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  1. #51
    Slut gambit22121's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Can't wait for the next update Rory!

  2. #52
    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Thanks, gambit. I'm open to suggestions and criticism.

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Glad to see all of the Alameda boys are back in their original environs and having fun. The New York story had lost me. Love this one so far.

  4. #54
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Quote Originally Posted by justright25 View Post
    The New York story had lost me. Love this one so far.
    It kind of lost me, too.

  5. #55
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Thirteen

    “Hi. I'm Kevin. Darren Alvintzi gave me your name.”

    “Thanks for coming,” Seth said. “We're always looking for talent.”

    So … what do I do? Get naked?”

    “No. First you talk to our lawyer, Jody Laven.”

    Seth spent his time adjusting cameras and lights and listening to snatches of Jody's contract negotiations. They weren't really negotiations, Jody simply stated the take-it-or-leave-it rules of how the business was to proceed.

    “You understand, Kevin, this is a porn shoot? Good. We can't legally bind you to perform specific acts, but I want you to know what you may be called upon to do. You may be asked to demonstrate affection through kisses and caresses, both giving and receiving, oral sex, both giving and receiving, anal sex, both giving and receiving, in homosexual as well as heterosexual settings, with whatever partner we assign.”

    “I thought you said it was gay porn.”

    “Typically, yes. We just want to leave our options open. There have been times when heterosexual conduct was appropriate to the scene we were shooting. Ok? Good. So while we can't require specifics, your pay will depend on your performance being deemed satisfactory by the director, who will be the sole judge of its acceptability without appeal. Is that part clear? If he doesn't like your work you will only be paid a minimum wage for your time, although we will cover any reasonable expenses you incurred, like a specific hair styling and commuting to and from the studio. Clear?”

    “Yes, but what if I perform some but not all of what is required? How do you work that part out?”

    “We shoot the most difficult parts first.” Jody answered Kevin's confusion with: “In direct terms, we shoot the fuck scenes first. We will know right away how your performance stacks up. Ok? Next … The studio owns all rights to your performance. We can sell, rent, or otherwise use your images and videos, sight and sound worldwide in any manner we choose forever. Trust me: your grandmother, if you have one, is going to know in detail everything you do here. Ok?”

    Seth was surprised and pleased with Jody's thoroughness in explaining the facts of porn. It sounded a if he had been in the business forever. He sized up Kevin as he finished signing the contracts for Jody. Not bad at all. A little young looking maybe, but makeup can take care of that.

    “Ok, now that the legal stuff is over, you can get naked, as you said. This part is just to get some light measurements. So we can see if you will need body or face makeup. We try for realism, so the makeup is usually just a dab here and there to cover a blemish or something.”

    “Is the lawyer going to stay for this part?”

    “Yeah. It helps to have a third party present in case of any dispute plus he can run errands. You want a water or anything? … Jody, could you get Kevin some water?”

    “Anything for the star!” Jody said in a cheery unlawyerly tone. He returned with a bottle and checked out the star. “I don't care what Seth says; I think you look great.”

    “You guys are being really … nice to me.” Kevin took a swig of the water and stood naked as Seth and Jody appraised him.

    “We frighten you with the legal part, but we're softies at heart,” Seth told him in a friendly way and then he turned professional. “Turn, please … hmm … distinct tan lines. The waist one isn't bad, but the knee level is … hmm ...”

    “The creamy white butt is nice,” Jody observed.

    “Says the lawyer,” Seth added. “We'll want to trim your pubic hair a bit. Is that ok, Kevin?”

    “Am I allowed to object?”

    “Not really. But we're going for participatory management here.” Seth gave him a smile meant to be reassuring. “Oh, I see we're getting a little more participation.” Seth observed the beginnings of an erection as he held a light meter next to Kevin's dick. “Easy erections are the porn directors dream.”

    Kevin waved at an imaginary camera. “Hi grandma. How am I doing?” he said nervously.

    “The lawyer thinks you're doing fine,” Jody called from the shadows of the lights that were nearly blinding Kevin.

    “Ok, some of the basics. What feels good for sex isn't what's good for porn. The positions and poses are supposed to show you off to the camera. They're not always fun or even comfortable. Rule one: Do not block the shot. Try to keep in mind where the camera is and don't put your hand, arm, what-have-you in the way of the shot. If we're shooting a kiss, don't put your hand on your partner's face, put it lower down and only briefly.”

    “Huh?” The distraction was causing Kevin to lose his erection.

    “Like this.” Seth demonstrated, putting his hand on Kevin's cheek and kissing him and then putting it lower down on his neck and kissing him. “And when you break, try to make it look like you want more.” Kevin's reviving erection made it seem he did want more. A repeat of the action still didn't produce the reaction Seth wanted.

    “No, try for a little yearning. Here, watch Jody and me. Jody, can I borrow your face for a minute?” Seth kissed Jody and after a three-count broke the kiss. He couldn't miss Jody's reaction. “Well, I don't know what I looked like, but did you see the way Jody ended the kiss? The delayed eye-opening … the little move forward … Like he didn't want me to stop kissing him?”

    “Cool. How did you do that?” Kevin asked Jody.

    “I didn't want him to stop kissing me,” Jody answered. It sounded like the truth. His hand was still on Seth's neck.

    “Um … ok then, try it again.” Seth kissed Kevin and liked the result better. “And your cock is staying hard. That's so good. You want to try to keep it that way. The shoot will go much faster if you can. Now for some posing … This revolving platform is where we shoot most of the sex. The cameras are positioned around the room at various heights. You still have to keep in mind that dicks in asses are basically what we want to see. You need an open pose most of the time. Right … lie back … spread your legs more … oh yeah, nice balls, Kevin … by the way, you'll need a porn name … ok, hold that … let me get a light reading … maybe we need to shave your ass a little … but you're looking good... you're sure you're all right with getting fucked? A lot of guys say yes and then back out at the last minute ...”

    “You can fuck me right now, if you want. I douched out before I came to the studio.” Kevin lay back with his legs spread. He was slowly stroking his cock, making his balls move with the motion, exposing the crack of his ass. He looked Seth right in the eye and invited, “Right now. If you want.”

    Seth involuntarily licked his lips and Kevin convulsed, “Shit! I'm coming!” Kevin jacked himself frantically while his cock spewed bright white cum onto his belly and chest. As soon as he caught his breath he apologized profusely. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that.”

    Seth reassured him, “It's only an audition. It's all good. You can't make any mistakes. Jody, got a towel? You can get dressed now. I'm pretty sure we'll be calling you. Um … Kevin, would you get a little sun in shorter shorts? We'd like to see the tan line at mid-thigh. No Speedo look, though … not for what we're planning.”

    Kevin toweled himself off and began dressing, having a little trouble getting into his jeans. He ended up bending his cock to the side and zipping carefully.

    “You're still hard? That's another plus.”

