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Thread: Four Miles and Counting

      
   
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    Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter One


    “Heiko, come inside,” Tom called. “Your bare ass is gonna get us thrown out of here.”

    Heiko came in and slid the balcony door half way shut. “I like looking at the bay in the early morning. I think some of the pelicans are getting to know me. They squawk as they fly by.”

    “They're asking each other who's that weird naked bird on the balcony. Get back into bed.” It wasn't an order, it was an invitation.

    Heiko paused to let Tom enjoyed a look at his body and then slid under the covers and into the embrace of his lover of past six months. “Do you still love me?”

    “Since last night? Yeah, I think so. Weren't you cold out there?”

    “I love you very much,” Heiko answered. “... since last December,” he added. “You were like a Christmas present. The best ever. Are my hands too cold?” Tom had flinched when Heiko took hold of his cock.

    “No.” It was all Tom got to say. Kisses, caresses, and the down comforter soon had Heiko's hands warm and Tom's cock aching.

    The months in Alameda had been like a long but intermittent honeymoon. Heiko spent four nights a week with Tom and three in Palo Alto at a primitive crash pad he shared with a couple other guys near school. The arrangement let Tom and Heiko get used to each other without fear of suffocation and also allowed Heiko to finish his last required courses. The Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday separation made Thursday night the best of the week. But that easy routine was over. This lovemaking session finished it.

    Heiko relaxed after his peak of pleasure slowly melted away. “Now you, Tomi. You fuck me.” Heiko's pronunciation of 'Tommy' had over the months migrated slowly eastward and turned into his native, German-accented 'Tomi'. The difference, the syllables in Tomi were more equally accented and the 'o' was a little rounder, was hard for anyone other than Tom to detect, but to Tom it made 'Tomi' his own. Tom liked it; the nickname melted his heart when he heard it; that morning, however, he sighed..

    “I'm not going to make you late for your graduation, Heiko. It's already eight. Your parents are going to be there.”

    “We have time. If I'm late, the school can mail me the diploma.” Heiko kissed his lover expectantly and watched as Tom first checked the clock and then mentally recalculated their schedule. “See, Tomi. We have time.”

    It started as a continuation of their slow and easy, boy-friend fuck and then changed. Heiko wanted more. He lay on his back with his legs splayed. “Yes,” he urged. “Harder. Don't hold back.”

    Soon after returning from England, they had discussed the issue of holding back. It was Heiko's theory that Tom was reluctant to use the full length of his cock for fear of causing pain, while Tom insisted that wasn't so. Heiko was right and they both knew it.

    “I love you, Tomi. Give it all to me,” Heiko insisted.

    Tom had failed to learn how to say no to Heiko. Heiko didn't ask for much, but this failure accounted for the growing collection of beer steins that Heiko was picking up at the Alameda weekend swap meets and that Tom felt looked at odds with the basic funky-modern look he was going for in their condo. But he couldn't say no. His pelvis slapped against Heiko's ass. Tom winced in sympathetic reaction to the pain he saw on Heiko's face as he fucked him deeply.

    “Don't stop. Fuck me … fuck me ...” Heiko pulled Tom closer without interfering with the pistoning power that drove Tom's cock deeper. “I want to feel how much you love me.” Soon Heiko let out an explosion of breath and relaxed as Tom came in him.

    After they showered, Tom asked, “What brought that on?”

    “My father and I are going to argue about my future and I want to be able to feel your cock in me when we do.” Heiko smiled. “I'm gonna feel your cock in me for days, I think.”




    “The porn business sucks, you know?” Andrew said to Seth. They hadn't had sex in months. Except for memories, their relationship had become almost completely professional. So it was a surprise to Seth when Andrew asked if he could suck his cock.

    “No! Of course not.”

    “Just asking … we have nothing to do until the thing at Istanbulla's tonight.”

    “The thing, as you call it, is iced. Everything is arranged. Plus, we've already done the hard parts, the sex scenes.”

    “You don't think it needs more of a back story? Are you sure we can sell what's basically a thirty minute orgy?”

    “It's presold. Andrew, the porn business sucks because you keep wanting to go after an Academy Award. In our stuff, the production values are measured in inches of cock and ounces of cum. If you pare it to its essentials, it's fast, fun, and profitable.”

    “I guess … You sure you don't want to get sucked off?”

    “My dick isn't made for blow jobs. You know that.” Seth was sensitive about the size of his cock.

    “Not for porn blow jobs, maybe. It's fine for my blow jobs.” Andrew smiled at his business partner. “Remember the times you, Tom, and I used to ….”

    “Ancient history, Andrew. You were the one who broke it up.”

    “I wonder what Tom is up to these days,” Andrew mused.

    “He has a great new friend and he deserves it after putting up with you.”

    “He does, does he?” Andrew came up behind Seth and gave him a little squeeze.

    Seth shoved him away and answered the phone. “Sandy Shoes Productions. Sandy speaking.” Andrew had decided that 'Sandy' was the name of the boss and whoever answered the phone was Sandy.

    “Seth? That you? It's Chris. We need to reshoot the ending, I think. I was watching the raw scenes and I got nothing. No lead in the pencil. Not even a hint. It's all there. Every kind of sex possible for men to have, but it's just not exciting.”

    “Maybe your watching too much porn. You're just numb to it all. I'm putting you on the speaker. Andrew's here.”

    “Chrissie-poo ... How's it hangin'?” Andrew said in a curt greeting. Their temperamental cinematographer was another of his problems.

    “That's just it, Andrew. It's hanging. We need some spice in the final scene. Maybe we need an observer … someone outside the action to react in ways that lead the audience.”

    “Woody Allen has already made Zelig.” Andrew made a scowl to Seth, signaling his lack of enthusiasm for Chris's idea.

    “Not some impotent old pervert. A couple of young innocents who watch our flick and get involved with each other while they watch.”

    “A movie within a movie. It's been done, Chris. It's been done a lot and it's expensive.” Andrew didn't want to spend money on changes.

    “We don't need gimmicks. We just need some hotter talent. Is that what you're saying?” Seth asked.

    “We need something to make my dick hard. What we have isn't doing it.”

    “I thought you and that guy with the Virgin Mary tattoo ...” Andrew practically snarled.

    “He wasn't any better in real life than he is on video,” Chris answered with equal push-back. “I didn't recruit these guys; I just fucked a few of them.” The comment was aimed directly at Andrew, who had done the casting.

    “You mean you got fucked.”

    “No, I mean you did. They're no-talent meat and you paid 'em top dollar.”

    “Guys ...” Seth intervened. “This isn't helping; and we can't ship a shit product even if it is presold.”

    “It's on the server. Watch it. You'll see I'm right.” Chris clicked off.

    Andrew pulled the shades and closed the curtains. “We want the right atmosphere … If this thing sucks, Istanbulla won't be happy either.” Their bar-owner friend had invested in the video.

    Seth started the video. It was obvious the editing wasn't complete, but the story was in place. It was watchable. Andrew snuggled up to him and felt his cock. “I just want to see if it gets hard while we watch.”

    Seth moved as far away from his partner as the three-cushion sofa allowed. “It's porn, Andrew. It's pretty much solitary masturbation material. I'll let you know how I like it.”

    “At least take it out and stroke it,” Andrew proposed as he pulled down his own zipper.

    Seth did his best to concentrate on the tedious video. Seeing Andrew's cock had always had an arousing affect on him. It made him want to get fucked. He had to admit Andrew had a great cock. He also had to admit Chris's criticism of the video was accurate. The orgy did nothing for him. Worse than that, it was annoyingly frustrating, watching a dozen good-looking guys go through the motions of mechanical sex. Seth felt a growing, tense impatience with the video. He couldn't blame himself for shifting his attention to Andrew's cock. It was so inviting as Andrew slowly teased himself. Andrew had always been a good fuck. A glistening in the dim light told Seth that the rigid cock was dripping wet. Seth slipped his pants down as a signal. Asking Andrew for a fuck would have been too embarrassing an admission.

    Andrew helped him get the pants off and gave Seth's cock a nuzzle. Seth's legs spread for the welcome attention and they fucked almost like the old days. But in the old days, Seth had usually been bent over a kitchen counter. This time he had to watch how the dim light gave Andrew's face an unattractive expression of sexual greed. It almost killed his enjoyment. He closed his eyes unltl they came.

    It was over. “Chris is right, Andrew. We gotta fix the vid.”

    Andrew was still panting as he carefully pulled his cock out of Seth's ass. “Is that all you have to say?”




    “I don't know how to put this, Cal.” The athletic awards dinner had just ended with a long round of applause for Cal Rockridge, Alameda High's winningest football coach in a generation. Eleven and one. And the single loss had been in overtime. The Alameda Hornets, now called the Killer Bees by people who thought it was original, saw their logo emblazoned on a record number of sweats sold in the past year, shirts and hoodies that were now worn with pride by students and alumni even across the estuary in Oakland.

    Arnold Sinclair, head of the parents' booster club, stumbled over his words. “It's hard to even think of the words ...”

    “Spit it out, Arnold,” Cal suggested. “Just say it.”

    “There have been some complaints … that … “ Arnold looked to Cal, hoping Cal could read his mind; but Cal just stared back at him. “...that you … your life-style … is a bad influence on the boys.”

    “I live with a man. Larry. Who you know. Everybody knows him. It's never been a secret.”

    “But with all the news lately about … you know … it's become a concern.” Arnold looked down at his shoes. “To a few people. People with loud mouths. Not to me, Cal. To others.”

    “Has any student complained? Has there been a hint ... the tiniest hint of inappropriate behavior by myself or Larry?”

    “No, no. Of course not. The team … the students all love you. It's just ...”

    “Just what?” Cal did his best to stay calm. Arnold wasn't his problem, not directly anyway. He needed to know who was doing the complaining.

    “It's the potential … what if … I mean, you could … I'm sorry, Cal. I can't believe you would ever betray … I don't know what to say. Ev Dorrance is behind it.”

    Evinrude “Speedboat” Dorrance was the father of Ted Dorrance, a pathetic druggie drop-out from life, a former Alameda High student who had died over a year ago under circumstances that were never fully explained. Speedboat Dorrance felt his son had been spiritually kidnapped by homosexuals, corrupted, and killed. He was looking for vengeance. Cal's visible success had made him an available and vulnerable target.

    Cal went home and slammed the house's front door in his frustration.

    “Is that you, Cal?” Larry called from the den at the rear of the house.

    “Lawrence Haas, you are the love of my life. Nothing will ever change that.” Cal lifted Larry out of his chair and embraced him. Larry was not a small man, he was nearly Cal's size; but Cal held him tenderly, effortlessly off the ground. He held Larry for a minute and then put him down. Larry looked at him questioningly. “I'm gonna take a shower and in about fifteen minutes you will find me in bed, waiting for you.”

    Larry smiled in puzzlement. He saved his draft fire safety project proposal, turned off his computer, and went to the kitchen. The beginnings of late night snack for two went back into the fridge. He poured two bulbous glasses of a slightly sweet aperitif wine and took them upstairs.

    Cal was already in their bed. Never good at sipping, he knocked back the wine with one swallow. “What took you so long?” and then “God, you're slow getting undressed.” He finally smiled when he saw Larry's ready erection. “Fuck me.”

    Larry saw the need in his lover's eyes and heard it in his voice. He was used to Cal's eagerness, the need of an athlete for action. The hug downstairs was their only preliminary. Cal pulled at him urgently until his cock was buried deep and sighed only after Larry had begun thrusting. “Fuck me, baby. Love me. I need you so much.” Cal pulled Larry into a long kiss.

    It was the kind of fuck Larry loved. Long deep strokes, slow and then faster, then slower again, merging their bodies, feeling every touch. Sex had become more than a penis and a hole, it was a merger that added onto both of them and made boundaries vanish. They loved as one. The foreplay always came afterward, the gentle kisses followed the act, the words of love completed the night.

    Finally as they relaxed, feeling the radiance of each other's glow, Larry asked, ”A good dinner tonight?”

    Cal kissed him one more time and said, “I'm probably gonna get fired.”




    Darren felt the physical reward and Spartan sense of virtue that normally resulted from strenuous physical exertion. His body sang to him of taut youth and lean strength. It was never the reaction he expected from an epistemology lecture and yet it happened every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night at St. Mary's College in Moraga. He left the class with a spring in his step and tried to suppress his urge to smile at nothing.

    Nicky was becoming more and more a pleasant memory; the painful rent in Darren's heart caused by his departure was mending itself. Their honest love had been satisfying both physically and spiritually; it had stirred them both in ways they had never known before; it gave them lessons in living a relationship twenty-four hours a day; and it looked great to outsiders. They were just about the most fabulous looking couple in the Bay Area. It was everything two young men could hope for except for one thing. It lacked depth. They were in love with love, which is a fantastic but not stable state of existence.

    Darren's first real heartbreak alarmed his brother who felt the pain almost as much as Darren did. Z's relationship with Darren was partly paternal. As the older brother of a runaway, he felt a real responsibility tempered by the fact that Darren hadn't run very far. The distance was only miles you could count on your fingers, but those few miles were defining to the teenager Darren had been. Darren initially felt Z was too motherly, almost as smothering as their real mother had been, but his views changed, particularly as Z's reins grew longer and looser.

    Consequently, it was comforting to both brothers that after Nicky left Darren had moved back into the house next door to Z. Two aging single women were his landladies; and they kept their distance unless Darren invited them to meddle, which he did from time to time. And his brother was literally a few dozen feet away, where the door was always open. The combined circumstances cushioned his heartbreak.

    His three minders all breathed a sigh of relief when Darren soon began looking outside himself. He decided to take “a few courses” at St. Mary's. His guardians thought school would take Darren's mind off Nicky and to some extent it did, but the fun of driving to St. Mary's on the back roads through the Oakland Hills in his Audi was the first reward for Darren. The fascinating pull of philosophy just sort of crept up on him, almost in the way his ambitious logic professor hoped to.

    In your dreams, Darren chuckled, when he first noticed the professor's attentions. He wasn't the only one who noticed. “Dude, you got a guaranteed ace from Dormeyer, if you wink back at him.”

    “Huh?” Darren came out of his epistemological trance. “What do you mean?”

    A young couple smiled back at him. “Has he written you a love letter yet? He addresses his whole lecture to you.”

    “Uh … yeah, it's kinda creepy,” Darren acknowledged.

    “Easy ace,” the boy repeated. “Don't knock it.”

    “You look familiar,” the girl said. “Why do I think that? Where have I seen you?”

    “No idea,” Darren answered. He never liked to talk about his modeling gigs. “I live in Alameda,” he added.

    “If Dormeyer wants a threesome, let me know,” she answered as they came to the parking lot. Darren couldn't tell how serious she was.

    “Me, too,” said her boyfriend, who winked and smiled.

    Darren walked halfway to his car and then turned back, unsure if he had heard right. There was no sign of the couple.

  2. #2
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Rory,
    Very nice updates, if a bit disturbing.

    Heiko has finally finished this level of his schooling, and he and Tom are building a wonderful relationship - enter the overbearing German engineered father. . . but the two of them are pretty strong and even stronger as a couple.

    Andrew and Seth - what to make of them. The love relationship became all professional, and now some of that sucks, while at least one of them would like to rekindle the passion. Those boys need some serious counseling from the sounds of it.

    Larry and Cal - back from pro football and the full time coaching gig. But, Ted Dorrance's dad, who likely drove his son to drugs and his death, is now looking to ruin the joy of the job - and the school's rekindled pride in their team and their school. The guy needs to be shown the ferry to Alcatraz, and locked in there.

    Darren and Nicky - the fling of youth - burned out, but increasingly able to be a fond memory. And, after spreading his wings, finding the comfort and security of the ladies next door to big bro Z - (and the heretofore unmentioned Eric). Finding an intense turn on in his coursework and self-confidence. And to have the hot chic AND her BF "joke" about hooking up - but then to vanish. What lies in store for Darren?

    It was a good beginning to reintroducing our boys from back home.

    I'm looking forward to more.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    *Squee*

    Great new story, Rory! Another 5-star effort for sure

  4. #4
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Two


    “So how bad was a day with the family, my new bachelor of science? I didn't notice any brawls with your father. I liked him, if you want to know the truth. And your mother, too. She's beautiful.”

    Tom and Heiko were driving slowly home over the Bay Bridge with the massive glow of San Francisco behind them and the widespread twinkling lights of Alameda ahead on their right. After the graduation ceremony they had a late lunch with Heiko's parents in the city and took a tourist's walk along Post Street so Karin Wittelsbach could window shop. The only store she entered was Rizzoli, where she bought Heiko a book on Bavarian architecture written by a cousin.

    “I can see our building,” Heiko commented, looking out the window and drumming his fingers on the book his mother had given him.

    “I liked him very much, Heiko,” Tom insisted when Heiko sidestepped his first remark . “What does 'Ish verda gebumt' mean? Did I say that right?”

    “What?”

    Tom repeated the phrase. “I think that's how he said it.”

    “Ich werde gebumst. It means amazement, like 'I'll be fucked.' When did he say that?”

    “After I told him your stock options will probably be worth a quarter of a million by the time they vest. He also asked if we had any extra room in the condo. I think he's sending you a pet.”

    “A pet?” Heiko sounded suspicious. “Exactly what did he say?”

    “Something about room for a wolf. A young wolf. Is that what you call a German shepherd? They're smart dogs.”

    “Ich werde gebumst,” Heiko sighed.

    Tom squeezed his thigh. “If it's too much we can tell him no; but I wouldn't mind a dog. They're fun on the beach”.

    “Tomi, young Wolf is my brother. My mother said they don't know what to do with him.” Heiko's eyes grew wide and innocent. He suddenly looked very young. “He's a … he's a … ein ungeheuer!”

    “Eyn uhng-geh-hoy-er? I've GOT to learn German,” Tom said.

    “A teenage monster.”

    “Wolfgang.” Tom tried the name.

    “Maximilian,” Heiko corrected him. “One of his middle names is Wolfgang. He's called Wolf.” Heiko pronounced it with the German v-sound.

    “I'm glad you have a crazy family. By yourself you were too perfect.”

    “My mother said they were wondering what to do with him for the summer.” Heiko stopped talking; he always felt challenged to hold his breath whenever he drove down into the Webster Tube. “Haaahhh!” he gasped as they surfaced on the other side of the estuary in Alameda. “I guess we get him until school starts. Do you mind?”

    “Of course not. I was a teenage monster. I can probably teach him a few things,” Tom answered.

    “Really? I don't believe it.”

    “What do you want to hear about? Drinking? Drugs? A girl accused me of getting her pregnant. I got that tattoo on my arm. Oh, yeah ... I was cool; I was a rebel back then - so I thought.”

    Heiko laughed. “What does that tattoo say? I can never make it out.”

    “Vroom Vroom. Surrounded by a cloud of exhaust. That was when they called me Engine. Stupid, huh? I had it altered so it's harder to read. The girl kinda woke me up. Being a teenage father is, uh… a sobering thought.”

    “I guess. No experience there.”

    “I had fucked her. So the kid could have been mine; but the timing was way off. The kid was born about five months after we did the deed. She married some other idiot who couldn't count.”

    Heiko was subdued when they got home. “Thanks for putting up with my parents, Tom. Your being there made it much easier.”

    “Your parents are great. Come here. Hug me.” He relaxed in Heiko's arms and resisted when Heiko tried to break away. “No, hug me more. Do you think we should get that empty bedroom ready for Wolf?”

    No, wait til we hear.”

    Tom held onto Heiko's waist but leaned back to look him in the eye. “Want to show me what 'ein ungeheuer' is like in bed? I wouldn't mind being molested tonight.”




    Darren arrived a few minutes early for his logic course and sat on the far side of the room three rows from the front. Professor Dormeyer watched him get settled and then looked away when Darren's eyes met his own. Darren wondered if he should find some reason to talk to Dormeyer. Then he wondered if that would be serious brown-nosing, an activity that seemed much more acceptable in a college environment than it had in high school. Before he made any decision other students began arriving. The couple he had talked to arrived lost in conversation with each other when they entered the room. The girl surveyed the room and winked when she saw Darren. Her boyfriend made a rapper's hand gesture in greeting. They sat closer to the door.

    Dormeyer stood and began. “The fallacy of the undistributed middle term in a categorical syllogism is easy to give examples of, but hard to define, isn't it? Can you define it, Miss Collins?”

    So that was her name, Darren thought, or half her name. He listened to her stumble over the answer. Fortunately, Dormeyer was no Torquemada and helped her through the details of the correct response. At least she did the reading, Darren decided.

    “Now,” Dormeyer continued, “Give me an example of an absurdity – in logical form, of course – Mister Alvint ...” Dormeyer stumbled over the name.

    “Darren Alvintzi,” Darren prompted. “All cats have one more tail than no cat. No cat has ten tails. Therefore, all cats have eleven.”

    Where is the fallacy in that, Mister, uh, Colvin?” Dormeyer moved the discussion onward without taking his eyes off Darren.

    At the end of the hour Dormeyer spoke to Darren. “Alvintzi is an interesting name. Is it Italian?”

    “Once, maybe. My grandfather says our family was Austrian.” Darren smiled and left the classroom.

    “He stared at your ass as you walked away,” Miss Collins commented.

    Her boyfriend snickered. “At least he talked to the two of you … He ignored me.”

    “He thinks you're straight, Petey. If he only knew what you'll do for an A.”

    “Joanne's joking, Darren. I'm Peter Collins.”

    “The same last name?” Darren asked.

    “Don't brothers and sisters usually have the same last name in Alameda?” Joanne asked.

    Now it was Darren stumbling. “Um … sure, I guess. I'm from Orinda.”

    “Last week it was Alameda,” Joanne prodded.

    “Well, I live there now, but originally I ...” Darren let it die. Neither Joanne nor Peter cared; and Darren needed to hurry to his epistemology class.

    Professor Campion, going by his appearance, was about four thousand years old and joked that he had known Socrates personally. “Before we can discuss knowledge we need to define truth, I suppose. Is a validated personal belief a truth? The easy way out of that is to find an instance when it is not. You walk across a bridge and it holds you. It's strength is a validated belief. But under the weight of a truck it falls. So belief is not enough. Or is 'strong' too vague a belief? The pre-Socratics – and I caution that they were before my time - grappled with basic definitions like these ...”

    Professor Campion held the class in the palm of his hand for the next fifty-nine minutes. Darren left thinking this guy would make the whole four years of college worth while. The professor's effortless erudition convinced Darren that his own ability to look hot in his underwear on a runway was a meaningless accomplishment. The lecture had touched on the endless debate over free will versus determinism and Campion had said that debate was worth an entire course of its own. I want to know, Darren told himself; no, I NEED to know about things like that.

    “Darren!” Joanne's musical greeting shook him out of his rapture. “Are you in a hurry to get back to Alameda? Want to come to a little pool party?”

    “Actually I'm going to work.”

    “Work? At this hour?” It was beginning to get dark.

    “Sorry, another time? Keep me in mind?”

    Darren drove to Rory's office alternating between thoughts of excavating lost tablets of Leucippus of Thrace and finding out more about Joanne and Peter. The traffic on Ninety-Sixth Street distracted him from both thoughts. Damn, I should take the bus. I'd have time to think if I took the bus.

    “Rory, is Thrace anywhere near Belgium?” was his greeting for his boss.

    “A thousand miles? Maybe more? What's up with that?”

    “If we go back to Belgium, I was wondering how far if I could also go to Thrace.”

    Rory typed something into his computer. “Thrace is … hmmm … part is Turkish, part is Bulgarian, and part is Greek. Which part are you interested in?”

    “All of them, I think,” Darren smiled. “My college course today was about a philosopher, Leucippus of Thrace.”

    Rory grinned at Darren. “I see. The bug has bitten you. Leucippus won't be enough. You'll want to know everything.”

    Darren looked at Rory in amazement. “Exactly … That's exactly what I was thinking.”

    “I felt that way about numbers when I was at Berkeley. I wanted to learn everything from Pythagorus down to myself.”

    “Did you? Did you learn it all?”

    “Not yet; but I'm still studying.” Rory lost Darren explaining a current problem of string theory, but for the first time Darren knew exactly where he was lost and how to find his way. Nothing like that ever happened during high school.

    Instead of going directly to his room, Darren stopped next door to see his brother. “Z, Rory is so fucking smart! He's a genius, that's all, a genius.” Darren was excited.

    Z and Eric were having a late dinner in the kitchen. Z gave Eric his here-we-go-again smile and asked Darren what brought that up. “He understands me perfectly, Z. I was talking about a Greek philosopher and he told me what to do. Like, with my life! He explained it all. Be a scholar, he said. What do you think, Eric?”

    “Your brother ordered me to go to medical school. It's kind of the same thing. The boss knows best.”

