned at me and opened the door.
As he pushed past me, I realized that Arlo and I spend a lot of our time
arguing too. It hasn't seemed to hurt our relationship.
I only hoped that I would be able to say the same thing after the weekend.
Sam opened the door and we knew we were in trouble. We were under-dressed
anyway. He was wearing patent leather shoes and a sleek black tuxedo. His
hair was moussed as well and there was a bright white towel over his arm
and a bright white tie at his throat.
"I think we have the wrong apartment," Arlo said as he turned around and
tried to make good his escape.
Sam managed to get Arlo by the scruff of the neck and drag him back into
the apartment.
"What's with the penguin impersonation?" Arlo asked.
"Aaron and I got these last week," Sam told us. "Pretty sharp, huh?"
"Any special reason?" I inquired.
"We just never had tuxes before," Sam related. "We'd both seen a lot of
them up at the hotel, and we thought they looked real good, so we decided
that we should each get one."
"Sometimes the only difference between making a good impression or making a
bad impression is what you are wearing," Aaron added from the door of the
kitchen. He too wore a tuxedo, but his was mostly covered with a flowery
apron. "We noticed a lot of guys up there who would wear anything during
the day, but at night, they came out in their tuxes and it made them look
like a million dollars. We figured we should have ours ready in case we
ever got invited somewhere."
"And now that we're representing your internet company," Sam reminded us,
"there's a better chance that we will have to attend some functions. If
not, there's always the university affairs."
"And job seminars..." Aaron added.
"As long as you don't wear that apron too," Arlo snickered. "What's for
supper?"
"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes," Aaron corrected. "We're starting
with bouillabaisse."
"I thought I smelled something fishy," Arlo commented as he flopped into
Aaron's favorite chair. "For a while there, I thought it was the tuxedos."
Sam sneered at Arlo and Arlo sneered back at Sam. Then Sam opened the
wine... a dry white with a delicate bouquet and a flavor that barely
touched your palate. It was a pleasant change and a far cry from the
sangria with which Sam had threatened us the night before. The sneering
stopped. And then Aaron presented the bouillabaisse.
"I thought we were supposed to find fish heads in the soup," Arlo
complained.
"That's in Marseilles," Aaron recited. "This recipe is provencal, but a
little farther from the sea."
"In Marseilles," I explained, "you'd be lucky if fish heads were the only
thing you'd find in the bouillabaisse. You'd probably also find medical
waste and more than likely a few used condoms as well. Stick with the
inland version, Arlo. At least it's had the bulk of the stuff strained out
of it."
We had barely begun the soup when the oven timer went off. Sam excused
himself and disappeared momentarily into the kitchen.
"So, Philippe taught the two of you how to cook, did he?" I asked.
Aaron seemed to find my remark a little amusing, but he quickly recovered
his control and swallowed the soup he had momentarily been toying with.
"Sam watched us from time to time," he answered. "But tonight's dinner is
a bit of a celebration for another reason as well. Do either of you know
what anniversary this is?"
Sam rejoined us and his soup.
"Have they figured it out?" he asked.
I looked at Arlo.
"Columbus Day?" he asked.
"Yes, of course, but what else?" Aaron prompted.
We shrugged.
"Eat your soup," Sam ordered. "Evidently the bouillabaisse was too
vague. The next course may give you a clue."
"I knew there was something fishy, the minute we walked in here," Arlo
commented between sips of soup.
I had to admit that I was at a loss too. The soup was delicious though,
and we finished it down to the final drop. That's when Sam
disappeared. Aaron smiled at us and explained that the next course might
take a little longer since Sam had to change in order to serve it. So we
told Aaron of Norm's recent visit and the reason for it.
"You should have brought him along," Aaron complained. "He's part of this
too."
That should have given us the hint we needed, but it took Sam's return
dressed in his pizza delivery uniform, carrying a six pack of beer and a
huge pizza to bring home the reason for tonight's celebration.
"Was it really six months ago that Sam found us in Miami?" I asked.
"Bingo!" Sam grinned. He dropped the pizza and the beer onto the table and
leaned over Aaron. They kissed a long deep oxygen-depriving kiss in honor
of the occasion, and then the two of them smiled at us.
"It was you two who brought us together," Sam told us. "We wanted you to
be the first to know that we've decided to exchange vows. We plan the
ceremony for six months from now on the anniversary of our meeting. We
want to hold it at Skittlepeak, and we want the whole gang to be there...
in tuxedos, of course."
"What do you think, Arlo?" I asked.
"I think we've been hood-winked," Arlo answered. "Philippe never showed
them how to make pizza!"
That night as I laid in bed beside Arlo, I couldn't help thinking out loud
that we too had an anniversary fast approaching.
"We should do something special too," I mentioned.
"Do you want to exchange vows?" he asked.
"Not really..." I sighed. "If what we have isn't solid enough, vows aren't
going to make it any better."
"Don't worry," Arlo sighed, "we don't need anniversaries to remind us about
how we feel about each other, and we don't need vows. All I have ever
needed was to know you'll be there when I wake up in the morning."
"That's really sweet, Arlo. Thank you." I leaned over and kissed his soft
moist lips.
"Or when I wake up in the middle of the night with a hard on and need
something to fuck..." he added.
I slipped out of my side of the bed as quietly as I could, but he still
felt me go.
"Where're you going?" he asked.
"To find your soldering iron..." I told him. "I'm going to heat it up real
good and try to fix your hemorrhoids."
"I don't have hemorrhoids."
"You will..."
We didn't get a whole lot of sleep after that.
Chapter Five
The Boathouse
The boathouse had always been one of my favorite places, not just for what
it contained, but because of its location. There is something almost
magical about a building on the edge of a lake, and especially one that
sits half in the lake. There is the more or less continuous lapping of the
water about the foundation, which is a pier, and whenever the sun is bright
enough, there are always reflections off the water that dance around the
walls and ceiling and play on the bottoms of any boats suspended above the
water in their metal slings.
Because of the magical feeling surrounding it, the boathouse was always a
popular place for me while I was growing up. But, because of the
narrowness of its walkways between the four slips, and the small fortune in
boats that dangled from its pulleys, it was also a place that was off
limits without adult supervision. Its door was usually locked. Naturally
that did not stop my friends and I from swimming in through the slips and
treating the place as some sort of grotto where we, as pirates, had stashed
our treasures and came to visit them on occasion.
Arlo and I did not swim in. I knew where all of the keys were for
Skittlepeak, and years before, I had made my own set of boathouse keys,
along with keys to the kitchen and a few other spots in the hotel that
could profit me in some way or another. Naturally I had not told anyone I
had done this.
I felt like a child again, one who was risking the wrath of God, every time
I unlocked the door and slipped in without telling my father. And every
time I did, I was still rewarded with the same quiet excitement to be in a
spot that was unlike any other place on earth.
I don't think the place affected Arlo the same way. It was, after all, the
place where our former buddy, Frank, had tried to seduce Arlo, and when
that failed, had pushed him into the icy early April waters of the first
slip. Arlo stayed well back from the edge and wished the place had more
light... and wider floors.
"Where's Eleanor?" he asked.
"Up there," I pointed to the sling above the far slip.
"How the hell did Sam work on her up there?"
"He didn't. That slip has flooring that can be installed over it. Then
they set up a couple of braces and lower Eleanor into them. When they're
finished they lift Eleanor up on her pulleys, take out the floor and lower
her into the slip."
"That's ingenious!"
"That's my dad!" I looked around the place and realized that it was all my
dad. The whole thing was his design. So was Skittlepeak. He had all but
built it with his own hands. Don't think that didn't make me think twice
about invading his own personal headquarters... and especially to have
sex... sex based on the exploits of two of our friends who had already
defiled the place once!
"Come on," Arlo ordered... and headed for the ladder in the wall.
The one place I had not ever invaded with my friends was the crow's nest...
my father's office. It still held its secrets from me and carried a curse
worse than Tut's tomb... in my mind. It was all I could do to set my feet
upon the ladder and pull myself up beneath Arlo's sexy little ass. I
suppose that was the only thing that did get me up there, Arlo's ass,
against which my face soon came to rest, and Arlo's exclamation of
"Wow! Is this ever neat!" which got me the rest of the way.
Arlo was already standing in the middle of the crow's nest when I finally
poked my head through the trap door. I had to agree with his assessment,
the place was neat all right... it was also very familiar. I crawled the
rest of the way into what had once been my home.
Absolutely everything was identical to a vision that I had long ago
forgotten. Every piece of furniture was a memory to me. I wandered about
the room touching them all... the chairs, the table, the sideboard... I
opened the drawer of the sideboard. Even the deck of cards was familiar to
me. For the first time in years I had truly come home... the curtains at
the windows... the stack of Reader's Digests and the Saturday Evening Posts
with their Rockwell paintings... stuff I had looked at for hours on rainy
days, while my mother had made soup on the old stove in the back of the
place, and my dad had tinkered beneath us, trying to salvage a boat or two
to start his dream, a fishing lodge with cabins by t he lake.
The cabins had been still new when I was born. They had also been a bone
of contention with the health inspectors of the township, who had claimed
that both they and the living quarters above the boat house, were too close
to the lake. Finally, one year when I was very young, the cabins had been
condemned. My parents were given a year to have them dismantled.
My father raved for what seemed like weeks, but was only a few days,
according to my mother. And then one morning she found him cutting down
trees. He had decided that the township could not be fought. He could,
however work within their rules.
"We'll show them!" he told my mother when she brought him lemonade and
sandwiches at noon. He didn't get any more specific about what he was
doing than that. I suppose the plans were still not fully formulated in
his own mind. But he was sure of one thing... we were going to stay and
prosper right where we were... even if it took our last cent to do it.
Some of the cabins are still there, a little further back from the lake, to
be sure, with their plumbing connected to some very expensive holding
tanks, and nobody ever uses them, but they are there nonetheless, bearing
silent testimony to my father's victory.
I found myself looking out at them through curtains my mother had made by
hand.
In order to save the boat house, my father had removed the outside stairs
that climbed to the family quarters. He had done that to comply with a
township bylaw which made it illegal to use the crow's nest as a
residence. Of course he waited to do it until after he had moved my mother
to the new lodge he had built, with my uncles' help.
That was the real reason for my being prohibited from visiting the crow's
nest. It was dangerous for a child to be up there. After all, if a fire
got going, there was only the one exit now, other than a dive into the lake
from the front window.
All through the winter my father had done the interior work on the lodge,
building first the family quarters and then finishing the guest
rooms. That wing is now the employee wing. Arlo and I still use one of
the first rooms my father ever finished. Every couple of years a new
addition went up after the majority of visitors left after Labor Day. Now
a sprawling resort stretches across the land my parents bought for a song
years before I was born.
But nothing has changed in the crow's nest. It still has the most
wonderful view of the lake, and it remains as a shrine to my father's
ingenuity and perseverance.
And Arlo was waiting for me to defile it with him.
"This would be the couch," he observed patting the cushion of the daybed,
and raising a cloud of dust.
"That used to be my bed," I protested.
"And it will be again," Arlo grinned. He was missing the point, as
usual. He was also taking his clothes off, as usual. And, as usual, it
was giving me an erection. My reticence changed from a desire to treat the
place as a shrine to a desire to accomplish whatever it was we were
supposed to do and get our asses out of there.
"What did the two minks get into up here?" I inquired.
"Each other," Arlo grinned. "This is where Aaron got his first chance at
Sam's ass."
"Was Sam a virgin?"
"Hardly... Of course the diary doesn't mention that, but... naw, I don't
think he was. Aaron would not have been able to keep that quiet."
Arlo was now shirtless and barefoot. I swallowed audibly and started
getting naked, myself. Arlo was the first to drop his pants, but not
before he'd fished the lucky quarter out of his pocket. Then he was naked
and waiting for me. I pushed out of my clothes and waited for the coin
toss. I called it in the air... tails... and tails it was when Arlo
removed his covering hand.
At least I could call the shots from that point. I chose to be Aaron
again. Then I pulled the page of diary notes from my shirt pocket and read
for the first time that Aaron had first blown Sam while he relaxed on the
couch that had once been my bed.
"We have a winner!" Arlo announced as he lowered himself to the cushions
of the couch and offered me his cock.
I knelt quickly by my trophy and skinned the thing back. Then I was onto
it and sucking furiously at it, bobbing my head up and down along the
shaft.
"What the hell are you doing?" Arlo complained, "Trying to set a new land
speed record?"
I was sort of limited in my ability to converse of course, so I slowed down
a tad. Then Arlo grabbed my head and slowed me even further. Before too
long I had relaxed and gotten into it, kissing and licking at it between
times and even paying attention to Arlo's balls, which are in and of
themselves, wonderful things. They flop around so prettily and dangle so
provocatively that it is impossible to ignore them. They demand an
occasional squeeze and need to be licked for their own sake, or lifted and
dropped into your mouth one at a time to be washed and salivated
over. This invariably leads to an examination of the seam between them and
Arlo's ass hole, and once there, well...
"I'm cumming," Arlo gasped and brought me back to my duties. I swallowed
his cock, or as much of it as I could, and was immediately rewarded with a
taste of Arlo's essence. Then I got another... and another. Finally I
sucked him dry and he collapsed, exhausted.
"Now I fuck you once and we're outta here, right?" I prompted.
"What's your hurry?" Arlo was beginning to get a little pissed. "Check
your diary. They laid in each other's arms until Aaron decided to sniff
around Sam's bung hole."
"I've already sniffed it," I argued.
"Well, lie down here with me for half an hour and then do it again, will
you?"
I had to admit that the couch and the sun shining through the windows and
the water lapping in the boathouse down below us all contributed to an
inviting prospect. I fell between the back of the couch and Arlo and he
shifted over to let me settle in. It wasn't long before the aforementioned
factors caused me to relax just a little too much, and the exertion of our
earlier tennis match also contributed to the two of us falling fast asleep.
When I awoke, the shadows were all wrong. They were too oblique. The
light was too yellow and the place was getting dark. But that was not what
had awakened me. What had awakened me was the sound of my father's
voice. It was calling my name... my name and Arlo's... and it was calling
them from directly beneath us.
I placed my right hand over Arlo's mouth and he awakened with a muffled
exclamation of protest. But I was already whispering into his ear...
explaining the situation and telling him to let me handle it.
He nodded his agreement and I took my hand away. But I had absolutely no
idea about how I should proceed, or even if I should say anything. We
couldn't move without making a noise, a noise which would give away our
presence in the one place my father had forbidden me to go ever since I had
been a toddler.
So we kept our silence and waited... waited and held our breath... until
the unmistakable sound of my father's foot connecting with the bottom wrung
of the ladder made it imperative for us to do something. The only
something that seemed to matter was to get some of our clothes on. We both
went for our pants and managed to secure them in place just before my
father's head appeared in the trap door hole.
"So there you are!" He smiled.
"I'm sorry, Dad..."
"What for?"
"Well, you told me I wasn't supposed to come up here. You said it was off
limits."
"It's all my fault," Arlo confessed. "I made Rick bring me up here."
"You can come up here anytime you want," my father told us.
"But you always told me I couldn't come up here," I complained.
"Yah? And how old were you the last time I told you that?"
"I dunno... twelve... maybe."
"You're a lot older than twelve now, Rick. You're a man. You can look
after yourself. Besides, this place is part of your life. It's where you
grew up. Do you mean to tell me that this is the first time you've been up
here, and you stayed away because of something I said when you were
twelve?"
"Yessir."
"You always were pretty obedient, I guess," my Dad grinned. "So, try to
stay that way a little longer. Your mother sent me to look for you. Your
dinner is ready. Don't be too long up here, huh?"
Then he was gone like a rabbit down his hole, and Arlo was behind me,
fingering my butt.
"We don't have time," I told him.
"It'll only take ten minutes."
"You heard my father..."
"You know you want it, Rick."
"Okay, then... ten minutes... just don't go falling asleep on me again."
I dropped my pants and Arlo stepped out of his. I positioned him on the
couch and lifted his legs. I first explored the brown spot with my nose,
then my tongue and then I was fucking him, and he was moaning softly as I
drove into him and sucked on his toes at the same time. Sam never got that
treatment from Aaron... but I had forgotten about Sam and Aaron. It was
only Arlo and me.
And that's the only way I ever wanted it.
Chapter Six
Menagerie a Trois
"Where's Philippe?" Arlo inquired after dinner. Dinner had been prepared
by my mother in the family quarters. The hotel kitchen was still open, but
there were not many customers this time of year and they had reverted to an
off-season menu that the local employees provided.