    Seth shut off the lights and walked into Chris's office leaving Kevin to dress. He saw Jody fixing something to do with the window shade. Jody was on his tiptoes, raising his shirt above his jeans. The visible band of flesh showed a hint of butt and a tight waist. I never noticed that under his blue suit, Seth thought.

    “I'll wait for your call,” Kevin called out and they heard the outer door slam.

    “There ...” Jody said, satisfied with his repairs to the shade. “So … good morning, huh?”

    “Yeah, I took some contracts to Darren for signing last night and asked if he knew anybody … he recommended these guys from St. Mary's College and gave them a call for me ...whew! … I never expected somebody like Kevin. The other guy is due in an hour. He had a Saturday morning class or something. You know … when he said you can fuck me … I almost ...”

    “That would have been unprofessional,” Jody said.

    “Yeah, but so hot! That kid is a love machine, I bet.” Seth squeezed his cock at the memory. “You didn't mind me kissing you, did you?”

    “I didn't want you to stop.”

    Seth looked up and didn't have time to wonder what Jody meant. Jody kissed him for the approved three-count and pulled back. “I still don't want to stop.” Jody resumed the kiss.

    Seth's arms went around Jody's waist, feeling the warm flesh. He sighed a little as Jody's grasp found his cock and encouraged his erection. Jody sensed Seth's coming objection and silenced it with a kiss. When he felt Seth relax in his arms, he pushed farther. “You can fuck me ... Right now ... If you want.” he said between kisses. “I'd like it if you did.” Seth's body stiffened in objection to Jody's offer but he said nothing. “Please, Seth. Fuck me. I can feel your erection. You want to, don't you?”

    They returned to the camera room and the comfort of the revolving platform with its cushioning and pillows. The sex was fairly conventional, missionary, and quick. When it was over, Seth lay on top, between Jody's spread legs. He kissed Jody again. “I suppose you don't want me to stop kissing you?”

    “Seth ...” Jody looked at Seth hard. “I don't want you to stop fucking me either.”

    “I don't get it, Jody. Aren't you married with children?”

    “Divorced with children.” Jody wrapped his legs around Seth and demanded another kiss. He couldn't get enough. “I've never been with anybody like you. That was the best sex I ever had, Seth.”

    “I don't know, Jody … I'm kinda small ...”

    “Your dick is perfect. I love it in me. You hit every button I've got.”

    “It's kinda small,” Seth insisted.

    “Compared to what? It's perfect.” Jody hugged Seth against him. “Perfect.” Jody's continued kisses were persuasive. Seth lay against the pillows on his back and let Jody lose. When he worked his way up to sucking a nipple, Seth chuckled and pulled Jody up into a kiss that seemed to seal a deal.

    “You kissed me that time,” Jody said and Seth nodded. “Good. That's a start.” He straddled Seth and lowered himself until he felt Seth's renewed erection against his ass. He knelt upright and pushed his pelvis forward so Seth could suck his cock. Dragging his balls across Seth's chin set up an exquisite tension that kept building. “God, you're magic,” Jody sighed as he pumped his cock into Seth's mouth.

    “Wait. I don't want to come yet,” Jody said. He moved backward and held Seth's cock up while he sat down in it. “Ahhhhh!,” he gasped as the shaft slipped in. He grabbed one of Seth's hands and sucked on the fingers. “Perfect cock!” He began moving up and down, sucking frantically on Seth's hand. “Touch me, Seth! Touch me, baby!” he begged.

    Seth took hold of Jody's cock and it exploded, pumping spurts of semen this way and that. “Fuck me,” Jody begged as he came. “Yes! Keep fucking me.” He echoed “Keep fucking me,” over and over as his climax waned and in the midst of a deep kiss Seth came again. “Yes, baby, do it,” Jody urged as Seth thrust into him as deep and hard as he could.

    They lay together, drained, each thinking his private thoughts, neither wanting to express them. Jody relaxed in the afterglow of the best sex he had ever had, which aside from his ex-wife's contribution, wasn't much. While Seth got his breath back, he wondered if he had just embarked on another personal and professional disaster.

    Eventually they rose and dressed more or less in silence. Jody stole one final kiss that lingered in a 'don't stop' way and then looked at his watch. “I think the past forty-five minutes have changed my life,” he said.

    “Oh, shit,” was Seth's silent reaction.

    A loud knock interrupted. “Hello … I'm Jeff. Darren Alvintzi said you're looking for ...”

    “Bachelor Number Two,” Seth sighed. “Come in. This is Jody Laven, our lawyer. He wants to walk you through our standard contract ...”

    Wolf got back from the city in mid-afternoon and took a shower. All that walking around toting a signboard was becoming work, but he liked the attention. Since his fame had grown he dressed in shorts that were obvious to anyone who looked; the peekaboo tease wasn't necessary to attract attention. He was sweaty and so were the shorts, which explained why no one sat near him on the BART.

    He got out of the shower and dried off, looking at himself in the mirror. His skin was tanner than it had ever been before, even when they had lived in Arabia and his hair was streaky, bleaching out to the blond of his childhood. Not bad, he thought. He dressed and looked for something to eat in the kitchen. It was Saturday, slim pickings, since Tom and Heiko shopped on Sunday mornings. A beer? Why not? It would be legal in Germany.

    He sat on the balcony, sipped his beer and watched the world go by. He heard giggles and then whispers from the next balcony. “Ask him.” “No, you ask him.” More giggles.

    A face appeared around the divider. Even at twenty feet away, Wolf could tell it was the face of a young girl leaning far out over the rail. She was smiling near to burst. “Are you the sign guy?”

    Wolf toasted her with his glass. “I am.”

    “Would you wear a sign at our Girl Scout car wash?” She wobbled on the railing and Wolf worried she would fall. “Just for two hours. Tomorrow. Please … Wolf?” She was tentative about using his name.

    A sharp voice intruded. “Candy, get off that railing! Who are you talking to?”

    “To whom am I speaking, you mean?” said Candy. Several giggles ensued. “Wolf … he's agreed to wear a sign for the car wash.”

    “Wolf?” the older voice repeated. The face of a very attractive young woman appeared around the divider. “Hi,” she said.

    Wolf raised his beer again. “Hi, I'm Wolf. Do you all want to come over and tell me what's going on?”

    A few minutes later Wolf opened the door and let in three young girls and someone older. The young girls looked at him adoringly. “You are the sign guy.” “I told you!” “Is Wolf really your name?” “You're just as cute as you look on TV.” “Taller, though,” said the shortest one. She looked as if she was about to wet herself.

    “Wolfgang is my middle name. Maximilian Albrecht Wolfgang Aloys von Wittelsbach.” He frowned and added, “Or something like that.” He held out his hand to shake and greeted the three.

    “I'm Candy, she's Pammy, and she's Lucy.”

    “Pamela,” the middle one corrected. Lucy stayed quiet.