    “It is, isn't it?” Darren reflected.

    “So you want to go to college?” Z asked.

    “Rory said that's only a start. Be a scholar all my life is the answer. It's going to take that long. By the way, we're going to Belgium next month. And maybe Thrace, if there's time.”

    “The boss,” Z scoffed after Darren had left.

    “It makes him uneasy when I call you my lover,” Eric said. “So lover man, boss man, Z Man, we've got two whole days to embarrass him 'cause I ain't getting out of bed. Sleeping and fucking and that's it til Monday morning.”

    “You want to sleep first? You do look tired, Eric.”

    “Are you kidding? Come here.”

    “Did you notice? He never mentioned Nicky's name. Not once.”

    Eric didn't answer. He was busy undoing Z's jeans.




    “What do we tell Istanbulla? She could demand payment on the note.”

    “Nothing. We tell her nothing. She's happy. As far as she knows the scene at her club was the last shoot of the video. We have editing time and marketing time. She won't complain for weeks.”

    But, Andrew, the problem remains: the sex scenes suck.”

    “You worry too much, Seth. You bring up problems before they're problems. We could be making sweet love again.” Andrew was thinking of fifteen minute increments of love, not a sweet love affair.

    “Andrew, that was a mistake and you know it. Neither one of us enjoyed it.” Seth took the long-term view of everything.

    “Speak for yourself. If I come, that's proof I enjoyed it. What's your complaint? 'Oh I got fucked and all I did was come all over the place. What a failure I am.' Seth, you need to have more fun. Relax more. Take it easy. We have time to fix everything.”

    “That's what you always say. I wish I believed it.” Seth broke off the talk. “I got a couple of models to interview at Chris's studio.”

    “That's a long drive. You plan on sampling the goods?”

    “I plan on seeing if they can generate any heat. With each other.”

    “Hmmm. I'll go see Izzie, see how her customers enjoyed being movie extras. I bet she cleared a bundle in drinks.”

    Chris had moved to a new studio, but it was still to-hell-and-gone, near an oil refinery in Richmond. During the drive Seth considered the age of his truck and the fact neither he nor Andrew had the money to replace it. And why, oh gods of manufacturing, did the Japanese so consistently put crappy audio in their trucks? Seth rolled the window down, destroying what was left of the sound of Liszt's Sonata in B Minor. Kind of a faggy thing to be listening to anyway in a truck on the 880, he decided.

    Chris had reinstalled and improved the auto-camera set up. He had incorporated as many as a dozen cameras focused on a variable speed revolving platform. The control settings were almost infinitely variable. “This is a long way from that old Back Flip Fuck shoot,” he bragged to Seth.

    “BFF is still one of your best and still making money,” Seth commented enviously. Chris had a participation in Andrew and Seth's porn partnership, but still did many things on his own. He had a good income from his work.

    “And I own one hundred percent of it,” Chris crowed. Chris thought back to that shoot and felt a prickly sensation spread along the length of his cock. Nothing like starring in your own porn, he thought. For fun and profit, there was nothing better.

    The two models had arrived together. They had worked for the same production company previously and were experienced. Seth flattered them using the term actors as he outlined what he was looking for.

    “You already know we're hot. You've seen our Perfect Penis Production work. All you need to know is if we're still hot under your direction, right?” The model seemed to be taking charge.

    “Uh ...” Seth lost track of his plan.

    “Where do you want to do this?” The model asked. “Cool,” was his only comment on Chris's set-up. “Let's do a test shoot.”

    Chris set up the lights. He darkened the room, highlighted the platform, and began shooting. The first model did a sexy strip as the platform revolved very slowly. When he was done, he sat naked on a low central pedestal, put his hands on his hips and slightly spread his legs, giving a wide open shot to the cameras. “Watch,” he commanded. Without a touch, his cock darkened, swelled, lengthened, and erected in a continuous process, ending rampant and red, over big but tight balls. “Come here,” he ordered. “Yes, you.”

    Seth approached tentatively. “Closer.” Seth climbed on the platform and knelt at the guy's feet.

    “Go ahead” came the permission. Seth began a half-hearted blowjob but the guy's response was encouraging. Soon Seth was into it. The guy stopped him and held his face in both hands. “I don't want to feel teeth again. Do you understand?” Seth nodded. The guy gave him an encouraging, forgiving, and brief kiss directly on the lips. “Good. Now try again.” He let go of Seth's face and spread his legs wider.

    They changed positions and Seth kept going. Some times Seth was doing the work, sometimes he lay passively and let the guy pump his cock down his throat as deeply as he wanted. Piece by piece, Seth's clothing came off until he was eventually naked, revelaing his own erection. “It's nice. It's cute,” the guy said, both complimenting and embarrassing Seth. Then the guy enveloped Seth in his mouth, taking both his erection and his balls in and using his tongue to tease Seth almost to the point of orgasm. He stopped and just looked at Seth until Seth was squirming under his gaze. “I'm gonna fuck you now. Is that ok?” He wasn't really asking permission, just announcing his intent. Seth didn't answer. He just positioned himself in an available posture. “I said … Is that ok?”

    Seth nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

    He was rewarded with another forgiving and brief kiss. “Good boy.”

    The model entered him slowly just with the head of his cock and then he withdrew. He teased this way repeatedly and then plunged the length of his cock into Seth, quickly pulling out again. He repeated his shallow penetrations until Seth cried in agony “Fuck me!” That was all it took. The railing began. Deep fucking, slow, now and then fast, in a variety of positions. Seth came when he was on all fours, barely touching his penis, but that didn't end it. He sat on cock, he lay on his side and took it, he sucked some more, and then he lay flat on his back and just took it until he and the guy both came.

    “Wow!” Chris said to no one special. He watched Seth gather his clothes off the floor and sit naked in a chair recovering. The model sat with him and whispered something private.

    “Now me,” the other model announced. In a businesslike manner he took the platform and stripped down to a black jockstrap. It went well with his dark coloring without giving a leather vibe to the scene. “We can't leave you out of it.”

    “No. I'm good,” Chris said. “Just do your thing.”

    The model got off the platform and walked over to Chris. “You're my thing. Let's do it. We'll just fool around a little.”

    Chris joined him on the platform and wondered if this was a mistake. The black jock was fascinating, though. The guy wore it with flair and at the same time he teased Chris with it, brushing into him, bumping against him. “You can touch, if you want,” the model said. “Feel free.”

    “Wait. Wait a minute,” Chris objected and grabbed for his jeans when the model pulled them down to his knees.

    The model then yanked at Chris's underpants exposing skin. He slapped hard and almost immediately the red outline of a hand print appeared on Chris's ass. “I'm being nice here. I expect you to be, too. Got it?” He swung again and the resulting crack echoed in the room. “Good. Now take your clothes off.”

    Chris complied and stood for inspection. The model sat him in his lap and licked his dick with the tip of his tongue. Chris said nothing. The model rolled him over and slapped his ass again.

    “I want some appreciation when I'm good to you. Is that too much to expect?”

    “Yes. I mean, no.”

    “No what?””

    “No, sir.”

    The model make gentle love to Chris, stopping only when Chris's reaction was insufficient. “You just don't appreciate a good thing, do you?” The spankings were regular, nothing Chris did was quite good enough for the model. It continued until Chris's ass was fiery and the slaps were no longer effective.

    “Fuck me, sir,” Chris asked. “Please fuck me, sir.”

    Chris only came once, but it was spectacular with lots of cum all over his stomach and chest.

    The model disengaged, leaving Chris unprepared to move. He sprawled on the platform with his ass burning and a stupid smile on his face.

    “So, do we get the job?” the model asked earnestly. “If you want something more romantic, I can do that too; but I thought you'd like to see a bit of drama first.” He glanced over at Seth to see if there was any reaction, but Seth was deep in conversation with his partner. “Man, I hate these try-outs,” the model complained.

  5. #5
    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    They're off. . . and running!

    Great new instalment, Rory!

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Just like old times - made new again!

    Loving the detail with all of our guys, Rory.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  7. #7

    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Man when it got to the part where Seth was getting fucked by the first model...It was just hot as fuck man.

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Glad everybody's liking this. Let me know if it starts getting too weird.

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Three


    “I love him.” Jerry carefully swirled his drink. The purity of the gin made it like crystal. It splashed over the two perfect olives, making them glitter hypnotically. In the low light of the bar the olives seemed to attract and enhance the light.

    “I love him. How can that be?” Jerry whispered to the glass feeling foolish for expecting an answer. He sipped and felt the burn of the gin barely tempered by the tart dilution of the vermouth. He fished in the glass with his fingers and ate one of the olives. Cold. A sharp brine. An outer crunch contrasted with the smooth yielding of the pimento. Amazingly sensuous - kind of like some women. What a perfect drink, he though and drained the liquid along with the other olive in a gulp.

    “Another, please.” He toasted the bartender with his empty glass.

    “Are you driving?” the bartender asked as he measured out the gin.

    “Shit, I'm barely walking,” Jerry joked.

    “Let me know when your ready to leave and I'll call you a cab.”

    “Call me a taxi. 'You're a taxi.' Whose joke was that?” Jerry continued.

    The bartender set the fresh drink in front of him. “You look like a nice guy. I don't want you getting in any trouble.”

    “What's your secret? This is a great martini.”

    “Freeze the olives. It keeps the drink cold. They're like little green ice cubes with no dilution.”

    Jerry almost opened up but something told him this wasn't the bartender to tell you were in love with a cop. “Thanks,” he said instead. The bartender switched his attention down the bar to a newly arrived customer. Alone again, Jerry carefully lifted his drink and sipped. His fresh martini was big and the rim of the glass was wide. In love with a cop. Jeez. And my boss had to be the one to tell me.

    “Jerry Blenko,” Rory had said sharply, snapping Jerry out of a daze. “What's your problem? You've been acting down for weeks. It's affecting your work. Depressed programmers don't program.” That had been bad enough, Jerry remembered, and then Rory had to make it personal. “Plus I like you. I like the regular Jerry. I hate seeing you not yourself. What's the problem?”

    “I … uh … um ...”

    “You don't play lacrosse anymore. You don't go out with the office. And we're kinda fun aren't we?” Jerry was forced to nod. “So what's wrong?” Rory asked.

    “I guess it's living alone. It's kinda lonesome since Neil got married.”

    “How long were you two roommates?” Rory asked. “A year?”

    Jerry nodded. “A little more.”

    Well that explains it. He was your best friend. Knew you inside and out. You did everything together. You loved him, and now he's gone. It's an adjustment. Why don't you come to the park today? And dinner afterward? It's my turn to cook and that alone should be good for a laugh.”

    “Tomorrow, Rory. I promise. I'll play tomorrow.”

    Jerry thought over Rory's words. I loved him, Rory said. I never thought of it that way but … I spent every day with him. We shared laughs. We picked up girls together. Had sex in the same room. We even shared a couple of the girls. I knew everything he was feeling as well as he did. We used to comment on each other's sex lives. Sometimes it was just jokes. Sometimes it was more like a shared experience. And then one night there weren't any girls. Only a bunch of beer ...

    Jerry took a big gulp of the drink. What a fucking mistake. How did it happen? We always had fun. We had no secrets. He was my best friend. And then we had to ruin it. It seemed so innocent. His hand on my cock. Mine on his. Even when we were doing it, it seemed like a joke - even when we came all over each other it seemed so harmless. For about ten seconds. And then everything got weird. Really weird. A mess we couldn't fix.

    “I love him.” Jerry repeated to the glass. “If I could just go back and change that one act. Just erase those fifteen minutes. Nothing would ever happen again. If we could just be friends … If we could just ...”

    I hate sloppy drunks; I'm not gonna cry, Jerry resolved. Jerry paid his tab and walked home. He was unsteady but not reeling, and the little house was only a couple of blocks down Buena Vista. He get to his room and took off his shirt and shoes. He lay on the bed and felt the dizziness of the room rocking slowly. He ignored the ache in his cock; it was overwhelmed by the ache in his heart. Then without warning he cried as if he would never stop. It wasn't soft weeping; it was painful, wracking sobs that tore at his body, He heard himself make grotesque sounds resembling nothing human; they echoed in the room so empty without Neil.




    “Ok, I reedited it. See what you think. That was quite a night.” Chris made an appreciative sound reflecting the heat of the sex captured by his cameras.

    Chris hung up confident in the revised video. Seth wasn't so sure. The economy of not having to pay only two principal actors instead of four was attractive, but he wasn't happy being one of the two unpaid actors. His early experience in porn had told him that he preferred the safe side of the camera's lens. The sex, as spectacular as it had been, had been a mistake Andrew determined he would not make again. This determination, however, was undermined by his repeated failures at avoiding entanglements with Andrew. His failures taunted him. I make all these plans and then end up with my legs in the air, Seth thought shaking his head.

    He opened a Coke and sat down to watch Chris's new edit, expecting the worst. From the starts he realized he was mistaken. Within minutes he stopped the video to make sure the outer office doors were locked. Then he resumed the play. The scene was compelling. He couldn't resist and slowly jacked off as he watched.

    Is that really me? He wondered. Chris had cut the video and adjusted the lighting to emphasize the two guy who came to audition. They were beautifully lighted, showing off their muscular bodies. Seth and Chris were shown mostly in silhouette with only fragments shown in detail. Crops of Seth's eyes told of his complete submission, crops showing just his lips said yes to his partner's demands, his cock looked more aroused than he thought it ever could and dripped in expectation as he awaited the first penetration.

    That guy is so hot, I can't believe it's me, Seth thought as he responded to his stroking and came. He stopped the playback while he mopped up the mess and then resumed. Then watching Chris get worked over – and love it- Seth freed his cock again and came almost as quickly as the first time. “Wow,” he said aloud.

    He jumped when he felt hands on his shoulders. “So hot watching you pleasure yourself,” Andrew said genially. “What are we watching?”

    “Fuck!” Seth yelled. “Fuck, Andrew! I about had a heart attack.”

    Andrew sat next to him and gave him a friendly kiss. “You're too young and way too healthy for a heart attack. This looks pretty good. What is it?” Seth didn't answer as he struggled to get his pants pulled up. “You probably should have wiped yourself off again before you put your pants on,” Andrew suggested as he watched the scene end.

    “Fuck!” Seth echoed, but the heat was gone. “It's Chris's recut. It features two guys who try out for porn. He used the scenes at Istanbulla's and the orgy as background, filler, and intercuts. And then, when … instead of me telling you, why don't you watch it? It's a money maker.”

    “Jeez,” Andrew exclaimed as the film restarted. “When did you decide to go back in front of the camera?”

    “How could you tell it was me? The lighting was so ...”

    “Sweetie, I've made every kind of love with you at least fifty times. I'd know it was you in the dark.” Seth was surprised to find himself pleased that Andrew recognized him. “I'm not gonna forget the best sex I've ever had. Ever,” Andrew continued softly.

    Seth was standing next to Andrew and Andrew patted him affectionately on the butt. He stepped out of Andrew's reach. “The best you've ever had?”

    “Absolutely.” That one word was all the immediate ego-stroking Seth was going to get. Andrew settled in to watch the video. Aside from squeezing his bulge a couple times, Andrew watched without further action or comment.

    “So … what did you think?” Seth said.

    Andrew looked up and grinned at him. “Seth … sweetie ...”

    “Forget it, Andrew.” Seth fended off his partner who suddenly seemed to have a half dozen hands.

    “I should have stopped you before you jacked off,” Andrew chuckled. He settled for a hug, which Seth permitted. Andrew broke the clinch when it was plain Seth wasn't getting aroused. “So, tell me … how did you make that happen.”

    “We'll get to that. First of all what do you think of Rafe Rawmeat as a porn name.”

    “Is that the guy's name? It sucks.”

    “What about Rafe Rawhide.”

    “Sucks worse.”

    “He definitely wants Rafe. He's not sure about a last name.”

    “What's his real name?”

    “Bruce Weems.”

    Andrew made gagging noises. “So Rafe it is. How about Rafe Lawless, Lucy's hot young brother? I used to beat off to Xena before I discovered guys' cocks.” Andrew reflected, But even then I fantasized that Xena was fucking me with a giant dildo.” Andrew savored the memory and adjusted the bulge in his pants.

    “The other guy?”

    “Attila Boros.”

    “Not bad for porn,” Andrew mused. “Has he used it name before?”

    “I guess. That's his real name.”

    Andrew laughed. He grabbed Seth and kissed him again. Seth didn't object until Andrew's hands gripped his ass. “Forget it, Andrew.”

    “I can't help it Seth. You look so cuddly tonight. I could just ...” Andrew grabbed the waistband of Seth's jeans in his hands.

    “Forget it!” Seth glared. “He's thinking he like to be called Chris Lawson.”

    “Chris Lawson … Why? Why? He's such a hot daddy.”

    “He said it's the name of some straight guy who picked on him. He hopes to make a lot of porn under that name.”

    “I get his motives, but not at our studio, he won't. How about Blackie Lawson? If he wants we could hire some swish and call him Chris. Pretend they're brothers ... in an abusive relationship. He can fuck the swish's brains out.”

    Seth conceded, “He might actually go for that.”

    Andrew was rerunning the video. “Look at you. You know, Seth, you get better looking every year. You really have beautiful eyes. Chris just shows that partial closeup and you own the screen. Such a sweet cock, too. You look SO ready for anything in this shot.”

    “I was,” Seth confessed. “Rafe's acting is very realistic.”

    “Did I ever make you feel that way?” Andrew sounded perfectly sincere. “I hope I did.”

    “Andrew … come on. Of course you did.” Seth was stammering.

    “Really? I did love you, you know.” Andrew looked Seth in the eye. “You were my big love, Seth. Like nobody else.”

    In spite of all the ups and downs of their history, Seth blushed with delight. “I felt the same way,” he said in return. Then he felt fingers pulling at his belt.

    “FUCK NO, Andrew! It ain't happening this time.”

    “Sethie, you know I hate masturbating alone.” Andrew backed off and gestured to the big bulge in his jeans.

    “There's a dildo in the desk. You don't have to be alone.” Seth's phone buzzed and he left the room for privacy.

    “Seth, it's Rafe. I mean, it's Bruce. Do you remember?”

    “Yeah, Bruce. 'S up?”

    “Did I … did Attila and I get the parts?”

    “Oh, yes, you did. Yes indeed.”

    “Great.” Seth thought he could actually hear Bruce grinning. “When do we shoot?”

    “We're gonna use the audition. All you have to do is cash your check.”

    “Really? I … I liked … I really making that scene. You were a the best partner I've ever had.” Bruce paused unsure of what came next. “We never really agreed on terms. Do we need to negotiate?”

    Seth told him their standard fees, which were competitive. “That's the best we can do this time. You can make more if we do a sequel.”

    “Seth? Um … I was kinda hoping we'd need to get together. Don't I need to sign a contract or something?”

    “There's no hurry.”

    “Really? 'Cause I'm available tonight, that is, if you want. I'm calling from the Metreon.” The video arcade and movie complex was just a few blocks away.

    “Is Attila with you? … Ok, come on over. You can sign the standard agreement and meet my partner Andrew.”

    Seth walked back to the screening room. Andrew was semi-naked and rubbing the dildo against his balls. “You might want to put that on pause, Andrew. The actors are coming over.”

    “Yeah?” Andrew sounded delighted with the idea, but immediately decided he was being too enthusiastic. “Seth?” He could sound so sincere. “You know what I would have preferred. You looked so hot in this scene – just the way you always look to me.”

    “Yeah?” Seth knew he was being played.

    “Look, right there.” Andrew paused the video with Seth's cock on the screen. “It makes me want to suck you off.” His hand slid across the front of Seth's jeans.

    “You want this to turn into an orgy tonight, don't you?”

    “Sweetie, you make it sound like work.” Andrew pulled Seth into a hug. He smiled when he felt Seth's erection poking against his own.




    Heiko and Wolf were on the same side, playing for Eric's team. Their passing was near flawless but scoring was a problem. Missed goals meant a delay while the ball was retrieved. “The trouble is with the balls,” Eric complained.

    “What is wrong with the balls?” Wolf asked, looking at Eric's shorts as if he could see the troublesome testes right through the cloth.

    Eric laughed. “Not my balls, the game balls. We should have spares, so we don't have to chase them all the time.”

    “As a practical matter, if we don't retrieve them right away, they get lost,” Larry said and it was true.

    “In German you would not say MY balls,” Wolf said to Heiko in German. “You would say THE balls.”

    “Don't take it so seriously, Wolf,” Heiko said. “And speak English.”

    “I'm not certain American is English,” Wolf muttered.

    Tom watched the brothers. Wolf was slightly shorter and much slimmer; and, leaving Eric's balls out of the consideration, he was picking up lacrosse play easily. Although barely over a week had passed since his arrival, so far Wolf had not exhibited any monstrous behavior. “The English would agree with you,” Tom told him, trying to be supportive.

    Wolf looked at him quizzically. “Oh, I see,” he said after translating Tom's words in his head.

    The play resumed and finally Wolf made a clean goal. “Nice shot,” Cal congratulated and patted Wolf's shoulder. Wolf visibly tensed up but said only, “Thank you.”

    “Do Germans not give each other pats in congratulations?” Tom asked Heiko.

    “They do. They might even hug if they were teammates,” Heiko answered.

    “Wolf seems tense.”

    “He is always tense,” Heiko answered.

    “How do you say that in German?”

    “Er ist immer angespannt. Why?”

    “Just trying to learn, mein fickkumpel.”

    “Nice try, Tomi, and literally that does mean fuck buddy, but nobody would say it.”

    “What do they say?”

    Heiko didn't know. He consulted with Wolf and after a lot of German back and forth, Wolf slapped his forehead. “Ach, ya … I see … We say 'fickkumpel'. How does that translate to English?”

    Tom said nothing, just raised his eyebrows and smiled.

    The game ended and Rory's dinner was not a fiasco. Dinner at Rory's was always a success unless Rory actually cooked something. That evening a Thai place delivered several good dishes. The hot food even seemed to mellow Wolf. He talked earnestly to Larry at length about firefighting. On their way to the condo they were near a small drugstore and Tom asked if anybody needed anything.

    “Ein Paar Ohrstöpsel?“ Wolf asked and then spoke quietly to Heiko. Tom wondered what else was being said between the brothers.

    “Earplugs. We're keeping him awake at night,” Heiko explained while Wolf looked across the street and pretended he was on another planet in a different universe. “I'll go get them.”

    “Wolf? Do your brother and I make you uptight?” Tom asked.

    “Uptight?” Wolf questioned.

    “I think uptight means angespannt. Du bist angespannt? ”

    Wolf smiled in comprehension. “I can hear you. I don't care, but I don't want to hear you.”

    “Entschuldige mich, Wolf.” Tom apologized.

    “Your accent is serious German. I will teach you Bavarian, Tomi.” It was the first personal thing Wolf had said to Tom.

  10. #10
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Rory,
    It would appear a couple of authors worked on their stories during the Superbowl, lol.

    Thanks for the update.
    Jerry and Neil - only, after one night of letting their guards down and getting up close and personal with each other, Neil found a girl, got married, and moved away. Poor Jerry. They really had developed quite a relationship.

    Then the continuing "business" relationship of Seth and Andrew - with a renewed on-screen activity by Seth. With Bruce and Attila just around the corner - Seth may have pumped his load out, but I suspect the games are about to begin.

    Then on to our continuing tale of Tomi, Heiko, and kid Bro- Wolf.
    Wolf doesn't care that they're doing what they're doing, but he doesn't want to hear it all night long, lol.

    Why is he so tense, really?
    Is he feeling his own oats, and wondering how to take care of the situation?
    I guess time will tell.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  11. #11
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Quote Originally Posted by DonQuixote View Post
    Rory,
    It would appear a couple of authors worked on their stories during the Superbowl, lol.
    Nope, I watched it all, although witnesses reported to me that I dozed off during the half-time show.

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    LOL. I was half watching the game, half posting here.

    And only half watch the half-time show - Missed the bird flipping incident.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Thanks for the new update, Rory!

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Going to be out of town for about 10 days. Chap 4 will be delayed.

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Safe Journeys.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Four


    “Superluminal scissors,” sighed Darren. He still had a hardon after cumming. His cock got hard when Joanne gave it a squeeze outside their classroom. It stayed hard when Peter joined her in inviting him to their house, flagging only a little during the hurried drive from school.

    “What?” Joanne and Peter asked, each playing with one of Darren's nipples.

    “It's a quantum conundrum solved by relativity. It explains how you could both appear to come at once. I think it involves me bending a lot.”

    “The easy explanation is you fucked us both and we came by humping your legs,” Joanne purred. “And it was at once. We're good at that.”