"He's still down in the city," I told him. "He was supposed to be back
yesterday, but he decided to stay over an extra night."
"What's he doing down there?" Arlo asked.
"Making sure his green card is in order for next year," I answered. "Why
the sudden interest in Philippe?"
"Check your diary," Arlo instructed me, his silly grin spreading across his
face. "The day after the boathouse, Philippe stopped by the room."
"Oh, no..." I grabbed my copy of the diary and raced through it to the day
following the day in the boathouse. I had known that Aaron and Philippe
were intimate... well, I had surmised it. I didn't think that Philippe was
making a wake up call the morning I had seen him sneaking out of the room
Aaron had to himself before Miami and Sam had turned it into a double
occupancy. I had not wanted to think about what might have been happening,
though. It had been none of my business... until we started exploring
Sam's diary.
Now, however, Philippe was about to enter our lives too, if the diary and
Arlo had their way. There was only one thing about that, Arlo always got
his way... some way.
From the diary we gleaned that Philippe had stopped by because Aaron
invited him. They told him they wanted to spend an evening playing
cards. Aaron knew of Philippe's fondness for the casino of Monte
Carlo. Like most aficionados of gambling, Philippe claimed to have a
system. He considered himself a bit of an amateur card
counter. Naturally, the offer of an evening showing off his skills, and
honing them a little, was an offer that Philippe would not reject.
They never told him that they wanted to play strip poker. Philippe had
been bracing himself for a brisk evening of Chemin de fer. The evening had
ended with the three of them naked and playing for sexual favors. It was
Sam's impression that Philippe adjusted his strategy and played to lose...
which is a pretty good strategy with strip poker, and the same strategy
Arlo employs whenever we play tennis.
"How are we going to get him to do that again?" I asked Arlo. "He's going
to think something is strange when we invite him to do the same thing Sam
and Aaron got him to do."
"Almost six months ago..." Arlo reminded me. "Even though we just started
reading the diary this week, all of the things we were reading about
happened so long ago, that Philippe won't possibly think we know about
them. Anyway, if we play our cards right, we can get him to suggest his
favorite game."
"According to the diary, his favorite game is Chemin de fer."
"Then that's what we'll play."
"Do you know how to play Chemin de fer?"
"I don't even know how to play poker..."
"And you want to go up against Philippe?"
"I can lose to him as easily as to anyone else."
"You have a very competitive spirit."
"It's not whether you win or lose, it's who you get to fuck afterwards."
"In other words, it's up to me to provide the competition."
"It's also up to you to get Philippe down here."
"That's if he makes it back from the city..."
"He will..."
"You sound awfully sure of that."
"He's already a day late. He'll probably show up tonight, or first thing
in the morning."
Arlo never rubbed it in when he was right. He just got a self-satisfied
smirk on his face whenever it happened. He was smirking when I came back
from the kitchen late that night with his requested bowl of ice cream and
the news that I had run into Philippe... on his way in.
"Did you talk to him?" Arlo asked.
"Yah, I guess he found the city a little more exciting this year."
"In what respect?"
"He didn't specify."
"Did you ask him to come over tomorrow?"
"Yah... He said he had a lot of things to do before he flies back to
France next week."
"He's not coming?"
"He said he'll try to get over and show you how to play Chemin de fer, but
he isn't exactly sure when he'll be free."
"Well, it's a long weekend... I'm sure he'll be able to fit us in
sometime. If not, there's always the crow's nest."
"They didn't get up there again, did they?"
"I don't know. I'm not reading that far ahead... just a little farther
than you have. But, now that the prohibition is off, we can go up there on
our own, can't we?"
"Why? Are you keeping a diary too?"
"Of course..."
"Eat your ice cream. I don't want to hear about it!"
But the next day, after I handily defeated Arlo on the tennis court, he
made me take him back up to the crow's nest. We didn't have sex. I showed
him how to play strip poker... using the deck of cards my parents had used
to while away the late evenings of my young life. I showed Arlo what hands
to bid clothes on and the ones that were sure losers. Naturally, Arlo got
them confused and was naked within a couple of hands. I guessed that meant
he was ready for the big time... in his own mind. The one time he won, he
did it with a royal flush. He had discarded two queens to get it. Of
course he had no idea what a flush was, let alone a royal flush, and seemed
upset about it. He thought that I was making up the rules as we went
along. I made him put some of his clothes on anyway, but he lost them
again soon enough trying to build a straight out of even-numbered cards.
I knew he was ready to meet Philippe. I just hoped that Philippe was ready
for Arlo.
We found out after dinner, a dinner that Philippe prepared for the three of
us and surprised us with late that afternoon. He had come by a couple of
ducks and roasted them, sending one to my parents for their dinner and
sharing the other with us. Our dinner was crowned with profiteroles au
chocolat, a patisserie of indescribable delicacy and richness.
When I noted that Philippe had never told me of his prowess as a baker, he
put a cautionary finger to his lips.
"Shhh..." he warned. "It is why I share them with you and not with your
parents, mon ami. Were they to know that I am an accomplished pastry chef,
my labors here would soon double. Your father would doubtless wish to open
a donut shop." Philippe shuddered visibly at the prospect.
I had to agree with him. My father hated to see talents wasted.
"It could also be argued," I commented, "that were he to know of your
abilities with a deck of cards, he might open a casino."
"But he did already, mon ami... They ran a charity casino night this
summer, and I was in charge of the black jack table. It was a most
profitable night."
"What games do you play?" Arlo inquired.
"I have tried my hand at most of the games of chance," Philippe told him,
"But my favorite is the most elegantly simple, Chemin de fer. It is also
known as Baccarat, and was, for a while, known as Shinny, but only here in
the United States."
"What's so special about Chemin de Fer?"
"Well, for one thing, in the Casinos, they never use the same card
twice. Once it has been played, it is discarded forever."
"Geez... that's sort of expensive isn't it?"
"Of course, but each game can carry thousands of dollars, so the cards earn
their retirement."
"Do you only play for money?" Arlo inquired.
"There must always be a wager," Philippe acceded. "Knowing the fall of the
cards is not the important thing. Without some sort of investment in their
fate, whether a three or a nine turns up is unimportant."
"How much do you bet?"
"The largest wager I have ever made on the outcome of one game was two
thousand francs... in Monte Carlo."
"Did you win?"
"I do not remember."
"You don't remember? How much is that in U.S. funds?"
"About five hundred dollars..."
"And you don't remember whether you won or not?"
"All of the wagers were at least two thousand francs that night," Philippe
explained. "I probably won and lost at an equal rate. The important thing
was, I made it into the inner rooms that night. Not bad for an humble
chef, huh, monsieur?"
"The inner rooms?"
"The rooms reserved for the mighty..." Philippe explained. He did not,
however, explain who the "mighty" were, or how he had become one of
them. I found myself wondering if he had mesmerized Aaron and Sam with his
tales of Monte Carlo too.
"Have you ever played poker?" I asked.
I think it was the question he had been waiting for me to ask.
"Once or twice..." he said, and the way he said it made me believe that he
was trying to claim unfamiliarity with the game. "The rules are quite
complicated..."
"Yes, I was trying to explain the game to Arlo this afternoon."
"He kept me naked most of the time," Arlo contributed.
"Indeed..." Philippe commented.
"Yah," Arlo grinned. "We were playing strip poker."
Philippe regarded first Arlo and then me.
"Well, like you said," I reminded him, "There must always be a wager."
"Yes... just so..."
"Besides, Arlo likes losing," I went for the bundle. "He let's me whip his
ass at tennis all the time. Then he gets even later."
I smiled at Philippe. Arlo did too. To my amazement, Philippe smiled
back.
"Would you like to play some poker?" Arlo asked.
"Unfortunately, I have converted all of my dollars to francs," Philippe
hedged.
"We don't have a lot of free cash either," I admitted.
"Then what do you suggest that we might use to wager?" Philippe inquired.
Arlo grinned at Philippe, then at me, but he said nothing.
I looked at Arlo, then Philippe... but I found myself unable to speak the
words. I guess my grin was also pretty ridiculous.
Philippe looked at the two of us and read our silence.
"D'accord," he said, and produced a deck of cards. "Shall I deal?"
We nodded our assent. He had served us our dinner. Who better to start
the shenanigans? Arlo started to unbutton his shirt. I pulled the drapes
shut.
To his chagrin, Arlo won the first hand. He redoubled his efforts. On his
second hand, he threw away two aces and got two Kings in their place. When
he added those to the other King in his hand, he found that he had won
again. Arlo was beginning to worry. Was his luck changing? Would he
never get naked?
It took a full house to get Arlo's shirt off. I held that hand. I also
held onto my pants for a while longer. Philippe was already in his
shorts. His Euro-body reminded me a lot of Vuko. I knew that Philippe was
uncut. We had a pretty good description of him from Sam... well, Sam's
diary. I wondered if our game would get as far as Sam's and Aaron's
encounter had gotten.
All of a sudden, Philippe started to win. This fit into Arlo's game
plan. Before either of us could say, "Ante up!" we were both naked. We
had nothing more to lose.
"Well," Philippe observed, "I appear to have won."
"It sort of looks that way," I admitted. Arlo smirked beside me, but said
nothing. Philippe had seen Arlo's equipment. It spoke for itself. You
either thought you could handle Arlo or you folded your cards and snuck
away into the night. Either way, the world would think you nonetheless a
man. Arlo might have a different opinion, though.
"Do you wish to continue?" Philippe inquired.
There it was... the royal assent. It now became imperative to decide how a
wager would be settled. I was still hedging around those delicate matters
in my mind, when Arlo blurted out that he had been told that one was
permitted to play for sexual favors.
"Do we decide what the favor will be before or after the hand?" was all
Philippe wanted to know.
"After..." Arlo and I answered almost in unison, and by our solidarity we
told Philippe that there were no restrictions. In fact, if the truth were
told, Arlo and I were hoping he might have a few fresh ideas.
He did. It was not our first menage a trois. But it was our first time
doing it with a real Frenchman.
When it came time to decide who would be the fucker and who the fuckee, we
again let the cards decide. We cut the deck for high card.
That was how Philippe came to his first encounter with Arlo's member. It
was a memorable event for him, being opened beyond his previous limit, and
he was so wrapped up in the experience that he neglected to service my
cock, which rested on his forehead whenever he was preoccupied trying to
determine if Arlo was actually fucking him, and not, in fact, working a
baseball bat into his butt up to the pine tar.
It could have been an international incident, had Philippe not been
searching for just such a man as Arlo. It turned out that his latest visit
to the city had been extended as the result of finding a dancer there who
came close to Arlo's formidable dimensions, but Philippe later explained to
me that, had he known about my friend's anatomy, he never would have
visited the city at all.
Of course we didn't tell Arlo about Philippe's fascination with him. But
Philippe made me promise to bring the young stud up to Skittlepeak more
often the following summer. I had a feeling that the crow's nest was going
to be a busy spot next summer.
Philippe openly wondered if the two of us had ever been to France. When we
replied in the negative, he told us that we must come as his guests if we
could make the arrangements for a trip during March break. We told him
that we would consider it. Then he told us about the town where he lived,
Cap D'Agde, a town where nudity was not only permitted, but actively
encouraged. Naturally we began to actively consider booking a reservation.
he pushed his kitchen cart from our room. "It will make accessing the
inner rooms at Monte Carlo a little easier if you appear to belong there."
We bid him good night. The door was barely closed when Arlo could contain
himself no longer. He did not laugh out loud, but sort of sprayed me with
his spittle as he laid there in the nude.
"So much for needing a tuxedo to impress business people," I laughed. "I
think we're going to have company when we fly to Cap D'Agde in March."
"At least now we have an excuse for buying the tuxedos," Arlo
contributed. "We can blame Sam and Aaron for putting the thought into our
heads."
"It does seem a little strange, though," I thought, "buying a tuxedo for a
trip to a nudist colony?"
"Perhaps they dress for dinner," Arlo suggested.
Chapter Seven
Columbus Day
It rained early Monday and washed out our plans for another tennis
match. Arlo played for a while with the deck of cards that Philippe had
left for him and found out how to shuffle them properly. Then he hooked up
his lap top and checked his e-mail.
"We have been invited out to dinner," he told me distractedly.
"Oh? When?" I asked.
"Tonight... at Luigi's... Bill and Vuko want to feed us."
"Are you going to accept?"
"Sure... they want to meet us there at seven."
"Well, that means I don't have to cook tonight," I mentioned.
"Not in the kitchen anyway," Arlo smiled as he typed and sent off our
acceptance.
"You are insatiable," I noted.
"Only when it comes to sex," he smiled.
The trip back to our apartment was uneventful except for the spectacular
beauty of the Autumn colors. We took our time and stopped for lunch at a
little place high in the mountains where the view was better than the food,
but the food was all right too, if you could just get the taste of
Philippe's profiteroles out of your mouth.
After lunch, Arlo read to me a little from the diary as we drove. The next
few days after they made what they called the French Connection, were
relatively tame... given over to cuddling and the occasional massage that
turned into sex of some description or other. Certainly it was tamer than
the first few days of wanton abandon, and I was beginning to believe that
Aaron might not have been lying about the rest of the summer, until Arlo
suddenly said, "Oh, oh!" and folded h is copy of the printout.
"What?" I asked.
"Who do we get to play me?" he asked.
"You? What are you doing in Sam's diary?"
"I told you already... my name is mentioned twenty-seven times. This is
the first time it was mentioned."
"Yes, but mentioned doing what?"
"Well... admittedly, this time it was mentioned as having sex, but I'm sure
that does not account for all twenty-seven times."
"You had sex with Sam and Aaron?"
"It was more like Aaron and I having sex with Sam."
"Would you care to elaborate?"
"Not unless I absolutely have to."
"I'd say you absolutely have to."
"I was afraid that you might," Arlo sighed. Then he took a deep breath and
began. "It all started when I was taking the pictures of Sam for the
montage that we put on the newsgroups advertising the hotel. I worked hard
on those pictures trying to get the right balance, but we needed one that
showed Sam showing a little more..."
"Skin?"
"Precisely... All of the previous pictures in the series were remarkable
for the amount of Sam's skin they showed. I wanted people to look at the
montage and not be disappointed. They had to want to look at it long
enough to read the name of the hotel and realize that here was the place
that they could come to meet Sam in the flesh... so to speak."
"So you decided to put the picture of Sam in his speedos into the montage."
"Except that I didn't have a picture of Sam in his speedos, because Sam
didn't have any speedos. He wore a pair of baggies whenever he went
swimming. Well baggies just weren't going to do it, so I went to town with
him and bought him a pair of red speedos."
"Well, naturally when we got back to the hotel, he had to try them on
before we went out to take the picture, and since I had my camera there
with me, we snapped off a few while he was changing."
"You took nudes of Sam?"
"They were very tastefully done..."
"But you never told me that they were done at all."
"It probably slipped my mind."
"I wouldn't doubt it... you have a very slippery mind! So how did you end
up having sex with Sam? And where does Aaron fit in?"
"Well, one thing led to another..."
"It usually does..."
"And before I knew what was happening, I was feeling Sam. It was very
innocent at first. He had just packed himself into the speedos and he
asked me how he looked."
"How did he look?"
"Flaccid... and he needed adjustment. You know... he hadn't packed things
right. Everything was down the front. I wanted an outline that showed his
length. I wanted his cock separated from his balls... so I separated
them. That's when Aaron walked in."
"While you had your hand in Sam's bathing suit."
"Well yah... That's where his things were."
"And Aaron didn't understand what was going on?"
"Sure he did. He agreed with me that Sam needed more... fullness."
"And you guys decided to..."
"Make him a little bigger, yah."
"What did Sam think of that?"
"He was all for it."
"I can imagine..."
"So Aaron and I took turns, and before you knew it, Sam was too big for the
speedos."
"You had nothing but problems that day, didn't you."
"A lesser man would have given up. But Aaron and I wrapped Sam in a towel
and by the time we got him to the swimming pool..."
"Everything was in proper proportion."
"You've been reading ahead."
"No, but I can read you like a book."
"So?"
"So what?"
"So, who do we get to play me?"
"I take it you are playing Sam?"
"Did you want to flip for it?"
"No, you can play Sam. I'll be Aaron again. How about Bill or Vuko?"
"That's right! We're having dinner with them tonight!"
"Now all you have to do is get one of them to agree."
"Why not invite them both?"
"Why? Was there somebody else there when you two were pumping Sam?"
"No, but they seem to be a matched set. It might be fun to let them both
have a crack at it."