    “I'm Torrey Pine, no jokes please,” the young woman said. “You speak English beautifully.”

    “I don't. Not really. I make terrible mistakes.” The three girl scouts looked at him in awe. “So you better tell me about this car wash … enterprise.”

    Darren sat in the library trying to read and suffering small pangs of conscience. Should I have sent those two kids to a pornographer? Was that the moral choice? Would Socrates have done that? Well, maybe. He was accused of corrupting youth, wasn't he? It was Seth, though, not just any pornographer, he told himself. Seth was basically a good guy, except that time he tried to rape me. But he had been drinking and even sober the only thing he could do was make me laugh. But turning the tables and fucking him was probably my mistake. He forgave me and all … and he was kind of a sweet fuck once we got into it …

    A flash of light caught his attention, He looked out the window across the street at the police department. The insignia of a uniformed policeman was glinting in the sun. Kind of a hot guy he was talking to, Darren thought. Ooops … that's Tim, Rory's … Rory's what? Lover? That sounds solemn and morose. Special friend? Well, in an Aristotelian sense of perfect friendship maybe. Tim would be a good friend. He actually is my friend. I could ask him anything …Or I think I could ... Maybe Z is perfect. He loves me and I could ask him anything. Do relatives count? Maybe Eric … He'd do anything for me, but maybe he'd do it because he loves Z, not because he's my friend. Nicky was perfect, though. He loved me just for me. But I guess that's hopeless. He was busy when I went through New York. I was busy when he came through here … I should just forget that … get on with my life … and what has that got me? Joanne and Peter? Like I need more of that kind of … and those two kids … cute and so willing … but what's that about anyway … it's just sex … not that there's anything wrong with 'just sex' …

    He glanced down the eight-person table and saw some guy eying him again. What's a cute guy like him doing in the library in the middle of the day? Darren wondered. The guy wrote in his notebook and then tore the page out and slid it to Darren. “What's a cute guy like you doing in a library at noon on a sunny day?” the note asked.

    Darren wrote back, “Contemplating why I'm in a library when I could be [fill in the blank].”

    “I'd love to [fill in the blank any way you want] with you.”

    “Could we [fill in the blank] at your place?” Darren asked, nearly filling in the page.

    The guy tore off a piece, wrote and slid it back to Darren. “5700 Shore Line Drive Apt.6W. 30 mins.”

    Darren winked his acceptance as the guy stuffed his books into a backpack. Darren watched him walk out of the reading room. Nice looking. Nothing weird or anything. Clean and sober, apparently. Very neat penmanship. What have I got to lose?

    A half an hour later he found 5700. The Tiki Apartments. Hadn't Eric joked about this place? It looked ok. Weekly and monthly rentals, the sign said. Apartment 6W was on the ground floor on the shady side of the swimming pool which had been drained for some construction work.

    He knocked. “Be right there,” came the answer followed by a low and urgent,”Get into the bedroom.” The door opened. “Fáilte chuig mo domhan.” The guy was wearing a green hat. “It means welcome to my world, in Irish.”

    Darren entered and looked around. Lots of green. “Everyday is Saint Patrick's Day here. Want a drink?” The guy offered something murky with a celery stalk in it.

    “Uh, sure. I'm Darren, by the way.”

    “Colin,” came the answer. “So, how would you fill in the blank back at the library? I'm not sure what the word for blow job is in Irish.”

    “Fuck?” Darren ventured.

    “No, that's not it. OH!! Haha! You mean ... Haha. If my roommate will let us ...”

    “Oh, yeah? Roommate?” Darren was suspicious.

    “That's what I call him. His name is Seamus.” Colin opened the door and a monster came out, crossing the room to Darren in two steps. “He's an Irish wolfhound.”

    “You know ... I'm not small and he's looking down on me.” The dog was inches from Darren's face sniffing the air.

    “Well, he does have some of his feet on a stool.”

    “Some? How many does he have?”

    “Haha. Just four.”

    “Colin … um, you're black, aren't you? What's going on with all the Irish stuff?”

    “Only my skin is black, the rest of me bleeds green.” With that he downed the murky drink and took a bite of the celery stalk. “So a blow job, you said?”

    “I was kind of hoping for a nice slow fuck.”

    “Seamus isn't too wild about fucking. He prefers blowjobs.” The prospect of a threesome with Seamusmade Darren's feet ready to move, but the utter monstrosity of dog blocked his path. “He knows one trick … Seamus? Erin go bragh!”

    Seamus jammed his nose into Darren's crotch and bit down very gently for such a big animal. Darren pried the jaws open and stuck the celery stalk into them. While the animal dealt with this, he was on his feet and out the door.

    “Erin go bragh and Darren go bye,” he told Colin. He ran for two blocks, looking back every few yards for signs of a large silvery animal slobbering bits of celery.

    He slacked off as he got to Grand and turned right to Rittler Park. The lacrosse scrimmage was a welcome sight. Darren panted, “A fairly nice guy … a little kink is ok … Is that too much to expect?”

    “What are you talking about?” asked a young player Darren had never seen before.

    “Sorry, I thought you were Rory.”

    “I'm Finn.” The kid offered a fist bump. “Football clinic was over and these guys needed another player.”

    “Do you have a dog?”

    “No, why?” A mystified Finn looked closely at Darren

    “Just curious. Have you met everybody? That's my brother Z and Eric next to him. That's Rory, my boss. His friend Tim. Heiko and Tom. Heiko's brother Wolf. Larry. And Cal over there. And that guy in the stripes, I don't know him.”

    “That's Bo, a friend of mine. I know Cal. He's my coach. Or was …”

    “You smiled funny when you said Bo. Are you two …?” Darren gave Finn 'that' look.

    “Jeez! Can you tell?” Finn blushed.

    “Forget it. Let's play.” Darren played without pads, it was a friendly game after all. No blood, no grudges, and nobody to go home with.

  6. #56
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    A great new chapter!

  7. #57
    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    One thing bothers me ... the story I personally liked writing the best (A Fable From the 70's) is the least read of what I've posted on JUB. Maybe it's not as good as I think - I would make major changes if I wrote it today. Plus, I'm probably too close to the characters, who are versions of real people.

  8. #58
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    I don't remember if I read them. I know I started with your Alameda boys - maybe it's just where it fell in my timing.

    This was a fun update - BIG Dog with Kinky Black Irishman.

    Puppy want a chew toy? Ouch!

    Meanwhile, back at the studio - lots of hot stuff going on, while at the park, all is good, clean, sports.

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

  9. #59
    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Quote Originally Posted by EasyRory View Post
    One thing bothers me ... the story I personally liked writing the best (A Fable From the 70's) is the least read of what I've posted on JUB. Maybe it's not as good as I think - I would make major changes if I wrote it today. Plus, I'm probably too close to the characters, who are versions of real people.

    Well,*I* liked it. But. . . you already know this.