    “The messy explanation is I came all over the place and short-circuited the two of you,” Peter said, playing with Tom's balls.

    “Or my cock could have been in two places at once. Did I come by fucking you or you?” Darren asked, knowing only that he felt great.

    “Yes,” they answered in a detached way as their passion faded.

    Peter and his sister had never so much as touched each other since they got naked. They sensed what each other was feeling through Darren. “That would be creepy,” they agreed when Darren asked if they had ever had sex with each other.

    Even so, it seemed a little creepy to Darren, having sex with both of them; but it was nothing he couldn't deal with. A year of being an on-demand rent-toy for fifty-something-year-old Morrie had prepared Darren for almost anything. Still, bisexual incest was something new for him, even if Peter and Joanne had avoided each other in the strict physical sense.

    “Most guys we do this with are out the door two seconds after they come,” Peter said. “You're one of the rare ones.” He tugged gently on the hair surrounding Darren's nipple.

    “And still hard. That's a first,” Joanne commented, holding Darren's cock in her hand.

    “We can go again, if you want,” Darren offered.

    “Mmmmm, no. One orgasm gets Peter all wiped out. He needs days to recharge.”

    “Not really true,” Peter said. “It's Joanne who gets all weepy after she comes.”

    “As if ...” Joanne challenged, with the sudden beginning of tears in her eyes.

    “So am I fucking anybody or not?” Darren asked.

    “I guess not,” Peter said getting out of bed. “Here, let me help with that,” he said to Joanne as she struggled with her bra.

    Darren watched with amazement as the handsome pair picked up each other's discarded clothing items . The pair may have been distant in bed, but they were all over each other while dressing. They ignored Darren who lay back on his elbows and stared.

    “I like it when you point up,” Joanne said, rearranging Peter's cock in his briefs. “There – nice view … balls and all.” Peter pulled up on Joanne's panties, giving her a camel toe which he traced with his fingers. She widened her stance to allow him room to explore briefly. “Let's get some sun,” she said and opened the sliding glass door to a balcony.

    “You can find your way out, can't you, Darren?” Peter asked as he followed her. After applying sun screen to each other, they lay on lounges in their underwear and appeared to go to sleep.

    Darren, left to himself, used Peter's jeans to wipe off his cock and legs. He smiled to himself as he dressed. They might have offered me a shower, at least … or hosed me down in the driveway … or something. A horse ridden hard would have received better treatment.

    Werner Heisenberg's uncertainty rivaled Darren's. It was the only possible way to account for the afternoon sex session. Which one had he fucked? Did he in fact have a real cock and also a virtual cock? What if only one cock was hard? Could he have fucked them both at once? Had one of them fucked him? He could remember fucking them both, sequentially and alternately, but he wasn't sure what triggered his climax. It had given him a feel of unreality. Whatever is was, the three-way climax had happened fast. From after-class invitation to post-sex clean-up couldn't have taken more than forty-five minutes.

    As he left for Alameda, his watch said sunset was getting close. His chief concern, however, was that his quantum analogies were wrong. I need to take math and physics, he decided. I can't get far in philosophy without more knowledge math and hard science. The fields intersect in so many ways. He stepped harder on the gas, not wanting to be too late for the lacrosse scrimmage. No time for a shower. He rolled down a window and hoped nobody else would notice the strong smell of sex coming off his body.




    “Did he hurt you much?” Seth asked. “We don't have any steak. Try holding this hamburger against your cheek.”

    “He didn't hurt me at all. It's a rug burn,” Andrew answered, putting the Saran-wrapped ground meat too his face.

    “How did you get a rug burn on your face if Attila was being gentle?”

    “We didn't have sex exactly. We didn't need to. We could listen to you and your Cinderella-in-leather dude go at it. It was just a shared handjob.”

    “Yeah? So what did you hear?”

    “We heard him ordering you around, like you were the guy who needed work. Seth, you don't have to put up with that shit. He was lucky to get somebody as hot as you. Why was he telling you … ordering you ... to fuck him this way, then that way? I never heard such a bossy bottom.”

    Seth smiled at the memory. “That's just the way he is. He liked things exactly his way. He doesn't really boss me. He just corrects my mistakes. He thinks I'm a good bottom and was just trying me out another way or three.”

    He's an ungrateful bitch, you mean. That's what I told Attila. You have a perfect cock for fucking. All right, all right! I admit it isn't a mile long which you keep complaining about, but it's thick … it's beautifully thick and just long enough. I always loved getting fucked by you.” Andrew adjusted the meat with an ouch.

    “Always? Both times, you mean?” Seth laughed.

    “It was more than twice. And that was your fault. I never told you no. You just didn't try very often.”

    “That was because you and Tom kept me exhausted all the time.” Seth smiled broadly at that memory.

    “You fucked him a lot,” Andrew sounded hurt.

    “That was because Tom is generous in bed; he asked for it. You never did. You never gave me a hint that you liked it.”

    “Well … I did. I liked everything you did.”

    “Take the meat away. Let's see ...” Seth examined Andrew's cheek looking at the bruise. “It's just an abrasion, I think. You won't have a black eye. It's not gonna be pretty though.”

    “That's ok. I'm not pretty anyway.”

    “Now who's wearing the kick-me sign? You're a good looking man, Andrew. Not like Z or Eric, but you're … distinguished looking. People look twice at you.”

    “You don't.”

    “I don't, he says … what's up, Andrew? What's eating you?”

    “I don't want you getting bossed around by … that asshole. What name is he gonna use anyway?”

    “Lance is his latest thought. Lance Lautrec.”

    Andrew rolled his eyes. “I thought we were trying to run a classy operation. 'Lance Lautrec' sounds like a porn joke.”

    “Don't get worked up about it. We need him. He photographs supersexy.” Seth looked at his partner, now both annoyed and angry. “I mean it, Andrew. He and Attila saved that scene.”

    “I don't want him fuckin' you.”

    “Nobody else is fuckin' me and I kinda like him. It's my business, anyway. You stay out of it.” Seth said this more in the way of advice and then remembered just what that had got him in the past. “I am deadly serious, Andrew. STAY THE FUCK OUT OF IT!”

    “I'm only trying to …”

    “Don't try anything! We NEED the business.”

    “Well, as long as it's the business you're worried about, I guess I can ...”

    “You can shut the fuck up about it and dream up what his next shoot will be. OK?” Seth watched Andrew nod. “I was thinking Lance and Attila could do something with each other. I think they're lovers anyway. It should be hot.”

    “Lance … sucks.”

    “Yeah, the name does; I admit you're right about that. What if we call him Andrew? Like that better? I think he'll listen. Jeez, the way you carry on somebody would thing WE were the lovers.”




    Heiko left work at noon to go to the INS office. His student visa would expire at the month's end and he needed to have it converted to an H1-B special work visa. The company had provided a statement of special expertise and the approval was predicted be just a matter of paper-shuffling. Tom offered to go with him, but he said he'd do it on his own.

    Tom left work around three looking forward to the weekend. The day was warm and the marine layer was holding off the coast, showing no signs of curtailing the afternoon sun. He got to the apartment and went to their bedroom to change. He was greeted by his favorite sight. Heiko must have finished early. He was lying naked on the porch catching a few rays. Tom's breath caught as he looked at the perfect curve of Heiko's back, the whiteness of his untanned ass, and the strength of his legs. He stared at his lover for a full minute and then shucked his underwear. His cock responded to the cool breeze from the door and hardened slightly. Tom tugged at it and then at his balls, shaking off the feeling of confinement. Look at him, Tom thought. He's so perfect. I'm the luckiest guy in the universe. Perfect, and usually so willing … My beautiful lover … His cock was approaching rigid as he hurried to pull off his socks. He almost lost his balance, but recovered before the noise of his struggles disturbed Heiko. Naked at last, he tiptoed to the door and pounced.

    The instant he committed to the leap he knew his mistake. No! No! Too late!

    “OH! Wolf! I thought you were ...” Tom raised himself up off Wolf's back with his arms.

    “Is that what I think it is poking me in the arsch?” Wolf asked.

    “Ass. In the ass.” Tom rolled off Wolf and struggled to get out of the overcrowded chaise longue. Wolf rolled onto his side and made more room for Tom to maneuver. He would have to have been blind to miss the sight of Tom's erection.

    “I'm so sorry. I thought you were Heiko and I wanted ...”

    “To nail his ass. Is that the right way to say it?”

    “Oh, shit. This is so embarrassing,” Tom desperately tried to get out of confines of the chaise, which nearly filled width of the narrow balcony. He ciouldn't go over the side, he had to back off the end. Working his way down the cushion, he unbalanced it and bottom third collapsed, dumping him onto the floor. He quickly got to his feet and pulled Wolf up, in the process jabbing his still-hard dick into Wolf's stomach. Wolf just chuckled and watched Tom's increasing panic. “Wolf, I … er, … sorry.”

    Tom stepped into the bedroom and grabbed an extra blanket off the bed to cover his nakedness. “I'm going to take a shower,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried into the bathroom. When he emerged, fully dressed, he found Wolf wearing a sweat suit and standing in the kitchen, looking unconcerned and drinking some grapefruit juice.

    “Want some grapefruitsaft?” Wolf offered.

    “Grapefruit juice, Wolf. We say grapefruit juice.”

    “Jooz,” Wolf mimicked. “That's hard to say.”

    “Wolf, I'm so sorry ...” Tom began.

    “No damage done ... well, maybe to the liegestuhl.”

    “We call it a chaise longue. Or the French do, I guess. You could say lounge chair.”

    “Forget the language lesson. It was funny, Tomi. And you have a big schwanz.”

    Tom nodded, at a loss for what to say next. “Yes. Um … I really ...”

    “Heiko ist ein glȕcklicher Mann.”

    “No, I'm the lucky man,” Tom countered. “Heiko is ...er, late getting home.” He paused and looked at the geniel expression on Wolf's face, smiling back at him. “I guess it was kind of funny.”

    “The view on your face was hilarious,” Wolf laughed.

    “The 'look' on my face ...yeah, for sure it was,” Tom joined Wolf's laughter. “Heiko will get a laugh, too, I bet.”

    Wolf's look changed. “Don't tell him, Tomi. Keep it our joke.”

    “No, he'll get a big laugh out of it.”

    “No, he won't.”

    “Why wouldn't he?”

    “He won't think it's funny. Believe me.” Wolf looked very serious as he handed Tom a glass of juice.




    It was a hard speech to give. Cal's emotions stayed in check; but he was torn up inside. He was ashamed and knew he shouldn't be. He was mad at the world and knew he had a right to be. Lastly, he was confused and lost in a way that he hadn't felt since he met Larry.

    He concluded, “So I'm resigning as coach because I don't want the school's reputation to suffer and I don't ever want any of you to suffer for it. We had a great year, one for you to enjoy and remember. I know I will.” Cal took off his black ball cap with the school logo and 'Coach' written on the back and left it on a chair. He walked out the door, ignoring the questions coming from behind him.

    The young men protested his decision, vowing action to change it and begging him to stay. It was all they knew to do even though everyone, even the young men, knew it was meaningless. Cal's resignation had already been accepted; his replacement had been announced for the next year. The press was circumspect in their reporting, since there was no incident to report or even hint at. “To pursue other interests” was the stated reason for Coach Rockridge's departure. The reporters were polite enough not to ask what those interests might be.

    “What can I do, Larry? The reason they let me resign was an open secret. Everybody in high school sports on this side of the Bay knows.”

    “They also know that you coached the best team in a generation and that there wasn't a whiff of scandal associated with anything you ever did. They also know that the kids loved you and didn't give a damn about where you spent your nights. You demonstrated great talent and everybody trusts you. You'll figure out something.” Larry gave his own brave speech to Cal without having any idea what Cal's eventual 'something' might be.

    It wasn't an answer; but a possible 'something' came the next morning. An almost-good running back by the name of Finnbarr Cullen asked the coach if he could have some private help. “I'm going to a small college next year, Coach, and I want to make the team. I know I'm not all that good, but I'd like to try. So could I spend some time with you over the summer. College tryouts are at the end of July. There would be six weeks I could practice. If you've got the time … My dad would be willing to pay something … I think David Miller would like some help too ...”

    “Miller's a tackle; you're a back. That's completely different.”

    “Some stuff is the same. And maybe you could get help. Maynard Brownette just retired last season in Oakland. The paper said he's looking for something to do. Think about it?” Finn asked.

    “Well, I'll be glad to help you, but the rest … that would take some doing.”

    As he drove home one last time from the high school, Cal thought about being the football version of a personal trainer. It wouldn't pay much, but it would be something to do. Larry, always supportive, was more than merely supportive. He had ideas.

    “What do you mean 'personal trainer'? Why not establish a football academy?”

    “Cause DeBartolo, among others, has already done it; that's why not. And he's got millions to back it up.”

    “But he's not in the Bay Area. He's in ...where is he anyway?”

    “Oklahoma and Florida,” Cal answered.

    “So what's wrong with here? There's got to be a hundred high schools in the area. Think of all those guys like Cullen dying to make the college team. Dying for a little help from Cal Rockridge. All those dads willing to pay. You could do it, Cal. You could start right at Rittler Park. Zero overhead except for the cost of a couple balls, maybe a tackle sled. They're trying to make the Podunk U. team, not the Raiders. You can buff anybody up enough for that. You know you can.”




    Z and Rory were the only two who showed up for lacrosse that evening. Darren stopped briefly but left as it got too dark to play.

    “Is it my imagination or did he smell of …?”

    “Definitely your imagination. It was a warm afternoon,” Rory interjected.

    “You're sending him to Belgium?”

    “Yes. We landed a small contract with a musical instrument museum. I think he'll be able to wrap it up. He's getting better all the time.”

    “That's good to hear. I was worried that he wasn't over Nicky. Eric says everybody needs a Nicky to break his heart, but I never did. It's just been Eric. We've had our problems, but never the 'Nicky' kind.”

    “I never had a heart to break. But I would hate to see Tim go.”

    “That's not true, Rory. You are one of the most considerate, generous, appreciative, ...”

    “But it's an act. I have to work at it all the time. It comes natural to you and Larry and everybody. With me, it's all rehearsed.”

    “If it's an act, it's a very good one. Tim loves you. In fact everybody loves you. Darren worships you.”

    “Right now my life all seems so easy. Too easy, Z. I worry.”

    “Of course you worry. Tim has a dangerous job. We all worry. I worry that Eric will get bored with me. Cal worries that Larry will decide he's just a dumb jock. Larry worries that he's still not right from his abuse.”

    “Tim worries that I make so much more money than he does,” Rory volunteered.

    “Everybody worries except for Eric. Eric has no worries. He's reliably numb to all that stuff. He's my rock,” Z affirmed.

    “Yes,” Rory agreed. “Since that Chinese doctor got married, Eric has been steady as ...”

    Z's eyes got wide. “What Chinese doctor?”

  17. #17
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Oh, wow, I forgot all about HIM! lol. Welcome back from your travels, Rory.
    If it's all a rehearsed act, it is, indeed, a grand one.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    A lacrosse movie called Crooked Arrows is supposed to be released this year, starring Brandon Routh as the coach of an Indian team.

    I actually had a younger version of Mr. Routh in mind when I imagined my character Z.

    I wonder if any of the script writers might have read 'Eric's Story'? Nah, I'm flattering myself.

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    lol. Go for it on the copyright infringement suit if they do . . .


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Copyright ... what's that?

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Five


    “Z,” Eric complained, “I'm dead tired. Can we talk about this later?”

    “Sure, I was just curious … No biggie.” Z gave Eric one last kiss and went downstairs to let him sleep. Damn, Z thought, he just made beautiful love to me after working all week and as a thanks I grill him about ancient history. I should leave well enough alone. Of course we can talk later. I won't even bring it up. I'll leave it up to him.

    Z was consistently a considerate person, kind to drunks, old people, and naughty dogs, but he was always exceptionally accommodating and generous after Eric fucked him. He stood at the kitchen table and looked at the remains of dinner. All he could think of was Eric's cock in him. The dishes can wait, he thought. He went back upstairs and quietly entered their bedroom. In the dim light, he picked up Eric's clothes; some were on the floor and some were in a laundry bag Eric brought home from school. He was about to leave when Eric grabbed him by the hand.

    “Z, I have loved two people in my life. The first was a guy I went to school with called Xuefei. He was the first person who didn't want anything from me. He loved me just for me. Eventually he dumped me. The other guy is you. So far you haven't dumped me. You can ask any questions you want. I didn't mean to put you off.”

    “I don't have any questions. Go to sleep, Eric.” Z kissed him again and left with the laundry.

    Feeling cheerier after starting the washing machine, Z was cleaning up after the light dinner with Eric when Darren came in.

    “It's good I can't speak much other than English. There's no telling what Belgians speak. Dutch, French, Walloon, German, Flemish … and even more.”

    Z smiled glad for the distraction. “If your Belgians are like the Europeans I worked with, they probably speak all of them, plus English.”

    Darren sat down and sighed in a satisfied way. “I'm going to take calculus and trig over again. I didn't even learn how to spell them right in high school.”

    “Great. Do you need any help with school bills?”

    “Thanks, I'm ok. Rory overpays me and the College of Alameda is a bargain. Not as, uh, interesting as St. Mary's, but definitely a bargain.” Darren gave 'interesting' an ironic twist.

    “Have you met somebody 'interesting' at St. Mary's?” Z didn't look at Darren, afraid he might have overstepped his bounds. He scoured the sink instead.

    “Yeah, uh, several people. They seem kind of young. They are young I guess, younger than I am.”

    “Working and paying your own way makes a difference, doesn't it?” Z hoped Darren had found somebody to fill the vacancy left by Nicky, but he didn't ask.

    “It sure does. Especially with girls. It's more than years; it's attitude.”

    Z bit his tongue. Girls! My God! He'll tell me when he's ready, he told himself. Dad will be happy if one of us turns out to be straight. He watched his brother leave. Who would have guessed Darren the Stubborn, Darren the Asshole, Darren the Rebel, would be happy living with two old ladies, working at a couple of jobs, and going to school besides. I hope this girl is somebody fabulous, somebody as good as he is. He deserves it. A girl! Z smiled to himself thinking of all the new possibilities to comtemplate. He called Rory and told him what Darren had said. He trusted Rory for his advice and his ability to keep his mouth shut.

    “My shrink told me that – statistically, anyway – if anybody's gay in a family, younger brothers are more likely to be than older ones. But there's no reason Darren has to fit some statistical average. He's not average in any other way. Does this mean you will be worrying less about him?”

    “Jeez, I don't know, Rory. Girls can be more trouble than guys. And he doesn't know much about girls.”

    “You can bet he's learning. Gotta go. Tim's home.”

    Z put the phone down and looked out the window. He saw some shadows move in the house next door and then saw his brother's bedroom light go out. I've got to tell Dad what a good kid he has become. Z punched the number and waited for the pick up. He got the answering machine and hung up. He threw Eric's clothes into the dryer and went upstairs. He climbed carefully into bed, trying not to wake Eric; but the disturbance roused Eric.

    Without being fully awake, Eric wrapped his arms around Z and pulled him close. He mumbled something. “I love you, too,” Z answered. If I ever hurt this man, I should be shot, Z thought.




    Istanbulla was pleased with her first return of capital. The check represented half of what she had invested with Andrew and Seth. She looked at the check and smiled. “It's a quicker pay back than I expected, actually. When do the profits start to flow?”

    “The distributor liked the video. He's pretty confident it will be a money maker. He's going to start with some private screenings for select clients. You should get your second check in a couple weeks. I don't know how big it will be, probably not as big as this one. You should get your money back in six weeks. Profits after that, I hope,” Seth explained.

    “What about your new stars? Can I get them to perform in the club?”

    “Depends what you mean by perform. We have an exclusive with them for the next six months for sex scenes, but they can do promotion work, make appearances promoting the videos. We'll get a cut.”

    “You mean I'd pay you to pay them and then get something back from you myself? Isn't that inefficient? Why not just give me a lower price?”

    “We can tell other customers that everybody gets the same price. No favorites. And we expect to get some other offers.”

    “You know, Seth, I'd love to meet your mother. I might have to hire her just so I can deal with you.”

    “She'd do it. And treat me just like any other shark in the pool.”

    “Um … dare I ask?” Istanbulla dared. “Why did you return to the screen, so to speak?”

    “It wasn't planned, Izzie. We had them in for an audition and one thing led to another. Chris recorded the auditions and after we saw them we figured it would be hard to improve on what we already had in the can. Then ...” Seth dragged it out. “He and I were already on the payroll, so … It made sense financially ... Plus you can't really tell it's me.”

    “I absolutely could tell it was you! And you look great. As a former hooker, I can understand the financial considerations, but this is going to make you … Famous isn't the word, but people will want to see more of you. Are you going to let them?”

    “Andrew's against it. It's almost like he's jealous.”

    “Andrew always wants what he can't have. And right now, you are out of reach. He can't have you the way the other Andrew did. He knows he can't make you look like that – that dreamy post-fuck oblivion that shows in the scene. And I bet it's killing him.”

    Seth didn't comment; the same thoughts had occurred to him.

    “And that look, Seth. Wow! Like you just got the fuck of your life. Either you are a very expressive actor or that new Andrew is. Tell me, have you done anything else with him?”

    “So unprofessional … “ Seth pretended shame. “Yeah. I have; and I think he kind of likes me.”

    “Those dominant guys can be very confusing. You never know about them,” Istanbulla sympathized and shook her head at some unspoken memory.

    “He came to the office one night … to sign contracts and ...”

    “... and stayed. I know how that works,” Istanbulla laughed.

    “Yes … and he was very submissive, physically, while still giving me orders.”

    “Details ….”

    “He ordered me to fuck him and then he gave me specific step-by-step directions about how he wanted it done. I mean exact moves and timing. He was the great actor this time. He came while I was fucking him.”

    “Doggie?”

    “Yes.”

    “That's an amazing position. I used to be able to get guys off with a strap-on that way. Doggie hits 'em just right. Maximum prostate stimulation without deep penetration. And …. ?”

    “And so we repeated that episode in front of the cameras. Chris is doing edits now. We'll see what he gets out of it. You want to put money into that?” Seth grinned at Izzie's eagerness to invest. “Back to current business for a minute. After the private screenings are over, the video will be shown publicly at a couple of porn houses in New York and LA. Then, I think, there will be an Internet release. At that point Andrew and Attila can appear at your club. Will that be ok? You can't have them as an exclusive, but you can have 'em first.”

    The deal was sealed. “Can I have your mother's phone number?” Izzie asked. Seth pretended she wasn't serious. The last thing he wanted was another smothering visit from Amanda Behar. Mom was accepting but not thrilled with his love life. She could envision changes and she wasn't shy about offering suggestions.

    “If you want a good lawyer, Izzie, I can recommend one.” Seth left the club before there was any further consideration of Mom. He walked back to their South-of-Market office and reported his deal to Andrew.

    “You shouldn't have paid her off so soon,” Andrew commented. “We could have stalled her.”

    “We don't need to. We have the cash flow. Besides, she agreed to invest in the sequel.”

    “What sequel?”

    “The one where I fuck Andrew.”

    “When is that going to happen?” Andrew asked sharply.

    “It already has. Chris is editing now.”

    “You fucked HIM?” Andrew asked.

    “No. I've never done anything with Chris. I fucked ...”

    “ANDREW!” Andrew realized.

    “A couple of times, actually. What's got you all upset?”

    Andrew sputtered and stammered and then sat in his desk chair. “Do I just come in to sign the checks around here?”

    “No. I don't need you to do that any more. Either one of us is good enough, since we're current at the bank again.

    “Don't I get consulted about projects?”

    “We did talk about it. You agreed there would be a sequel. The shoot sequence was Chris's idea. He also thought maybe you could … um …” Seth broach the delicate matter. “Do you want to bottom for Attila? Chris isn't interested in doing that again.”

    “Neither am I!” Andrew fumed.

    “I thought you said nothing happened that night.”

    “It didn't, but not that he didn't make his move. He just about tore me up trying. How did you think I got that carpet burn? He shoved me off the desk – WITH HIS DICK! It hurt like hell and he never even got the head in.”

    “Andrew, sweetie ...”

    “Sweetie? That's my line. Don't sweetie me! You may be happy getting a dick in the brain via your asshole, but not me, Seth. Not me.”

    “He's not like that. Andrew, I mean, Bruce is a very gentle fuck. He gives orders, yeah, but he doesn't try to hurt me. And his cock isn't really that big. Chris makes it look huge in the video, but it's a nice size actually.”

    “I'm going to see Z and Darren. Nordstrom wants them again.” Andrew left the office angry.




    Heiko rose from the chair. “That son of a bitch! That manipulative ... asshole. I told you he was a monster.”