"Humph..."
"What's the matter?"
"You accused me of not sticking to the script, and now you want to turn
your part into a tag team."
"I also reserved the right to make up the rules as we went along."
"You usually do..."
"It's settled then... we'll get Bill and Vuko to play me."
"You have to tell them first."
"They'll do it. They've seen me naked."
"Everybody's seen you naked. Remember Miami?"
"I believe you were up there with me when we stripped," Arlo reminded me.
"Yes, but I haven't been stripping in front of everybody at Skittlepeak."
"Neither have I. Aaron and I kept our clothes on when we serviced Sam."
"That's a relief!"
"Of course, we won't tell Bill and Vuko that."
"You're gonna make them strip?"
"Of course! I make the rules, remember?"
"You also have to break the news to Bill and Vuko. I wonder why they
invited us to dinner?"
"We'll probably find out when we get there."
"They didn't get up to Skittlepeak this summer, did they?"
"We'll know if they show up in tuxedos."
Bill and Vuko did not wear tuxedos to Luigi's. In fact they were dressed
very casually. Bill had just finished work at the video store where he
worked afternoons after class. Vuko was still unable to work, being in the
country on a student visa. He did have an income from his family who were
still in Bosnia. They were independently wealthy and had moved their son
to the relative stability of an American education, as soon as he finished
high school, which he had done in Italy the previous year. Not only was
Vuko receiving an education, he had come damned close to winning the title
of Mr. Miami a few short months before. We had been there looking for Sam,
of course, but had all s omehow managed to involve ourselves in the
striptease contest that had led to Vuko's second place finish.
"We wanted to ask you guys to come to Hawaii with us," Bill explained after
our waiter had taken our orders. "We need a couple of witnesses, and since
you guys got us together... more or less..."
"Witnesses?" I asked. "Witnesses for what?"
"We're getting married," Vuko smiled.
"What?"
"Hawaii is the only state that currently permits same sex marriages," Bill
explained.
"Not yet, they don't," Arlo reminded us. "The decision has been
appealed. It probably won't be resolved for a few years yet."
"We know that," Vuko grinned. "We just thought that when they legalize it,
we want to be one of the first couples to get married. And we want you two
to be there to be our witnesses."
"We'd be happy to," Arlo smiled. "Rick and I were just saying today on the
way home from Skittlepeak that you two were a matched set. We would love
to be your witnesses."
We toasted the happy couple. Then we toasted all of our friends. By the
time the spaghetti arrived we were finished our first bottle of red wine
and well into the second.
Naturally, this freed our tongues a little, as well as our inhibitions, and
by the time dinner was finished, both Bill and Vuko had agreed to come home
with us to help Arlo pack his new speedo swimsuit.
We took turns reaching into the front of the thing to adjust Arlo and I
recorded the results with Arlo's digital camera. We had that thing of his
pointing in every conceivable direction, and naturally, since Arlo was
sensitive to touch, it wasn't long before it wasn't short enough to hide in
the swim suit.
Arlo then speculated that Vuko might make a better candidate for the slim
garment. Bill, who was drinking our beer by that point, agreed that he
would like to see how Vuko might look in them. Vuko, who is always game
for almost anything and uninhibited by being nude, took the bait and was
soon prancing about in the nude while Arlo did his best to squirm out of
the things. I clicked off a few shots of Vuko for our personal albums.
When Bill got back from the bathroom, beer being what it is, he found his
fiance naked as a jaybird and Arlo in a similar state. This, and the beer,
encouraged Bill to join them. I was clicking like mad and transferring the
photos to Arlo's computer as fast as I could. By the end of the night, we
were all naked and all recorded for posterity, but nobody had sucked
anybody else. There had been no need. We had all tried on the bathing
suit at least once and we had all managed to fill it to overflow from the
simple act of being touched by strange fingers. Evidently we were all much
more sensitive than Sam in that respect. Either that, or Sam has amazing
self-control.
We invited Bill and Vuko to spend the night, but they were pretty horny by
then and they only wanted to get back to their place and fuck each other
silly. Arlo and I couldn't blame them. We helped them find their clothes
and we saw them off at our front door. Then we adjourned to the bedroom,
where Arlo jumped me almost before I hit the bed.
"How can you be so horny after the weekend we just had?" I asked.
"Fuck me..." he breathed into my ear.
"Okie dokie."
It didn't take long to assume the position. Our clothes were still in the
living room. I drove Arlo with long deep thrusts, the way he likes it, and
by the time I had come off deep inside him, his head was in the compartment
of the bookcase headboard where he keeps his pharmaceuticals.
I pulled him out and sucked his cock for him. It didn't take long before
he was drowning me. Then we drifted off to sleep content in the knowledge
that, of all our friends, we were the luckiest.
We did get a call from Bill and Vuko early the next morning, however.
"We took some pictures last night, didn't we?" Bill asked.
"Yes, we did," Arlo answered. You took a set home with you."
"I don't think it was such a good idea," Bill said, getting to the real
reason for his phone call.
"Why?" Arlo asked. "What's the matter, Bill?"
"It's just that, if any of them ever got out... you know, the way Sam's
pictures did? Well, it could be very embarrassing and hard to explain to
people at work."
"We weren't planning to put them on the internet, Bill."
"I know, Arlo, but as long as they exist in any form, there's always the
chance that somebody will find them."
"You want me to erase them?"
"Yes... if you don't mind..."
"If you guys don't want them around, I'll take care of it right away," Arlo
assured him. "You're going to erase your disk too, right?"
"I already did," Bill told him.
"Then, consider it done," Arlo said.
"Thanks, Arlo." Bill rang off, and Arlo put the phone down.
"What was that all about?" I asked.
"Bill got cold feet. He wants us to erase the pictures we took last
night. He's afraid they'll make it to the internet."
"Are you going to destroy them?"
"There's not a hope in hell of that ever happening. Besides, he'll thank
me for keeping them some day."
We later found out from Vuko that Bill had kept their set too. So much for
the loyalty of friends!
Chapter Eight
Friday The Thirteenth
There were relatively few surprises in the diary until the June entries
began. We got to them shortly after October turned into November.
June was when the bookings started showing up from the little advertising
campaign that Arlo and Sam had run on the newsgroups. In point of fact, it
was a flood, and from that point on, Sam's diary took on a different tone.
Sam had told us in Miami that he thought some people had recognized him
from the pictures in the newsgroups, but they only looked at him
funnily. This was probably because they either did not want to embarrass
Sam, or they did not want to embarrass themselves. These same people would
probably have reacted a whole lot differently after Sam50.jpg showed up,
judging from the response that we received shortly after it was posted.
Skittlepeak's June bookings picked up dramatically. It was a direct result
of the montage that Arlo and Sam posted. All of the bookings seemed to
come in almost overnight. Arlo was tickled that his plan had paid
off. Sam was too... until the people who had made the bookings actually
started arriving. Then he didn't have a free minute to himself. He was in
constant demand.
Most of the people who booked because of the Sam pictures realized that Sam
was just an employee of Skittlepeak. They were content to share a quiet
moment with him and ask him a few questions about himself. They wondered
if he would be appearing on the internet in the future, and asked him if he
had any professional aspirations.
But then, there were the others... the ones who figured that Sam had been
leading them on and teasing them all year, with the sole purpose of
inveigling them up to Skittlepeak for wild no holds barred sex. These were
the types of people who believe that other people are on the earth for
their sole benefit. They seem to skip over arguments and evidence that
disagree with their own theories and go straight to their own selfish
conclusions. Granted, these people are in the minority, but they are a
nasty bunch, and they are more trouble than they are worth... at least they
were for Sam.
The worst of the bunch was Arnold Dupre. He arrived on Friday, June the
13th for a weekend stay, and all the time he was there he made Sam believe
that Friday the 13th was, in fact, the unluckiest day of the year. That
was reflected in Sam's Diary entries for both the thirteenth and the
fourteenth... entries that Arlo and I had no desire to try to re-enact.
"People have been mostly friendly," Sam wrote, "that is until today. I
have been put on the main desk because so many people were asking for me
that it seemed the best place for me. I usually try to talk to the guys
who came up because of the pictures, and I show them to their rooms
personally. That gives them a chance to ask me what they all seem to want
to know... why I put my pictures on the internet."
"That got me thinking, after the first few guys asked. Obviously, they are
happy that I posed for the pictures. They all say they enjoyed collecting
them. Some of them tell me that they were hoping to find a complete set
when they met me at Skittlepeak. If they seem sincere, I usually lend them
my disks so they can copy the ones they are missing. That seems to satisfy
most of them. Some of them want to buy me a drink or dinner, but I usually
tell them that I am not allowed to drink on duty, and our meals are
provided for us as part of our employment package. Of course, I sometimes
go with them too... if there is something about them that I feel like
exploring. There were some cute guys who showed up."
"About the pictures, though... I had not realized how many people had seen
them. I never got to read any of the mail that came in about them, so I
didn't realize how big a deal it was, until June came and brought all the
guys who had seen them, and wanted to have a look at me in the flesh."
"That got me thinking about what I had done. It isn't the usual way of
making money and I guess I had been more interested in the money I was
being paid, than I had been about how the pictures were going to be
used. I asked Aaron about how he felt about the pictures. He told me that
he liked them. I asked him why. He told me that he hadn't really thought
about it, but without the pictures, none of them would ever have known what
happened to me."
"'But what was it about the pictures that you liked?' I asked him."
"'I don't know, Sam. I guess it was that you seemed so vulnerable in the
ones where you were naked. Why? How did you feel about having them
taken?'"
"I guess I really hadn't thought too much about how I felt at the time. I
was preoccupied with trying to look good when the flash went off. There's
a lot more that goes into posing than just standing or lying there like a
slab of meat. You are trying to achieve a look and adjusting yourself to
the demands of the photographer. A lot of the poses don't feel natural to
you, but you have to make the camera believe that they do. There were a
few poses that were just too awkward, and those pictures were never used."
"At the time, I never really thought anything about the implications of the
pictures. I didn't expect that they would ever be published, and as far as
the internet was concerned... well, I hadn't even known about the
newsgroups."
"Then, somebody at school told me they had seen me on the internet and the
picture really looked good. I experienced a mixed emotion about that. I
wasn't too sure about having the pictures floating around in cyberspace,
but I was kind of happy that the one guy who said he'd seen me had thought
I looked good. For a couple of days after that, I waited to see if anybody
else would say anything. When they didn't, I felt kind of relieved. I
guessed that there were not that many people who were on the internet, or
at least not too many who were into the areas of it where my pictures
were. I sort of forgot about it when more important problems came up."
"I was running out of money and I wasn't having any luck at all finding
work. That's why I agreed to pose again in December. I had already given
up any hope of being able to pay my second half of my tuition for the
spring semester, and it was a case of going where the money was. So when
Lorenzo showed up again and offered not only to pay me to take some
pictures, but also to ask me to accompany him on a trip he was making out
west, well, I jumped at the chance. At least while I was with him, I would
be able to eat."
"Of course, after we got back to Miami, I had nothing but my duffel bag and
the clothes in it. Lorenzo let me stay with him, and in return, I let him
take more pictures. There weren't a whole lot of alternatives, at least
until I got the job at the pizza parlor."
"Even then, if I wanted to save any money for school, I had to have a place
to stay. That meant more pictures. Of all the pictures that were taken,
the ones in Miami were the ones that I minded the most. By then I was
doing just about anything for a few bucks, even the bondage thing, and when
Lorenzo suggested that I enter the Dade County Dance-off, I was a little
hesitant at first."
"It turned out that those pictures and a couple more I took on the beach
the next day were the ones that showed my real friends where I was. I
hadn't known that I had friends. A friend to me was somebody you worked a
deal with... somebody who liked you for what you would do for them. I
didn't know what a real friend was until the night of the dance-off came
and I had to work. At first I thought that it was really unfair, then when
we got the last call of the night, just before we closed and I had to
deliver some pizzas and a couple of six packs to the motel, I was really
feeling tired, and sort of down."
"Naturally all that changed overnight, but when I got to the motel, I
really wasn't looking for anything but a decent tip. I guess it took a
while for me to realize who those guys were. They were all so happy to see
me, and I felt anything but happy about being there. It was sort of like
being the guest of honor and a prisoner at the same time. They thought I
knew why they were there, and I had no idea what any of them were talking
about... at least until Rick and Arlo showed up and explained that they had
all come to Miami looking for me."
"I asked them why. I mean, it didn't make any sense to me. Nobody else
had ever paid any attention to me unless they got something in return. It
took a while, but I finally figured it out... these guys were really my
friends... the friends I had never believed I had. The longer I stayed,
the better I felt, and then I knew I had to stay the night. I was finally
a part of something. People liked me because they liked me, and I found
that I liked them too."
"I slept with Aaron that night. He seemed a little self-conscious at
first, but when the lights went out and we were side by side in the bed, I
whispered that I really was grateful to him for caring enough about me to
come and look for me. We got whispering back and forth and I found out
that Aaron had been kicked out of his house because of my pictures. I felt
really bad about that, and I guess I put my hand out and touched him. He
sort of trembled a bit, so I took my hand away."
"'Would you do something for me?' Aaron asked."
"'What do you want?"
"'Would you touch me again? You sort of caught me by surprise there.'"
"I put my hand back on his shoulder. This time he didn't tremble. He
shivered a little, but he didn't tremble."
"'Can I touch you too?' he asked."
"'Sure, if you want to,' I told him."
"'Yah... I want to,' he whispered. Then he touched my chest and I felt his
hand brush lightly over my nipple. I moved my hand down onto his chest
then, and I felt his heart beating. It was pretty strong and pretty fast,
too."
"Well, one thing led to another and before we knew it, I was fucking him
and he was kissing me. That was a totally new experience for me, but one
that Aaron had been getting used to for a couple of weeks as I understand
it."
"The next day Rick told me that he would talk to his parents about hiring
me at the same hotel where Aaron would be working that summer. That was
the best news I had had all year. I really needed a place where I could
work all summer, and living with Aaron would be a plus. I fit him really
well and he seemed to enjoy it whenever we made love. He seemed to need me
and I knew that I needed him. As it turned out, the hotel needed me too...
but not in any way that Rick's parents would have understood. They are
nice folks, but they really did not know who I was or what I could do for
them. Well, until Arlo came up with his plan, neither did I."
"The thing about the pictures is, I don't know how I feel about them. I
guess it is nice to have them, and I will always be able to look back and
see how I looked when I was at my best. They helped my friends to find me,
and that is something I am grateful for too. But if I had never had them
taken, I suppose I would not have to wonder about whether I did something
wrong, or if sometime down the road, they might come back to haunt
me. They have already caused a few misunderstandings, and never more so
than this afternoon when a guy name Arnold Dupre checked in. I have a bad
feeling about him. He seems to think that I am here just to make him
happy. I suppose that I am too... but not in the way he seems to think."
"I asked Rick's dad to let me go back to the boathouse duties, and he
agreed. He asked me if anything was wrong, and I told him that one of the
guests seemed to expect a little too much personal attention from me. I
didn't tell him why the guy was hounding me, but Rick's dad is pretty
astute, and he seems to be aware of most of the problems that can crop up
in the hospitality business. I think he sensed the kind of trouble I was
talking about. He told me that he respected me for not making a scene and
making the hotel look bad. I told him that was the last thing I wanted to
do. I thought that I could avoid the problem by disappearing for a while."
"Rick's dad wanted to give me the weekend off, but that would have left
them short-handed. They needed somebody at the boathouse, where the
patrons come to get a boat or to rent a fishing rod and bait. I enjoy
working there too, which is more than I can say for Monica, Rick's
cousin. She hates anything to do with fishing and makes the customers grab
their own bait from the tanks by the first slip. She was just as happy to
get up to the main desk as I was to get away from it."
"I hope it works."
The next day, however, Sam would find out that you cannot hide from
trouble, especially when trouble comes in the form of Arnold Dupre.
Chapter Nine
The Best Laid Plans
I looked at Arlo when we finished reading Sam's diary entry for June
thirteenth. He was looking very pensive. I knew what he was thinking. He
had been the one to dream up the plan of using Sam's pictures as a hook to
get people to book at Skittlepeak. Sam's introspection seemed to come from
the encounter with one of those people. Arlo naturally felt responsible...
or rather irresponsible, if the truth were known. He was the one who had
told everybody where to come to take a crack at Sam.
"You can't be responsible for people who just don't understand what the
score is," I told him.
"But that's just it," Arlo answered. "This Arnold Dupre guy was only after
what we had invited him to come and get... what I had invited him to come
and get... Sam didn't have anything to do with the invitation."