    It's tough to put so much of yourself into something, and then have no feed back, whatsoever. I can only think, that the story didn't resonate with viewers- Most of the stories on here, as you know, involve first experiences- often right out of high school- not the most sophisticated of scenarios, really.

    I've said this before, and I guess it's time to state it again- If you like the story, please rate the thread!

    Show the authors, that their hard work is appreciated.

    So Rory, what changes would you make to the story? And why? Enquiring mind want to know!

  10. #60
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    And, can you post a link to the Fable, here, so I can find it, easily?

    We'll see you on the flip flop of our systems upgrade.

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

  11. #61
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Seems like shameless self-promotion, but here it is:

    What changes would I make? The time of the tale is a little off - I pretend AIDS hasn't come along yet, but it had, which made some of the behavior much more reckless, not so innocent. Then, too, the customers in the bar were much more fun than I make them - not nearly so predatory.

  12. #62
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    There's nothing wrong with bringing your literary presents back to the fore.

    I just bookmarked it so I can read it after the upgrade.
    It's late, or I'd start right now.

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

  13. #63
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Rory & Rocabar - we can POST, again!!!

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

  14. #64
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Fourteen

    The lacrosse group broke up with most going to Tom and Heiko's place for dinner. Finn and Bo had other plans; but they didn't address them directly.

    “Those brothers are amazing, aren't they?” Bo commented.

    “Heiko and Wolf? Yeah, they are,” Finn answered.

    “No, I meant Z and Darren … This is kinda pervy to admit ... I grabbed a handful of Darren when I fell on top of him. Just a little … just his ass. Man, he's hard as a rock. His ass, that is. I didn't try anything else.”

    “It's a contact sport. You can't help it, really. Not like rugby, though,” Finn laughed. “You could get fucked in a rugby scrum and nobody'd even know.”

    “Yeah … that is a touchy, feely game … you can learn a lot about a guy playing rugby ...”

    They lapsed into silence and walked quickly as if they knew exactly where they were going. When they got close, Bo made the suggestion. “Wanna stop and see how Mr. Parker is doing?”

    “See if he's sold all that potting soil? Sure.” Finn immediately felt a dryness in his mouth and a tightness in his shorts, thinking about what he hoped would happen.

    The bell tinkled as they went in and a voice from the back room called, “Be right with you.” In short order, Gale Parker emerged and recognized his helpers. “Oh, it's you two. Thanks again for the help yesterday. I was just cleaning out the back room to make space for a shipment.”

    “That potting soil is almost gone. It was a good day, huh?”

    “It was a good price. I was almost giving it away. Didn't make much on the soil, but I sold a bunch of pots and plants. That's where the money is.” The older man smiled genially.

    “Well … uh ...” Finn stammered, not sure how to prolong the visit.

    “Yeah,” Bo took over. “We're already dirty, so we were wondering if there was anything else that needed doing … Anything that we could help with ...”

    “Really? Is this be kind to old Gale day?” Gale Parker realized that his teasing was about to frighten them into leaving and changed his banter. “As a matter of fact, if you wanted to move what's left of the soil into the back room ...”

    “Yeah, we'd be glad to ...”

    “And then move these boxes of fertilizer over to that wall ...”


    “And maybe tidy up in general, a little … while I go to the bank ...”

    “We can do that.”

    “And I'll get you something to drink on my way back. What would you like?”

    “Water would be fine ...”

    Parker left, locking the door behind himself and the boys quickly moved the remaining bags of potting soil to the back room. The room had been substantially transformed. It was much cleaner and more orderly. There was a comfortable looking chair as well as a desk and straight chair on the side wall.

    With the bags of soil neatly stacked, Finn paused. “It's different in here.”

    Bo urgently pulled the front of his sweats down and let his erection lose. “I'm the same.”

    The boys moved closer to each other. Finn pulled his shorts down, They grabbed each others erections and stroked. Their breathing quickened, moving from groans of satisfaction to urgent gasps. In no time at all it seemed they would both blow any second. “Wait, Finn. Would you want to … Um ...”

    “What? Say it,” Finn panted.

    “Do you want to try fucking?”

    “Yes.” Finn's agreement was immediate and urgent.

    Bo bent over the desk. “Spit on your dick and go slow, ok? I haven't done this since last winter.”

    The go-slow warning was unnecessary. Bo's ass was tight and spit wasn't enough of a lubricant. Finn came before he achieved any penetration. He flooded Bo's asscrack with his jizz and slid around in it as he came. It was embarrassing. His legs were trembling and he had to hold onto Bo to keep from falling.

    “Oh, shit! I didn't know … I was so close ...Jeez... You're a mess back here.”

    Bo just laughed. “That's exactly what Long did the first time we tried it. I must have a hot ass.”

    “You do!” Finn cleaned Bo up with a paper towel. “Turn around. Let me suck you off.”

    Finn looked closely at Bo's cock. It was red and veiny, protruding from a mat of dark pubic hair.. He held it in his hand and felt it harden an extra measure. The softness was amazing in his mouth. So hard and so soft at once. He took it deeply without gagging and then backed off and took it again. All the way this time. Up and down. He tried working his tongue to add more friction and heard a deep groaning response from Bo. Finn heard his name spoken and tasted the warm salty rush at the same time. He didn't swallow fast enough, his mouth overflowed; but he kept sucking until Bo pulled him off suddenly.

    “I'm real sensitive after I come,” was Bo's explanation. Bo held Finn by the waist and mashed their groins together. He wasn't sure of Finn's possible reaction, but he leaned forward and gave him a warm but quick kiss. “Are you ok with this?”

    “With what?”

    “With what we're doing,” Bo clarified.

    “I like what we're doing. I've never liked anything as much as what we're doing.”

    Bo gave him another brief kiss and felt a response. “Some guys panic.”

    “Some guys? Have you been with a lot of guys?” Finn asked as he pulled his shorts up.

    “That's what Long said. He's been with a ton of guys.” Bo wiped the floor cleaning up the drops of his sperm that had escaped Finn's mouth.

    “But what about you? Have you been with ...”

    “Just Long and you.”

    They quickly completed the tasks Gale Parker had specified and inspected the results. Finn added an “oops” and put the used paper towels a waste basket.

    Bells tinkled and Gale Parker returned. “Guess what? They didn't have water. I got you ice cream.” The boys devoured the cold chocolate and thanked Mr. Parker profusely. “Call me Gale,” he said as they left. He noted the potting soil had been moved and went into the back room to inspect. The assigned tasks had been accomplished. He smiled at the scent of sex in the air and traced it to the wastebasket. Maybe I should get a cot or better yet a daybed for this room, he thought. Such sweet, pretty boys.

    Darren too declined the invitation to Tom and Heiko's and went home to change. His landlady was sweeping the front porch when he got there.

    “Let me do that, Carolyn,” he offered.