    Heiko exploded when Tom told him about his accidental encounter with a nude Wolf on the balcony. Heiko was headed for Wolf's room with his fists clenched. Tom grabbed him with both hands. “Heiko, wait. Heiko ...” Tom put him in a bear hug to stop him and held on until Heiko stopped fighting him.

    A kiss was followed by “Why do you live with me?” Heiko didn't answer and Tom repeated the question. “Tell me.”

    “I live with you because I like living with you,” Heiko was flustered both by his anger and by Tom's question.

    Tom kept Heiko firmly in his arms. “I live with you because I can't even think about how to live without you. Every minute with you is new. Every time we make love is new. And better. Always better. You fill my head and my heart.” Tom kissed him again. “You believe I love you, don't you?”

    Heiko softened. “Of course I do.”

    “Then why would you think an accident – a slapstick comedy – a total burlesque – could possibly be anything more than a joke to me? I love you completely. There isn't room in me for anything else.”

    Heiko nodded and kissed Tom back.

    “Just you, Heiko. Only you.”

    Their kisses became more intense. They couldn't stop and the grappling made progress to their bedroom awkward. They fell against each other, tripped over falling trousers, and kicked off their shoes one by one on the way. Not quite naked, they fell on the bed, Heiko on top with his hair falling in Tom's face. Tom brushed away a streaky blond lock and asked, “Believe me?”

    Heiko answered with kisses and touches. He moved lower and took Tom's cock in his mouth, lifting him by the hips to force Tom's cock down his throat. He gagged once but didn't stop, taking all of Tom until pubic hair was rubbing his nose. Tom wrapped his legs around Heiko and guided the blond head as it went up and down. The sounds of slurps and sighs filled the room. Heiko pulled back from the wet cock and began sucking at Tom's belly, then his nipples, holding Tom in his arms almost off the bed. Eager and fumbling he used spit as lube and forced his cock into Tom's ass. It wasn't the easiest entry, but they connected with a passion and need that overcame pain.

    “Fuck me,” Tom whispered between thrusts. “Fuck me.”

    “Tomi,” Heiko cried and then, seconds later, “AHHHH!” over and over. He picked Tom off the bed still impaled on his cock and kissed his face until they both fell back onto the mattress. The wooden frame cracked in protest but held as the lovers gasps slowed.

    “Now me. Show me how you love me!” Heiko begged.

    Tom was almost as frantic. He rolled Heiko onto his stomach and used his knees to push Heiko's legs apart. His cock was wet from Heiko's spit and his own precum and penetration was easy. Tom put his arms under Heiko's and onto his shoulders. He pulled back hard forcing Heiko onto his cock. Wanting more connection, Tom chewed on the back of Heiko's neck. Then, pistoning his hips, he fucked fast, not stopping until he came.

    It was a fierce exchange, unlike any sex they had previously shared. At last their kisses became softer but never stopped as their passion faded. Murmurs of love, sweet sighs, and touches continued. Tom felt Heiko's lips curl into a smile as they pressed against his own..

    “You're still hard,” Heiko laughed. “Like always … You're still hard and I want more. Fuck me again, Tomi. Right now.”

    They tried missionary, but Heiko's legs were shaking. Doggie worked better. Gentle, slow, easy, doggie. Long strokes in and out. The orgasm came as a surprise. It was sudden and unexpected. Heiko's voice turned to an astonished rasp. “I'm coming!” His arms failed to hold him up and he fell forward against the bed. His hips hunched while he squeezed out the last of his come against the sheets underneath him.

    They laughed and hugged. “But … but I came, not you.” Heiko sounded childishly delighted; in Tom's eyes he looked very young and very happy. They lay in each other's arms feeling the afterglow. Then Heiko began singing in a soft growl. It was a fairly decent imitation of Jim Morrison.

    “Love me two times, babe
    Love me twice today
    Love me two times, babe ...”

    He left out the line about going away, kissed Tom, and sang the lines again.

    “I'm not having my lover going to sleep with a hard on,” Heiko said. “I want you to fuck me 'til you're limp.”

    This time it was missionary and it took longer. Tom was afraid of hurting Heiko and held back until Heiko ordered him, “Do it. I want all of you.” The orgasm came soon after that.

    When they were close to sleep, Tom asked, “Now can you forget about Wolf and me bumping into each other?”

    Heiko's body stiffened and his voice grew steely. “For you it was an accident; but Wolf planned it. All my life he has wanted what I had; and he still does. Ein wahre Ungeheuer.”

    In another bedroom, 'true monster' or not, Wolf smiled to himself. He let go of his cock and used his socks to wipe the cum off his belly. Getting comfortable, he then stuffed the plugs in his ears. He rolled onto his side to sleep.




    Their bedroom was dark but sleep wouldn't come. “You're getting soft on that kid aren't you? All I'm hearing lately is Seth this and Seth that.” Out of frustration Attila slapped Bruce hard across the face.

    Bruce's response was immediate. He shoved Attila out of bed and then up against the wall; he put one hand on his throat and one on his balls. “Keep your fucking hands off me! Touch me again and I'll rip your balls off!” The words were a fierce whisper. Attila was convinced he meant it.. But instead of hard pressure, Bruce's grip on Attila's balls was gentle.

    Their subsequent fuck wasn't gentle at all. With no preliminaries, Bruce spun Attila around and penetrated his ass. Attila's ass was pre-lubed and ready but Bruce's cock was dry. It hurt and Attila's cries said so. The fuck continued with Bruce slamming his cock into his victim, knocking Attila's breath out with every thrust. Gradually Attila took it better. Bruce could see the tears of pain and it brought him to the brink. He kept thrusting and another whimper from Attila set off his orgasm. Attila jerked himself off as Bruce came in his ass. It had taken a lot of practice for Bruce to learn to stay in his ass as Attila jerked his body wildly. After a moment, they moved back to the bed to get their breath.

    “Do we have to keep doing it like that?” Bruce asked.

    “I'm the one who got fucked. What are you bitching about? You know we both like it.”

    “I'm afraid I'm gonna really hurt you one of these times.”

    “You DID hurt. I'm gonna check for blood.” Attila went into the bathroom and shortly afterward Bruce heard the toilet flush.

    “Just a little blood. I should have used more lube.” Attila sat down again and leaned against Bruce's chest. He kissed Bruce's neck. “I came all over the wall again.”

    “I'll clean it up,” Bruce promised.

    “Bet your ass you will,” Attila answered. “Unless you can order little Seth to do it.”

    “Enough about Seth, babe. He's nothing like you.” Bruce hugged his lover.

    Attila wasn't convinced. “You do like him. Admit it.”

    “Not the way I like you. He's totally different. Plus, except for the physical part, he doesn't give a shit about me. He's not gonna get all sappy and lovey-dovey like that idiot cameraman at Perfect Penis.”

    “Good. 'Cause I will kill you if he does.”

    Bruce grinned, “You sound like you mean it.”

    Attila was not grinning. “I will chop your balls off and watch you bleed to death. I will fuck you while you die. You won't like it.” Attila's hand tightened on Bruce's balls. “Not. One. Bit.”

    “OW!” Bruce cried out and Attila released his grip.

    “It would be a pity, Bruce, because I really do like your balls.” Attila slid down and began sucking gently on Bruce's balls; only occasional scrotal nips reminded Bruce of Attila's threat.

    Their routine called for Bruce to get aroused and fuck Attila again. He did his best, but this time Attila wasn't into the sex at all. His eyes glowed as he watched Bruce's actions, but the pleasure wasn't sexual. “I own you,” he challenged, as Bruce pumped his ass faster. “You're fucking me, but I own you.”

    Bruce was an amateur who loved a rough fuck; but Attila was serious, consumed, and determinedly dominant. The depth of Attila's concentration showed in his face. Aroused passion made it a look of pure hatred. Bruce decided to keep his eyes closed or that look would kill his hardon. And a limp dick would piss off Attila for sure. A greater chill of danger followed.; Bruce could never tell if if he had satisfied Attila or not. He put both hands around Attila's throat and squeezed as he thrust his cock into his lover's hot ass one more time. Simultaneously Attila stroked himself into a convulsive orgasm. After his final spasm, he shoved Bruce away with a hip thrust of his own, just as Bruce started to spurt. Cum flew, making a mess.

    Bruce landed on the bed holding his cock and awaited the verdict anxiously.

    “Now that was a good fuck!” Attila said and Bruce relaxed at last. He sighed milked the last of the cum from his shriveled cock.

  22. #22
    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Great new installment, Rory!

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Thanks, Rocabar.

    Curious: do you wear your namesake cologne?

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    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Quote Originally Posted by EasyRory View Post
    Thanks, Rocabar.

    Curious: do you wear your namesake cologne?


    You are very welcome!

    . . . And yes, yes I do. Quite a bit, actually (right now as a matter of fact).


    Soooo Rory, how did you pick your username?

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    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    I was going to pick plain old 'Rory' but JUB said that was taken, so I began entering variations and JUB kept saying no. I thought this is not so easy. Then I tried EasyRory and that was accepted.

    I thought about it and decided ok, I am pretty easy.

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Hi. Nice update on our collective crop of guys.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Six


    Darren relaxed, driving slowly down Broadway. He decided to treat Peter and Joanne as a harmless pastime, a little straight-forward sex, that he could take or leave. Peter's sudden objection to getting fucked had almost ruined a nice orgasm.

    After class, things had been progressing nicely. The brother and sister were both eager and seemed to enjoy teasing Darren into a state of maximum horniness. It was a relief to finally get to their house and into bed. Everybody had been willing when he first entered Joanne. She was eager; Darren near exploding, and Peter was encouraging, tickling Darren in sensitive places as he fucked his sister. Joanne had one of her frequent mini-climaxes and wanted a chance to recover.

    “Fuck Peter now. I want to watch.” Joanne lay alongside Peter, playing with his nipples as Darren raised his legs and penetrated. Peter looked only at his sister as he squirmed under a double assault.

    “That drives me crazy, Joanne. I think my nipples are more sensitive than yours,” Peter sighed. Then he gasped as Darren penetrated fully and hurt him a little.

    “Did that hurt, Pete?” Joanne asked.

    “A little. Maybe you should have it back in you.”

    Darren listened to Peter call him 'it' and gave him another deep thrust. Peter didn't seem to mind this one. He closed his eyes and asked, “You want it, Jo?”

    “Darren you have to put on a fresh condom before you fuck me.” Joanne shifted her attention to Darren's closest nipple. She licked her finger and rubbed.

    Darren decided to put an end to the session. “Oh, fuck!” Darren thrust faster. “I'm coming!”

    “NO!” Peter shouted and tried to shake Darren off.

    “Take it, Peter! Take it!” Darren cried and pumped frantically. Peter tried but couldn't escape; he took the pounding with his eyes closed in total passivity. When it was over, Darren sighed, “Wow, you're a nice fuck, Peter,” and expected a little three-way cuddle. Joanne cooed as she fingered herself and leaned forward for a kiss. As soon as Darren relaxed, however, Peter shoved him aside and almost ran to the bathroom.

    “Sorry,” Joanne said. “He gets that way sometimes.”

    “Why? It was like the last time. We didn't do much different.”

    “You came in him. You're supposed to come in me.”

    “Who made those rules? You never told me.”

    “Yeah, well … whatever. Peter doesn't like to get fucked to the point that it makes him come.”

    “When did he come? He just lay there ignoring me.”

    “I don't know, but his dick was still dripping when he got out of bed. He won't admit he likes it.”

    “It being me?” Darren asked.

    “It being getting fucked. I'm the one who likes you,” Joanne teased.

    “I'm pretty much gay, Joanne. Haven't been with a girl since high school.”

    “That's ok. I kinda figured that. I like you anyway … as long as you use a condom.” Joanne pulled Darren on top of her and kissed him. “That's right, just let your cock rest on me…” She wiggled around under him. “... right there.” Darren's almost limp cock was resting against Joanne but not penetrating. She spread her legs to position him better. “Kiss me some, Darren,” she asked as she pushed his head toward her breast. She squirmed rhythmically pushing her pelvis against Darren's, sighed, and came. “That was sweet,” she commented without much involvement.

    Peter emerged from the bathroom fully dressed. He perceived what Darren and Joanne had been doing and stormed out of the room.

    “I hope this doesn't bother you, Darren. I'll talk to him ...”

    As he left the house, Darren could hear an angry, almost tearful Peter accuse his sister, “You fucked him! Without me!” Darren was surprised that they weren't alone; but Peter's words didn't seem to matter to the cleaning woman working in the kitchen.

    The Broadway traffic made a lot more sense than Peter, Darren thought. And the Broadway traffic made no sense at all. How could a simple merge with Telegraph back up traffic for blocks. Darren bailed at his first chance and turned left to get onto Webster.




    Finnbarr Cullen was stubborn in a way that made it a virtue. He was also skilled at getting his way, very skilled for such a young man. He found the phone number listed under Larry's name. He dialed and got Cal. “Coach, this is Finn Cullen. Have you thought about that private coaching idea?”

    “Right now, I'm not thinking about much at all, Mr. Cullen.” Cal was always formal with the students off the field. On field, he dropped the mister.

    “I hope you do. Dave Miller definitely wants to do it.”

    “I'll think about it. Get yourself graduated from high school first, Mr. Cullen.”

    The next day at school, Finn posted a notice in the locker room. “Summer Football Clinic with Coach Rockridge. Sign up now. $300 for three weeks.” That afternoon he took the notice to Cal's front door.

    “See? I posted it this morning. Eleven guys signed up. Can you afford to pass up thirty-three hundred, Cal? Ok if I call you Cal?”

    “No, Mr. Cullen, it's not ok.” Cal heard Larry chuckle in the next room. “Well, maybe, after graduation,” Cal amended and Finn beamed. Cal looked at the eleven names. “I'll think about this.”

    “Thanks. That's all I want, Cal,” Finn waved as he headed down the walk to the street.

    Larry looked up from a book as Cal sat down looking at the sign-up sheet. “Thirty-three hundred, Larry. That's not bad for three week's work.”

    “We're not hurting for money, Mr. Rockridge,” Larry gently mocked.

    “We're not hurting for your money, you mean.”

    “OUR money, doofus.”

    Cal grinned. “You know how turned on I get when you call me doofus.”

    “Not really. I don't believe I have ever called you doofus before.”

    “Well, let me show you ...”

    One great feature for a couple living alone in their own house is being able to fuck on the floor of the living room any time the mood strikes. When they were done, Larry lay on his stomach with his face resting in his hands, drifting and dreaming. Cal repeatedly traced a line from his shoulders to his thighs, making Larry feel tingly.

    “You know what's great about your ass?” Cal asked. “It's about this much ...” Cal gave a squeeze. “... over perfect. Which makes it perfect for me. I could lie here and stare at you for hours. Mmmm ...” He nuzzled against Larry's back.

    “Have I told you how much I like getting fucked by you?” Larry asked back.

    “You can tell me again,” Cal purred.

    Instead, Larry turned on his side and kissed him. Repeatedly. “Tonight I liked it because it was just us having fun. Pleasing each other. No intrusions. No worries. Just sharing a feeling. It was better than words.”

    “It wasn't spectacular,” Cal criticized his own performance.

    “It was – in a non-spectacular way. Just having you here. Somebody I trust completely. And … I could feel you come in me. And when you did, you looked at me like I was … like I was your whole world. That's more than spectacular; that's why I love you.”

    “I'm gonna do that coaching thing.”

    “YES!” Larry hugged his lover.

    “You know … I bet I could get Marlon Mayfield to help. He lives in Oakland.”

    “Marlon Mayfield?”

    “He was a great linebacker for Pittsburgh. So underappreciated - 'cause the Steelers sucked the years he played. I met him at a local school conference and he said he'd love to get back into the game. And maybe, if that works … we could get Johnny Alton … He lives in Marin somewhere … If Finn could get eleven guys in one day at one high school, I bet ...”

    “Now he's Finn?”

    “Yeah, Finn. First names. Why not? We should treat the kids like peers. They'll be out of high school, but still wondering about how they'll do in college ball. We'll build 'em up some more. Instill a professional attitude. I like calling it a clinic, too; it's not rigid sounding, not dictatorial. You think?” Suddenly Cal grinned even wider. He looked at Larry's cock. “I knew I was forgetting something. I didn't get you off.”




    “It's small budget, but Macy's wants to try a show. I know I told you Nordstrom, but I meant to say Macy's. Just the downtown store. A lunch time promotion. They're thinking women will buy for their husbands, boyfriends, children, yada-yada. So a female audience, probably no gay crowd. You in?” Andrew asked.

    “Sure,” Z said. He figured Andrew had lied about the Norstrom-Macy mix up; but the extra money would help.

    “I've got to schedule it around school, work, and a trip to Belgium,” Darren temporized.

    “It's this Friday. How hard is that to schedule? Belgium, for fuck sake?” Andrew looked surprised.

    “A customer's a customer. What's wrong with Belgium?”

    “There are parking lots in San Jose bigger than Belgium.”

    “I don't think so.” Darren didn't appreciate Andrew's scoffing at his project.

    “Yeah, well, we need a third guy. And any money we pay him means less for you two. My thought is we go for an average Bay Area nerd look, to set you two cuties off. Know anybody?”

    “School's full of 'em,” Darren said.

    “Ask around. He needs to be slim, otherwise anybody who can walk without tripping.”

    Asher Goldberg, who was in Darren's logic class, could walk without tripping, but that was about it. He shrugged indifferently at the idea of modeling but agreed that thirty dollars for an hour's work wasn't bad. “Is that the standard wage?” he asked.

    “Plus BART fare into town. My brother and I will get paid more, but we've got experience. Thirty's good for a first time. And you'll get some experience out of it.” Darren didn't say just how much more than thirty he and Z would make, but Andrew had told him to offer not a penny more than what it took to get a warm body on the runway.

    Darren and Asher left the BART station and walked quickly up Powell to the O'Farrell Street entrance to Macy's. They met Andrew and Z in a temporary changing area that was screened off from the modeling area. It wasn't a runway; it was just a bit of a stage high enough that the models could be seen if the crowd was more than two deep. They could hear announcements on the store's speaker system inviting shoppers to see the display of clothing in the men's department.

    “Ok,” the store assistant manager instructed. “Just keep putting on the clothes working from one end of the rack to the other. The final outfit is some boxers with the store logo on them. You guys ok with underwear? It's nothing revealing.” He waited for three nods and then concluded, “We'll end with a school prank. Coupons will be blown out of a cheerleader's megaphone. Got it?”

    The lighting was only a few flashing strobes. The music was some no-name metal band. The announcer was businesslike, describing the clothing and giving the price.

    Andrew sat in the front row. Ok, he thought, this Goldberg kid is a real nerd. He looks like a young Woody Allen with less fashion sense. But what the hell … he hasn't tripped yet. He looked around and noted the crowd was growing. He could hear the buzz of female comments about Z and Darren and smiled to himself. At least Macy's was getting most of their money's worth.

    In the changing area, Z and Darren were helping Asher, who wasn't used to the pace of a fashion show. Asher was wearing some voluminous white boxers.

    “Didn't anybody tell you to wear black briefs?” Z asked him. “Darren, you should have told him. You'll never get the Macy's boxers over those. Oh well, here we go ...” Asher shucked one pair of boxers and put on the other.

    The show ended with the three models taking a bow in their Macy's boxers to modest applause; the crowd was not more than a couple dozen people, mostly women, as expected. The music stopped.

    “But what would school be without a school prank?” The announcer asked. The music restarted and a waving megaphone spit out coupons to the crowd. Andrew yelled out, “Here's a better prank!” He pulled down three pairs of boxers revealing two pairs of black briefs and one cock that looked gigantic.

    First there was shock and then tittering laughter. Asher calmly pulled up his boxers and went to the changing area. His face was red, but otherwise he just looked annoyed.

    “That wasn't supposed to happen!” The assistant manager sounded alarmed.

    Asher shrugged. “Used to happen all the time in high school.” He was resigned to one more public pantsing.

    Even Andrew was chagrined. “Sorry. I thought you'd have briefs on. We'll double your pay.”

    With the models again dressed in their street clothes, they left the changing area. A sizable group of women smiled amiably and clapped for the models. “You were so cute,” gushed one young girl whose only problem was a large nose and a bit of excess weigh around the hips. “Can I have your autograph?”

    “I don't have a pen,” Asher stammered. Andrew smiled and gave him one.

    “Could you sign my bra?” She pulled her jersey to the side, and exposed a bit of pink lace and cloth. While Asher was signing, she whispered, ”I live in Pacific Heights. Call me.” She gave him a phone number.

    As the women crowded the models, the assistant manager pulled Andrew aside. “If I get fired over this, I'll … I'll ...”

    “Check your sales after the show, Nate. You won't get fired. Are you going to be home tonight?”

    “Yes. If you come by, you'll have a fifty-fifty chance of being murdered.” Nate didn't sound mollified by Andrew's bland assurance.

    “Buy some condoms. I like the pre-lubed kind.” Andrew told Nate and shifted his attention to his models conversation with their admirers.

    “Well, if your boyfriend has brown hair, get him a sweater that sets it off. He doesn't have to wear black ALL the time. Look at this dark rust color ...” Z told one charmed woman who grabbed the sweater and went to the cash register.

    “It's more like just getting him something. It really is the thought that counts – that it was from you. Whether he ever wears it … well, maybe he will. Or … If you don't trust your choice, what about a wallet? He'll always like that. I know I would.” Darren smiled warmly into admiring eyes. “Trust me.”

    “I wore more different clothes today than I have all my life,” Asher said to a motherly type. “I'd be a buyer, but I don't have much money.” The older woman licked her chops. She whispered something to Asher and his eyes popped wide open. “You bet I would!” His eyes caught Andrew's. He hurried over.

    “She's buying the whole rack and will give it to me if I model for her.”

    “Go talk to your fans,” Andrew urged Asher. “See, Nate, nothing to worry about.”

    Andrew was almost correct. The sales were impressive, paying for the show many times over; but the publicity was problematic. If you believed that all publicity was good publicity, you would have been happy with the YouTube videos that were posted. Asher's cock was pixelated in those. Other websites showed uncensored versions. Macy's was accused of obscene pandering, endangering American family life, and cynical anti-Semitism.

    “I'm not really Jewish,” Asher tweeted to his many new friends. “I was adopted.”

    Andrew's only reaction was to wonder whether a cock that big could become fully erect. “Asher, my lad, I may have more work for you. Some special stuff. Have you ever heard of Ron Jeremy? A nice boy like you ... from Queens, originally ...”




    Wolf made himself scarce around the Kearny-Wittelsbach household but encounters were inevitable. One morning in the kitchen just a few days after the case of mistaken identity Wolf and Heiko just glared at each other and drank their orange juice. The tension became too much for Tom.

    “Wolf,” Tom said, “I love your brother.”

    “I know,” Wolf studied some invisible point on the wall.

    “What has this got to do with ...” Heiko began.

    “He thinks you might be making a play for me,” Tom continued to Wolf. “I told him you'd be wasting your time. He's it for me. Nobody else.”

    “I know. I'm not stupid.” Wolf was serious but his German accent made “schtoopid” sound funny.

    Tom tried not to laugh. “Are you gay? Du bist schwul?”

    “No. Um, no. I don't think so. Not exactly.”

    Heiko exploded with some German that made Wolf stare at the floor.

    “That's not a straightforward answer, Wolf.”

    “I'm not sure. I don't think I'm gay, but there have been a couple of times ...” He shrugged, out of English to explain.

    “Alright. To get specific, I don't appeal to you in any way, do I?” Tom clearly expected a no answer.

    “No, but ...”

    “Aber? Was meinst dein ABER?” Heiko was making fists.

    Tom glared at them both. “I'm making things worse.”

    Wolf grabbed his jacket and went to the door. “I'm going to find out if I'm gay.” He closed the door harder than he needed to.

    “The two of you! It's like oil and water!” Tom shook his head.

    “I know. He sets me off. I can't help it,” Heiko said.

    “What does he mean about finding out if he's gay?”

    Heiko shrugged his shoulders. “Some disaster in the making.”

    “And you don't care?”

    “He always gets into these things. And he always survives. You ready to go to the office?”

  28. #28
    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    . . . Let the fun and games begin!

    Great new update, Rory- Thanks for sharing with us!

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Rory,
    Another fun and excitingly charged episode in the lives of our boys by the bay!


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Seven


    Wolf walked to Boogie Woogie Bagel Boy for a coffee and an onion roll with the feeling of Heiko's breath on his neck. Walking out on his brother had been the easy part, the pleasant part, even; but how was he supposed to find out if he was gay or not? The counter waitress gave him a wink as she served his order. Was she just being friendly? People in California were like that. Or was she suggesting more? Either way, she isn't giving me a hardon, Wolf thought. On the other hand, she's at least twice my age and is looking to improve her tip, he reasoned.