"I don't think I can read anymore," Arlo told me. "It's not fun anymore...
not when I know I'm responsible for whatever happens from now on."
"You don't know that anything happened," I pointed out. "And Sam is just
down the hall from us. He's all right, Arlo."
"I still can't read anymore. Will you read ahead and let me know what
happened?"
"Sure, Arlo..."
"Unless it's too horrible..."
"It won't be horrible. Sam would have told us if anything really bad had
happened, wouldn't he? He would have told Aaron, anyway... and Aaron would
have told us."
"I'm making a new rule," Arlo informed me. "You can't tell me anything bad
that happens to Sam... okay?"
"Sure, Arlo..."
I picked up my copy of the diary and thumbed to June fourteenth. Arlo
watched me read for a while, but when my brow started to furrow, he rolled
over and faced away from me.
I continued reading. Finally, Arlo couldn't take it anymore. He rolled
back over to face me.
"Well?" he challenged.
"Well, what?"
"What's going on?"
"You told me not to tell you."
"I told you not to tell me if anything bad happens to Sam."
"Yah..."
"But you can tell me if it isn't bad."
"It's pretty bad, Arlo."
"Argh! I asked you not to tell me!!!"
Arlo left the bed and stomped out into the living room. I didn't know
whether I should follow him or not. Then it occurred to me that Arlo might
feel inclined to wake Sam up and apologize to him. Even if he did it in a
non-committal way, it would still make Sam suspicious. Besides, Arlo slept
in the nude, and it would not be wise for him to slip down the hall that
way. I slipped out of bed and followed him to the living room.
I found him sitting in the dark on the couch, and I settled down beside
him. He was picking at his toes. I took his left hand and intertwined my
fingers with his. Then I lifted his finger tips with their fresh toe scent
to my lips and kissed them.
"We know how it works out, Arlo," I told him. "We know that Sam is still
your friend and loves you almost as much as I do. We know that my parents
think the world of him and Aaron. We know that he's going to go back to
Skittlepeak with Aaron next year."
"We also know that I'm an asshole..."
"No, you're not. What you did made it possible for Sam to work all
summer. The only asshole in this story is Arnold Dupre... and my cousin
Monica is a minor asshole too, but she had no idea what she was doing...
well, she never did, really."
"What's she got to do with it?" Arlo asked hopefully.
"She told Dupre where Sam was working."
"So he found Sam down at the boathouse?"
"'fraid so, hun."
"Don't tell me what happened."
"Actually, I don't know what happened. But whatever happened, Sam managed
to write about it that night. And he wrote quite a bit too. I've got
about three more pages to get through."
"You aren't a speed reader are you?"
"Sorry, 'fraid not..."
"Then you'd better get at it, Rick. I'll wait here if you don't mind."
I returned to the bedroom and picked up the diary where I had left
off. Sam was still up to his ass in a pretty grim predicament, but I
pushed through and got to the end of June fourteenth. Sam had a real
situation on his hands, one that I could not reveal to Arlo. So I plowed
on into June fifteenth. It was more optimistic. But still the news of the
day was Arnold Dupre, and it continued to be the sole subject of Sam's
diary. I was beginning to wonder if Sam was going to be all right,
especially when Dupre once again cornered him in the boathouse and
threatened to expose Sam to his employers unless he agreed to accompany
Dupre back to his room.
At that point another player entered the game. I began to read more
quickly and then I knew that I had a story I could tell Arlo, as well as
another piece of my own family history. I felt a shiver run up my spine as
I read on and I think there was a silly grin on my face when I finally
rejoined Arlo in the living room.
"It's all right, baby," I told him. "Sam came through with flying colors,
and Dupre didn't have his way with anybody."
"What happened?"
"Do you want the full story or the précis?"
"The précis please..."
"Okay... Sam ran into this guy Dupre when he checked in on the Friday
night. As usual, Sam took his suitcase to his room for him, but the guy
wanted him to stay and give him the full treatment. Sam told him that he
could not do what the man was asking him to do. But it seems that Dupre is
not the type who knows the meaning of the word 'no," unless he's saying
it."
"Dupre kept calling for room service and every time he did, he asked for
Sam. He had Sam deliver his dinner. He made Sam bring him a bottle and
two glasses and he even sent him out for ice for him. Every time he told
Sam that he wanted him to stay awhile in his room with him and show him the
goods... up close and personal."
"Well, Sam kept putting him off telling him that he had other guests to
look after. He didn't want to come right out and tell the guy where to get
off, because a couple of times the guy had mentioned the pictures on the
internet and especially the last one... the one that you and Sam made
up. The way Dupre mentioned them, he made it sound like he was going to
take Sam to the Better Business Bureau if he didn't come across."
I saw Arlo cringe at that.
"Anyhow, when Sam got Dad to switch him to the boathouse, he figured that
Dupre might think he had the day off, or something. Unfortunately, my
idiot cousin Monica told him exactly where Sam was working and Dupre
followed him down there."
"There was no way to escape him in the boathouse, and Dupre was all over
Sam, whenever there wasn't anybody around... which was most of the
time. Sam made all sorts of excuses, but finally, in order to escape, Sam
took a dive into the first slip. He made it look like he'd tripped, but of
course that was a sham. He only wanted an excuse to get out of the
boathouse."
"When he dried himself off and went back to work, Dupre was still
there. Sam told him flat out that he was not the kind of boy that Dupre
said he was. He told him that he would not have sex with him under any
condition. Then Dupre told him that he had until the next morning to
change his mind. He told him that he had a whole bunch of pictures that
proved exactly what kind of a boy Sam was. He also told him that if he did
not come around to his way of thinking, that he would show each and every
one of those pictures to Sam's employer."
"Sam did not get much sleep that night. In the morning he packed his
duffel bag and dropped a note off at the main desk, explaining that he had
to quit and thanking my parents for all of their help."
"He was about three miles out of town when Dad caught up to him and brought
him back."
"Your dad?"
"My Dad... If Sam had been around a little longer he would have known that
my father does not sleep any longer than the sun does. He was already up
when Sam left. He saw him leave and then, he found Sam's note."
"When he got to Sam, he asked him what the problem was. Sam told him that
he had been having problems with one of the customers. Dad asked him what
sort of problem that was. Well, Sam didn't want to specify, but he did
tell him that he was being blackmailed because of something he had done in
the past."
"Dad asked him if what he had done was illegal. Sam told him that it
wasn't... that it was just something that he had been forced to do when he
was hard up for money. Dad asked him if he wanted to tell him what it
was. Sam told him that he couldn't, but if he stayed around and didn't do
what a certain customer wanted him to do, that the customer would probably
tell him anyway. Sam told him that was why he had to leave. He asked my
Dad not to think too unkindly of him."
"'You aren't leaving, son,' my father told him. 'You're going to stay
right here and stick to your guns.'"
"'I don't want to make any trouble,' Sam told him."
"'It doesn't sound like you're the one who's been making the trouble,' my
Dad told him. 'Sounds to me like it's the other guy doing all the
trouble-making. You go back to the boathouse and fill up the bait
tanks. Take the net and the fourteen footer out to the beaver dam and get
us some minnows. A good spot is just below the dam in the calm waters by
the shore. Sink your net and throw in a handful of oatmeal. That usually
brings 'em.'"
"'What if the guy shows up?' Sam asked."
"'Don't worry about him. I've met guys like him before. What he's trying
to do is make you do what he wants because you're scared to do anything
else. You tell him you don't want to have anything to do with him. Then
you ask him very politely to leave you alone.'"
"'Do you think that will work?'"
"'No, but it will satisfy me... After that it's out of your hands
anyway. Just believe in yourself son, and other people can't help
believing in you too... no matter what the idiot says.'"
"'He has proof...'"
"'Proof that you were once down on your luck? I can show you proof all
around the hotel that we were down on our luck several times. Why do you
think that Rick has to work to pay for his education? It's because a few
years back, we were down on our luck. We would have lost the hotel if I
hadn't taken the money from Rick's college fund to save the place. I think
I was right to do it, but it still shames me to have to admit that I did
it.'"
"'But you know something, Sam... I think that Rick has probably done a
whole lot better because he has to work to pay his own way. He knows the
value of money, and he also knows that he has what it takes to
succeed. Every time you run into adversity, you can either turn and run
the other way, or you can face it head on. I recommend the latter."
"So Sam went back to the boathouse?"
"Only to get a boat and the net and go get some minnows. When he got back,
though, guess who was there waiting for him?"
"Arnold Dupre?"
"You got it."
"What did he do?"
"He did exactly what my father told him to do."
"And then what happened."
"Dupre threatened him some more. But this time he didn't notice that there
was somebody else in the boathouse... well, actually above the boathouse...
in the crow's nest, to be exact."
"Your father?"
"Yup... my Dad... Only he didn't stay up there. He came down as soon as
he heard Dupre threaten Sam."
"And..." Arlo prompted.
"And he told Dupre that he had heard enough from him and he wanted him out
of his hotel."
"Did Dupre leave?"
"Not right away. He told my father that there were some things that he
should know about Sam."
"Oh shit!!!"
"This is the good part, Arlo. Dad told Dupre that Sam had told him
everything that morning and that the only person who was doing anything
wrong was Arnold Dupre. He gave him one hour to pay his bill and leave, or
he told him that he was going to call the village police and press charges
against Dupre himself for uttering a threat, attempting blackmail and
harassment."
"He did?"
"He did... And Dupre believed him too. So did Sam. After Dupre left, Sam
thanked Dad and told him that he was in his debt. Dad told Sam that he
didn't owe him anything but an honest day's work... that it was his job to
protect his staff from harassment and that if Sam didn't get back to the
front desk, Monica was probably going to bankrupt the place."
"That's it?"
"That's it... are you happy now?"
"Thanks, Rick," Arlo sighed. "I feel a little better."
"Only a little?"
"Yah... well, it's just that..." Arlo seemed to lose himself in thought.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Well, Sam didn't mention having sex with anybody, did he?"
"Sorry..."
"Well, that's another night shot!"
"Who says we have to stop having sex just because the diary dries up once
in a while?"
"Did you have anything in mind?" Arlo asked. But I couldn't answer
him. By then I had his toes in my mouth.
Chapter Ten
Sam Takes A Holiday
Arlo was still adamant that he would not read any more of the diary until I
had read and approved it for him. So when I got to June eighteenth and
read about Sam's affair, I was uncertain whether or not it qualified as
acceptable reading in Arlo's mind.
I decided not to mention anything about it when I noticed my own name, and
remembered what it was that had happened on June the eighteenth. Although
I doubted that Sam was aware of anything about my trip other than my
overnight visit to be at Skittlepeak for my father's birthday, there was
always the possibility that Aaron had blabbed about what had happened later
that night.
Sam, as I have previously mentioned, was taking the lifeguard course that
was run in the indoor pool at Central High. It was a twenty mile drive
each way, and Sam had a bicycle that he used most days when he went over to
take his lessons.
My being there that day meant that he did not have to ride the bike. I
drove him over and went shopping in the city for a decent present for my
father... one that would at least rival the present Arlo had sent for
him. Then I drove back to Central High and waited on the street for Sam to
reappear. I was beginning to think that the clock in the van must be a
little off, when Sam finally showed in the company of another young man, a
young man with black curly hair that tumbled onto his shoulders. The guy
was not exactly skinny, but there wasn't a spare ounce of fat on his body,
or at least on the parts of his body that showed. He looked Italian,
having an Italian sort of a nose that hooked a little, with nostrils that
actually flared. He came over to the van with Sam.
"Could you give Mario a lift too, Rick?" Sam asked. He lives just up the
road from the hotel."
"No problem," I answered. "You guys are a little late today."
"Yah, sorry," Sam responded. "Mario and I stayed for some extra practice,
and we sort of lost track of the time. That's why he needs a lift. His
regular ride had to leave."
"Well, we want you guys to be sure you get everything right, don't we?" I
grinned. "We only want professionals up at the hotel."
Sam looked at Mario and Mario looked at Sam. In the rear view mirror, I
thought I detected a conspiratorial smirk on Mario's face, and I glanced at
Sam in time to catch the wink he returned.
I was definitely on the outside of an inside joke, but I let it pass. I
had other things on my mind. We headed back up to Skittlepeak and then a
little past it to Mario's home. He thanked us for the lift and slapped Sam
familiarly on the shoulder as he left the van.
We backed out of the driveway and I thought I detected Sam watching Mario
climb the front steps to his house, but I could be mistaken. I was
watching for oncoming traffic, and Sam might only have been keeping his
head out of my way.
It was Sam's afternoon to clean the pool. He wore a red pair of speedos
that I now remember noticing, seemed to have been professionally
packed. It was therefore a pleasant diversion for me to lie by the pool
and watch Sam work. He did a good job... better than I had ever done,
anyway... but after about an hour in the sun, I was ready to take an
afternoon nap. Anyhow, by then Aaron had joined us and was keeping an eye
on Sam's speedos. I figured it would not be a good idea for him to catch
me eyeing the merchandise as well. So I slipped away to my room and slept
through until dinner.
That night after dinner and Dad's cake... which looked and tasted
remarkably like a French patisserie with it's carved and crumbled chocolate
icing and its creamy custard filling... I went to my parents quarters for a
couple of hours. As is his wont, my father showed the entire collection of
home movies that he had made over the years. That took up a little over an
hour... they keep getting longer every year... and then we gave him his
presents.
Arlo had sent along a remote control that could be programmed to look after
just about anything that Dad wanted it to look after. Arlo had been unable
to make the trip with me, since it was mid-week and we had a backlog of
installations to do. I myself would have to get up at five in order to get
back to work on time the next day. So after my Dad finished opening his
gifts I kissed my parents good night and trundled off to our room to make
it an early night.
I was unable to sleep after my afternoon nap, so I was almost tempted to
get up when there was a knock on the door. I ignored it at first, but the
knock came again, and when the third knock seemed a little louder than the
other two, I figured that whoever it was knew I was in the room, and they
were intent on getting me up.
I opened the door. It was Aaron.
"I figured we could sleep together," he told me.
"I thought you and Sam were sleeping together," I mentioned.
"Sam isn't here tonight," Aaron informed me. "He's out with friends."
That explained why Sam had not dropped by to wish my Dad a happy birthday.
"Won't he be coming back tonight?" I asked.
"Probably not. Tonight's the opening night of the drive-in
theater. They're running a dusk to dawn horror extravaganza and Sam's
friends from the lifeguard class all decided they wanted to see it."
"Why didn't you go too?" I asked.
"I have to work in the morning. Tomorrow is Sam's day off... well, until
he goes on the front desk at four in the afternoon. Besides, I hate horror
movies. I'd rather cuddle... or I could give you a massage."
"I have to leave at five in the morning," I mentioned.
"Then we'd better just cuddle," Aaron decided. "Unless something else
comes up."
"It usually does," I admitted. I was happy that Aaron had decided to share
the night with me. I have always liked Aaron... ever since the night I
took his virginity in the room across the hall from Arlo's and mine. I had
no problem inviting him into my bed... no more of a problem than he had
seeking my companionship. Besides, the double bed in our room was easier
to maneuver in than the twin beds in Aaron's and Sam's room.
We knew each other's bodies and where the good parts were. We cuddled and
touched and rubbed... and then we got down to some good old fashioned
sucking.
Aaron is a consummate cocksucker. I have been told I know a few tricks
myself. I used them all that night to earn a drink from Aaron, and I
didn't feel like I was cheating on Arlo when I unloaded down Aaron's
throat. I was loving a man that Arlo had loved too... admittedly after I
had gotten him, and just before Philippe had first nailed him. It was a
classic case of loving the one you're with... at least that's what I told
myself as we drifted off to sleep.
Still, I was happy that none of this appeared in Sam's diary. Sam's diary
told a much different story... a story that had started that morning at the
Central High swimming pool.
That morning had been the first morning that Sam had worn his speedos to
the pool. He had worn his baggies up until then because he was just a
little embarrassed by how much the speedos revealed. And it was always
apparent whenever somebody wearing speedos became sexually aroused. That
had been the real reason he hadn't worn them before. Whenever Sam saw
Mario, he became aroused.
The reason he wore the speedos that morning was because Aaron had thrown
the baggies into the laundry, and the laundry had gone out the night
before.
Sam managed to contain himself although, when Mario first appeared in his
own speedos, Sam had to duck under the cold shower for a moment. This only
served to outline the impressive appendage that he carried in the
speedos... even flaccid, Sam had a good sized member.