    “Nonsense, I need the workout. I tried bench pressing the vacuum cleaner and got winded after ten reps.”

    Darren laughed and continued to his room. She's right about a work out, he thought. He changed to shorts and running shoes and headed for the front door. “You inspired me,” he told his landlady.

    The run felt good. Sustained exercise was different from the spurts of effort and minutes of standing around connected with sports. He followed Grand toward the northeast stopping and jogging in place only for the light at Central. He stretched out his stride and turned down Clement. He was quickly at the Alameda High athletic field. The gates were locked, so he ran around the entire block while wishing he had the use of their easy-on-the-feet cinder track. He turned off Clement Avenue onto Walnut and saw another runner. “Jerry!” he called out.

    “Come on,” Jerry invited. “Can you keep up?” They ran together around the block onto Buena Vista and then went west until Jerry stopped.

    “Done?” Darren challenged, glad that Jerry had stopped.

    “This is my house. Yeah, I'm done. Want some water?”

    Darren sat on the porch waiting for Jerry to come out with the water. “So, how far are you running?” he asked accepting the cold bottle.

    “Four miles and counting,” Jerry answered, much less winded than Darren was. “I'm nuts - actually thinking I could work up for a marathon.”

    “Why not? You're young. A young guy can do anything. I'm convinced of that.”

    “Yeah, maybe. But it's a goal. And it's better than sitting in a bar drinking the days away.”

    “Yeah. For sure. My compensation is reading philosophy.” Darren sipped his water.

    “Compensation for what? I thought you were the golden boy. All gain. No pain.”

    Darren looked closely at Jerry. Was this conversation supposed to be about bullshit or was that a real question? Jerry didn't blink, just waited for Darren's answer. “Love troubles, of course,” came the probing answer. If he really wants to talk, we'll see what he says next, Darren decided.

    “Love troubles? I thought I had the monopoly on those,” Jerry answered sympathetically.

    “Remember Nicky? I can't get him out of my head. Can't forget. Can't find a replacement.”

    “It's been a while since he went back to New York. Time isn't helping any?”

    “No.” Darren held his hands out at a loss and tensed when Jerry grinned. Here comes the joke, he though. I should have kept my mouth shut.

    “It's comforting to find out there's somebody as fucked up as I am. The object of my affection is happily married.”

    “Oh, shit,” Darren commiserated. “That's kind of ...”

    “Fuckin' doomed, is what it is.” They both laughed feeling no mirth. “It gets worse ...”

    “How could it?” Darren asked.

    Jerry abruptly changed the subject. “Darren, would you have sex with me?”

    “Would I, as in theoretically? Or will I, as in right now?”

    Jerry thought about that. “Both. I think I might be gay.” His gaze was steady. He wasn't joking.

    “Yes, I will, in case you're serious,” Darren said.

    “How would we go about doing that?”

    “Being all sweaty, we should probably start with a shower.”

    Jerry led the way. “You can put your stuff here,” he said pointing to his bed.

    Once they were naked, they looked at each other and exchanged nice-body compliments. The went into the bathroom and Jerry ran the water. Darren gave him a little shoulder massage establishing a physical contact while they waited for the water to heat up. So far, so good, they agreed.

    Once under the spray, Jerry froze. He just stood not knowing what to do next. They stood close together. Their cocks brushed. The tension was painful. Finally Darren took the initiative. “Turn around, I'll wash your back.”

    Jerry turned and resumed breathing. Darren lathered up his hands and began a combination of washing and massaging. He started at the shoulders and worked down. Back, waist, buttocks, into Jerry's crack and out again. One arm snaked around to Jerry's pecs while his other hand probed his crack again. “Is this doing anything for you?” Darren asked.

    “Like ...?”

    “Are you getting hard?” Darren asked.


    “There's your answer. You're limp and I'm ...”

    Jerry turned around and recoiled in shock when he saw the size of Darren's erection. “Jesus! That's huge!”

    Darren stroked himself as Jerry watched. “Still nothing?”

    “No. Jealousy, maybe. That thing is … huge,” Jerry repeated, finding no other word.

    “So, I'd say you're not gay, Jer. Nice try. I appreciate the honor, but ...sorry to say, poor guy, you're straight.” Darren turned off the water and got out of the shower. “Which is a pity, 'cause I bet you're really great in bed.” Darren started drying himself.

    “Is trying this going to fuck us up? Are we going to be weird around each other?” Jerry avoided looking at Darren's erection.

    “It doesn't have to. Nobody got hurt. And nobody has to ever know. Do they?” Darren handed Jerry a towel from the rack behind him.

    “I don't want it to. I like you, Darren. I mean I want to keep you as a friend.” Despite the declaration of his straightness, Jerry found himself watching Darren's cock slowly deflate.

    “Only one way to do that.”

    “Sure. What?”

    “Kiss me right here.” Darren pointed to his cheek. “I don't want to think your rejection was total.”

    Jerry immediately kissed his cheek, unconcerned by the coincidental bodily contact that necessitated. “Darren, I haven't been completely honest with you.”

    “You don't need to be,” Darren reached for his sweaty running clothes.

    “Here, wear something dry.”Jerry handed him a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. “The happily married person I'm messed up over …?”


    “It's Neil. Tim's partner, Neil.”

    “Ouch … That's a complication I wasn't expecting.”

    “Neither was I. Want to sit on the porch a minute?” Jerry told Darren the whole story, including the disaster that ended his friendship with Neil.

    “Jer, I don't know what to say. You ought to be talking to Neil about it, not me. I don't have any answer for you at all.”

    “Sick, isn't it?” Jerry said sounding disgusted.

    “Love isn't sick, Jerry. It might be cruel or vain. But it isn't sick. It's the most honest emotion there is. It's hard as hell to live with sometimes, you don't have to tell me about that part. But it isn't sick ever. It's what makes you you. And there's nothing wrong with you.”

    “Not since I quit drinking, you mean.”

    “Yeah, Rory said something about that. He's proud of you.”

    “Want a ride home?”

    “No thanks, I'll walk. Um, Jer … I'm glad we talked. I needed to tell somebody my troubles.”

    “So did I.” Jerry smiled.

    They both got into their beds tired. Not much tossing and turning that night. Sleep was welcome. Jerry thought about Neil and got the erection he couldn't get with Darren, but he was too tired to worry about why. Darren was hard, too, but he was just horny. Almost having sex with people was getting old. For about five seconds before falling asleep he wondered if a dog could possibly give a good blow job. He closed his eyes and savored the memory of how good Nicky was.

    “Bachelor Number Two was hot,” Jody said as he cranked up the window. The wind felt cold as they crossed the Bay Bridge.

    “You think he can top?” Seth asked. “He seemed ...what? Passive? No … Effeminate? No … I don't know. There's something about him that absorbs energy. He doesn't radiate.”