    He watched some municipal workers empty the trash barrels on the street. They were young and fit looking. They're not doing anything for me either, he thought. Maybe I'm asexual. Maybe nothing turns me on.

    Logically, asexuality was a possibility, but he knew it wasn't true. For one thing he could turn himself on very easily. He had vivid fantasies about all kinds of things. A couple of the fantasies were troubling and he tried to avoid those, but others weren't and he could jack off in a number of ways, all satisfying in the absence of any other choice. At the moment he was getting a chubby just from looking at the hole in his bagel. I could almost fuck this bagel, he thought, and felt apprehensive about eating it.

    He watched the waitress walk back and forth giving her a critical appraisal. She looked a little motherly, a little thick in the waist and a little flat in the chest; and that was a minor turn-off. But she wasn't repulsive. A cushy ass, he thought. And all women had such amazing skin. So soft and unbelievable to touch. How could their flesh be so yielding and firm at the same time? He began to imagine ways to measure the amount of resilience in a woman's skin. Calipers, scales, springs … Science? I'm thinking about science? How sexy is that? Fuck! Maybe I am asexual!

    Wolf drank down the last of his coffee and left the small store, heading aimlessly east on Park Street. He came to the bridge and crossed into a sterile neighborhood of Oakland. Just a few blocks of nondescript commercial buildings separated him from the Fruitvale BART stop; it was an easy if unappealing walk. Oakland wouldn't have to be this ugly, he thought; people could at least pick up the junk. Munich could look like this if nobody gave a shit. He grabbed a sheet of newspaper that was blowing around in the backwash of passing trucks and carried it to a trash bin at the station.

    Wolf bought a one-way ticket to the Embarcadero, the first stop in the city; it was the cheapest and there was no advantage to a round trip. Maybe I'll find out I'm a fairy, he thought; I could fly back to Alameda. Or get another fairy to give me a ride in a sexy car. All I'd have to do is what, exactly? At Lake Merritt a man got on who sat opposite Wolf and stared at him, looking at his crotch and then into his eyes. Once he licked his lips when he caught Wolf's eye. The scrutiny was uncomfortable and Wolf was eager to get off the train.

    He walked along the Embarkadero in the direction of Fisherman's Wharf. After the creepy train ride he was happy to be anonymous in a crowd of tourists that got bigger as they approached the Wharf. The street entertainment, a couple of human statues who did contortions if you gave them a dollar, grew boring after the first couple of times. We have better ones in the Marienplatz, Wolf thought.

    He noticed the makeup of the crowd, couples of every sexual combination. They were interested in each other and the experience, sometimes joking with other tourists, sometimes keeping to themselves. There were lots of children. Only rarely would he get a smile from a man, and it was nothing predatory, nothing like the treacly smile of the man on the train.

    “I like your t-shirt. Where did you get it?” a tourist asked.

    “München. I mean, Munich,” Wolf answered.

    “Is that a store?”

    “No, a city.”

    That was Wolf's only conversation. There is a strange loneliness to being in a crowd of chatty, friendly people, none of whom is chatting with you. So Wolf saved the cable car fare and walked over the hill to Market Street and then west. The Castro would be full of gay guys. That will be the test. I'll see if there is anybody hot, like Tom, anybody who … gives me an erection. Wolf reflected on Tom's frustration with him over orange juice and his dick responded with a sensitivity. There was no engorgement, just an assertive awareness, as if it wanted some attention. He pulled at his crotch, rearranging things and climbed Hyde Street.

    Before long his feet ached. The time was getting close to noon and Wolf had been walking almost nonstop since before nine. On the fringe of the Castro he looked into a junk shop and saw a poster. “Homopalooza!” it advertised.

    He entered the small shop, pointed to the poster, and asked a bizarrely dressed person, “What is the meaning of this?”

    “The meaning of life?” The person batted thick eyelashes, heavy with mascara and gave Wolk an overall appraisal. “I've been sooo waiting for that question. Personally, I think a ouija board will give you most of the answers, but if you want a deeper explanation, ...”

    “No,” Wolf couldn't help smiling. “The meaning of that word … on the poster.”

    The person looked carefully into Wolf's eyes and said slowly, “Hoe-moe-pah-loo-zah. It's a street fair for a lot of hoe-moes. You know what they are, right? People like me.”

    “People like you are Arabs?” Wolf questioned.

    “I was going for a gypsy look.”

    “Real gypsies don't look like that,” Wolf said trying to be helpful.

    “This gypsy does, cutie. I telling fortunes this afternoon and the outfit will improve the outlook.”

    “Really? You tell fortunes?” Wolf recognized the ridiculousness of his question as soon as he asked it. He blushed.

    “For a price … I can do anything,” a sultry voice replied. “And aren't you cute, turning all red like that.”

    “But you tell fortunes?”

    “I pretend to.” The person smiled and relaxed his act. “What would you like to know?” a masculine voice asked.

    “Am I gay?” Wolf blurted out.

    The gypsy admired his makeup in a small mirror. “I'm sure there are thousands who hope so. But what do you mean? Do you look gay? Not especially. Do you act gay? Not especially. What makes you think you are?” He noticed a pallor to his cheeks.

    “I have feelings ...”

    “I need to finish my makeup. Do you mind if I go ahead? … Good. Sit here. … Now then ...what feelings?” The gypsy stopped and again dropped his act. “That is, if you want to. I'm no expert.” He looked seriously at Wolf. “You're not suicidal or anything, are you?”

    “No. Not suicidal. But there is a man. I think I like him.”

    “Ok, lots of men are very likable. What other feelings?”

    Wolf took a deep breath and answered. “A man touched me once. I still think about it.”

    The voice got dramatic again. “What? He touched you? Show me where the bad man touched you.” Wolf pointed. “He touched you on the zipper???” The freshly-applied eyebrows rose a foot.

    “Approximately ...” Wolf answered and chuckled. It was easy to talk to this man.

    “ 'Approximately' clouds my crystal ball. You need to show me exactly.” It was a blatant and invitational challenge that the challenger expected to be ignored.

    Wolf pulled his pants down and pointed at the bulge in his underwear. “He touched me right there.”

    The man gasped and laughed. “Put that gorgeous dick away. You'll give me a heart attack.”

    Wolf zipped up and pressed ahead. “My brother is gay. Do you think I am? I'm not trying insult you, but you don't turn me on.”

    “Oh, honey, I haven't turned anybody on in … years. And don't go showing your dick to strangers. You really are serious, aren't you? You almost ARE asking me the meaning of life.” Wolf nodded. “My answer is … tah-dah! ...I have NO CLUE. None at all. Aside from knowing I'm gay, I don't know a damn thing more than you do. Most of us just bumble along.” The man's attention returned to the mirror.

    “Oh ...” Wolf was disappointed, suddenly aware of how frank he had been. “I'm bothering you … sorry.”

    “You're not bothering me at all. What's your name?”

    “Wolf.”

    The man paused and looked searchingly at this amazing youth. “Wolf …” the man pondered. “Here's your fortune, my young Wolf. You are going to break hearts. And it won't be your fault. You are going to look for love and break your own heart more often than not. But eventually, you will find someone who fills your dreams. Then my crystal ball gets cloudy. I don't know what comes after that.”

    “Do I find a man or a woman?”

    “I hope so. The other arrangements are so much more complicated.”

    “Um ...ok. I guess that's fair ...” Wolf knew the conversation was over but he didn't want to leave. The silence lengthened.

    “Are you doing anything this afternoon? You want to be part of the act?”

    “What would I need to do?” Wolf brightened.

    “Look fetching and carry a signboard? Would that be ok?”

    After some adjustments and some judicial changes both to the signboard and to Wolf, the results made Wolf smile. The signboard advertised the fortune teller Zorita and promised a fortunes for five dollars and ecstasy for ten. Zorita admitted that no one had ever requested ecstasy.

    “At least not from me … You ready? Outside the temperature was just warm enough for Wolf's costume and the intermittent sun made his dark makeup shine like a fantastic gypsy's should. “Perfect,” Zoritta pronounced. “Nobody can see the black shorts. From almost ever angle, you look totally naked under that sign.”

    So for three hours Wolf wandered around the Castro, wearing his sign, passing out Zorita's cards, telling questioners where Zorita's tent was set up, and turning down offers, not all of which involved sex.

    At three-thirty they returned to Zorita's store. “Do you know what the most frequent question people asked the gypsy?” Zorita asked while wiping off Wolf's makeup.

    “The meaning of life?” Wolf joked.

    “No, they wanted your name and phone number. Here's your share of the take.”

    “Zorita?”

    “Call me Paul, ok? I'm not a dedicated drag queen, just an occasional one.”

    “Paul, this is too much money.” Wolf sat down hard in a hard wooden chair, looking at the fistful of cash.

    “No, it isn't. And be careful of my chair. It's ...”

    “Nineteenth century Biedermeier.”

    Paul's mouth dropped open. “Nineteenth cen … Wolf, honey, maybe you are gay.”

    “My uncle Ludi has a warehouse full of it,” Wolf replied, tying his shoes.

    Paul wanted to know more. “Wolf, you don't need to take the Bart home. It's so crowded late in the day. Let me drive you. You can tell me all about Uncle what's-his-name.”




    Jerry got out of work and changed to athletic clothes. He didn't go to Rittler as he promised Rory … how long ago was it? … days now. He decided he would start with running. He ran along the streets in his neighborhood and found himself winded after a few blocks. Man am I out of shape, he thought. He walked a block and then resumed running, following this pattern until he was exhausted and sweating profusely.

    Man, I must have run a couple miles, he told himself as he showered and changed. The actual distance was a lot less; but he felt clean and virtuous as he went out for dinner. Gotta do this some more, he told himself. Get in better shape. Then I'll go back to Rittler. He sat down feeling famished and looked at the menu. He heard the waiter ask, “What can I get you?”

    “A martini, please. Dry, up, and icy cold … with a couple of olives.” Food could wait. He had earned a drink.

    Midway into the second martini, unbidden thoughts of Neil came back. The third drink banished them for a while. The next thing Jerry knew he was in bed with his head spinning. He reached out for Neil, but phantoms are no help ever. He pulled his arms back and wrapped them across his chest. Slowly one hand slid down … he traced the trail of curly hair with his fingers and took hold of his cock. It felt good, reassuring. He flexed it and felt a response. A small tingle. And then nothing. Shit. He thought. I can't even get it up. Then things got darker for a while. He slept; but it didn't feel like it. The morning and the pain in his head came much too early.




    “Seriously, you should think about it. It will work wonders for your sex life. It's good money and you'll be famous.” Andrew put down his phone and looked at Seth. “You think I'm losing my touch? I can't even talk this Asher kid into a little light porn.”

    “Let's see … You promised him fame, fortune, and women and he didn't fall into a heap at your feet?”

    “Did you see his dick? No way would he ever fall into a heap. Even soft that thing would keep him half off the ground.”

    “Maybe he doesn't want that kind of fame and fortune,” Seth suggested.

    “He is interested in women, though. I think … It's really hard to read him.” Andrew smiled at something. “You didn't fall right away either as I recall.”

    “I didn't fall at all, numb nuts. I arranged for you to seduce me.”

    “What?” Andrew was disbelieving.

    “Do you think eighteen-year-old dudes all go around bending over kitchen counters for you? Really? Seriously? I played you like a violin. Strummed you like a guitar. Waxed you like a pair of hot Rossignols. Spit-shined you like ….”

    “Alright, alright. I get the idea. You were a little eager, as I recall.”

    “Cheer up. It wasn't a burden. You were always a good fuck.”

    “Later though ...”

    “Yes, master, later was real. I loved those months with you and Tom.”

    “So did I.” There was a break in Andrew's voice.

    Seth looked at his always devious and frequently lying partner, trying to judge his sincerity. “Naw … you almost had me fooled. I'm calling bullshit, Andrew,” Seth laughed good-naturedly. “You were the one who broke it up, for God's sake.” He ruffled Andrew's longish hair. “You could use a haircut. Get a good one. We got an advance on the next video. I'm going to Chris's for edit work.”

    “Edit work? Is that what you call it? Is Bruce going to be there?” Andrew felt possessive about Seth, and, while he instinctively avoided personal commitment, he didn't want anybody else having him either.

    “Maybe. Chris wanted some stills of him and Attila.”

    Andrew watched Seth leave and picked up his phone. He stared at the black surface, willing it to ring. He was surprised when it actually did. “Z … nice work at Macy's. You and Darren looking for more? I got a minor shoot possibility, it's speculative. Half fee at the shoot, the rest if it sells. If you're interested ...” Andrew had nothing lined up, but he always offered his clients hope. He didn't consider it lying.

    “Where and when?” Z asked.

    “Wait … somebody's in the outer office …” Andrew walked into what functioned as an unattended reception room. “Yeah … what do you need?” he asked a young looking Hispanic.

    “Do you have any work? I can do carpentry, yard work, cleaning. Half day or whole day?”

    “No, sorry. Nothing now ...” Andrew put the phone back to his ear and watched the young man.

    “Hourly? Anything, sir.” The kid's appeal sounded desperate.

    “Just a sec, Z …” Andrew said to the phone. “What's your name? Can you read?”

    “Adan. Yes, I can read.” Adan looked hopefully at Andrew.

    Andrew pulled out a large box of loose photographs. “Sort these by the name on the back. There are some folders in that box. I'll give you minimum wage.” Andrew went back to the phone call with Z. He watched Adan's guarded reaction when he realized the photos were all male nudes.

    “Do you need office work done? I can do that,” Z said.

    “Are you that hard up? Money, I mean?” Andrew couldn't recall Z ever sounding so anxious.

    “No. More for something to do. The money wouldn't hurt, though.”

    “Let me see if I can't find you something … I'll call you back, Z.”

    “Mister?” Adan called.

    “Call me Andrew. What's up? Can't you read the writing?”

    “Should I include other information on the folders. Hair color. Height. Some of the photos have more than just a name.”

    “Sure. That's a good idea.”

    “What if I typed it into a computer and made labels? That way you would have the physical folders and a database, too.”

    “Uh … ok.” Andrew smiled at the enterprise. “There's a laptop in that pull out drawer. It's got Microsoft Office on it.”

    “I know how to use Access. What's this number?”

    “Penis size,” Andrew answered.

    “That's what I thought, but I wanted to make sure,” Adan answered. “Seven inches sounds so small. I think in metric. Seventeen - eighteen centimeters sounds much better, bigger.” Adan grinned.

    Andrew shook his head in wonder and went to his desk. He made some calls looking for jobs. After striking out with several companies, he took a call from Nate at Macy's.

    “I'm not fired so far,” Nate said. “Cincinnati wasn't thrilled, but so far … so far, anyway, so good.”

    “Cincinnati? I thought Macy's was a New York store. Whatever. They liked the sales?”

    “Loved the sales. Their lawyers are antsy about the publicity angle.”

    “So I'm forgiven?” Andrew asked.

    “Andy, I forgave you that night. Remember?” Nate's tone took on an intimacy Andrew didn't feel and hinted at a rematch.

    “Please don't call me Andy. Not until we're married.”

    “Married?” Nate sounded more intrigued than panicked.

    “Kidding … Just don't call me Andy. So what about another show? A tamer one. Titillating, but PG-rated. Asher will wear briefs this time, I promise.”

    “Asher,” Nate contemplated. “You know, in his nerdy way … but the other guys were such good salesmen. It's good they weren't on commission.”

    “Asher's straight. Don't get your hopes up.”

    “That's what they all say, at first.”

    Andrew overdid the laughter at Nate's half-assed joke, hoping Nate would feel flattered. “So ... another show? Yes?” Andrew pushed.

    “Umm. Ok, send me a proposal to show the bosses. I'll see if I can sell it. You want to come by tonight?”

    Andrew readily agreed to dinner and the implicit promise of more with Nate. Nate wasn't bad in bed. Z, he thought, if you only knew what I have to do for you. Time for a break.

    He looked into the reception room. “Hey, Adan. You want some lunch?”

    He went a block to the nearest deli and got two sandwiches and a bag of chips. Maybe Adan doesn't like ham on rye, Andrew thought. He compromised, putting the chips back on the shelf and taking some nachos. As it turned out, Adan liked just about anything.

    “Mexican food is good sometimes,” he told Andrew. “But look at us Mexicans. As soon as we can afford three meals a day, we blimp up. Most of the time, unless I'm doing something really physical, a cup of yogurt is enough.”

    “You have hardly any accent,” Andrew observed.

    “I went to a school in Ensenada. We had an amazing Mexican-American football coach. He demanded a lot. We all learned English.”

    “Ensenada? Is he still there?”

    “He has a cattle ranch. A big one. Now he's a trustee of the school. He gives it money and sponsors scholarships.”

    “Tony Peralta?” Andrew asked, half afraid of the answer.

    “Yes. Antonio Peralta. You know him?”

    “I knew him, sort of, a little, when he lived here.”

    Adan smiled and made his move.

    “What are you doing?” Andrew asked, recoiling.

    “I'm going to suck your cock. Ok?” Busy hands opened Andrew's trousers. “Hmm! Twenty-five centimeters easy!” Adan exclaimed.

    It took a moment for Andrew to convert the number. “Adan, you are so full of shit ...” he said. By then, however, Adan's mouth was full of cock.

    Adan paused and his smiling brown eyes looked up. “Maybe, but it's a big one.” Adan took it back into his mouth.

    Andrew didn't notice at first and then didn't object when he realized Adan was slowly working his pants off. It was so easy just to say “Yes” to Adan's questions.

    ”Does this feel good? … Am I doing it right? … You like to have your balls sucked? … Can I rim you?”

    Andrew just let it happen. Adan was so smooth and relaxing that Andrew hardly realized what was happening before he felt Adan's cock enter him. “Wait! … Adan … No.”

    “You don't really mean that, do you?” Adan asked as he slowly pumped more and more of his cock into Andrew, each thrust deeper. Andrew's moan gave him his answer.

    Andrew pulled him closer and managed to say “No” before they kissed. He thought back to Seth's words. This kid is playing me like a violin. Strumming me like a guitar. Waxing me like hot pair of … “Fuck me, Adan! Hard. Now!” Somewhere in Andrew's thinking he realized: I'm on my back, legs in the air and coming like I'll never stop. This kid is sooo good.

    When it was over, Andrew had a thought. “Did Tony send you to see me?”

    “No. He sent me to see Eric Malone. Eric sent me here.”

    “Eric ...?” Andrew pondered.

    “Why don't you take a little siesta while I get back to work?”

    Andrew woke after a refreshing hour's nap. He found a note from Adan. “Be back tomorrow. Try the database.”

    Andrew took a shower and sat at the computer. It was easy and handy. The box of photographs was now a row of file folders neatly labeled. He found he could query the database with some basic questions. He entered “blond” in the hair color box and got a list of names.

    “Andrew … my God, you're working!” Seth noted sarcastically upon arrival.

    “Yeah … kind of.”

    “You look rested for a change. See … work is good for you. Man I need a model with a giant cock … Know anybody? Chris thinks Attila would preform well in a fight scene.”

    Andrew typed “>7” in the cock size box and got some names. He picked a model with dark hair and eyes. “What about Richie Curlew? He's seven and a quarter, but kinda short, so it would look bigger.” He pulled a photo out of the box and showed it to Seth.

    “Jeez! You organized the photos! You have been busy!”

    Andrew just smiled. “Richie is available, too. He called a couple days ago.”

  31. #31
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Rory,
    After that session, I'm available and ready, too, lol.

    What is our Wolfie going to do?
    He seems to have found a fairly nice, aging, queen to strike up a day's wages with.
    But, is he any closer to knowing the meaning of his life?!

    Jerry needs help, serious help.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  32. #32
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Eight


    Ok, that didn't work out so well, Jerry told himself. All the run did was develop my thirst. No, that's not right. I'd have been thirsty anyway. The mistake was running into the bar. Today, I'll try something else. I'll run with a mission in mind. What mission? Hmm... I'll run my dirty clothes to the cleaners. That's about the same distance. And then I'll run home again. He tried not to think about his inability to masturbate the night before.

    Ok, so far, so good. The air felt good and after a block his muscles stretched out and stopped protesting the workout. He lengthened his stride a bit. I'll go another block before I walk, he promised himself. But that block went by easily so he stretched it to another. The only problem was the shorts he was wearing. Not really made for running.

    He arrived at the drycleaner's shop out of breath and exchanged banter with the clerk about the perils of running with drycleaning in hand. Getting it sweaty, getting it wrinkled, needing to get it cleaned again. Just friendly banter, then came the trip home.

    With no money and no plastic, it was easy to pass by the workplace of the highly skilled martini-meister. Jerry felt the pull of icy perfection, but it was resistible. It might not be so resistible later, he thought. I'll need another plan. Worry about that later. The light changed but Jerry ran through the intersection anyway, dodging one car. Then he heard the siren. Shit. Alameda cops.

    “Where's the fire, hotshot?”

    He knew before he looked. “You going to give me a ticket, Neil?” Jerry was panting. It was hard to talk.

    “You want a ride the rest of the way?”

    “I'll get your car all sweaty.” Jerry walked slowly as Neil paced him in the black and white.

    “Get in, asshole.” Neil's smile made it easy.

    “You're looking good. Marriage suits you,” Jerry commented.

    “Thanks. I should be running like you. I've added a few pounds.”

    “I'm sorry I didn't make your wedding. I had to ...” Jerry felt he needed to apologize.

    “No te preocupes, dude,” Neil answered in Spanglish. In explanation he added, “We've been getting sensitivity training. What have you been getting?”

    Getting? Jerry wasn't sure if Neil meant sex, training, or the flu. “Nothing much. Working on a sports program. Team management software,” he answered.

    “Yeah? How's your love life?” Neil gave Jerry a conspiratorial leer.

    “Ok,” Jerry answered, which was a lie. “Have you been playing lacrosse any? I've kinda let that slide ... Been wanted to get back to it.”

    “Me, too. Tim asks me, but the wife … you know. Partner's demands versus wife's demands. It's hard to keep all those balls in the air.” Neil sounded regretful.

    “You know what? Take her along. There are always a couple of people not playing.”

    “She might get to like them better than me.” If Neil was joking, Jerry couldn't tell.

    They arrived at the little house on Buena Vista. “Well … thanks for the ride, Neil. See you.”

    Jerry heard Neil say, “See you at the park maybe.” He closed the door of the car and didn't look back. He went into his house and lay on his bed going over every word he and Neil had exchanged. He felt a tightness and slipped his shorts down. His cock sprang up. So you're not dead after all, he smiled. Maybe you need some attention.

    He was about to provide that attention when his phone rang. “Bernice? Are you at work? What's up?” He giggled at that thought and blew his hard cock a kiss.

    “I don't know what's so funny,” Bernice began. “I'm up to my you-know-what in about five pounds of spaghetti. I misread the recipe. It's an emergency, Jer. Can you come to dinner right now?”

    “What can I bring?”

    “Nothing. Just get over here.”

    Jerry quickly showered and dried off. He looked at himself critically in the full length mirror on the closet door of his old fashioned house. His body could use some toning. Running will help, but lacrosse is more fun, he thought. He put fresh clothes on and got into his car. He didn't even look as he drove past the bar with the best martinis in Alameda. He kept his eyes on the traffic lights. Fuckin' Alameda cops are everywhere, he smiled.




    Wolf stood emptying his pockets onto the kitchen counter. Tom watched as he kept pulling bills out of his pants. When he opened a side cargo pocket and pulled out more, Tom couldn't keep quiet, “What did you do? Rob a bank?”

    Wolf smiled the way everybody with a secret does. “They're mostly ones. A lot of them, though.” He re-buttoned the side pocket flap and began smoothing out the bills that were wadded up.

    “A poker game?” Tom suggested. It was the most respectable explanation for that much cash that he could think of.

    “No. I walked around the city wearing a sign advertising a gypsy fortune teller.”

    “Alright, don't tell me. But, seriously, Wolf, don't let Heiko see all this. He'll be here in a minute or two.” Tom could imagine Heiko's reaction to so much unexplained money.

    Wolf smoothed out the last bill and folded up the pile. “Sixty-three dollars,” he announced. “Not as much as you thought, but not bad for a gypsy's assistant.” Wolf grinned at Tom and took the money to his room.

    Heiko walked in juggling grocery bags as he tried to hold the door open. Tom trotted to the door to help. He took one bag from Heiko and said, “Wolf's here. He's in his room.”

    Heiko put the second bag down and went to Wolf's room. He knocked and entered. “Wolf, I'm sorry about this morning. I over-react. I … What is all that money???” Don't judge yet, Heiko told himself. Stay calm. Maybe he can explain.