It was the first morning that Sam could remember Mario being the size that
he was too. There was little doubt that Mario was sporting a woody,
especially when he mimicked Sam's maneuver and slipped beneath the cold
shower.
They tried not to look at each other. They didn't have much luck. That
day they were teamed with each other by the instructor and had to pull each
other by the chin from one end of the pool to the other. Sam remarked that
he would probably have been able to get a better grip on Mario if he had
been allowed to use something other than his chin to tow him. Several of
the others in the class remarked that when Sam was being towed, he was
leaving a wake that spread out from his crotch like a V, and if the lesson
had gone on much longer they were thinking of running a sail up his mast.
Sam tried to take it in good humor, but he still lingered in the dressing
room after the others had gone... all but Mario, who seemed to be lingering
too.
It was abundantly clear to Sam that he was interested in Mario. What else
could explain his ability to maintain a chub in the cold water of the high
school pool? As it turned out, Mario shared this mutual
fascination. Neither of them had dared to change while the others in the
class remained, and Mario had even told the guy he was riding with to go
ahead without him.
The two of them sat on the benches and tried not to look at each other,
until after the last swimmer had changed and left.
"They're all going out to the drive-in tonight," Mario mentioned when they
had the room to themselves. "My brother is going too."
"Oh?" Sam answered unsure of why Mario was telling him this. "Are you
going too?"
"Naw, my parents are away visiting friends in Minnesota this week."
This was too much information for Sam to assume that Mario was only making
small talk.
"You got any sisters?" he asked. Right away he wished he hadn't. It had
sent the wrong message.
"Yah, one... but she doesn't live at home any more... why do you ask?"
"No special reason," Sam replied. "Just asking..."
"No, I've got the house to myself tonight," Mario mentioned in an attempt
to drag the conversation back to its original direction. Sam took this as
a good indication.
"Until your brother gets home from the drive-in..." Sam reminded him.
"It's a dusk to dawn thing," Mario replied.
"What's that?" Sam asked.
"You've never been to a dusk to dawn drive-in?"
"Nope..."
"It means they start showing movies when the sun goes down and they finish
when the sun comes up. They run them all night long."
"Oh..."
"Do you want to come over to my place tonight?"
There it was... the invitation.
"You throwing a party or something?"
"Naw, I just thought you might want to come over and watch a little
television. We could send out for pizza."
"I could bring some beer," Sam offered.
"That would be good," Mario answered. "I think my father took an inventory
of his before he left."
"What time?" Sam asked.
"Whenever you can get there..."
"Where is 'there?'"
"Why don't you offer me a ride and I'll show you?"
"Sure... would you like a ride?"
"I thought you'd never ask. Maybe we should get changed."
"I should warn you..." Sam all but apologized. "I've been having woody
problems all day. It's why I waited for the others to leave."
"Hmmm..." Mario smiled, "...check this out."
He peeled his speedos down and revealed a major hard on. It curved to the
right and stood in the air like one of the mighty pines that grew outside
Sam's and Aaron's bedroom window. Sam found himself growing even more.
"C'mon," Mario grinned, "I showed you mine..."
Sam uncrossed his legs and began the process of skinning himself out of his
speedos. When he dumped his genitals out of the garment, Mario whistled
appreciatively and winked at Sam.
The tone was set for that evening.
Sam told Aaron about the dusk to dawn drive-in and asked him if he wanted
to go. This was, of course, a ploy. He didn't want to admit his real
intentions to Aaron. He was sure that his friend would not understand. He
didn't understand himself. All he knew was that whenever he saw Mario, his
pants got tight. It happened with Aaron too, but only with a little
helping hand. Mario brought out the beast in Sam.
Aaron could not, of course, stay out all night. He had to be up and
working before the last movie would finish. Sam asked if Aaron minded if
he went out for the night. Aaron minded, of course, but he did not tell
Sam that. He told him to go ahead and have a good time with his
friends. By then, of course, Aaron had made his plans to invade my
apartment.
Sam felt better about leaving Aaron alone for the night once he had been
given his blessing. Although he hoped for sex with Mario, nothing had been
predetermined... nothing was set in concrete... he might only watch
television... and drink beer.
Sam suddenly remembered that he was to bring the beer. He pedaled back to
the grocery and bought two six packs. Then he raced out to Mario's house
in time to see the old Cutlass leave, full of his friends from the
pool. Sam leaned his bike against the house, hitched up his courage... and
his pants... and walked up the front steps.
Mario waited at the door. He wore only a pair of cutoffs, his brown
nipples standing out against his light olive skin were the first things
that Sam noticed through the screen in the door. Then he noticed Mario's
smile, and he knew that it carried a promise that the cutoffs would soon be
discarded.
Sam returned Mario's smile and stepped into the house. Mario held the door
for him and managed to brush the naked skin of his torso against Sam's
equally naked arm. Then Mario closed both doors, and turned the dead bolt.
Chapter Eleven
Look Before You Leap
"What's happening?" Arlo asked.
"Sam's got a new friend," I answered... admittedly a little distractedly.
"Any sex yet?"
"Not really, but Mario has a good eight inches and it curves to the right."
"Who's Mario?"
"Sam's new friend..."
"Am I bothering you?'
"Just a little..."
"Hmmm... must be good then."
"It's getting there."
"Should I read it myself?"
"There's nothing really wrong with it. Do you want me to wait for you to
catch up?"
"That won't be necessary. I'll probably pass you anyway."
"Are you implying that I'm a slow reader?"
"No, of course not. I don't imply anything that is an
indisputable. Where's my copy of the diary?"
"Right where you left it."
"And where's that?"
"Damned if I know... but you'd better find it fast if you expect to finish
before me." I returned to my reading without noticing the icy stare that
Arlo gave me. I was sure that it was icy, though. I felt a definite chill
in the room. Of course it might have only been that he'd been fooling with
the thermostat again.
Any how, I was sitting on his copy of the diary.
Sam's evening started off innocently enough. They both cracked a can of
beer and flopped down on opposite ends of the sofa.
"Is there anybody else coming?" Sam asked when he had felt Mario's
penetrating gaze long enough.
"Nope..."
"Good, do you mind if I take my shirt off? I got a little overheated
riding out here."
"I insist..." Mario nodded and took another swig from his can. "Take your
shoes off too... and anything else that you want to."
"That doesn't leave much," Sam noted as he toed out of his loafers and let
his naked feet breath. "The only thing left is my pants." Actually they
were cutoffs, but they were not cut off quite so near to the crotch as
Mario's were. In fact Sam could see the skin of Mario's scrotum revealing
itself through the left pant leg. It was obvious that Mario wore no
underwear.
"We've both seen each other naked now," Mario observed. "I don't mind if
you go bare balls. In fact, I think I prefer it. After I get another beer
into me, I'm getting naked. I sort of hope that you'll join me."
"Shouldn't one of us be dressed when the pizza arrives?"
"I don't think it's compulsory... but if you want to... it's up to you. I
sort of think that the guy might appreciate the show though."
Mario did not send mixed messages. He drained his first beer and grabbed
another. Sam found himself waiting expectantly. He also found his pants
getting tight. So were Mario's. That was becoming increasingly
obvious. But Mario did not take his eyes from Sam. He drank his second
beer quickly taking sip after sip and barely removing the can from his
lips between sips.
Sam wished for some conversation to ease the situation, but Mario did not
seem inclined to begin it. Sam finished his beer and set the can
aside. Mario was very quickly consuming his second, and Sam could only
stare back at him and wait.
Mario drained his second can and rose a little unsteadily to his feet. His
hands did not hesitate, although they fumbled with the clasp, and he
carefully unzipped the fly, revealing a nest of black curly hair at the
base of his now hard cock. He peeled the garment off and stood for Sam's
inspection.
Sam did not move, but neither did he avert his eyes. He was mesmerized by
the pendulum of Mario's penis. The curve fascinated him. He wondered how
it would feel if it ever violated him.
Mario seemed to tire of waiting for Sam. He stepped closer and the thing
waved in Sam's face as Mario reached down and grasped the basket of Sam's
crotch. It was as if he wanted to assess Sam's reaction. He seemed
satisfied.
"Take them off," he ordered, and then he added, "please."
Sam began to unbutton and the corners of Mario's mouth began to turn up in
a grin. Just as quickly though, the grin changed to a look of concern.
Mario turned and stumbled a little as he walked away. When he left the
room, Sam, too, became a little concerned.
"Where are you going?" he called after Mario's disappearing back.
"To the bathroom... I'm going to puke..."
Sam found Mario hugging the bowl after the retching told him where the
bathroom was.
"I'm sorry," Mario apologized. "This isn't exactly magic is it?"
"What's the matter?" Sam asked.
"I can't drink beer," Mario admitted just before he retched again. Sam sat
on the edge of the tub and held Mario's forehead out of the toilet. His
cool touch felt good against Mario's fevered skin. Eventually Mario's
queasy stomach quieted and he accepted Sam's help to lift himself to his
feet.
"I keep hoping that I will be able to drink it, but every time I have more
than one..."
"You drink it too fast," Sam told him.
"You still have your pants on," Mario observed.
"Well, yah... I was worried about you."
"The only thing I'm worried about is that you don't seem to want to have
sex with me."
Sam glanced down at Mario. He was now flaccid. His nuts were slung low
and did not seem to be involved in Mario's stated game plan either.
"You're sick..."
"Not anymore, I'm not."
"Did you really want me to have sex with you?" Sam asked.
"Of course I do."
"Then take them off yourself," Sam grinned.
Mario seemed to think this was a pretty good deal. It put him in charge of
the situation anyway. But when he leaned over to kiss Sam, Sam turned
away.
"What's wrong?" Mario asked.
"Your breath smells like vomit," Sam replied. Mario seemed distraught, but
Sam looked around the bathroom and located a bottle of mouth wash. He
handed it to Mario.
"And I suppose yours smells like beer," Mario countered. "That wouldn't be
too good for me right now." He offered the bottle to Sam first. Sam
grinned and took a healthy swig. Then Mario took a mouthful too. They
gargled together and Sam allowed the kiss he had previously rejected. As
his tongue invaded Mario's mouth, he felt his cutoffs slip down to his
ankles. He was vaguely aware of the hand that grasped his penis and the
other that cupped his balls, but mostly he was concentrating on the kiss
that had turned into a tongue fight, as Mario fought to enter Sam's mouth.
Sam cupped his hands beneath what there was of Mario's ass cheeks. When he
pulled them to him, he was aware of the long curved cock that first stabbed
at his leg and then seemed to wrap itself partially around it. Mario was
hard again and seeking to fuck something. Since Sam was the only something
in sight, he figured that he was it.
He was right.
Mario led him to his bedroom... a room he shared with his older
brother. The twin beds were on opposite sides of the room and faced away
from each other. Mario positioned Sam on the nearest bed and kissed him
again. Then he invaded the supply of condoms in the night table beside the
bed. Sam also found the tube of lubricant in the same drawer and applied
some to himself. They hadn't spoken their desire, but they had somehow
communicated it, and as Sam revealed in his diary, the thing he wanted most
of all was Mario's cock inside him. He wanted to feel the curvy thing
massage him in a way that Aaron had never been able. And shortly after he
skinned a condom onto the thing, that's exactly what happened.
Mario chose to take him doggy style. He turned Sam and pushed him over the
edge of the bed arching Sam's ass into the air until it was at just the
right altitude and attitude. Then he plunged himself into it, and Sam felt
the violation rend him like a knife. There was no preliminary affection,
just a seeming desire on Mario's part to fuck and do it quickly. Sam would
have protested, but he allowed the rough entry and even grew accustomed to
the stabbing penetration, as the right side of his ass felt the head of
Mario's cock exploring it. This must be what being raped was like, Sam
determined. The roughness was somewhat stimulating though. There was a
sense of vulnerability.& nbsp; But there was no fear, since they were
mutually agreed to making love. Sam supposed that it was love, in spite of
the harshness of the act. And eventually he got used to being treated as
if the only reason the rest of him was there was to provide Mario with
something to hold onto.
It did not take long for Mario to fill the condom. And when he did, he
pulled himself carefully out of Sam and collapsed onto the bed beside
him. Sam turned around and sat beside the curly-headed Italian boy.
"You're a great fuck!" Mario breathed.
"Thank you... I think..." Sam responded.
"Was something wrong?" Mario asked, catching Sam's reticence.
"Technically, no," Sam answered, "but I like to think of myself as a little
more than a convenient asshole."
"You've got a great cock too," Mario complimented.
"I also have a pretty terrific pair of nipples," Sam mentioned.
"I thought that guys weren't supposed to notice those things too much,"
Mario suggested.
"Why not?" Sam inquired. "They're all attached."
"It's just that they're attached to a guy," Mario explained.
"Yah... so? Perhaps you didn't notice this, but so was the asshole. Most
people are total packages, you know."
"But most guys don't fuck other guys," Mario countered.
"You just did. How many other guys have you fucked?"
"You're it..." Mario confessed.
"Girls?"
"Nope."
"Are you interested in girls?" Sam asked.
"Not right now..." Mario hedged.
"Are you telling me that you've never been fucked?"
"I stuck a carrot up there a few weeks ago."
"That doesn't count...
unless you're a rabbit. I want to fuck you, Mario."
"You're kind of big..."
"How big was the carrot?"
"Not as big as you."
"I'm a lot warmer than a carrot."
Mario grasped Sam's rapidly engorging member. His fingers seemed to be
assessing the size as well as the warmth.
"Yes, you are. Will it hurt?"
"Not as much as you just hurt me," Sam responded. "I think you'll like
it. Let me open you up a little first, though."
"How?"
"With my finger," Sam answered. "I'll put some lubricant on you. If I
hurt you, you can tell me to stop. What do you say?"
"Okay," Mario agreed a little reluctantly. He stood up and turned to face
the bed.
"No," Sam insisted, "lie down on your back. I like making love face to
face. Then I can tell if everything is okay."
He positioned Mario on the edge of his bed and lifted the large naked feet
with their long bony toes to his shoulder. Mario felt himself exposed and
vulnerable, but he allowed Sam to touch his finger to his hole, and he
seemed to enjoy the sensation of being lubricated around his bung. When
Sam's finger penetrated, it surprised Mario a little, his sphincter
clutched Sam and held him for a moment. Then as Sam continued to force his
way in, Mario allowed the finger to do its job, massaging and relaxing the
portal, until it was sliding easily into and out of him. Sam added another
finger and felt the resistance almost immediately. But it too subsided
before long and still Mario's expression had not cha nged. He seemed to be
accommodating the feeling. Anyway, he hadn't said anything yet.
Sam's third finger brought a protest, but it was a mild protest and the
arching of Mario's back could not be interpreted as anything but
discomfort. Certainly it could not be construed as pain. Sam withdrew his
fingers though and massaged the hole with his thumb. He used a little more
lubricant and applied some to the sheath that he wore. When next he
massaged Mario's hole, he did it with the tip of his cock... a tip that
belied the name and was more like a knob. If it would pass, he realized,
Mario would be his. Slowly he pushed, and Mario realized that it was not a
finger, or even two that now sought to penetrate him. Instinctively he
clutched himself closed. Sam pu shed again and made an indentation, but
Mario sought more assurance.
Sam leaned over him and allowed Mario's legs to slide down his arms. He
sought instead his lips and he sought them with his own. They kissed a
long and wet kiss. Sam's tongue explored Mario's teeth and then plunged
itself deep into Mario's mouth.
Finally, Mario broke free from the kiss and entreated Sam, through
moistened lips, to try again.
He lifted his legs one at a time to Sam's shoulders again, and took a deep
breath as Sam once more positioned himself. Again there was resistance,
but this time they were both fighting to overcome it. Finally Mario
exhaled and with the breath he had been storing in his lungs seemed to go
the involuntary restriction of his sphincter. Sam felt himself falling
into the place that had never before been violated... except by a
vegetable. There was a look of euphoria on Mario's face too as he felt
Sam's manhood on the other side of his muscle... on the inside of him...
deep enough to know that they were truly joined.
Sam paid attention to Mario's other sensitive areas as well. He
alternately masturbated him and played with his nipples, pinching and
stretching them as far as he could from the olive skin that surrounded
them. From time to time Mario fought his way forward to feel Sam's tongue
invade his mouth while his cock remained hot and tightly held within him.
It was while they were kissing that Sam came off within Mario. They
collapsed on the bed, and laid there exhausted, fingering each other's
bodies lightly and casually, as if they both now owned the other.