    “He'll never be as good as you,” Jody said, squeezing Seth's thigh and leaving his hand there. “But he can get it up reliably. It'll probably be a matter of editing. You and Chris both are good at that.” They reached the break in the bridge at Treasure Island and the lights displayed the interior of the car. Seth removed Jody's hand.

    “I was afraid ...” Jody started.

    “Of what, Mr. Eat-em-alive Lawyer?”

    “That you'd … how should I put this? … reject my advances this morning.”

    “Naw, I'm a sucker for any kind of attention.”

    “You got mine, Seth. From the minute I met you ...” Jody put his hand back on Seth's thigh. “Everything about you … is what I've been missing all my life.”

    “You want to be like me?” Seth sounded amazed.

    “No, I want to be with you. I want my kids to meet you.”

    Alarms went off in Seth's head. This is getting so strange, he thought. “Your kids … where are they?”

    “Millbrae … on the ocean side. It's ...”

    “I know where it is. South of Daly City?”

    “Yeah, they live with their mother. We used to live farther south, but she likes it there. Can I suck your cock?” Jody was fussing with Seth's belt.

    “No, I'm not a very good driver as it is on these so-called freeways they have in San Francisco.” He paused to let that sink in. “You can suck me at home, if you aren't in a hurry.”

    “Good. What's wrong with them? The freeways?” Jody ran his fingernail over the cock-bump in Seth's jeans to tease him.

    “They're too small.”

    “We like small things here.”

    “Is that a reference to my cock?” Seth joked.

    “Pull over. Pull over now,” Jody demanded.

    It was an order. Seth obeyed.

    Jody pulled Seth by the arms to face him. “Your cock more than fills my mouth. Your cock more than fills my ass. You are the best sex I have ever known. Have you got that? The best. I don't ever want you to badmouth yourself again. Got it?” Jody pulled at Seth and kissed him forcefully. “I fuckin' love you, Seth. I love you.” Jody renewed the kiss and didn't let go until Seth was gasping for breath..

    When they got to the office they hurried into Seth's bedroom and Jody demonstrated that he could be a more than adequate top. “You love me?” Seth finally asked.

    “Yes. I wasn't ready to tell you, but … there it is.”

    “You barely know me.”

    “My job is sizing up people fast. I'm good at it. Trust me. I love you.” Jody kissed him again. “Very much. You don't love me yet. But you will.” He pulled Seth close. “At least I hope so.”

    “Jody …?”


    “Did you ever wonder what it would be like to have a foreskin?”

    Jody laughed, confused and unsure of Seth's intent. “Actually one of my kids has a foreskin.”

    “Maybe I could ask him ...” Seth speculated.

    “He's eight years old for God's sake. Me being queer was already a huge adjustment. Don't ask him about his foreskin.” Jody didn't know whether to laugh or argue.

    “I could call it a prepuce.”

    Jody couldn't tell whether Seth was joking. He kissed him to find out whether he was smiling or not. He was. “Are you ready to fuck me, Seth? Or are you just gonna fuck with me?”

    “Tell me that part again about I'm going to love you. I need a little mental psyching up. My mega-dick is always ready.”

    “I'm gonna be the love of your life.” Jody rolled onto his back and pulled Seth on top. He kissed Seth's neck, little biting, teasing kisses. ”I'll change your world, if you'll let me.”

    “I'm not saying no ...” Seth felt his cock move into position like it had a mind of its own. He pushed gently and entered Jody. “Ahhh, you're such a sweet fuck...”

  15. #65
    Slut arogersb's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    It's been a while since I checked in with this story, so first off: thanks for the latest installments. I really hope this is not the last, given its use of the title phrase in the dialogue.

    Tom and Heiko are longtime favourites of mine, but I think Wolf may be getting up there with them. Please tell me some gay sex is coming up for him (even if he is to decide he's not ultimately gay, that's no reason to not have him learn from the experience!). Finn and Bo are growing on me too.

    Keep up the good work!
    "It's not a question of gay or straight. It's just a question of love."

    NUKE icons credit to superherofan

  16. #66
    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Another Beautifully written episode, Rory!

    Thanks for sharing it with us.

  17. #67
    Defender of Downtrodden
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    It was a great update. Loving the gentle support our recent graduates are getting from the gardening shop.

    Darren & Jerry were a great coming together and discourse.

    And Seth & Jody, well, two out of three ain't bad, lol.

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

  18. #68
    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Fifteen

    The next morning, when Seth and Jody emerged from Seth's bedroom both drained and refreshed, they found Andrew humming some unknown tune and putting a handful of three by five cards into an order that he kept changing. He glanced up and explained, “My morning calls ...”

    “Why don't you use a scheduling app?” Jody asked. “I have a good one I can show you.”

    “I can just barely operate a phone. Don't confuse me. Besides, touching the cards is kind of a memory device. It helps me remember the client.”

    “The app can include thumbnail photos.”

    “That would just be depressing. I don't actually want to see these people. God!” Andrew engaged in some elaborate eye-rolling. “But thank you. It's an idea for my next incarnation. Would you two like some breakfast? It sounded like you worked up a good appetite.”

    Seth laughed and Jody was unphased. “I've got to go,” Jody said. “Work to do. You're not my only client.” Seth walked him to the front door. “I wish you were ...” Jody kissed him tenderly. “But you're not ...” He whispered for Seth only, “I love you.”

    Seth closed the door and confronted Andrew.

    “I'm not saying anything ...” Andrew commented, switching the order of two index cards and sipping a tea.

    “He says he loves me ...” Seth said.

    “Of course he does, sweetie. I love you. Everybody loves you. Why wouldn't he?”

    Seth got a warm feeling and kissed the top of Andrew's head. “Sometimes you know just what to say … But it's so sudden … And ...” Seth grimaced. “I don't know … He knows I don't love him, but he says – with complete confidence – that I will. And he may be right.”

    “Lawyers are always confident,” Andrew commented in an even tone.

    “And the sex is fabulous ...”

    “I heard ...” Andrew continued to avoid passing judgment.

    “Sorry … I figured you and Adan would be making noise of your own.”

    “Adan always goes home. He like a God-damned mailman. Neither rain nor snow nor my needs … will convince him to spend the night here. He'll be back. Going to pick up last year's catalog for that job we got. It shouldn't be hard to improve on last year's in-house effort. That's what these calls are for. Maybe. I hope.” Andrew patted the cards into a neat pile and poured himself more tea from a pot on the counter. “You sure?” he gestured to Seth with the teapot. Seth shook his head. “Adan doesn't love me. In fact I don't understand out why he even ...”

    “He probably figures the experience ...job experience, I mean … will be helpful … and you're pretty nice yourself, Andrew, when you want to be.”

    “That's my Seth. Master of the half-compliment.” Andrew turned to Seth grinning. “It's eight-thirty. Models like to sleep. Too early to start calling, huh?”

    “Go ahead and call. You would still get the same answering machines at noon.”