    “Well, I didn't find out if I'm gay, but I did find out I can make money advertising for a gypsy.” Wolf looked pleased with himself.

    Heiko took a closer look. “What's wrong with your eyes?”

    “I couldn't get all the makeup off. I'll take a shower … Maybe that will work.” Wolf watched for Heiko's reaction.

    “It's all legal?” Heiko asked.

    “Ja,” Wolf looked in the mirror and rubbed at the smudges around his eyes.

    Heiko returned to the kitchen. Tom looked up expectantly, but he just shrugged. “He's taking a shower. You go to the park and I'll make dinner for everybody.”




    At the park Tom noticed Cal and two others off by themselves. He watched them tackle each other. “Doesn't look like lacrosse,” he said to Larry. As they watched, third young man joined the tacklers.

    “It isn't. It's a test run. Cal wants to see if he can handle private football coaching.”

    “Keep your butts down. It helps speed and momentum. Only the center needs his butt in the air,” Cal told the two linemen. “Try it again.”

    “Ooof!” Finn shook his head as he got up. “I'm feeling like a tackling dummy.”

    Cal whispered something to him and lined up opposite the two linemen. On signal he leaned into Dave Miller, not stopping him but delaying him enough that Finn could easily elude the other lineman. “Let your line make the hole for you, Finn. You can't do it all yourself. So what are you going to do if there is no line? Just a zone defense? And how does a zone defense work against the short play? In high school ball the coach does all the thinking. In pro ball, every man has to be aware of the options all the time.”

    After a lecture on tactics, Cal dismissed his threesome and joined the lacrosse players.

    “Dude,” Emerson the latecomer said to Finn. “I get that you're cruising the coach, but try to be more subtle about it.”

    “What? What are you talking about?” Finn bristled.

    “Finn's always intense,” Dave said. He wasn't sure exactly what Emerson was talking about either.

    “Where'd you get the name Emerson?” Finn asked, to change the subject.

    “Born with it.”

    “Emerson what?”

    No, it's what Emerson. My first name is Walden, but people call me Long.”

    “Why do they call you Long? You're not that tall.”

    Long shrugged in answer. As they walked to the east end of the park they talked about schools, past and future, football, and mud. “We never have this kind of mud in Lafayette.” Long looked at his dirty knees and arms. “A locker room would be nice. I'm gonna get my truck all messed up.”

    “You can shower at my house,” Finn offered. “I'll give you some sweats to ride home in.”

    The offer of the shower was accepted, but Finn's mom's offer, staying for dinner, was declined. “Thanks, Mrs. Cullen, but I can't tonight. I appreciate the hot water, though.”

    “Why don't you leave your practice clothes here? My mom can wash them with mine and they'll be ready tomorrow,” Finn suggested as they stripped for showers.

    Tomorrow, I'll come prepared,” Long answered.

    “Heeeey Zeus!” Finn exclaimed. “I see why they call you Long.”

    “Yeah, it's not something I talk about. I hope I can get rid of the name when I get to college.”

    “It's fuckin' huge! And it's getting' bigger!”

    “Yeah!” Long quickly covered up his swelling, lengthening cock with a towel. “Don't talk about it, ok?”

    Finn said nothing but couldn't help taking another look. The towel-covered bulge was amazing.

    “Cool shower, three of 'em?” Long asked as he adjusted the temperature at the middle one.

    “I have four older brothers. When everybody lived at home it was a long wait in the bathroom, so my dad took out the bathtub and added shower nozzles.” Finn explained, as he stepped under the first spray. “Wh-what are you doing?” Finn couldn't take his eyes off Long's cock.

    “Haven't you ever seen a foreskin before? I gotta wash.” Long turned so Finn could watch. He held his cock out. “Normal ...” He retracted the extra skin. “Now it looks like you ...” He pulled the skin forward again. “Back to normal.”

    “But … it didn't go all the way back.” Finn commented, mystified.

    “That's 'cause it's a little hard. Like yours.” Long's breath was short. He almost whispered and pointed at Finn's growing erection.

    Finn grabbed his cock and then realized that wasn't helping, it was getting harder. Long pulled his foreskin back again and gently washed himself, looking from one cock to the other. The two boys stood facing each other, hard as rocks, almost holding their breath.

    “Close your eyes,” Long whispered. He took Finn's hand and placed it on his cock. Instinctively the fingers closed around it. He slowed pumped his hips, setting up a jacking motion. “Keep 'em closed,” he whispered when Finn looked down to see Long's hand on his own cock. Finn obeyed and Long moved closer, so their bodies were nearly touching.

    Long came first, as quietly as he could. A couple of gasps and deep breaths were the only audible giveaway. His cum landed on Finn's belly and quickly drained away under the shower's spray. “Now you ...” Long whispered. He put his hand on Finn's ass and pulled him near enough their bodies were touching. Finn groaned. He was so close. “Shoot it on me,” Long urged. Long's thigh intruded between Finn's legs. The first feel of pressure on his balls did it. Finn gasped and said “Oh, fuck!” under his breath. He almost collapsed as he shot two streams of cum and then a third. He embraced Long to keep from falling as the orgasm literally rocked him. Even as it subsided, he held on waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass. The feelings were so intense Finn never felt Long's lips gently press against his cheek.

    The boys untangled and washed in an embarrassed silence that became even quieter when they turned off the water. “Here's a towel,” Finn said with his eyes averted. They returned to the bedroom when they were dry.

    “About tomorrow ...” Long began.

    “Here's some stuff to wear home.” Finn tossed a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt to Long. “Come by about three. We can change and get to Rittler in plenty of time.”

    There was no discussion of what had occurred in the shower.




    Bruce had left Seth humming contentedly at Chris's studio. What a sweet kid, he thought. But maybe I shouldn't have let him fuck me. Kinda spoils the image having the big, bad top throw his legs in the air. He smiled at the memory of Seth's gentle ardor. A sweet, very passionate kid. A very nice fuck. He almost made me come. Bruce clenched his ass tight, feeling the residual lube in his hole as he walked into his small apartment.

    “HAH! Gotcha!” Attila shouted and grabbed a startled Bruce. The welcome home kiss turned into something else. Attila's kisses were always overwhelming in their physicality, but this one went on and became painful. Bruce could taste blood in his mouth from Attlia's bite on his lip.

    “You been watching vampire stuff again?” Bruce asked, trying to hide how pissed off he was.

    Attila wearing only a pair of boxers prowled the room like a cat. “I'm just glad to see you. I had nothing to do all day. I was getting horny. You know … waiting and stuff.” Attila was pulling at Bruce's clothes.

    “Can you wait a little longer? Until I eat, maybe?”

    “Fuck, no!” Attila laughed, as he got Bruce's shirt off. “I'm gonna make you very happy right now. Very happy.” Attila ignored Bruce's protest when he bit his nipples. “That's just a tease. Wait til I fuck you. That'll get your attention.” He picked up the naked Bruce and tossed him onto the bed.

    Bruce lay back and resigned himself to what was going to happen. He ever started to get aroused as Attila lay atop him and ground his hard cock against Bruce's.

    “That's right. You like this, don't you?” Attila got impatient waiting for a reply. He bit Bruce's shoulder, drawing a yelp. “DON'T YOU?”

    “Yes.”

    “Yes? Is that all?” Attila demanded.

    Bruce didn't know what the right answer to Attila's question would be. He settled for, “Fuck me.” That usually worked.

    Attila propped Bruce's ankles on his shoulders and spit on his dick. “Ask and ye shall ...” Attila thrust, expecting resistance. Instead he slipped right in, like a well-greased piston. “What the …?” Attila was in and pumping. It took a moment for the truth to dawn on him. “You've been fucking? FUCKING? WHO'S BEEN FUCKING YOU?” He backhanded Bruce across the face.

    “Attila, please. It was nothing. Work. They needed reshoots.”

    Attila hit him again and resumed fucking. “You bitch!” He pumped as deep and hard as he could before he hit Bruce a third time. “Worthless cocksucker.” A fourth crack rang in the air. “Who? Damn it. WHO?”

    Bruce came and cried at the same time. He was ashamed of how good it felt. Attila hit him one more time and then came himself. With sex out of the way, they both cried. And kissed. “I'm sorry, baby.” “No, it was my fault.” More kisses. “You know I love you.” “Only you.”

    They had fought and fucked like this before. Still, looking in the bathroom mirror, Bruce was shocked by the bruises this time. Make up wasn't going to hide it. He'd have to stay inside for a few days.

    “Come back to bed, baby,” Attila called. “I want you right here, next to me. The bed's already getting cold.”

    “Let me get some dinner, ok?” Bruce dabbed at his cheek, wondering if a blood vessel was broken. Then he saw Attila reflected in the mirror.

    “I said, get the fuck back in bed! NOW!” Attila's eyes burned with rage. Bruce didn't comply fast enough. “BITCH” Attila swatted him on the back of the head. The second fuck was worse than the first. It felt like …

    “No! Please! Attila ...” Bruce was terrified. The last time Attila fisted him he needed a doctor. “AAAHH! STOP!” The acute pain in his balls distracted him from the searing pain in his ass. Attila relented. “Please, baby ...” Bruce wimpered. Attila resumed. “NO! AAAHH!”

    Eventually it stopped. There was only a throbbing ache that Bruce couldn't localize. It seemed to encompass his whole body. He cleaned himself up as best he could. There was blood. In a couple of places. He didn't bother dressing. He just acted quickly, doing what he needed to do.

    The only surprise was how silent the knife was. Bruce angled the blade; it sliced so cleanly between Attila's ribs. It wasn't until the second piercing that Attila cried out, but his cries were over quickly as blood filled his lungs. He was silent but not helpless. He strangled Bruce with an unbreakable grip. Their eyes locked in silence. Wordlessly they spoke to each other of love and regret but not forgiveness. They were dead by the time the police arrived.

    Even in jaded San Francisco, the twin murders were a news extra. The report interrupted “Restless Housewives.”

    Andrew whistled softly. “I think I know them,” he said. He shivered at the gristly news report and then patted Adan's bare ass.

    “Knew them,” Adan corrected.

    “Knew … them,” Andrew said in between kisses. “I wouldn't mind … if you … wanted to … fuck me … again.” The weight of Adan's body felt so good on him.

  33. #33
    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    *Gasp*

    Well. . . That was unexpected!

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Rory, Wow. That was certainly an unexpected ending. The beginning, with Jerry and Neil, was refreshing - the banter alludes to the possibility of their special friendship rekindling. Maybe with benefits. Wolf made a decent amount for a day's work - given what he was doing and the effort required. And, so far, Heiko seems OK with it. Maybe the sibling tension is starting to ease? The pre-camp test trials, followed by our two, soon-to-be-graduated seniors, and their "clean-up", was certainly appreciated - fresh young blood - and other body fluids - for our story. Then, Bruce and Atilla. Wow. Atilla certainly lived up to his name, and it sounds like not for the first time. Bruce, reacting instinctively, allegedly in self-defense, only all for naught. Wow. http://forum.justusboys.com/images/smilie/eusa_clap.gif


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Nine


    “You know what? Wait ... How would I say that in German?”

    “Weißt du was?“ Heiko prompted.

    Tom pulled him closer. “Six months, that's what. The fire was six months ago when the hero Heiko saved me from certain death braving the ...“

    “... when my irresistible boss finally let me love him, you mean.”

    “... when your idiot lover finally realized what he was missing.”

    “We're doing a lot of talking, when we could be ...” Heiko's words ceased as they embraced.

    “Fuck me ...” came the low urging.

    Damn, Wolf thought. It was so frustrating. The voice was too low to tell if it was Tom or Heiko asking for it. He stuffed the earplugs in his ears and tried to get comfortable in a bed that suddenly seemed too small. They're doing it again! Every damn night!

    Lying on his side minimized the annoyance of his erection. He punched the pillow and readjusted the earplugs. They're fucking all the time, he thought. What can that be like? Could I handle taking a cock? He closed his eyes and again saw the vision of Tom, naked, hard, and landing on top of him on the narrow balcony. I could feel his cock on me. I could smell him. Oh, man. If only he'd ask! I'd let him fuck me. That last idea came unbidden. Wolf thought it over. He squeezed his erection; he felt the wet spot on his underwear. Shit, yes, I'd let him. He couldn't conjure the vision of how it might happen, but that didn't reduce his certainty that he would do it.

    He got out of bed and took a shower with the ear plugs in. That was a mistake. They were like dripping little sponges when he got back into bed. He took them out and heard nothing. I guess they're done, he decided and left the earplugs on his night table.

    He got up on the quiet Sunday morning still feeling frustrated and went out. The chill of the morning penetrated his light clothing almost immediately. Wolf couldn't get used to the fact that San Francisco Bay mornings were cold even in June. He didn't like bagels, but the jelly doughnuts at the closest coffee shop weren't bad; and with coffee they warmed him up. All right, he decided. I'm going to do it.

    He left a note for Heiko that read “Gone to see the gypsy” and grabbed a jacket By the time he got to the junk store it was almost eleven-thirty.

    “Paul?” Wolf called out when the door buzzer stopped. “Are you here?”

    “Wolf!” Paul came from the back room surprised to see his assistant of the day before.

    “Ok. Don't say anything. Just listen. I have to ask. Will you fuck me?”

    Paul looked amused. “Was that a theoretical question? Or did you have something specific in mind?”

    “Specific. Here. Today. Will you?”

    “No.” The one word answer wasn't what Wolf had been expecting. Wolf gave the universal palms-up gesture of disappointment and began taking his shirt off.

    “I said, no. Why are you … disrobing?”

    “I'm going to wear the sign board again today. Is that ok?” Wolf had his shirt off and was starting on his jeans.

    “Wait. Sit down; I'll paint your face,” Paul offered. Wolf sat and Paul began putting heavy mascara around his eyes. “It's a pity to put all this junk on you. You're a very handsome boy.” Wolf's eyebrows rose. “Excuse me, I mean a very handsome man. Look up ...” He applied a line to Wolf's lower eyelids. “Why are you asking an old queen like me to fuck you?”

    “You really think I'm handsome?” Wolf questioned. Paul reached behind himself and got a framed picture. He placed it on the table in front of Wolf.

    “That's a handsome man,” Wolf said as he examined the picture.

    “He looked a lot like you. He was my lover.”

    “Was? What happened?”

    “He got sick. It was before we knew how to protect ourselves and before much treatment was possible. I don't know if I got him sick or if he infected me. But he died and for some reason I didn't.”

    “I'm sorry, Paul.”

    “So there's one reason why I won't fuck you. I'm positive.”

    “What are you doing?” Wolf pursed his lips under the tickle of the pencil.

    “Giving you a bigger mouth. Just an outline. You won't need color. The other reason I won't fuck you is because you don't really want me to.” Wolf said nothing and Paul continued, “You may want the experience, but you don't want me. And I'm past doing sex just for the hell of it. Besides I'm already a little in love with you, and I'd probably be a hopeless case if we had sex. Next thing you know it would get messy. Then it would ugly fast. Neither one of us would like that.” Wolf chuckled and smiled at Paul. “So let's just leave it with me half in love with you. That way I enjoy it; you don't give a damn; and we both live happily ever after.”

    “But how do I get fucked?”

    It was Paul's turn to laugh. “You're that desperate? And you're not even sure you're gay?”

    Wolf told Paul the story of his attraction to Tom.

    “Tom must be spectacular if he has two brothers chasing him,” Paul said and realized at once that his comment had hurt Wolf. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make light of your feelings. You think it's Tom; but I think you are what we call in love with love, Wolf. You see it all around you and aren't getting any yourself. Sweet boy, you have to be patient. I know that's terrible advice to give a young man, but it's good advice and all I really know to tell you.”

    Wolf said nothing in reply. He took off his jeans and put the signboard on. “How do I look?”

    Paul cast a critical eye over the walking advertisement in from of him. “I'd kiss you, but I'd mess up your makeup.”

    Wolf kissed Paul's cheek, leaving a black mouth imprint, and left the shop. Paul rubbed his cheek and smiled. I'm going to regret saying no, like in about five minutes, he thought as he watched Wolf and the signboard walk away.

    The sun had finally burned off the morning fog and the city was warming in its glare.
    Paul's talk had helped. Wolf enjoyed attracting the looks of passing pedestrians; he felt a complete exhilaration, thinking maybe he was a little in love with Paul, too. His makeup made his smile look playfully lecherous. People couldn't help smiling back at him. Some tried to peak under the signboard, and he let them try. Walking around a big city in your underwear is a liberating feeling. I could never do this in Frankfurt, he thought.




    “You won't stay?” Andrew asked Adan. “I've got a big bed.”

    “I am expected to be in by a certain time. My landlord is strict.”

    Andrew walked Adan to the door with his hand on Adan's arm. He hated to let go and watched the youth walk away until he was out of sight. Playing me like a violin, Andrew thought, and I love every note. I wonder if his strict landlord knows what a great fuck his tenant is. He watched the now empty sidewalk enjoying the residual heat of their passion until he saw Seth approaching.

    “Andrew. You look like Penelope waiting in longing for Ulysses.” Seth's tone was flippant.

    “I think your new boyfriend is dead.” Andrew answered.

    “What kind of greeting is that for your partner who has been working all day and into the night?” Seth smiled while leafing through the mail.

    “Seriously ... Attila and that other Hun killed each other.”

    “Bruce?”

    “Yeah. It's been on the news.”

    Seth's eyes were wide with wonder. “No shit?”

    “Didn't I just say so?”

    Seth was stunned and just stood holding the mail. “What does that mean for the scenes we have shot?”

    “Thank God you're worried about the business. I thought you were falling for the guy. What DOES that mean for the business? How many scenes have you shot?”

    “Well … yes, the business … but I did like Bruce. He had a crazy streak that made fun of S&M even while he was doing it … Scenes? A bunch. Wow ... Dead ... You want a beer?” Seth wandered toward the refrigerator in the next room. Andrew waited for Seth's reaction. “My God! You cleaned the kitchen?”

    “It's not really a kitchen,” Andrew countered. “The kitchen is upstairs.” He looked at Seth expectantly and then followed him upstairs.

    “My God! The whole place is spotless!”

    Andrew ran his finger along the edge of a counter and looked at the bit of grease on it. “Not spotless; but close.”

    Seth looked at his partner with a new admiration. “You sure you won't have a beer?”

    “I'll have wine. Let's watch the ten o'clock news. There's sure to me a report.”

    The earlier lurid report had been filled out with a few new facts. Their names were neither Attila nor Bruce. The corpses had been identified as two men with long records in Arkansas of minor crimes, drug possession, possession with intent to sell, and disturbing the peace. Viewers were urged to tune in again at eleven for further reports.

    “I wonder if using fake names invalidates their contracts,” Seth questioned. “And if it does, what rights do we own in their scenes? Do we have to deal with their estates?”

    “No idea,” Andrew answered. “Have you been fucking any lawyers lately?”

    “Three or four, but I don't know if they do show business law.”

    “Three or four?” Andrew looked alarmed.

    Seth threw a pillow at him. “Of course not, you asshole. Who do you think I am?”

    “Don't say it, Sethie. You know I love you.” They both chuckled. “You know what else? I was worried that you might be more broken up over the death of … our stars.” Andrew decided not to name Bruce in particular.

    “He was sweet and sexy and very considerate in bed, if that's what you're getting at.”

    “You must have brought out the best in him.”

    Andrew sipped his wine and Seth finished his beer as they watched the rest of the news. The program closed with a street scene featuring a young man in Union Square dressed mostly in a signboard handing out flyers for a fortune teller.

    “What a cute guy! I bet he's looking for work.” Seth looked at Andrew for confirmation but Andrew was asleep. Poor baby, Seth thought as he eased the nearly-empty wine glass out of Andrew's hands. He must have worked all day cleaning the place.




    Finn waited anxiously for Long to arrive. He paced and checked the time repeatedly. At three a car parked in the street and Long got out with Finn's clothes in his hands.

    “Here you go. Freshly washed,” Long said.

    “Your stuff is ready too.” Finn pointed to Long's shirt, pads, and stuff lying on the bed.

    There was an uncomfortable silence that followed. They both wanted to say something about the day before, but neither one did. Finally Finn said, “Do you like those compression shorts? I could never get used to them.”

    With relief Long launched into a discussion of the pros and cons of the tight-fitting spandex shorts. “Plus, 'cause of my size problem, I can wear a jock, then a cup, then the shorts. It's more comfortable.”

    “I wouldn't call your size a problem,” Finn said and then they both got embarrassed again. They turned away from each other as they dressed for practice.

    “Do you want to drive over to the field?” Long asked.

    “How about we run? It won't hurt to get in a little extra work.”

    They ran abreast most of the way, but passing a shopping area the ran single file to avoid the other pedestrians. It gave Long a chance to look at Finn. Tight football pants emphasized his ass and legs, and a cut-off jersey gave a perfect view of his waist and back muscles. The exercise prevented an erection but had no effect on Long's visual enjoyment. They turned onto Otis with a few blocks to go when Dave paralleled them in his pickup.

    “You're gonna be dead before we start,” he laughed and drove ahead. Another player from Alameda High, a second-string defensive back named Bo Jendell, was in the passenger seat.

    When they met up at the field, Finn introduced Long to Bo.

    “I already know Long,” Bo answered with a smile.

    “Right, how's it goin'?” Long answered. There wasn't time for more before Cal arrived and took charge.

    They exercised and ran drills for a half hour until Cal called a huddle. “See who's coming? Marlon Mayfield!” The boys looked at the approaching big man expectantly. “Bull, how's it going?” Cal called out.

    It was a successful hour. Mayfield had lots of tips and a slightly different approach to defense. It was useful to contrast Cal's theories with Bull's. The outcome was advice to tailor the tactics to the skills of the individual boys. When the session ended Cal and Bull left together. Dave offered to drive Finn home.

    “What about you, Long?”

    “My car's at Finn's. Ok, if I ride in the back?”

    “It's not that far. We can all squeeze in the front,” Bo said. “Right? Squeeze a little?” He slapped Long on the butt. The comment mystified Dave and Finn.

    It wasn't much of a drive so the four-player squeeze didn't last more than ten minutes. Finn and Long got out and Bo winked as they drove away.

    “Wow! Bull Mayfield. I had no idea he was coming. And Cal said maybe he had another surprise or two. What a great week!”

    Long was just as enthusiastic. “It makes me wish my college actually had a football team.”

    “What?? It doesn't?? then why ...”

    “Just club ball within the school. I got a scholarship. A brain-based one. Can't afford to turn it down.”

    “Then why are you in Cal's program?”

    “I love football. And Cal's sessions haven't cost me anything yet.”

    They went in the house and Finn's mother called him. Long went to the bedroom and started stripping. He was down to the compression shorts when Finn came in. “She's going out for a while,” he said.

    Long got naked and waited for Finn to catch up. Finn was sitting taking his shoes and socks off. He couldn't help himself. He looked at Long's cock. And then he looked again. And then he gave up and just stared. It started to swell.

    Finn stood up. His throat was dry. “It's so fuckin' big,” he whispered. He licked his lips unconsciously. He started to pull the jersey over his head.

    Long came closer. “Leave your pads on,” he said. He put his hands on Finn's waist and felt his sides and chest. “Is this ok?” he asked. Finn looked frightened but nodded yes.

    Long unlaced Finn's pants and then sank to his knees. He pulled the pants down and Finn stepped out of them. He hurried to get the jock and cup off and then watched Finn's cock flex outward. With both his hands on Finn's ass, he took the cockhead in front of him into his mouth. He wet it with his tongue and then began sucking gently, taking more and more as it grew.

    Finn's breath grew ragged and he sighed, “Oh my God...” He gasped again when Long 's roaming hands got under the pads and tweaked his nipples. It didn't take long. “Stop! I don't want to come yet.”

    Finn pulled Long up to his feet and then traded positions. He knelt in front of the biggest cock he had ever seen and froze. He didn't know what to do.

    “Don't do it if you don't want to,” Long said softly.

    That was all the encouragement Finn needed. He started with the tip and began sucking gently just as Long had done to him. The skin was unbelievably smooth and soft. He took more and gagged a little but didn't give up. He slowly took more and then still more. He had about half the cock in his mouth and it felt good.

    Long looked down and felt Finn's short hair, soft but bristly in his hands, as he guided the bobbing head up and down his cock. The shoulder pads blocked the rest of Finn's body from sight but he could feel Finn's cock bumping against his legs. Such a beautiful sight … He lost it and came with almost no warning. Some spunk went into Finn's mouth, some went onto his face, and some hit the floor. Finn wasn't able to complete the blowjob, but he stroked the spurting cock as best he could.