Indeed, for the rest of the night, they did own each other. Mario entered
Sam again... each time taking him gently and while facing him as Sam had
shown him how. Sam reciprocated, and by the next morning they had used the
entire tube of lubricant and all of the condoms.
Mario seemed a little distraught when he discovered this. Sam was
unconcerned. He could not bring himself to perform again.
"You don't understand," Mario answered anxiously, "they weren't mine! They
were my brother's."
"Your brother's?"
"Yah, and it was his bed we fucked in."
"I have some back at the hotel," Sam offered. "But I don't have any of the
lubricant. We use a lotion."
"We?"
"Yah... my room mate and I."
"You do it with your room mate?"
"Yah, sure... why?"
"Nothing... I just sort of hoped that you were available, that's all."
Sam could not answer that, not without admitting to himself that, in
reality, he wasn't available.
"You shouldn't worry about finding somebody," he told Mario.
"I can't seem to find anybody who wants me," Mario shot back.
"I wanted you," Sam told him.
"Wanted? That's past tense isn't it."
"I desire you then... how's that?"
"Not good enough, Sam. I've met lots of guys who desire me, but they sort
of give up on me."
"I can't believe that," Sam countered. "You're a great guy Mario."
"Oh they like me and all, but when they find out I'm fifteen, they sort of
just split."
"You're what?"
"I'm fifteen."
"Aren't you any older than that?"
"I'll be sixteen next month."
"But you're in the adult lifeguard course."
"I'm big for my age."
"You sure as hell are! You're also illegal!" Sam suddenly realized what
that made him. "And I fucked you three times last night!"
"Four..."
"That first time was only my fingers. It doesn't count."
"Sure it does... if you're talking illegal."
"Jesus, Mario, why didn't you tell me you were underage?"
"You never asked."
"I assumed you were old enough. Shit, you're five years younger than me!"
"That's not a lot..."
"At your age, it's a helluva lot! I shouldn't even be here!"
"It's okay, Sam. I'm not going to tell."
"But I'll always know that I shouldn't have been with you. I feel like a
child molester, for Christ's sake!"
"You aren't a child molester, Sam. You didn't know. Everybody assumes I'm
older than I am. They're usually surprised to find out. That's when they
usually disappear. That's why I didn't tell you. I wanted you. And I
didn't want you to leave. Can we have sex again, Sam?"
"Sure... in about twenty-five months."
"I can't wait that long, Sam."
"Then you should try to find someone your own age, Mario. You have to
forget about me... and that last night ever happened."
"I can't do that, Sam. Last night was a dream come true."
Sam did not tell Mario that for him the dream was now a nightmare. He made
Mario promise never to tell anyone what had happened, then he found his
clothes and pulled them on.
Sam raced back to Skittlepeak on his bike at about five thirty. I passed
him on my way out of town but I don't think he noticed me. I figured the
dusk to dawn drive-in had let out. I remembered thinking that Sam had
probably seen a lot of horrible things that night, but until I read the
diary, I had no idea that he was living a horror story. He did look pretty
grim when I passed him, though. I guessed it was lack of sleep.
Sam tried to sleep, but could not. He tossed and turned and waited for
Aaron to return after his morning shift.
When he did, Sam asked him, "How old are you, Aaron?"
"Nineteen, why?"
"No reason... I just wondered." Sam rolled over and pretended to sleep.
I folded the diary, and shivered. There are things you don't want to
know. I too had found Mario attractive. I'd judged his age to be about
nineteen. At one point in our drive to his house, Mario's sandaled right
foot had intruded itself between the driver seat and the passenger seat. I
had surreptitiously regarded it and surveyed the naked foot encased in the
leather straps. There is a lot you can learn about a person from their
feet. But evidently, their age is not one of those things.
Arlo had searched the apartment for his copy of the diary. He was becoming
a little obsessed with finding it. As I considered Mario's foot, Arlo was
tearing the bed apart. I lifted myself from the couch and from his copy of
the diary. I removed the pages that described Sam's liaison with Mario and
shoved them into my pocket. Then I joined Arlo in the bedroom.
"You're finished?" he asked.
"Yes, hun..."
"Any sex?"
"Yes, hun..."
"So, what did they do?"
"Lie down, Arlo. I've got to suck your toes."
"Not again..."
"I'll get to the other stuff later."
That night I typed out a new set of sheets for Sam's encounter with
Mario. I inserted them in their proper spot and did my best to make them
appear as old as the rest of the diary.
The problem with reading somebody else's diary is that you are condemned to
know everything you find out about them. I figured there was no reason for
the both of us to share that responsibility.
Chapter Twelve
Pal Joey
Things got a little busy for Arlo and I around the end of November. Sam
and Aaron took their responsibilities as representatives for the cable
internet company very seriously. They seemed to have a financial target
set for themselves and conducted an advertising campaign of their own to
sell new hooksup.
The two of them could sell refrigerators to Eskimos. There were so many
work orders coming down the hall to Arlo and I that it almost seemed for a
while that we were working for Sam and Aaron. We imagined that Aaron and
Sam were planning a big Christmas that year. They seemed to want to make a
lot of money... a lot more money than just their tuition and living
expenses demanded.
Arlo and I, on the other hand, were keeping Christmas simple. We were
going to buy each other tuxedos and plane tickets. Our passports had
arrived around the first of November, and that focused us on our plan to
spend March break at the Cap d'Agde home of Philippe in France. We did not
plan to pack much in the way of a wardrobe... the whole town being one
large nudist colony.
But we did plan to take a couple of changes in addition to the
tuxedos. Although we had investigated the place on the internet and we had
seen some pictures of people doing just about everything in the nude, we
had noticed some people in the photos who were not naked and we decided
that we could not take a chance that the entire place was an elaborate
advertising hoax. Of course we had Philippe's word that it was all quite
true, but he only spent the winter months at his home and our experience
with winter had always been that people tended to put on more clothing and
not less. Things might have changed during the summers that Philippe had
spent at Skittlepeak. We did not think it would be appropriate to spend a
ll of our time decked out in tuxedos.
One thing was quite clear however... with our share of each order that Sam
and Aaron sent our way, it was a certainty that we would have plenty of
pocket money for our trip. That's when we began wondering where nudists
carry their money... their passports... their credit cards... We
speculated about a lot of different spots, but we decided that we would
have to wait and see what everybody else did in Cap d'Agde. One thing was
sure. I had checked Arlo's birthday suit and he had been all over mine
with a fine tooth comb, and neither of us had found anything even remotely
resembling a pocket.
There was not a lot of time for diary reading, even though we had covered
most of July and about a week of August. There had been no more hints of
any involvement with Mario. Aaron and Sam had given each other some dandy
worksout, but third party involvement had been non-existent. That is until
we finished our Thanksgiving dinner at Arlo's home and drove back to our
apartment and put the finishing touches on our very own Christmas tree. We
were relaxing around midnight, happy in the knowledge that nobody in their
right mind does any work on the Friday after the holiday, and there was
plenty of time to relax the next day. We were thankful for having each
other and our families, our health and our frien ds. When we got to our
friends, we naturally thought of Aaron and Sam and when we thought of Aaron
and Sam, we thought of Sam's diary again.
Arlo was getting tired of reading of Aaron's massages and Sam's new found
devotion to him. He was ready to give up the game and shred the
evidence. I pulled my dog-eared copy of the thing from it's resting spot
between the mattress and the box spring and told him that I too would give
it up if we didn't hit anything interesting in the next couple of pages.
By then, I had developed an almost morbid fascination with the thing. I
resisted the urge to read ahead however, and I was content that Arlo would
not chance reading the thing on his own. I had to sanitize everything for
him... to make sure that he did not feel responsible for any misfortunes
that Sam or Aaron might have suffered and not told us about.
There was one person who was mentioned a lot in the diary towards the
middle of the first week of August. He was a customer of the hotel who had
booked a two week stay. His name was Joseph, but he preferred to be called
Joey.
Sam had described Joey very well. It was almost as if I knew him too when
I finally turned the page on the August seventh diary entry and read that
Sam had run into Joey at the pool and started talking to him.
This surprised me almost as much as it did Joey.
Joey was built funny. He was short and stocky with a tendency to
corpulence. He was dumpy to the extreme and wore clothes that covered as
much of him as possible and had a tendency to be dark. He wore no
horizontal stripes, only verticals, and even though it was mid summer, he
wore shorts that fell beneath the knee.
Joey's calves were thick and round. They were also well tanned. The rest
of him remained whatever color it had been during the winter. Nobody knew,
because Joey never took his shirt off... in public.
The one thing about Joey that everybody agreed about was that he had one of
the most pleasant faces anyone had ever seen. When I read Sam's
description of it, I recognized Joey from the weekend that Arlo and I had
spent with Sam and Aaron. His face was as tanned as his calves and the
tops of his feet that were exposed through the straps of the sandals he
seemed to perpetually wear.
Sam was not aware that Joey was one of the bookings resulting from his
pictures. He usually met these people right away. They would let him know
that they had seen the pictures, usually when he carried their bags to
their rooms. But even though Sam had checked Joey in, he hadn't mentioned
anything about the pictures or that he was even aware of the advertising
campaign. Joey hadn't mentioned anything to Sam at all about anything. He
was extremely quiet, and would have blended into almost any crowd he was
with... if there hadn't been so much of him.
But Joey seemed to show up wherever Sam was. It was as if he would
determine Sam's location and arrive there for a little while every
day. Even when Sam was off, he would invariably run into Joey somewhere in
town. Sometimes he would nod to Joey... sometimes he would say hello...
but that had always been it. They would go their separate ways, usually
without running into each other again.
Then the day of the swimming pool encounter changed forever the
relationship that Sam had with the pleasant young man. He started to ask
him specific questions... perhaps because it was a slow day at the pool...
perhaps because he just wanted to know... Sam didn't say... but the reason
he spoke to him was that Joey was there, and most of the other people
booked into the hotel weren't.
Some days in August it is even too hot to swim. The pool is always
refreshing of course, but lying about on the lounges in the extreme August
heat is not. There are days when most of the people at Skittlepeak dress
up like Arabs and set out in rented fishing boats to find a secluded bit of
shade along the shore where the pickerel and bass are also taking the day
off from whatever it is that fish do all day.
But Sam was at the pool and therefore, so was Joey.
"Hot, huh?" Sam said.
Joey looked behind himself. There was nobody else that Sam could possibly
be addressing. He decided to take a chance and assume that Sam was talking
to him.
"Yah," he said in a throaty voice. It sounded like Joey had just
awakened. He had the deep morning voice that goes away after a little
conversation works the vocal chords back to their normal timber. Either he
had slept late, or he hadn't done much talking that day.
"Where are you from?" Sam asked.
Again Joey felt that the question might be intended for someone else.
"Me?" he asked.
Sam nodded. "Yah, where do you live?"
"Staten Island... and you?"
"Washington Heights, originally, but I'm at college upstate now."
Joey nodded. This was as much conversation as he had ever had with
Sam. He seemed to accept that it was finished.
"Do you come here every year?" Sam asked.
"No, this is my first time. I saw the ad on the internet."
"The web site... a couple of friends of mine put that together..."
"No... the other ad... in the newsgroups."
"Oh... that ad..." It was Sam's turn to hesitate.
"The pictures were great," Joey told Sam. "I collected them all."
"You're into computers..." Sam tried to change the subject.
"Yah, I have a few."
"A few? You sound like a friend of mine. He builds them."
"I tear them apart... mostly..." Joey grinned. "I do repairs... and
upgrades"
"I'm just getting into them myself," Sam confessed and his smile encouraged
Joey.
"You are already in several million of them," Joey laughed. "You're in
mine anyway. I have you as wallpaper on my portable machine."
"I'm honored... I think..." Sam grinned. "Are you enjoying the hotel?"
"It's all right... The people are nice... I'm leaving tomorrow
though. Got to get back to the island and catch up on my work..."
"Have you gone fishing yet?"
"Naw... I don't like hooks."
"Me neither," Sam confessed. "I usually tie the worms on my line and send
them down without any hooks. The fish appreciate it, and nobody gets
hurt."
"Except the worms..." Joey added.
"Well, yah... Admittedly they don't care to much for it, but you can't
please everybody, can you?"
Joey laughed and his voice found its normal resonance.
"Speaking of worms..." Sam asked. "...have you had lunch yet?"
"I skip lunch most days," Joey admitted. "I have this stupid weight
problem."
Sam did not want to restate the obvious. He had noticed Joey's weight
problem of course, but he left the observation unobserved.
"I room with a guy from the kitchen," Sam told Joey. "I have to watch what
I eat too. Aaron is like a mother sometimes. He always wants to make me
eat more."
"Aaron is your room mate?"
"Yah... he's a pretty good friend of mine too. He gives a great
massage." Sam couldn't help noticing the change of expression on Joey's
face when he mentioned the massage. Evidently Joey was a little envious...
of Aaron. Sam checked his watch. "What time is it anyway?"
Joey lifted his wrist and observed that it was a few minutes until noon.
"That's what I've got too," Sam responded. "Time to close the pool!"
Joey seemed a little disappointed to hear that. Sam did not understand why
the closing of the pool should bother him. He was not swimming after
all. Then he realized that Joey must be disappointed that their
conversation would soon be finished.
"Would you like to get a little lunch with me?" Sam asked. Then he
wondered why he had. He told his diary that he probably felt he owed Joey
some attention. It was his photos that had inveigled the guy up to the
hotel, after all.
"Yah, sure. I'll buy." Joey did not hesitate.
"No way, man! I figured we could go over to the kitchen and raid the
refrigerator."
"Will we get into trouble for that?"
"Probably..."
Joey looked a little hesitant.
"Aaron will feed us," Sam assured him. "I think I can get us a little foie
gras and a salad without any trouble."
"If you're sure I won't be any trouble..."
"You're a guest of the hotel," Sam reminded him. "I'm supposed to make
your stay as pleasant as possible. Is there anything else I can do for
you?"
Joey smiled a shy smile.
"There is something, isn't there?" Sam observed.
"Not really," Joey answered. "I'm sure there are rules around this place."
"A few..." Sam admitted. "But rules are made to be broken."
Joey smiled again, but did not pursue the conversation.
"Would you like to go for a ride with me this afternoon?" Sam asked. "I
have to net some more minnows up by the beaver dam."
"This place has a beaver dam?"
"No, the beavers own the dam. We just make use of the pools beneath it to
net minnows. They seem to hang out there."
"I'd like to see that," Joey admitted. "Can I bring my camera?"
"Of course. You may even get a shot of a beaver!"
Joey wasn't that interested in beavers. Most of the pictures he took that
afternoon were of Sam netting minnows... Sam investigating the beaver
dam... Sam showing a little ass... Sam sunning himself as he steered the
fourteen foot aluminum boat back to the boathouse. Sam had showed us those
pictures, but we always assumed that Aaron had taken them.
By the time they climbed out of the boat in the boathouse, Sam and Joey
were great friends. They were comfortable with each other, although Joey
was still not comfortable with himself.
It was Joey who recommended that Sam upgrade his computer. He got to see
Sam's computer that night while Aaron was back in the kitchen preparing and
serving dinner. That's when he invited Sam to his room to see his own
machine... and Sam readily agreed to go. He grabbed the canvas bag beside
Aaron's bed and followed Joey to the guest quarters.
The first thing Sam saw on Joey's computer was himself. Joey had not been
kidding when he told Sam that he had used one of his pictures as
wallpaper. The rest of the pictures were arranged chronologically in a
slide show that presented itself as a screen saver after three minutes of
inactivity.
"Don't you have anybody else's pictures?" Sam asked a little
self-consciously.
"Sure, but I like these the best," Joey answered. "I was hoping to find
more, but it seemed to stop at fifty."
"Yah," Sam smiled, "that's when I found out who my friends were." He gave
Joey a quick précis of the night in Miami when he'd met Aaron. He also
explained the reasons behind the pictures."
"I wish I had friends like that," Joey sighed. "It must be nice to know
that people are concerned about you."
"It is," Sam agreed. "The thing about that is, you never know who your
friends are. I'm sure you have friends who would do the same for you."
"If I do, they're sure keeping it quiet!" Joey joked.
"What about me?" Sam asked. "Aren't I your friend? You invited me to come
to your room. You showed me pictures of myself that you have on your
computer. I'd say that was friendly."
"You know the kind of friendship I mean, Sam... Have you ever had sex with
any of them?"
"Well, yah... Aaron and I slept together in Miami. He and I... well, we
did a lot of things... we still do."
"See, that's the difference... I've had a lot of sex with you too... only
you weren't there."