    “Adan says he'll take minimum wage, but he wants Chris to do a portfolio for him. We can manage that, huh?” Seth nodded and Andrew continued, “Sethie … We're making a little money again. Have you noticed?”

    “Shhh. You'll jinx it. When does he want the portfolio done?”

    Before Andrew could answer Adan arrived with a set of catalogs in his arms. “It is a collection of catalogs, not just one.” Adan was relieved to dump them on the table. “I look like a school girl carrying these in my arms.” Andrew looked at the way Adan's pants fit and nixed the school girl idea.

    “Probably not … Are they arranged in some system?”

    Not really. Not … hmm … estacional?”

    “Seasonal,” Seth prompted with a little bow to Adan.

    “Thanks,” Adan acknowledged. “Not seasonal and not functional. It's just one thing after another.”

    “Like history,” Andrew noted and Seth laughed, excluding Adan.

    “I don't get it,” Adan said.

    “Arnold Toynbee said something like that,” Andrew explained. “It's not important.”

    “How do you spell that?” Adan persisted, ready to write the historian's name.

    “I-M-P-O-R ...” Andrew succeeded in making Adan laugh that time. A look of affection passed between them. This time Seth felt excluded.

    Adan, when do you want your portfolio shot?” Seth asked. “And can I ask why? The purpose will matter to the photographer.”

    “I want something good to send home to my family. So they don't forget me. Your photographer is very good.”

    Seth wondered how big Adan's family could be that they might forget someone like him. “This afternoon? Would that suit you?”

    “Mmmmmm,” Andrew inserted. “We need to make a few changes first.” He looked at Adan with a casting director's eye. “Just a few changes ...”

    Wolf paraded High Street in the vicinity of Saint Philip's School. One side of his sign board advertised the Girl Scout car wash and the other advertised the gypsy, in case passers-by missed the association. The Girl Scouts themselves were mostly decorative. Their fathers, older brothers, and older sisters were both chaperones and actual laborers. The Scouts in their uniforms practiced other skills like collecting money and eating cookies.

    It was a warm day and the work was real. By midafternoon everybody was glad to see the event over. One older sister stood like the statue of liberty, raising a fist instead of a torch. She took a deep breath and yelled “YES! WE'RE DONE!” At the second deep breath her bikini top popped open in the middle. If she had been bigger in important places, she would have provided an eyeful, but in fact she got hold of things in time and suffered only minor embarrassment. It was cute, though. This would never happen in Frankfurt, Wolf thought; maybe not even in Munich. He shed his sign and drank a lemonade.

    The car wash crew split up and Wolf walked home with Torrey and Candy. At the corner Candy spotted a friend and begged for permission to stay at her house. Torrey promised to come back for her in two hours.

    “I can walk a block home by myself. I'm not a baby,” Candy complained.

    “Two hours,” Torrey restated. “Don't be in the middle of something when I get there.”

    Wolf walked Torrey to her apartment and thanked her for the day. “You're thanking me for letting you work in the broiling sun all afternoon?” she joked.

    “It was fun. I've never done anything like that before.” Wolf smiled a little ruefully. “I especially liked it when ...”

    “... when Carrie's bra popped open. AGAIN! The guys always like it when that happens.”

    “Again? I thought it was an accident.”

    “Anybody can do that.” Candy said and turned away from Wolf briefly and fussed with something. She turned back again and said, “Watch!” She took a deep breath. Wolf saw the most beautiful pair of breasts he'd ever seen. Their size was generous without being huge. The nipples were pink, not dark. And the indistinct tan lines made the surrounding whiteness look like the softness of innocence. His mouth hung open. He looked into Torrey's eyes and then back to her breasts.

    Torrey blushed. “It wasn't supposed to be that revealing.” She pulled the halves of the bra together and fastened the hook securely this time.

    “You're beautiful ...” was all Wolf could manage to say. Slowly, waiting for her to object, he moved closer and kissed her. It was a light kiss, gentle, his hands went to her shoulders to hold her. He backed away awkwardly when he realized his pent-up erection was poking against her.

    Torrey didn't seem to mind. “You want to come in?”

    By the time Torrey needed to leave to pick up Candy, Wolf's virginity was buried a couple times over. “I'm not as good at this as you are,” he admitted.

    “You're plenty, all right, do-it-again, fine with me, Wolf,” Torrey answered. “You know … I was afraid that ...”


    “Your brother and his friend are … gay. I thought maybe you might be, too.”

    “Do I seem gay?” Wolf frowned.

    “No, but the good-looking guys always seem to … disappoint one way or another.” Wolf motorboated her breasts and she laughed. “You're tickling me.” Wolf switched positions and lay his cock between her breasts and pushed them together. He followed with some gentle thrusts.

    “No you don't. At least not right now. I HAVE to go get Candy.”

    “I'll go with you.”

    “You better not. She's real good at figuring out what her babysitter is up to.”

    Torrey's promise to meet Wolf later kept his hopes up if not his cock. He entered the apartment next door and saw Heiko in the kitchen putting away some last minute food buys.

    “Hendryk?” Heiko looked up surprised; Wolf never called him Hendryk.

    “Maximilian?” Heiko echoed the formality.

    “You were worried about me messing things up for you.”

    “More likely messing things up for yourself,” Heiko temporized, not sure where this was going.

    “Well ...” Wolf's face described the term shit-eating grin. “You don't need to worry.”

    “You tried gay and hated it?”

    “No, I tried straight and liked it.”

    Heiko tut-tutted. “So did I. That doesn't prove anything. I was unofficially engaged and the sex was great.”

    Wolf's expression became puzzled. “I thought if I liked straight ...”

    “If you like straight, all that means is you like straight. It doesn't mean you wouldn't like gay as just as much or even more.” Wolf sputtered and tried to protest. “I don't know, I'm just saying ...” Heiko continued, “It's plain logic, Wolf. Think about it.”

    Wolf went to take a shower and Tom came out of the bedroom. “You're fuckin' with him, Heiko. That's not like you. You're always so generous … and accepting.” Tom hugged his lover, figuring it is easier to chastise somebody if you're kissing him.

    Heiko made a face of more or less sincere contrition and went to Wolf's room. “Oh, sorry ...”

    Wolf was naked. “That's ok. What do you want?”

    “About what I said … Don't take that as a reason to go have sex. You can probably figure it out without actually doing it.” Heiko returned to the kitchen and got a smile from Tom. “The kid's got a big schwanz, Tomi.”

    “Like you, dummkopf.”

    “Yeah … so … we were speaking German and you understood it?”

    “Most of it. Not every word … it helps I'm in love with my teacher.”

    “What are we going to tell Darren,” Kevin asked Jeff. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and they had just finished a hot fuck. “We'll see him tomorrow.”

    “Tell him the truth. What else would you tell him?”

    “That we've both turned into tops, insatiable fuck-meisters, hard-dicked bulls that hardly ever ...”