    “OH! God! I'm sorry. Jeez!” Long tried to wipe the cum off Finn's face, but he only succeeded in rubbing it around. He grabbed his shirt and wiped. “I didn't mean to … to do that.” Finn just kept smiling as Long cleaned him up. “I'm sorry, Finn. I'm sorry!”

    “You could finish what you started.” Finn stood and was still smiling.

    “Sure.” Long went back to his knees and tried to give Finn the best blowjob he could. It was over quickly. Long took every drop of cum and still kept sucking afterward. Finn laughed and quickly pulled his cock out of Long's mouth. “It gets sensitive afterward,” was his explanation. “That was the best blowjob I ever had,” Finn enthused. “Of course, I've only had one other. From Becky Chandler. And she had braces.”

    “You were good, too.” Long said, relieved by Finn's reaction.

    “Bull shit,” Finn said as they adjusted the water in the shower. “I have a feeling I suck at sucking.”

    “You give a good hand job,” Long compromised.

    “Yeah?” Finn took Long's cock in his hand and stroked it carefully. “Man, I love the way this foreskin thing works. So cool. Look at that.” Long wasn't looking at anything. He had his eyes closed. “It's getting hard again. You must like what I'm doing.”

    “I love what you're doing,” Long gasped. “Play with my balls, ok?” he requested. “Tug on 'em a little?”

    Finn knelt for a better view. “They're getting so tight.” He tried taking Long's cock in his mouth again. “Mmmmm ...” he hummed as he got half way down the shaft.

    It was involuntary; Long thrust forward Finn took most of his cock before choking and backing away. By trial and error Finn discovered that a hand and mouth combination worked best and liked the feel of Long's hands guiding his head motions. He pulled off. “Am I doing better? Long? You hear me? Am I doing better?”

    “Yeah,” was all Long could say as he watched the husky athlete suck his cock. Finn resumed his stroking and sucking and Long fired off again. There wasn't so much sperm this time. Finn swallowed most of it and the shower washed the rest away.

    “Oh, shit … oh, shit … fuck … dude!...” Long gasped in utter satisfaction.

    They dried off in silence. “That was fun,” Finn said at last.

    “We're not done. When is your mother due back?”

    “We got plenty of time,” Finn said. “What do you have in mind?”

    Long put Finn on the bed and worked over every inch of his body with his hands and his mouth. He kept Finn on the edge of orgasm until he begged for it. “Make me cum! Make me cum!”

    “Ask me again,” Long teased as he fingered Finn's ass. He didn't penetrate but he pressed the right place.

    “Please! Mmmm! Aaaah! Yes!” Finn thrust his hips and squeezed some incredible muscle he never knew he had. And then he went limp in Long's arms. Long ran his hand gently over Finn's chest, watching its rise and fall slow to a more normal pace. He lay his head against Finn's chest and Finn stroked his hair as the moment passed.

    Then came an awareness. The boys seemed equally shocked by the intimacy of their embrace and separated. They dressed and Finn walked Long to his car. “Tomorrow?” he asked. Long nodded yes, afraid to speak.

  36. #36
    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Beautifully written episode, Rory- The best-to-date, I think...

    Thanks for sharing with us!

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Rory,
    I've got to agree with Rocabar - this was a very intimate and keenly expressed installment.

    Tom & Heiko . . . and poor poor Wolf - with the old queen looking fondly at him and remembering a previous time - he's a good guy, giving good advice.

    Then, our resident porn princes - they haven't quite made enough $$$ to be kings - other than in their beds - and what is this novelty on the 10 o'Clock News? lol

    Finn and Long - I'm a bit worried about Bo, though - does Long have a history there? Will it come back to bite Finn on the ass?


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    I had to post another chapter - didn't want to let the week end with blood on the floor.

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Another excellent chapter!



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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    We are most appreciative of that, too!


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Ten


    “I think we should aim younger than what the guys across the bay do. We don't want anybody trying to kneecap us right at the start.” Cal's reference to the DeBartolo training camp operation was semi-serious, even if the knee-capping would only be financial.

    “High school … You're right; that's the sweet spot,” Bull answered. “Younger than that is all Daddy's ego pushing hopeless twelve-year-olds. Older than that and we would need facilities, a major investment.” Cal paid close attention to Bull's comment. “What are you looking at? I was a marketing major at Georgia. Some shit rubbed off in four years.”

    “I … er … sure. They always said you were smart. I never meant to patronize you.”

    “Plus I'm black. That gives you entree to some places you couldn't go otherwise, right?”

    “I called you because you're local and I heard you might be available.” Cal said.

    “Yeah, but the other stuff doesn't hurt, right? We need to be honest with each other. You come with advantages, too.”

    “Ok, then,” Cal said. “To be honest, I need the money and you don't. That's going to make our business approach different.”

    “Money is the way to keeping score, and I always play to win, Cal. If we do this, I will be as into it as you or anybody else we bring in.”

    “Disadvantages: One, I'm gay and I don't try to hide it.”

    “Two, I had that drug problem and I can't hide it,” Bull countered.

    Three, I was forced to resign from Alameda High and everybody knows it.”

    “Four, I was in the tabloids a lot after I quit.”

    “Five.” Larry arrived with two more cold ones. “Fuck the disadvantages. You're both great successes and everybody knows that, too.”

    “Are you gonna kiss him or should I?” Bull asked. Cal gave Larry a peck on the cheek and a smile while Bull watched. “That wasn't so bad. I can handle seeing that now and then,” Bull said.

    “You'll never see it in public,” Cal stated.

    “So I'm in,” Bull offered his hand on the deal.

    “Fifty-fifty,” Cal answered, taking the offered hand.

    “No, eighty point one for you and nineteen point nine for me, but I'll put some cash in that can convert to even ownership. My lawyer and accountant don't want me to have to consolidate and earnings or losses. Don't ask me why.”

    “Asians,” Larry questioned.

    Cal and Bull looked at each other and echoed, “Asians.”

    “Lots of 'em around,” Larry added. “A door you don't want to leave closed.”

    “There was that Vietnamese guy who played for Dallas ...” Cal recalled. “I wonder where he lives.”

    “I'll track him down through the Players Association,” Bull committed. “It's a big potential market around here.”

    They finished their beers and Bull got up to leave. Cal got very serious again. “Bull, the gay thing IS a big deal. The three of us may be able to ignore it, but lots of people won't.” Cal put his arm around Larry's shoulders. “I'm not giving this guy up. Are you sure you want to take that on? You're risking some money here.”

    “Not very much, and I like our chances.”

    Cal knew there would be no more discussions of the 'gay thing' with Bull.




    Finn lay on his bed, staring at some shadows on the ceiling. For some reason he thought they always looked like cactuses in the afternoon light. Today he thought one looked a lot like Long's cock. He felt a stirring in his loins. If Long had stayed we could have messed around some more, he thought. Man, he licked my nipple. I never expected that. First I felt his breath on my chest and then his tongue. The two of us lying together like that. Touching in so many places. Finn's hand, the one that wasn't squeezing his cock, traced his chest muscles. He felt his nipples under the thin jersey of his t-shirt. Hard points formed under his fingers. It almost felt like he kissed my neck. He must have had my cum in his mouth when he did that. Finn's cock ached as he replayed the scene in his head.

    He heard a door slam. His mother knocked on his door as she went past. “Dinner in about a half hour,” she called out. Raising five sons had taught her not to open any bedroom doors without warning the occupants.

    “Ok, Mom.”

    The erotic portion of Finn's daydreaming was shattered. His soul-searching continued. We're gay, he labeled himself and Long. Gay guys. What else can you call it? Cock-sucking. He recoiled at the term, but what else can you call it. Pleasuring each other orally. Bullshit. We're cock-suckers and maybe more. We're gay. He fuckin' kissed me … sort of. I liked it. I liked it better than anything else I've ever done. We're homo-fucking-sexual. Fucking ... Fucking??? Are we gonna do that? Finn had seen some pictures of the act but had no idea how it was actually done. He heard his father's car drive into the garage and the low rumble of his hello in the kitchen. Homo-fucking-sexual. He tried to picture his father's reaction. No image came to mind. I've pretty much only given him good news before. Mmm, there was that fender-bender I had with his car when it was new. He took that pretty well.

    “Dinner!” came the call. Finn dabbed at his jeans. He could see a little dark spot right where his cockhead lay. He rearranged his cock so it was minimized and went to the table planning just to eat and be done with it. But there was one question he wanted to ask.

    “What made you decide to have me circumcised?” Finn asked his parents. Finn's dad's mouth fell open and Finn's mom laughed. “I'm serious,” Finn added, biting into a drumstick.

    “The doctor treated it as part of the birth process. It wasn't a choice, exactly. All you boys are circumcised,” Finn's dad explained.

    “Your uncle Jerome isn't,” Finn's mom said. “Your father said that's what made him gay.” She treated it as a joke and laughed.

    “Uncle Romey's gay?” Finn's look said he had no previous clue about his mother's younger brother.

    “Oh … well, I guess you're old enough to know. Yes, he is.” Honesty was Finn's mom's policy.

    “Why? It shouldn't really matter to you.” Finn's dad added.

    “Kind of it does … you see … um … I think I might be gay.” Two forks dropped into plates while Finn held his between thumb and forefinger and carefully studied the incising on the silver handle.

    “You're not joking, are you?” In every circumstance mothers will always hold out hope. Finn's silence answered her. “Don't commit yourself, Finnie. This might just be a phase. You could have a change of heart.”

    “I think I'm gay,” Finn announced with finality.

    “Maybe you could chose to try something else,” Finn's dad suggested. He sounded as if he knew that was futile.

    “It's not really a choice,” Finn answered.

    “That's what Romey said. Those exact words.” Finn's mom sniffled a little.

    “Now what?” Finn asked his dad.

    “That's up to you not me.”

    “I'm sorry. I'm sorry to disappoint you.” Finn blinked trying to keep his eyes dry.

    “I hope you don't disappoint yourself. Let's let the subject rest for now. We can talk later. Do I smell cobbler?”

    “We can't just sweep it under the rug.” Finn's mom dabbed at her eyes..

    “I hope not. We'd never get rid of the ants.” Finn looked up at his father in surprise and got a wink and a smile in return.




    Darren waited in the school parking lot, feeling horny enough to want to wait for Joanne and Peter. He spotted their car and waited on a walk where they would have to pass. He leaned back against a swagged chain barrier along the walk and enjoyed the late afternoon sun. The sun's warmth penetrated his jeans, adding to his horniness. He could feel his cock chub up within the confines of the denim. So far he had not encountered any philosophical discussion of horniness. How much of it was physical? Just an accretion of hormones? How much mental? Based on reality or fantasy? Some answers would be useful.

    Ah, here they come, Darren thought. Joanne smiled and said hello while Peter, looking impatient, stood slightly back and said nothing. “I was wondering if you guys might want to get some food?” Darren proposed. His suggestion was pretty obviously for sex not food.

    Joanne was about to answer when Peter stepped forward and bluntly answered. “I ain't gay. We're not interested.” He intended the comment to end the conversation. Darren shifted his stance to emphasize the bulge in his jeans.

    “Nietzsche would say that's perspectival and possible wrong.” Darren lowered his hand and slowly squeezed his bulge. Peter stared raptly with his mouth slightly open. Darren cleared his throat and Peter looked up, knowing he had been caught. “See what I mean?” Darren teased.

    “Fuck Nietzsche … and fuck you!” Peter stalked off to the car. Joanne gave Darren a kiss on the cheek and a whispered apology before following her brother. Darren watched Peter peel away, stall the car, and jerk to a stop. The engine roared back to life and with another squeal the car drove away.

    “That's no way to treat a nice set of wheels.” Darren turned and smiled at the student who was watching the car leave the lot. “Do you know them well?” he asked, looking back at Darren.

    “Some ...”

    “They have a juicy rep here,” the student said.

    “I guess ...” Darren answered.

    “Wouldn't mind being a notch on their bedpost.”

    “Been on a roller coaster?” Darren asked. “It's fun but it doesn't last long.”

    “So ...uh … you planning on fuckin' Nietzsche?”

    “He's dead.”

    “Is that your only objection? 'Cause, I'm not dead … and I live in that dorm over there ...”

    “Casual meaningless sex?”

    “That's the best kind.”

    Darren took a careful look at the young man and couldn't find any reason to say no. A few minutes later, they were at the awkward point of being in a bedroom, intent on sex, and not knowing quite where to start. Darren opened the top couple of buttons on his shirt.

    “Wait, let me,” the student said. He undid the rest of the buttons and spread open the shirt, putting his hands gently on Darren's pecs.

    “I'm Darren.”

    “I know,” the student said. He leaned forward and licked a nipple. “You're Darren.” His hands began opening Darren's jeans. “And you're hot.” He spread the fly and reached into Darren's boxers. “And your cock is just what I hoped it would be.” The student turned away and began undressing. “There's lube and a condom in that drawer next to the bed. You do want to fuck me, right?”

    “What do you think?”

    The kid turned and saw Darren greasing up his sheathed cock. “Aww … I wanted to see it first.”

    “You can see it second.” Darren reached for the kid and moved to kiss him, but the kid pulled away and knelt on all fours on the bed.

    “Casual meaningless sex. Isn't that what we agreed? Just start slow, ok? 'Til I get used to that thing.” He wiggled a small but well-cushioned ass in invitation and Darren didn't need any further prompting. “Ok, ok, slow … Let me back up onto it ...” The kid was taking deep breaths and controlling the pace. “Oh man … Oh, shit … Easy … Don't push yet.”

    Darren watched the kid push slowly back. His ass looked so small to be taking a cock. He could see the darker skin of the asshole go in an out, gripping his cock tightly as the kid began little back and forth motions.

    “More lube ...” the kid requested.

    Darren squeezed a generous amount onto his shaft as the kid's forward motion exposed it. He held the kid's cheeks apart as he pushed back again and watched the stretched hole envelop the slickness. “Ahhh ...” the kid sighed as he moved forward again. Then a rush of breath as he pushed back taking it all for the first time. “Yes!” he called out on the forward stroke and “Yes,” again as he pushed back. Then Darren took over using hip thrusts and a side-to-side angling motion until he heard a steady cooing from his host. He went a little faster.

    “No … keep it slow … yeah … just like that … keep doing that.” Soon the repeated stroking had the kid purring with contentment. “Oh, fuck me … keep doing that … mmmm, yeah … now go a little faster ...” Soon the moans got louder. “Oh, Darren … sweet ...” The kid folded his hands together and dropped to elbows and knees as the motion continued. Then, “Oh … yeah ... yeah, YEAH! ...FUCK! ...KEEP FUCKIN' ME … DON”T STOP! ….AAAAH! …. DON”T STOP ...” The kid was sobbing with pleasure. “NO! DON'T PULL OUT!” He got it together a little. “Don't pull out … stay in me … slowly ...” With a few contortions he rolled over to missionary position and smiled upward. “Now you … your turn ...fuck me ...”

    Darren only stepped up the pace a little before he came. The kid pulsed his asshole in some way that extended the pleasure. Then when it was over the kid pulled him into a gentle, no-tongue kiss. “There … that was great ...”

    Darren looked down at his wiped-out partner and saw a face swollen and dark with the flush of sex. “I like a bossy bottom. That way I know I'm doing it right.”

    That got him another, longer kiss. “Doing it right! Oh, man … you sure did. I barely touched myself when I came. It was all you … almost.”

    “So pretty good, you're saying, for casual meaningless stuff?” Another kiss. “I take that as a yes. How'd you know my name, anyway? Are you in one of my classes?”

    Before the kid could answer there was a banging on the door … “Open up, Jeff. I got homework to do.”

    Darren told the kid to wait but he went to the door in a towel and let his roommate in. The roommate spotted Darren and recognized him. “Alright!” He high-fived the kid and said, “You got with your dreamguy?”

    “Dreamguy?” Darren hurried into his clothes.

    “Oh, yeah, Mr. Darren Dreamguy. That's what he calls you … doesn't know your last name … but have a look.” The roommate started a slide show on a laptop. It was a bunch of porn shots with Darren's face and the kid's crudely overlaid onto the xxx-rated models.

    “I saw you at a fashion show and took some pictures … You mind?” It was too late to stop the display.

    “I wasn't doing anything like that in the show.” Darren pointed to one of the pictures as he watched the slide show. “Those are terrible fakes. I hope you're not an art major.”

    “You don't mind?” The kid sounded majorly relieved.

    Darren paused to make the kid sweat a little. He looked at him as if he was considering hitting him. “My last name is Alvintzi.”

    The roommate butted in without hesitation. “His is Kevin Collier and mine is Jeff Lorkowski. Do you want to stay? I've got some beer.” Jeff held up a paper bag he was carrying.

    “Kevin and Jeff ...” Darren mused. “Have you two tried anything ...” He pointed from one roommate to the other. “... together?”

    “No, not really. Yeah, well, maybe a little, but nnn, nothing serious,” Jeff answered.

    “We like the same thing, so ...” Kevin said. Darren looked to Jeff and he shook his head in agreement. “Us together ... it's kinda like masturbating,” Jeff added and then continued, “You fucked him, Darren? Oh man, I been so thinking about that ...”

    “Fuckin' him? Fuckin' you? What?” Darren was chuckling as he asked the questions; Jeff was so excited he couldn't keep his hand off his cock. He absentmindedly kept squeezing himself.

    “Oh, shit … would you? I'm mean, do you want to? When?” It was Roommate Jeff talking again.

    “What about you, Kevin?” Darren asked the young man he met in the parking lot. “You started all this. Casual meaningless sex, right?”

    “You can fuck Jeff if you want. It's up to you. He'd like it.” In the background Jeff hissed yes and did a fist pump.

    “Casual ….” Darren began.

    “Maybe not so meaningless,” Kevin finished. “I kinda felt there was a connection, you know?”

    “All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking.”

    “You're quoting somebody,” Jeff interjected.

    “Nietzsche,” Darren answered. “I'm walkin.” Both roommates looked disappointed as Darren left.

    Before the door was closed, Darren heard Jeff's voice, “Him and you? Dude! He really fucked you? Details, man! Details! How big is it?”

    Darren walked only as far as the parking lot. Driving back to Alameda, he saw two guys in a Benz. The driver reminded him of Morrie, and the passenger brought back memories his rent-boy days with Morrie. And Nicky, of course ... Nicky smiled and stayed away, stayed in the next room like always, keeping his mouth shut while Darren earned the Audi he was driving. Earned it the hard way, people say, but it wasn't that hard, Darren told himself. But Nicky hated it.

    My being with Morrie hurt Nicky every time; it just shredded him, Darren remembered, but Nicky pretended it was just business . But that was when he loved me, Darren thought. Nicky, who had done it all himself and maybe more, was so innocent. He was so innocent when he loved me, no matter what his life had been before. He tried so hard. He loved me totally, he held nothing back. We almost made it. Except he wanted to live in New York. And I wanted to live in Alameda. What a stupid fucking reason to break up! I could have tried New York. I could have tried, at least.

    He parked on San Antonio in front of his house. He pulled out his phone and took a deep breath. He punched in the numbers 1-212-6 … and he punched off. I can't, he decided.

    Then Darren thought back to Nicky's little house in Rockaway. The place was creepy. Not just the house, the area, Brooklyn, the subway, the weather, the food, the whole damn city. I hate New York, he thought - as much as Nicky hated San Francisco. We couldn't work it out, and it seemed so important. Now it seems idiotic. We could have compromised on … Kansas City or something? Darren sighed, trying to loosen the constriction in his chest. I still love him. It doesn't hurt so much now, but I still love him.

    1-212-637-44 … He punched off again. And now! Darren pounded his hands on the steering wheel. I'm thinking about messing with two flakey roommates! Why would I do ANYTHING with them?

    He could see his landladies sipping their nightly schnapps inside. He couldn't talk privately in the house. He punched in the numbers again and the voice came almost immediately.

    “Darren? Hey! What's up?” Nicky hadn't let the phone ring twice.

    “Uh … I found a box of your stuff. It doesn't look like much. Bank statements, some old bills, a couple of paperbacks. You want me to send it to you?”

    “Probably not worth it. Just throw it away, I guess. How are you doin'?”

    “Good. Some runway stuff. Some software stuff. No Morrie stuff, though.” Darren tried to sound breezy.

    “I'll tell him,” Nicky matched Darren's tone. “Um … you know what? We're going to China to look at some import samples … and we're gonna be in San Francisco overnight. Do you want to get together maybe?”

    “When?” Darren held his breath.

    “The nineteenth.”

    Darren calculated. “Yeah, the nine … oh … shit … I'll be in Belgium.” A conversation killer.

    “Yeah, well … maybe another time, ok?”

    “Yeah. Sure.” The connection went dead. “I love you, Nicky,” Darren said to the shiny black surface of the phone. He saw a light go on in his brother's kitchen.

    All right, Darren. Square away. Deep breaths. Smile. He walked next door and up the path to his brother's door. Bigger smile, he told himself and entered. “Z, what heard from Andrew? Any work?”

    “Yes! Some guy named Adan called. Works for Andrew, I guess. A week from today. Friday. In Contra Costa.”

    “Z ... I'll be in Belgium!” Darren watched Z's face fall; he knew how much Z wanted the job. “I know, maybe Heiko could do it.”

    A quick call got different response. “Maybe Wolf could do it,” Heiko suggested.

  42. #42
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Rory,
    So, it looks like Football Camp is a go, with active participation and all "downsides" soundly bullshitted. Looking forward to seeing how they do.

    Finn - it looks like his folks are going to be better than he could have hoped about his confession. His dad sounds like he has a lot of wisdom in his head - the biggest concern being that Finn not be disappointed in himself.

    And, Darren certainly made Kevin's month - and Jeff's by the time they're done talking, lol.

    And, you reintroduce some missing persons and relationship feelings. And introduce opportunities and conflicts.

    Nobody ever said life was easy.

    Thanks, Rory!


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  43. #43
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Eleven


    A high school senior. Popularity. On the varsity team. An almost assured future. Not a worry in the world. That's as close to invincibility as it gets at eighteen. It all ended in a combined two hours, the duration of a boring graduation ceremony and the admission of homosexuality.

    This end was not immediately perceived - life went on for Finn - but there were clues that something had changed. On Wednesday night, as half the newly graduated class, the popular half, enjoyed some unknown chef's version of an Italian dinner at LaValle's in Harbor Bay, Finn watched Dave Miller walk up to a microphone to give a toast and noted that Dave had a cute ass. He blushed so much at that idea that his date asked if he was going to be sick.

    “I never trusted the cooking here, Finn,” she said leaning forward. “Beyond the veggie pizza lies terra incognita.” She took a deep breath which strained the front of her dress attractively; letting the breath out again gave her date a glimpse of the soft valley between her breasts. This sinuous maneuver was ended by a sudden premonition of Finn vomitting LaValle's lasagna into her cleavage and she drew back.

    Finn had previously enjoyed Raelle's occasional displays of flesh and high school erudition. Now it seemed juvenile. He knew what terra incognita meant; he had no idea what being gay meant and Dave Miller's ass made that a pressing issue. Nothing seemed to go as he envisioned it. After the amazingly easy dinner conversation with his parents, Finn's get-together with Long the next day had been a disaster.

    It started out hot. Long was barely into Finn's bedroom before he was out of his clothes and pulling at Finn's. “Come on. Hurry up. We can mess around before practice,” Long urged.

    They stood stroking each other briefly. Long came quickly, catching his cum in his hand. “Man, I needed that.” He washed his hands in the bathroom and promised, “Your turn after practice.”

    After practice he kept his word. He stroked Finn in the shower and then, as soon as they got dry, he knelt and gave him a slow blow. There was nothing rushed about it. Licks and sucks, ball play, a little ass play – Long left out nothing. “Want to lie down? It'll be easier,” he suggested. Once they were on the bed, he resumed with Finn's nipples and worked his way down. Finn came explosively and Long swallowed his load. They lay together when it was over, touching the length of their bodies. Long's lips rested against Finn's upper bicep. It wasn't a smoochy kiss, but it was a kiss. His cock lay hard resting on Finn's thigh.

    “Long … you think we should try something else?” Finn asked.

    Mmm? What?”

    “What about maybe fucking? Have you ever done that?”

    “Fucking? I'm not gay,” Long exclaimed abruptly.

    “You just sucked my cock. I can smell my cum on your breath. What do you call that?”

    “I'm not gay, dude. You have me all wrong.” Long was off the bed at once and looking for his clothes. “I thought we were just two guys helping each other out. And you think … I'm NOT gay! You got that?. Man, I don't know what you were thinking.”

    Long had a time of it stuffing his erection into his jeans. It was a painful process as he hurried into enough clothes for the walk to his car.