"The pictures..."
"Yah... and my good old right hand."
"I'm happy they made you feel that way."
"They're the best thing that ever hit the internet," Joey grinned. "That's
why I was hoping there would be more."
"Is that all you're interested in is the pictures?"
"No, of course not! Now that I know you the pictures mean a whole lot more
though."
"What about the real thing?" Sam asked. "Aren't you seeing anybody... you
know... on a regular basis?"
"I don't get out much," Joey confessed. "I guess you'd say I'm a bit of a
loner."
"You aren't alone right now," Sam observed.
Joey smiled... but it was a sad smile.
"No, I'm not... This has been a great day, Sam. I'll always remember
it. Will you be working here next year?"
"I hope so. Are you coming back?"
"If you're around, yah."
"Then, I'll just have to be sure to get hired on again." Sam stood and
pulled off his shirt. "Have you ever given anybody a massage?" he asked.
"No, but I'd like to give you one."
"I was hoping you might," Sam grinned. He opened the canvas bag and
produced one of Aaron's squeeze bottles. "This is a special lotion my
buddy Aaron uses for massages. It smells good, it doesn't stain bed
clothes, it feels great, it also makes a great lubricant... and it is
edible!"
"I hope it's low calorie," Joey added.
Sam laughed and kicked out of his loafers.
"Can I use your shower?" he asked.
Chapter Thirteen
Solid Relations
Whenever Sam was not in Joey's presence he wondered why he had become
involved with him. But whenever he was with him, he stopped wondering and
accepted that he enjoyed Joey's company. He supposed it was the guy's
face, which was compellingly attractive. He did not really know. This
started him thinking that there was really no good guideline for
understanding why two people were attracted to each other. There were too
many variables to make predictions about who would be right for whom. The
best way to approach relationships was with an open mind... and a pocket
full of condoms.
That was the real reason Sam had brought Aaron's canvas bag along with
him. It also held their supply of condoms. Why had he thought of
that? Did he intend for them to have sex? Had that been the uppermost
thing in his mind?
The diary held that information secret. It was as if Sam did not want to
admit to himself that a liaison with Joey might be a mercy fuck. Was it
possible that Sam was just now becoming aware that he was a great-looking
guy? Did he feel a responsibility to Joey because it was Sam's ad that had
brought Joey to Skittlepeak? If he did, it wasn't something that he
admitted to his diary.
He wrapped a towel about himself and opened the bathroom door. Joey was
nowhere to be seen. This was evident at a glance. There was no way that
Joey could conceal himself behind any of the furniture, let alone the
curtains.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed and waited. There wasn't much else to
do. His options were remarkably limited. He could stay or he could
go. He wondered if Joey had chickened out... or maybe he'd had a little
prematurity problem. It bothered him to think that the guy's evening might
already be over.
It was a relief therefore when the door opened and Joey's form filled the
opening. He was carrying a bucket of ice.
"I got some Cherry Colas," he told Sam.
"That's my favorite..."
"Yah, I know. I've seen you buy them a lot."
"What... have you been spying on me?"
"Yes, I came here to see you, remember? I also know that you like chicken
sandwiches better than burgers." Joey snapped a drink open and handed it
to Sam. Then he opened one for himself and sat on the edge of the bed next
to Sam. "You don't drink a lot of beer, and I've never seen you take
anything really hard. I like that..."
"I don't know hardly anything about you," Sam confessed.
"That's okay," Joey answered. "There's hardly anything to know."
I felt an elbow in my ribs. Arlo was looking at me.
"What?" I asked.
"What's happening?"
"They're drinking Cherry Colas."
"Who? Sam and Aaron?"
"No, Sam and Joey..."
"Who's Joey?"
"Read it yourself..."
"Is it all right?"
"It is up to the third page. If anything bad happens I'll tell you to
stop."
"But then I'll know that something bad is going to happen."
"Jesus, Arlo, you are a wimp! Read it or don't read it! But don't keep
interrupting me!"
"Just tell me who Joey is."
"That fat guy we kept running into in August..."
"He's eating with Sam?"
"No, Sam's in Joey's room. He just took a shower and he's sitting on the
bed in a towel."
"I didn't know they had towels that big at Skittlepeak."
"Sam's in the towel... not Joey!"
"What's Sam doing in the towel?"
"I told you... he just took a shower."
"In Joey's room?"
"Yes, of course."
"Joey's seducing Sam?"
"No, Sam's seducing Joey."
Arlo looked at me with narrowed eyes that told me he did not believe a word
of what I had told him. He did not challenge me though. Instead, he
heaved over to my side of the bed as he lifted the mattress and pulled his
own tattered copy of the diary from its hiding place. I rejoined the diary
as Arlo began to read.
"There's always something to know about somebody you just met," Sam
challenged.
"Not me," Joey answered. "What you see is pretty much what you get. And
there's enough of it!"
"Cherry cola and chicken sandwiches?"
"Yah... me too... now..."
"And you've never given anybody a massage?"
"Just myself..."
"That doesn't count. Everybody does that."
"Good... I thought I was the only one."
"Do me a favor though and wash your hands in some nice hot water, will
you?"
"I haven't been doing it lately. My hands aren't dirty..."
"I didn't mean that. You've been holding a cold can of Cherry Cola and a
bucket of ice. Your hands are probably freezing."
"Oh... right... I'll be right back."
When Joey disappeared into the bathroom, Sam removed his towel and laid
face down on the bed. He was quite relaxed by the time the water stopped
running and Joey reappeared. He knew that Joey had returned to the room
when he heard the sudden hitch of a gasp. Evidently Sam's nude body was
not something that Joey had been anticipating... right away.
After a long moment had passed, Sam turned his head towards the
bathroom. The young man was standing transfixed in the bathroom door.
"Ready when you are," Sam told him.
"I don't know if I can do it," Joey confessed.
"Sure you can," Sam grinned. "I learned how. I'll talk you through it if
you like."
"It's not that," Joey responded. "It's just that I don't know if I should
touch you."
"What's the matter with me?"
"Nothing... that's the problem. You're perfect."
"I'm a long way from perfect, man."
"Not as far as I am."
"I want you to massage me, Joey."
"Do you really?"
"Yes, of course."
"What if I can't stop touching you?"
"Then I'll get up and leave," Sam cracked. "Don't worry, man... I'm here
because I want to be touched... and I want you to do it."
"What about your room mate?"
"He does it all the time."
"No... won't he be upset?"
"He isn't here, Joey... but you are."
"Yes, I am... aren't I?" From his tone of voice, Sam knew that Joey was
wishing that he was just about anywhere else.
"Please," Sam encouraged, "I want you to do it."
Joey hesitated but a moment more before he crossed the few feet that
separated him from Sam.
"Okay, man... tell me what to do."
"Squeeze a little lotion on my shoulders and start rubbing it in."
"I don't have to take my clothes off, do I?"
"Not until later..."
"How much later?"
"That all depends on what you want to do."
"I want to keep my clothes on."
"You really should get naked too,"
"Only if we turn out the lights."
"Whatever... Are you going to massage me before you turn out the lights?"
"Yes... I wouldn't miss this for the world."
"Thank you," Sam smiled and laid his head onto Joey's pillow. Almost
immediately he felt the splash of the lotion on his shoulders and tentative
fingers beginning to spread it around. Before too long and with only a
minimal amount of encouragement, Joey was kneading the muscles he had only
fantasized about until then.
The feel of another person's flesh in your hands is a feeling of
communication as well as a sensual thing. Joey's hands communicated his
desire for Sam even more than the knowledge of how the pictures that had
been posted to the internet newsgroups had so effected him. Words are
clunky sorts of things that do not convey feelings with precision. There
is no mistaking a lingering touch, or a caress, and Sam was getting volumes
of information from Joey's fingers... especially when they reached,
lingered at, and eventually passed over his ass.
When Sam rolled over he was already hard and Joey's hands trembled as he
worked his way up Sam's legs to the center of his sexuality. He did not
hesitate to touch Sam's cock. He cradled the testicles in his left hand as
his right massaged the foreskin back from and then over the head of Sam's
penis. He admired the way the head shone almost red and glistened with the
lotion.
"Is that stuff really edible?" Joey asked.
"Go ahead," Sam encouraged.
It was the permission Joey had been waiting for. He eagerly swallowed
Sam's cock and drew his lips hungrily around it. Sam felt Joey's tongue
wandering over the shaft as he closed his eyes and laid back on the
bed. He lost himself in the sensation and was a little disappointed when
Joey drew off and returned to the massage of his torso. The licking did
not stop though. Joey had simply transferred his center of attention to
Sam's nipples. And Joey's hand retained Sam's penis in its grasp, slowly
masturbating it as he sucked as Sam's chest.
Joey was still laboring over Sam when Sam's eyes opened and he whispered
into Joey's right ear, "I want to fuck you."
This caused Joey to stop in his tracks. His hand released Sam's cock, and
he turned his face to Sam's. Their noses were mere fractions of an inch
apart.
"That would involve me getting naked, wouldn't it?"
"It would help," Sam whispered.
Joey stood up and moved to the light switch by the door. The darkness was
not total though. There was still the bathroom fixture lighting the
room. He entered the bathroom and closed the door. Moments later Sam
heard the water in the shower begin to flow.
Sam rolled over and took another sip from his Cherry Cola. Then he worked
more lotion onto his penis and massaged it to its fullness. He could see
by the light that came from under the bathroom door. But when the shower
stopped and after Joey had toweled himself dry, the light from the bathroom
also disappeared. The door opened and he felt Joey join him on the big
double bed.
Gradually his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could make out Joey's
face in front of him. He touched it with his fingers and found Joey's
lips. He surrounded them with his own and kissed them.
Joey's lips were full and after the first encounter they were moist with
Sam's saliva. He drew away a moment and licked them. Then he returned the
kiss and discovered that this time, Sam's tongue had managed to somehow
take up residence in his mouth. He sucked at it as it explored his oral
cavity.
Joey's hands explored Sam's body even more familiarly than they had when he
was massaging him. His fingers grabbed at Sam's erection, replacing Sam's
own, and stroked it even more. Sam found that Joey was already hard. Not
only was he hard, he was a decent size... but then, everything about Joey
was a decent size.
Joey's body, although large was not all that fat. It was firm to the touch
although parts of it could use a good work out. Sam's left hand found its
way to Joey's chest and managed to massage a nipple, just before Joey
pulled it away and kissed its palm.
Sam took this to mean that Joey was still sensitive about his size. He
refrained from further exploration, instead reaching for the bottle of
lotion and the condoms.
Joey prepared himself while Sam slipped into the sheath. He massaged more
lotion onto the latex, and then they began the process of determining where
the docking would take place. It was more difficult in the dark, but once
Joey had found and grasped Sam's member, he was able to direct him.
The one thing about Joey that was not large was the thing that Sam now had
to squeeze himself into. He pushed and prodded a little before Joey could
relax enough to grant him entry. Then Sam eased his way in, taking his
cues from Joey's breathing and the constriction of his sphincter. All the
while, Joey's fingers held Sam... his right hand guiding Sam's cock while
his left hand played delicately with Sam's nipples.
Finally they were joined and Sam began the long thrusts, slowly at first,
and then deeper and harder as Joey gasped and grunted beneath him, savoring
the violation that he had never expected to feel, and glorying in the fact
that it was Sam who violating him.
Joey achieved orgasm long before Sam. But he seemed to want more. When
Sam finally filled the condom, Joey splashed again, masturbating himself
frantically.
Sam collapsed beside him on the bed, and they kissed again.
"We had better take another shower," Sam suggested.
"What... together?"
"That's the best way."
"Do we have to turn on the light?"
"It would help."
"Couldn't we take turns?"
"We could, but I don't see why..."
"You will when the lights go on."
"Joey, we just made love. Surely that must tell you something."
"Yah... the room service is great here."
"It wasn't room service, man. I like you. I just loved you. I'd like to
see you."
"I'm fat."
"I know... I used to be overweight myself."
"You're kidding."
"Nope... I was the fattest kid in Washington Heights."
"What happened?"
"Nothing... I grew up all of a sudden... but I never stopped feeling
fat. It stopped me from making friends. I just assumed they didn't want
to be with me. That sort of thing stays with you. You have to get rid of
it. It takes time."
"But you aren't fat anymore. I am!"
"Yah... so?"
"So it's not the same..."
"That's true... but you also shut yourself off from people. How many times
have you gone for a walk in the past year?"
"I don't have a lot of time for stuff like that."
"Is there a gym where you live?"
"Yah, but that takes even more time."
"Time is the only thing you've got," Sam prodded. "You ought to try."
"I suppose you're right, but I just think that everybody is going to gawk
at me..."
"And then you get nervous and eat a twinkie..."
"You've been there, huh? I'd kill for a little anorexia."
"That would only make things worse."
"Yah, I suppose so."
"You're a nice guy, Joey. I like being with you. I enjoy making love to
you."
"Thank you for being such a great liar, Sam."
"It's the truth, man. I want to see you again next year. That's three
hundred and sixty-five days from now. Do you know how much time that is?"
"Yah, a year..."
"And it's enough time to make a real difference."
"I'm not just fat, Sam... I'm stocky. I'll never look like you."
"So what? Aaron doesn't look like me either. It doesn't matter what you
look like, but I think you would feel better about yourself if you
tried. I'm going to turn the lights on unless you promise me that you
will."
"Can I kiss you first, Sam?"
"Sure..."
Joey found Sam's lips. They shared a long kiss, enjoying the flavor of
their combined juices. When they had finished, Joey lifted himself from
the bed and moments later the light came on. It was not as bad as Sam had
thought it might be... and Joey had the added benefit of a fat cock.
"I think the clothes are part of your problem," Sam pointed out. "You
should wear some lighter stuff. Everything you've got is in
proportion. You just need to lose about fifteen percent of your body
weight. Will you do it?"
"I have a year?"
"Uh-huh... Although I would like monthly updates. Do you have a scanner?"
"Yah..."
"How about a Polaroid?"
"I can use my 35mm..."
"Let me take one now."
"Now?"
"Now... where's your camera?"
"In my suitcase... But if you take one of me, you have to let me take one
of you too."
"Nude?"
"Yah... If I'm going to have to face the guy at the Photomat the pictures
might as well be good."
"You have to be nude too."
"All right..."
"And you have to promise not to put it on the newsgroups..."
"That goes double for you!"
"I promise," Sam laughed. Then he and Joey took each other's
pictures. After the photo session they showered together. It was a bit of
a squeeze, but they managed.
The next day, Sam saw Joey off at the bus. Their handshake was warm and
Sam knew that he would be seeing less of Joey the next year. He found that
he was looking forward to that. At least that's what he told his diary.
"Humph..." Arlo humphed.
"What?" I asked.
"Now we have to get into Sam's computer again."
"Why?"
"To copy the pictures..."
"You are incorrigible..."
"And that's why you love me. Heads or tails..."
It was past two A.M. when we finally got to sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Just When You Think You Know A Guy
We got really busy after Thanksgiving. Well, everybody does. Christmas is
that kind of time.
I had picked up a few tricks from Philippe and he had given me some recipes
for French pastries. That kept me busy baking and boxing and shipping them
off to our friends for the holidays. It also kept Arlo from losing his
gut. I can't say I minded that. I love Arlo's gut, especially now the way
it sort of hangs over his pubic hair and all the neat stuff down there. I
play with his gut when we are in bed. He doesn't mind, especially after I
told him that it made him even more sexy.
Arlo doesn't think of himself as sexy. He still thinks of himself as ugly,
although he never really was. He was peculiar-looking for a while in his
youth and it still hasn't dawned on him that he's become one of the hottest
guys on campus. He is satisfied that he was fortunate to find someone to
love him... me. That makes me pretty happy as well. It's another reason
why I like his gut. Guts turn a lot of people off, so I am doing my best
to keep his where it is... or growing. You might say I'm protecting my
investment.
But some days Arlo can be particularly vexing. When you plan to send out
three dozen Neapolitans to your friends and find yourself with only
twenty-eight after a quick trip down the hall to borrow a roll of tape, and
the only excuse you get is, "I thought they were for dinner," well it tends
to focus you on the problem at hand... which is usually Arlo.
"You're going to look like Joey if you don't stop!"
"That's okay... Have you seen him lately?"
"No, of course not! Quit trying to change the subject!"
"You're the one who mentioned Joey..."
"But only as a comparison... Why? Have you seen him?"
"Yah, Sam got his monthly photo the other day."
"He showed you?"
"Of course not!"
"Well, then, how did you see it?"