    With that hasty exit, Finn's sex life had come to a halt. Now he considered the possibility of what to do with Raelle. He had enjoyed the sight and touch of her beauty, but they had never gone the distance; but they had an long understanding that this could be the night. Two weeks ago he would have been searching for a reason to leave with her. Tonight, he wondered what was on the dessert menu. Canoli? Or Raelle?

    They went to Dave's house. It was a monster on Seaview, with a spectacular view of the city across the bay. The family room was huge. The music was cool. The lights were out. And three couples made varying kinds of love. It sounded like the first time for two of them. Dave and his girl were veterans. The third guy, a neighbor of Dave's that Finn barely knew, and his girl were going at it like beginners with a set of Chinese instructions as their guide. Finn and Rayleen were somewhere in between; the sex went smoothly enough; the hard part was figuring out whether they enjoyed it or not.

    “That was nice,” Raelle said without enthusiasm. She groped around a bit wondering how her diaphragm had survived its christening.

    “It was,” Finn agreed. “I bet it gets better with practice,” he suggested, knowing it had been a lot better with Long. He looked for a place to deposit his used condom and couldn't find one..

    Forty minutes after they got to Dave's, they moved to the outdoor jacuzzi, relaxing and talking about what September would mean. Slightly before midnight, Dave's parents got home and pretended not to notice the nudity. “Did you have a good night, kids? Well, we're going to bed now,” Dave's dad called out, carefully looking only at the lights of the city.

    'Fucked Raelle - check.' It seemed like an item on a list, Finn thought ... And I'm still gay ... And Dave has an amazing ass but a less amazing dick, now that I'm paying attention.




    “This thing? You want me to wear this thing?” Asher was not happy with Nordstrom's idea of a show opener.

    “Just put it on, if you want to get paid,” Z counseled.

    “Easy for you, Z … You're wearing a tuxedo. Wolf is wearing a sport coat. I'm the one wearing the mankini!”

    “It's not a mankini,” a fussy assistant store manager insisted. “It's lounge wear. It's got legs … and arms. We want to preview the range of garments in the show.”

    “It's so tight in the crotch,” Asher whined. “It shows everything.”

    “He's right, Norbert,” Z said to the assistant manager. “That isn't the look you want. Not in Walnut Creek.”

    “All right. Cover it with a bathrobe. But open the robe for the turns.” Norbert eyed the reason for Asher's complaint and decided Asher was right. That was one big cock for such a slim kid, he thought.

    Wolf ignored the discussion and rehearsed his walk. Two-thirds of the way around at a quick pace … back to the first X … turn slowly … look at the audience … walk back to the second X … turn again … and walk off … Norbert had approved of Wolf based on a fake resume Andrew had prepared. Now all he had to do was walk. The walk was not as easy as it sounded. He had to look good and make the clothes look better. Wolf's naturally smooth and athletic manner went to pieces as soon as he concentrated on it. “Das wird eine Katastrophe sein,“ he muttered.

    Z didn't need a translation. “Don't worry, Wolf. It'll be fine. No catastrophes allowed tonight.”

    The lights went down; the music began; and everything went right. They got to the athletic wear portion of the show and were only planning to wear two changes of board shorts and then a sweat suit. As Wolf was about to go out, Norbert handed him a placard that read Converse. “Put this on the easel over the Facconable sign as you go out.”

    The Converse sign made something click in the audience's collective mind. “Is Converse the gypsy's name? Can I get my fortune told?” called out a voice in the crowd. There was a buzz. “It's the sign guy!” “The one from Union Square!” “I saw him at the Civic Center.” “I saw him on TV!” “Where's the gypsy?”

    The kidding was good natured and Wolf got warm applause and a few calls of “Lookin' good!” as he made his rounds on the runway. People crowded up after the show was over. Andrew listened to the chatter. “Isn't that accent dreamy?” “I thought my ovaries would explode.” “Wolf! His name is Wolf!” sighed another holding an autograph to her breast.

    Andrew quickly phoned his video capture to a couple of TV stations and smiled as he watched the girls crowd around Wolf. And then he called Seth. “You might want to record the local news. Weren't you talking about some guy advertising a fortune teller? Guess what? We own him. Asher's big dong is so yesterday.” Andrew was premature on that one point.

    Asher watched the audience gravitate to Wolf and missed the attention. He calculated his response while returning to the changing area. He got out of the sweat suit and look around. “Norbert? Do you have a minute?” With Asher wearing only tight briefs, Norbert would have given him days if he asked. “Norbert, you're in the business. Do you think these are the right size? For a guy with my problem, I mean. See how tight they get right here?”

    “They look ok to me ...” Norbert was drooling.

    “This part cuts into me. Can you feel right here?”

    Norbert resisted the impulse. “Try this pair … they're cut looser. Keep 'em if you like 'em.”

    Asher immediately began changing underwear. Norbert turned to go but couldn't take his eyes off Asher's feature attraction once it was out in the open. He tripped and brought the curtain wall down. The sudden exposure could not be blamed on Asher; but he probably showed off too long in shocked poses as camera-phones flashed. His display could have been called overlong by skeptics but within hours it restored his Internet celebrity and that was what he wanted. He knew he would have to put up with his mother's endless complaints of being shamed again, but it would be worth it. He liked being talked about as much as he liked being looked at. The people who called him a freak were just jealous. They can suck my dick, he thought.

    Andrew watched in contentment. Perfect, he thought, and nobody came touch me on this one. He punched a number into his phone. “Nate, Nordstrom has aced Macy's again. You want to rebook my guys?”




    “The contract should be in the person's legal name, although if the stage name is registered as a trade name, that would work.”

    “Both contracts are in stage names, unregistered, as far as I know,” Seth said. He was glad the lawyer had been on time for their early morning meeting; he had lots else to do.

    “In that case, the contracts are invalid and the heirs would have no claim. You could use the videos for any non-commercial purpose. For instance, you could use them as a free art exhibit. Can they be considered candid, public poses?” the lawyer asked.

    “You saw them. It's pictures of two guys having sex in a studio.”

    “I saw them only briefly. Can you tell it's a studio? Could it possibly be a public setting?”

    “The scene is black, only the bodies are lighted. The audience couldn't tell where the shots were taken.”

    “Hmmm. Well, strictly speaking, and let's be strict, if you used the videos for any commercial purpose, then you would be liable. The heirs, if they knew about it, could – and probably would sue you. Given the notoriety of the case, they would probably learn about any commercial use soon after it occurred. Not good news, I'm afraid.”

    “So we're stuck with a great commercial opportunity that we can't use. Is that what you're telling me?”

    “Do you think I could see the videos again? There might be some kind of out … “ The lawyer sounded eager.

    “You just want to see the vids again, don't you?” Seth laughed. “I might as well give you a copy.”

    “I don't actually have time to watch now … so a set of copies, if you can spare one, would be good. Would that include the one with you in it?”

    “Are you becoming a fan of mine?” Seth teased as he assembled a pile of CD's.

    “Very much. Um, can I say this?”

    Seth shrugged his permission.

    “From one Jewish guy to another, I think you … are super hot.” If ever a lawyer was sincere and straightforward, this was the time.

    “You're a caution, Mr. Laven,” Seth batted his eyes and feigned shyness.

    “You could call me Jody, if you want.”

    “Istanbulla, the club owner who recommended you, said to keep it professional or she'd cut my balls off,” Seth said, handing the lawyer the CD's.

    “Yes, I guess she would, too. Disc 5 is the one with you?” Seth nodded. “That was so hot … the way you stayed in charge, even when Bruce was giving you orders.”

    “It's a just job,” Seth sighed.

    “It would be awesome if I could call you sometime.”

    “You want to call me 'boy'? Like Bruce?”

    “I'd like to call you Seth.”

    “So call me Seth. This afternoon Chris and I are seeing applicants. Unless you're going to temple or something, maybe you would like to review some of the contracts. We couldn't pay your usual fee, but if you're interested ...”

    Jody Laven couldn't wait for the afternoon he said. He was excited by what? The prospect of meeting porn models? Something about me? Seth wondered if he was going to regret this. Innocent little relationships had a way of going sour fast in the porn business.

    The door Seth had locked behind Jody opened and Adan entered, using his our key. “Can I help you?” Seth asked.

    “I was planning to help you,” Adan answered. “I'm Adan and I guess you're Seth. Isn't Andrew here?”

    “I think he's still asleep,” Seth replied. “Who are you again?”

    “I'm Adan. Andrew hired me … to clean and stuff. I organized some photographs for him. Stuff like that. Today I was going to call models for updates.”

    “Ahhh … I see.” The light dawned. “I should have known he didn't clean the place. Why don't you go wake him up?” Seth wasn't surprised when Adan went into Andrew's bedroom and didn't come back out.




    Darren checked out “Beyond Good and Evil” from the college library and surveyed the book. It was in good condition and according to an old pre-digital date listing had rarely been borrowed in the past. He looked forward to curling up in bed with his new friend Friedrich and trying the philosopher straight. I have to stop reading interpretations, he had concluded. I need to read the original. But … came a troubling thought. But the original is in German! Shit!

    He walked swiftly toward the parking lot. Reading a good translation was at least one step closer to the original than reading somebody else's interpretation of somebody else's translation of somebody. The post-modernists would say this was a huge problem, but then they would blame semantics for obscuring the meaning of the original in any case. So I'll just have to rely on a good translation. For now.

    “Darren! I thought I'd missed you!”

    “Oh … hi Kevin.”

    “No, I'm Jeff. Kevin was the guy you actually f… uh, I mean my roommate, the one you … um, met first.”

    “Right! Sorry … 'S up?”

    “Kevin went over to Berkeley to see a production of Oedipus Rex in French … So I was wondering if you might want to hang out ...”

    “A Greek play in French watched by a native English speaker. That is so close to a little problem I'm having.”

    Jeff was lost. “Mmm, right. So would you like to have a beer or something?”

    Darren thought it over and delayed answering.

    “I'm hoping to seduce you, if that helps you make up your mind.” Jeff smiled more shyly than his words would have predicted. “No, no … forget I said that.”

    “You would be a very successful seducer if I weren't leaving the country tomorrow.” Darren pressed the button on his car keys and the Audi's lights flashed.

    Jeff saw the car light up and asked, “Leaving … like for good?”

    “Belgium. Just for a week, I think. If everything goes by the plan.”

    “Can I look at your car? I've never seen one like this.”

    “Sure sit down. It's fun to drive.” They sat in the two seater and Darren pointed out the car's features.

    “Was it a graduation present or something?” Jeff ran his hand lovingly across the dash board.

    “No. It was a work bonus. I guess that's what you'd call it.” Darren remembered the circumstances of Morrie's gift.

    “Belgium ...” Jeff looked at Darren with a thousand questions that he wanted to ask. Instead he impulsively kissed him. The kiss lingered a bit.

    “Belgium, tomorrow,” Darren said, which seemed to end the conversation. Jeff opened the door to get out and Darren got out of his side as well.

    “You don't need to walk me to the dorm. I'll be safe,” Kevin joked.

    “I want to kiss you without a gear shift being in the way,” Darren answered. Jeff was at first surprised and then overwhelmed by the warmth of Darren's kiss. “Jeff? Is the seduction offer still open? You feel awful good to me.”

  44. #44
    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Great new update, Rory. . . Thanks!

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Rory,
    Lots of reading - a bit worried about our HS graduate - his buddy is in denial and he's out of sex partners.

    Always enjoy the runway shows with the boys - never can tell what's going to happen, but you know something will!

    Then there's Darren.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  46. #46
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Quote Originally Posted by DonQuixote View Post
    Then there's Darren.
    You should have seen the versions I didn't post!

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    You can always PM them, lol.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Twelve


    “Belgians are serious people. We started work after a cup of tea and didn't stop until we were finished.” Darren's debrief of the Belgian trip was brief. “The system worked fine. They were happy with English and French and will send us Dutch translations for the next update. The inventory wasn't nearly as huge as the Smithsonian job and it was ninety-five percent done before I left. I'm sure they're done by now. They want to get used to it before they join the net server.”

    “What about the sex?” Tom asked when they were alone.

    “As I said, they're serious people. The only offer I got was for sponsorship at the University of Louvain.”

    “A job?”

    “No, a scholarship. They like Americans.”

    “Are you gonna ...”

    “No, I don't speak the languages … not any of them.”

    As soon as he could Darren left for school. He needed to see about making up missed work. The logic class was easy. All he had to do was tolerate Dormeyer's visual assault for thirty minutes. Professor Campion asked only what Darren had been reading.

    “I took Beyond Good and Evil with me and read it.”

    “And ...” Campion prompted.

    “And now I think I should have read Hegel first.”

    Darren's comment made Campion's eyes spark. “And then Burke, and then Kant, and then Rousseau, and then Hume ...Reading philosophy backwards is not a bad approach, actually.”

    “Really? Because I want to read it all … The pre-Socratics had all the questions right at the start. But the answers get more and more complex with time.”

    “That's because each really new idea has to overturn all the detritus that came before it and the garbage keeps piling up.” Campion noted Darren's shock. “It's not ALL garbage of course, but the advances of science raise the philosophic barriers higher all the time. The hard fact of quantum mechanics is absolutely devastating to most moral systems. It seems quite possible that something can come from nothing without any agency … without any God, if you will.”

    “I want to know all that. The thing is I don't know where to start.”

    Campion smiled genially. “Speaking as a college professor, I'd say you have come to the right place; we are essentially a colloquium of inquiring minds here, helping each other. As far as where to start, let me give you a book … let's see … here it is. It's a compendium of philosophical development up to the twentieth century. Things after World War One get diffuse, it's all in flux still in reaction to modern horrors; but prior to that are the essentials you will need. Read this book the first time fast. Don't try to understand it all in your first reading. Look for the flow of ideas, so you know where you want to dig in next.”

    Darren walked to his car and stopped to look at Campion's book. He sat on a bench and opened to the index. The dry listing of ideas and thinkers quickly became the story of the world. He barely notice the people around him.

    “How was Belgium?” Kevin asked.

    “More German than I expected,” Darren answered.

    “Good beer, huh?”

    “Yes, but I think they've always had good beer in Belgium.”

    The conversation lapsed with the lame topic of Belgium exhausted. The roommates were restless on the bench. Finally Jeff spoke up.

    “We've been debating who gets you next,” Jeff said.

    “So, here's the thing ...” Darren answered immediately. “I'm going to assign some homework. And then we can see what happens next.”

    “Homework?” Jeff didn't sound interested.

    “Jeff, you are to fuck Kevin and respond to every request he makes. Kevin, you may request anything but you are not allowed to talk. Not one word. You are only allowed to prompt Jeff with your body.”

    “Darren, I'm not a top,” Jeff complained.

    “Try it,” Darren was unyielding.

    “The stuff I like is complicated.” Kevin looked for a way out.

    “Jeff isn't an idiot,” Darren insisted. “And once Kevin is satisfied, you switch roles. We will meet in a week to review progress. I want details … times, frequencies, techniques … all of it.”

    Darren got up from the bench and walked to his car. Half way there he jumped back. Peter's car probably would have hit him if his reaction had been slower. “Maybe I can do a paper on the Philosophy of Assholes,” Darren said to the startled girl next to him.




    “Seth, sweetie, you know I love you ...”

    “Great, Andrew, and when were you planning to tell me you hired a … janitor? Accountant? Hustler? Just what the hell is he?”

    “He's a very clever young man who appreciates an opportunity when he finds one.”

    “How much are you paying him?”

    “Paying …? The subject of money hasn't really come up.”

    “YET!” Seth added.

    “He's here on a student visa. Doesn't that limit what he can earn?”

    “It doesn't limit what he can take!” Seth was unrelenting.

    “Eric recommended him.”

    “Eric? When did he start a home for troubled youths?”

    “I think Eric's always been a generous person. Didn't you stay with Eric and Z for a while when you had nowhere else to go? So now can't we help out Adan?”

    “Yes … I did ...” Seth was taken aback by Andrew's logic. “We can, I guess. But you have to get the money part worked out. Minimum wage.”

    “Sweetie ...”

    “Minimum wage, Andrew.”

    “What's got you all pissed off, anyway? More murdered porn actors?”

    “We have a ton of terrific scenes with Bruce and Attila and we can't use them. Money down the drain ... Nobody new to film …”

    “Look on the bright side. Nordstrom and Macy's want more fashion shows … I got a catalog job from a contract jobber on Jessie Street …”

    “You did?”

    “Yes, Adan was verifying our contact list and gave me the lead.”

    “He did?”

    “Yes. I told you he was a clever young man. Kind of an Hispanic version of someone else I used to know … I wonder what ever happened to him.” Andrew hugged Seth.

    “I'm sorry.” Seth hugged him back. “It's just that … oh, you know ...”

    “Dry your eyes, sweetie. We've gotten through worse.”

    “Maybe you should stop calling me sweetie … We're not really lovers anymore.”

    “I like calling you sweetie. You're a sweet boy. You know I love you.”

    “Andrew, you're so full of shit.” Seth laughed and headed to Alameda with some contracts for Z and Darren to sign.





    “Did he give you the 'I'm not gay' line?”

    “What?” Finn couldn't believe he had heard Bo's question right and he blushed furiously at what he thought he had heard.

    “You and Long. Best buds last week and ignoring each other today. He did the same thing to me last Christmas. Saying 'I'm not gay' makes everything all right for him.”

    Finn kept silent. He had heard Bo right. “You mean you and Long …?” Finn couldn't say the words.

    “We were this close ...” Bo crossed his index and middle fingers. “ … for about three weeks.”

    Cal's call for a huddle interrupted the conversation. There wasn't an opportunity to resume until the end of practice. Finn picked up his gear and began walking home. He returned Dave Miller's wave as he drove past.

    “Have a minute?” Bo called out. “Want to watch these lacrosse guys?” They settled themselves on the eastward edge of the park and watched a game they only semi-understood. “It looks like they pick out one guy and everybody hits him on the head with their sticks. I figured out everything except how they select their target.” He smiled when he got a chuckle from Finn. “So was I right? You and Long?”

    “Yeah,” Finn admitted, paying close attention to the dirt stuck in his cleats.

    “He's such an asshole,” Bo commented. “Really goes out of his way to make you feel like shit. My mistake was kissing him. 'Dude! What are you doing? I'm not gay.' ”

    Finn stared at Bo with his mouth open.

    “You're not the only guy in Alameda who's fooled around, Finn.”

    “Not Dave? You don't mean Dave, do you?”

    “No. Not Dave. Cute ass though.” Bo sounded wistful and gave Finn a little jab with his elbow.

    Finn turned his attention back to cleaning his cleats. “So who did you mean?”

    “Mike Holmby,” Bo announced.

    “Duh … obviously. Who else?”

    “Another Mike ...” Bo teased.

    “Mike Marshall? NO! Really?”

    “Totally gay. And totally cool about it.”

    “Are you gonna tell everybody about me?” Finn asked.

    “Why? Do you care?”

    “Yeah, I think I do. For the summer anyway. After we all go away to school maybe it won't matter so much … I kinda owe Raelle a couple months of dating.”

    “Don't worry. I can keep my mouth shut.”

    “Bo? Can I ask … how did you and Long hook up?”

    “Remember the All-County Football Banquet at the end of the season? Marty Evers had some beer in the parking lot and … I needed to piss. There were people around so I went into a men's room and took care of things. Long came in and stood right next to me. He kept taking peeks at my dick and it made me hard. Once he saw I was hard he grabbed it and stroked me off. And then, uh, I did it to him. He took my cell number and called me the next day. We messed around all vacation. He's pretty cool at getting close to people. Like the way he got you to invite him to your house.”

    “He didn't 'get me'; it was my idea.”

    “That's what you think. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

    Finn was silent again and watched the lacrosse guys break up. “I guess I better get going.”

    “Yeah, I'll walk with you as far as Park,” Bo agreed. “You're worried I'm gonna say something, aren't you?”

    “A little.”

    “Don't worry. I won't saying anything.” They passed a darkened alley. “Finn? Uh … What about a blow job?” Bo pointed at a hidden enclosure in the alley. Silently the two boys stood close to each other in the alcove.

    Finn squatted in front of Bo. “No!” Bo insisted. “I'm doing it to you. Ok? So you know you can trust me.” But Finn remained on his knees. He tentatively put his hands on Bo's thighs and felt the strength inside the soft knit of the sweat pants. Bo helped by untying the drawstring and then held his breath as Finn reached for his waistband.

    “EEEEUUUUOOOCK!” The loud creak of an opening door startled everyone. The two boys looked in shock at an older man. The older man was equally appalled but recovered first.

    “Oh my God, get inside, you two. Jesus! The police are up and down this alley all the time.” He held the door open wide. “Hurry up!” He closed the door behind them and pushed his way through storage boxes to get to the window. “My God! What were you thinking?” He drew a shade down over the glass of the window already murky with dust. “Never mind. I know what you were doing.” He turned back to them with a tiny smile on his face.

    “Uh … uh … Mister … I'm sorry ...” Finn began.

    “What are you going to do?” Bo looked apprehensive.

    The older man looked them over and saw their distress. “I'm going to finish moving a freight delivery into the store.” He moved to the door to the shop. “That will take me a while. Nobody,” he emphasized, “Nobody will bother you for, oh … say, a half hour.” He closed the door softly until it clicked and left the two boys alone.

    Gradually a look of relief spread over their faces. “Man, I guess we could have been caught,” Bo said.

    “Yeah ...” Finn agreed, squeezing himself and aware that his cock was no longer hard.

    “Limp as a noodle? Me too,” Bo acknowledged. He reached for Finn and gave his cock a confirming squeeze.

    “Bo, I don't know if we should ...”

    “Why not? He pretty much gave us permission.” Bo's one hand massaged Finn's cock and the other went around his waist to pull him closer. Bo listened to Finn sigh. “See, you want to.” Bo was bolder than Long had been; he gave Finn a little nip on the neck before sinking to his knees. “This was my idea. I might as well go first.”

    Finn looked down and put his hands gently on Bo's light brown hair, so soft and thick, wrapping around his fingers. He grimaced briefly as his jock pinched scrotal skin when Bo pulled it down. “Ow!”

    “Sorry,” Bo answered before swallowing Finn's cock whole. It was more than a mouthful and he quickly backed off to look at his prize. It stuck almost straight out, arching slightly upward, bouncing with Finn's pulse. “Awesome,” Bo said and then he looked up at Finn. “Dumb thing to say about a cock, huh?” And then he began sucking, gradually working up to taking the whole length again.

    “Oh … Bo! … Jeez! … BO!” Finn exploded into Bo's waiting mouth. He tried to pull back but Bo wouldn't let him and took every spurt of hot cum. He coughed only once and then took Finn's cock back into his mouth sucking on it until it began to soften.

    “Ok?” Bo asked as he stood up. He held Finn by his ass and pulled him close to mash their groins together.

    “The best,” Finn said and wiggled himself out of Bo's hands. He sank down and quickly pulled down Bo's clothes. He returned the blow job as best he could and Bo came even faster than Finn had.

    Bo pulled Finn to his feet and tried to kiss him, but Finn pulled away, gesturing at his face, “I'm all full of cum, here.”

    “I don't care,” Bo answered eagerly, but the moment had passed. They pulled their pants up, brushed themselves off, and then wondered what to do.

    “I guess we go out the front door,” Finn ventured.

    They saw the man struggling with a ten pound bag of potting soil. “These aren't heavy, just ungainly,” he sounded embarrassed by his difficulty.

    “We can do that,” Bo said and looked to Finn for confirmation.

    They made quick work of the job, piling the bags two by two, layered in opposing directions next to a hand lettered sign that said, “Potting Soil Special $5.98 Two for $9.98”.

    “Why not $5.99 and $9.99?” Finn asked when they were done.

    “Too greedy,” the man answered.

    “What about these African violets?” Bo called from the sidewalk. “Where do you want them?”

    “No, don't bother ...”

    “Where did you say you want them?” Bo repeated as he came into the store with three cases of pots in his arms.

    The two boys cleared the freight delivery from the sidewalk and paused when the work was done. “I'm Bo Jendell,” Bo said. “Finn Cullen,” Finn echoed. “And you're Mr. Parker?” The shop's name was Parker's Plants.

    “Gale Parker,” the man said, extending his hand and trying to forget that he knew their mothers.

    “Thank you for ...” Bo pointed toward the back room.

    “No, thank you for helping out.”

    “So we helped each other,” Finn said.

    The boys left the store and walked to the corner. They watched an Alameda police car pull out of the alley behind Parker's Plants onto Encinal Avenue.

  49. #49
    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Thanks again, for another great update, Rory!

  50. #50
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Rory,
    I agree with Rocabar, wholeheartedly.

    I always enjoy catching up with our boys.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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