"I told him it was time to run a diagnostic." Arlo started to
chuckle. "And he actually believed me!"
"You sneaked into his machine?"
"Yah..."
"You are truly despicable!"
"I try my best... Did you know he's still keeping a diary?"
"Don't you ever stop?"
"Why?" Arlo seemed to be honestly asking.
"Have you ever heard of a thing called privacy?"
"I'm keeping it private... I only tell you."
I gave Arlo my best attempt at a long-suffering stare."
"Don't look at me like that!" he complained. "You look like you're
constipated."
Well, I had to laugh, and of course, then, he knew he had beaten me.
"Do you want to see the pictures of Joey?"
"The pictures? You have the pictures?"
"Of course... They're in the directory with the pictures of Vuko and Bill
and us. I was going to give them to you for your birthday, but I guess you
can peek at them now... if you want to."
"How many are there?"
"Four... one per month. There's the picture Joey took of Sam too. Do you
want to see them?"
Now here's the quandary. How do you communicate your outrage to your lover
and still get him to let you look?
"Of course I want to see them... you little weasel!"
Close enough!
Arlo grinned and I knew that he knew that he had me again. He led me to the
computer workshop and switched on his monitor. Seconds later he was
showing me through the five photos.
"When did you get these?" I demanded.
"About three days ago..."
"Why didn't you show me?"
"I told you... I was keeping them for your birthday."
"You were keeping them until you got into trouble again, you mean."
"Well... yah... Joey's lost a lot of weight, hasn't he?"
Arlo was trying to change the subject again, but what he said about Joey
was true. When you looked at the pictures in order, there was not much
change from month to month. But when you compared August's to November's,
the difference was noticeable. Joey was becoming almost svelte. There was
something else that I noticed. The November photo had been taken by
somebody else. The camera and flash were visible in a mirror behind
Joey. There was someone holding the camera. From what I could see of him,
he did not have any clothes on either... at least he wasn't wearing a
shirt. I pointed that out to Arlo.
"Yah... I noticed..."
Arlo had no more noticed the figure in the mirror than he had noticed that
he had eaten eight of my fanciest pastries. I could tell from the
hesitation in his voice. I decided to leave it alone though.
"Who do you suppose it is?" I asked.
"Obviously, it's a friend," Arlo answered. "They're both undressed."
"Was there anything in the e-mail about him?"
"How would I know? I just copied the pictures... and the latest diary...
and Sam's notes on Astronomy."
"Is he taking a course on Astronomy?"
"I don't think so..."
"Oh..."
"I could check his e-mail..."
"Leave them alone, Arlo."
"I have a new virus scanner. I'm sure Sam would want me to load it onto
his machine too."
"Arlo..."
"I'll be right back!"
Arlo returned a half an hour later with Sam's e-mail files. I made him
promise only to look for references to Joey, then I went back to my
Neapolitans. There were three more missing. I ate the odd one and boxed
the others. I wrapped them too and taped them securely. I already had the
labels on them, so I hopped into the van and delivered them to Norm and
Robert, and Bill and Vuko. Sam and Aaron would have to wait for the next
batch, although something told me that they had probably shared a couple of
the last three to disappear with Arlo.
When I got back Arlo had his smug look on his face.
"Well, who took the picture?"
"The guy from the Photomat store," Arlo grinned. He's dating Joey now, and
Joey told Sam that he owed it all to him."
"I think he owes it all to you, Arlo," I grinned back. "It was your idea."
This started Arlo beaming.
"Yah... I guess you're right. If I hadn't thought of using Sam in the ads,
Joey never would have met him. He never would have taken the pictures and
the guy at the Photomat never would have spoken to him."
"You're a real cupid, hun. Look, I'm going to change now. Norm and Robert
are going over to the dome this afternoon. I told them we'd come over
later, too. Norm's got a practice and they need as many people as they can
get for the Booster Rally afterwards. Don't be too long."
I left Arlo glowing in his computer room and hurried to the bathroom for a
quick shave. I felt really good. Everything was coming together in my
little world. I had my lover, a job, an education, and I was going to go
to France in March. My friends were doing all right, and my parents were
healthy. I had everything going for me, and it showed in the face in the
mirror.
Then suddenly there was another face in the mirror, and it looked
distraught. I turned to find Arlo in the door of the bathroom.
"What is it Arlo?"
"Sam is going to leave Aaron."
"What?"
"Yah... he's writing to a college in New York City. He requested all sorts
of information about tuition fees and residences... and he's asking about
next semester."
"You're sure about this, Arlo?"
"As sure as I am that I'm standing here. He asked for all of the
information he would need to switch colleges. Then he confirmed that he
had sent the application by snail mail. He even mentioned sending a check
for the residence. He must want to go to live with Joey."
"But Joey's got a boy friend..."
"I guess he's got two now."
Arlo sighed and slunk away to the bedroom. I found him there face down on
the bed when I finished shaving. He had pulled his copy of the diary out
from its hiding place. He wasn't reading it though... just looking at it.
"It's all my fault," he said dejectedly.
"I'm not following you on this one, hun..."
"Don't you see? I was the guy who got Sam and Joey together. Now Sam's
leaving Aaron for Joey."
"He said that?"
"Not in so many words... no, but don't you think it's a strange coincidence
that right after Sam gets a picture of Joey and finds out that he's got a
boy friend, he decides to change to a New York City college?"
"You're jumping to conclusions again."
"It's the only exercise I get these days," Arlo snapped.
"You don't know for sure that's what is happening..."
"Have you got a better theory?"
"I haven't read Sam's latest diary."
"Neither have I... I erased it from the hard drive after I found out what
he's doing. Let's burn these diaries too, Rick." Arlo waved his tattered
copy of the diary at me. "I don't want to read them anymore. It always
turns out bad."
"What about Philippe? That didn't turn out bad. We're going to France in
a few months, aren't we?"
"Yah... Do you think we should invite Aaron to go with us?"
"Sure... if you want to..."
"The poor guy still thinks that he and Sam are going to exchange vows in
the Spring."
"Maybe they still are..."
"What? By long distance? Or maybe Sam's just going to e-mail his vows to
the poor guy from Joey's computer!"
"Arlo, you're speculating. You don't know for sure that Sam is leaving
Aaron. Maybe he's taking a semester there to pick up a course he can't get
here. Maybe they're both going. Did you check Aaron's e-mail?"
"Aaron would have told us. He couldn't have kept it secret."
"Sam didn't tell us either..."
"Because he's trying to keep it a secret from Aaron!"
"Or maybe there's nothing to tell..."
"I'm still going to burn my copy of the diary."
"Why don't you just shred it," I suggested. "I think there are rules
against open flames in the apartment."
"You're probably right... and this thing has brought us so much bad news,
it would probably set the drapes on fire."
"We don't have drapes, Arlo. Your mother installed venetian blinds."
Arlo lifted himself from the bed and sighed. He took one last anxious look
at the diary and trudged away to his work room. I followed him and watched
as he ran his copy of the diary through the shredder.
"I'm going to take a shower," he told me.
"Well, hurry up," I advised. "We have to be to the dome by three thirty."
When Arlo had shuffled to the bathroom, I stood for a moment in the work
room and found myself worried about its owner. Arlo was really feeling
down, and he also felt the weight of responsibility for the decisions of
others. I hated to see him that way, but I also realized that it was
probably a very good and very expensive lesson for him. Arlo never erased
files. It went against his nature to destroy something once it was
created. The fact that he had eliminated Sam's recent diary entries
demonstrated the depths of his depression.
I don't know what drew my attention to the disk on the desk beside the
computer... perhaps it was the scrawl of Arlo's printing. But I found
myself examining the label that read, "Diagnostics."
I wondered if Arlo really had run a diagnostic program Sam's machine. I
also wondered why he had not done mine too. But with the disk in my hand,
I could soon rectify that.
I slipped it into my machine and booted up. Then of course, I got an error
message, and had to slip it out again. I always forget about that!
Once I had the machine going, I checked the directory of the disk. There
was a diagnostic program there all right... but there was also something
else. There was a group of files that could only be one thing... Sam's
most recent diary entries.
I opened the first one and began to read.
I was still reading when Arlo came to the door and told me we were already
late. I shut down the machine and we left for the dome. So far I had not
come across anything that even hinted of Sam leaving Aaron. But I was only
into September, and I had a long way to go.
I had, however, come across a conversation that Sam had had with
Robert. It had been roughly the same conversation that I had had with
Norm. Neither Robert nor Norm seemed to understand the nature of their
relationship. It was adversarial to be sure. It was competitive because
they were both competitors. And neither one of them seemed to understand
why it worked. I discovered that Sam had told Robert essentially what I
had told Norm... to go with whatever worked. I felt vindicated.
Now all I had to do was lift Arlo's spirits in time for Christmas.
Chapter Fifteen
Don We Now Our Gay Apparel
The team would be playing the next week in Arizona. The bowl game was the
first of the season and was scheduled for Christmas Eve. It was a great
honor for the team, but it played havoc with the families who had been
unable to plan holiday celebrations. Robert had signed on as an equipment
manager in order to make the trip and allow the regular equipment manager
to spend the holidays with his family. Norm had rearranged the room
allotments to permit them to bunk together. They were both excited about
the trip which would be their first to the west. The coach had promised
the whole team a trip to California if they won. That and the booster
rally were the incentive they needed to spur them on to superhuman efforts.
"We'll be leaving tomorrow at noon," Robert told us as Norm grunted and
perspired on the field in front of us. "Norm is a little concerned about
flying, so I've filled a carry-on bag with chocolate bars to lure him on
the plane if he gets cold feet. Come to think of it, though, his feet are
always cold. They're too well insulated with fat."
"He's a big boy, all right," I had to agree.
"The idiot has a big heart too," Robert complained. "Remember Jason?"
"Jason... our Jason, with the tattoo on his ankle? The guy Norm paid to
have sex with Frank in the video?"
"One and the same... Do you know what Norm wanted to do?"
"You mean with Jason?"
"I mean for Jason. He wanted to pay his tuition for the year."
"I thought Jason dropped out."
"He did... then he found out that his act was getting old and a little
tired and he wasn't going to be able to survive on his looks alone. Norm
tried to talk him into going back to school. Seems that Jason is hooked up
with some unsavory characters on the West Side. Norm told him to sign up
for college and he would try to get the money together to pay for his
year. We had a big discussion about that!"
"Why?"
"Because Norm doesn't have enough money to pay his own expenses. His
parents have to send him a Care parcel every month with a couple of hundred
dollars in the bottom of it."
"They can afford it, Robert. Norm's folks are well off."
"Yah but if I wasn't around to watch him, he'd be bailing out every hard
luck case that comes along. Norm's a bit of a mark. Like I said, his
heart is too big."
I could vouch for that myself and so could Arlo. Although Norm was the
kind of a friend that you sometimes wanted to avoid because of his
brashness and lack of culture, there was no mistaking that when it came
time to count your friends and count on them, he was right at the top of
the list. Arlo and I had found that out on many occasions.
"So what you're saying is, you two have something going together."
"What I'm saying is that Norm sleeps through Economics. Shhh... here comes
the big goof now."
Norm was in fact finished his practice as was the whole team. They streamed
off the field to the locker room and a quick shower, Robert went with them
to collect their equipment and store it in the trunks that would accompany
them to Arizona.
Arlo and I found ourselves joining the rest of the student body in a
rousing preliminary chorus of the school song. It wasn't long before the
players rejoined us and the party really got started. We raised a little
hell that night... or at least until the curfew sent all of the players
home to their beds.
Arlo and I found our way home through the first fluffy flurries of the
winter season, but it was a long time before Arlo drifted off and I got a
chance to get up and continue reading the diary that Sam had kept from
September to December. I plowed through September and into October. All I
got from that was a few new tricks to try with Arlo and an awareness that
both Sam and Aaron had noticed that Arlo and I were acting a little
strangely.
It took until the middle of November to find any mention of the tuition and
residency fees that Arlo had found in the e-mail. But when I finally did
read it, I couldn't help grinning to myself. I printed out the excerpt and
folded it neatly into a Christmas card. Then I scribbled Arlo's name on
the envelope and laid it onto a branch of the tree.
I made him wait until Christmas morning to open the envelope. By then he
had almost forgotten it in the excitement of the other presents beneath the
tree.
Naturally we both had to try on our tuxedos. I looked pretty good in mine,
but Arlo looked exquisite. It was also the first time I could recall
seeing anyone produce a basket in tuxedo pants.
"Do I look all right?" he asked.
"Just barely..." I told him. Well, I didn't want him to get a head the
same size as his stomach was becoming. "You still look better in the nude,
though."
"You aren't completely ugly either," he answered, and then he brought out a
little gift that I hadn't seen hiding in the boughs of the tree. He handed
it to me with a smile that made him look almost goofy, if there hadn't been
the sweetest twinkle in his eyes to go with it.
"What's this?" I asked.
"A little something to show you how I really feel about you..."
"We said we were only going to give each other the tickets and the
tuxedos."
"Yah... I know, but when I saw it, I just had to get it for you."
I ripped the wrapping off and discovered a box from the most exclusive
jewelers in town. Inside the box was another box with a hinged
lid. Inside the box with the hinged lid, on a satin pillow lay a gold
ring.
"Oh... Arlo... it's beautiful."
"Shut up and kiss me."
I kissed him a deep passionate kiss. I also felt the basket of his pants
for good measure. Then he took the ring from its pillow and slid it onto
my finger.
"I wanted something to let other people know that you are already taken,"
Arlo explained. "They may not let us get married, but they can't stop us
from being a couple."
"A couple who are very much in love with each other..." I added. Then I
kissed him again.
"We are luckier than any of our friends," Arlo told me, and I had to agree
with him. But I felt badly that I had not bought him such a romantic
gift. I reached under the tree and pulled out a much larger box than the
one he had given me.
"What's this?" he asked as he tore the paper away.
"A CD ROM with French lessons," I explained. "In case you want to talk to
any women in France."
"What about the men?"
"You may not talk to the men... especially the naked ones."
Arlo grinned and hugged me. Then we kissed again, and before we knew what
was happening, we had pulled off our tuxedos and were taking each other
right there under the tree while our turkey hissed and crackled in the oven
a few feet away. That was the best Christmas gift of all.
It was almost dinner time when we remembered the envelope I had placed in
the tree and went to grab it.
"What is this?" he asked as he scanned the sheet of paper, although I was
pretty sure he knew and only wanted me to confirm the authenticity of the
document.
"It's from Sam's new diary," I told him. "Sam wasn't enrolling in New
York. It was for Jason. Norm asked Sam to help him make the arrangements
because Robert had forbidden Norm to do it. Aaron and Sam even lent the
money to Norm. That's why Sam's name was mentioned as being on the check. I
think it is also why Sam and Aaron were working so hard selling hook ups."
"Sam's not leaving Aaron?"
"I don't think so, hun. He and Aaron are over at Aaron's parents' place
having Christmas dinner right now."
"They are?"
"Yes, they are..."
"So how did you get hold of Sam's other diary?"
"You forgot to take it off your diagnostics disk."
"And you went snooping through my stuff?"
"Of course... the same day you ate eleven of my Christmas presents."
"So you've still got it?"
"Uh-huh... and I've got another piece of news for you... Sam and Aaron are
both going to France at the same time we are. They don't know we're going
though. I changed our tickets and we're all on the same flight."
"Does Philippe know?" Arlo asked.
"He does by now," I told him. "I think it might be a little crowded at his
place."
"That's okay," Arlo opined. "We can always rent a room on the beach."
"Planning to do a little photography, hun?" I asked.
"Well, it isn't everyday that a guy gets to visit a nudist colony."
"No, it's not... fortunately."
"Tell me, Rick... do you still have your copy of the Skittlepeak diary?"
"Yah... unless you shredded it too..."
"No, I didn't. Why don't we go and have a look at it? There must be
something in there for a Christmas celebration."
"I'm sure there is hun..."
"Then maybe we could get started on September through December..."
"Not unless you want a divorce..."
"Can we at least talk about it?"
"No..."
Well, that's where things stand for now. It will soon be our
anniversary. That will give me a chance to match Arlo's Christmas gift
with a ring for his finger too... or perhaps I should get one for his
nose...
We are also getting pretty excited about our trip to France and our visit
to Monte Carlo. You can be sure that if anything comes up over there, I
will let you know all about it... and with that many naked people walking
around, I am sure that a lot of things will come up!
The End
As always, drop me a line at heap@aracnet.net and let me know how you feel
about it.
Ricardo