    “That's not true. I liked it when you fucked me. You're a very good cocksucker ...”

    “That's what you said and then you practically burned my ass off. It was like the lube just vaporized. What a scorching fuck!”

    “I thought you said you liked it.”

    “I did. I did like it ...” Kevin admitted.

    “I think the word is versatile. We've become versatile, Kev, leaning a little toward the active role.”

    “Are we gonna be lovers?”

    “You don't love me. Aren't you supposed to be in love to be lovers?”

    “I kinda love you, now that I know you so well. I like kissing you.”

    “You like fuckin' me better.”

    “That's true … So what are we doing, Jeff?”

    “We're doing Darren's homework. We've found out a lot about ourselves. And each other. But we're not in love.” The two young men lay in each other's arms watching the room darken as the day ended.

    “I do like kissing you, Kev. You have really nice lips. And I like you a lot.”

    “But you don't love me. So let's not worry about that part of it. Do you like doggie style?”

    “Giving or taking?”

    “Both. I think sometimes I could come just from getting fucked that way.” Kevin sighed at some secret thought.

    “Doggie's ok, but I like seeing you, you know? I want to read your face, see how you're liking things, and kiss you. I think I come best that way. I like a lot of kissing.”

    “I can tell. You're a good kisser, Jeff.” They practiced kissing for a while as the room got really dark.

    “We have fucked the day away … Are you hungry?”

    “Starving …”

    Sunday night at the student center was quiet as usual. Saint Mary's had dormitories, but the majority of the students were dayhops, commuting mostly from the valley towns east of the Oakland Hills. With maybe fifty empty tables, Jeff picked the one with a guy sitting alone.

    “It's so crowded. You mind if we join you?” The kid smiled and gestured for them to sit down. Jeff looked at his book. “World history, huh?” It was a mandatory freshman course. “How are you likin' it here?”

    “I'm not really a full time student. I'm taking a couple summer courses to get a head start on the fall term at U.C Davis.”

    “Ah … just passing through ...” Kevin noted.

    “I like it though. It's not a factory like the U.C.'s are.”

    “Davis and Berkeley?”

    “And Santa Cruz. I guess Merced is small, but how can you have much of a student life in Merced?”

    “You can't have much here either, but all manner of depravity lies just across the bridge.”

    “Yeah,” the almost-freshman lit up with anticipation.

    “So should we go?” Jeff proposed. Kevin was willing. And Rocky, as the kid was called, couldn't wait.

    “Rocky?” Kevin questioned the name.

    Rocky stopped and flexed his bicep, in a way that invited a touch, but neither Jeff nor Kevin took him up on it. “I work out. That's how I got the name. My real name is Eddie … Edward.”

    They piled into Kevin's aging SUV and left the campus very slowly. “It's the biggest truck with the smallest engine my mom could find,” Kevin explained. “You couldn't roll it if it had only three wheels and did eighty.”

    “Guys,” Rocky said from the back seat. “I'm eighteen. No ID. Can't drink. It that ok?”

    “That's cool. We're just looking for some entertainment.” And North Beach was where they looked.

    “I-H,” Jeff pointed out. The red and black initials resembled the logo of an old truck manufacturer, now fading in memory. “Comedy show. Five dollar cover.” Jeff read the sign. “Five is cheaper than a movie … what do you say?”

    “A glass of water is probably another five ...” Kevin said.

    “Still cheaper than a movie … or the Metreon, if they allow people over twelve these days.”

    “I like the Metreon,” Rocky said as they approached the door to the I-H..

    “Hello, boys,” a husky voice said. “I hope you're here for the show, 'cuz I don't get off until eleven.” The ticket vendor's gender was ambiguous; to the inexpert, it could go either way.

    “Discount for three?” Jeff proposed.

    “Tell you what … your eighth round will be on me.” The vendor winked an enormous row of false eyelashes.

    “We probably won't drink eight rounds,” Rocky said, sounding very young.

    “Keep track, honey. We're open every night.” She collected fifteen dollars. “I hope your ID's are as good as your money.”

    “Uh … Miss ...” Rocky groped for a name.

    “Helena … Helena Hahn-Bosquette. What's the problem, dear?” She took Rocky's hand in both of hers. “You're only thirteen?” He answered that he was eighteen. “Is anybody twenty-one?” That question was followed by silence. She stamped their hands PMD and let them in.

    Another heavily made up employee met them at the bar. “Hi. I'm Istanbulla. Let's see your hands, please,” she requested. After the inspection she asked,” Pepsi or Mountain Dew?” It was a friendly query.

    After they were served, Rocky felt emboldened and confided to Istanbulla, “Miss Hahn-Bosquette said she'd pick up the tab for the eighth round.”

    “Her promise is as genuine as her platinum tresses,” Istanbulla replied.

    “She has red hair,” Rocky pointed out the obvious. He combined dumb with charm and innocence.

    “You're sweet. I like you. Would you like to be part of the show?” Rocky grinned his approval and stepped back from the bar. Thirty minutes later he was on the bar with dollar bills sticking from the waistband of his underwear.

    I'm gonna do it. No, I can't. Yes, I'm gonna do it. Shit! He touched the numbers 925-362- and then pressed cancel. Fuck it. He dialed the whole number. “Neil? It's Jerry. Good seeing you the other day.”

    Neil was friendly without actually saying much while Jerry worked up to his point. It was hard getting to the point. Neil's voice was as warm and intimate as ever and Jerry wanted to keep him talking. Finally he took a breath and came out with it.

    “I'm going to have some of the lacrosse guys over for dinner along with a couple from work, Bernice and Cyril. I was wondering if you and your wife would like to come. Bernice has two little kids, so it won't be fancy or anything … if you feel like it … Really? Great!'

    Jerry gave the details and ended the call. He was so excited he had to run a couple of extra miles to take the edge off. Then he got home and realized he had no idea how to serve food for eight or ten people. He called a restaurant he liked. “Do you do take out?”

    “No,” a man who sounded hurried and harried answered, “but we cater. Minimum party is six.”

    “You cater? Great! Perfect in fact ...”

    “Can you come in to discuss it? I'm available after lunch – around two - any day but Monday. Ask for Steve.”

    Something clicked. Stories from somewhere. Where had he heard of Steve? “Steve? Did you used to give cooking lessons?”

  19. #69
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Another great update, Rory- Thanks!

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    I really enjoyed the update on our assorted collection of boys.

    It's great to be back by the City by the Bay.

    Rocky found a way to "pay" his way at Istanbula's, lol.

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

  21. #71
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Dear reader-friends ... With the new forum software I got some friend requests and I think the requesters all read this thread. I'm glad to post just about anything in public and I'll always PM anybody, but I don't get the point of JUB's friendship option. Plus the links seem to invite compromise. So I'm going to decline the requests.

    I hope, I hope, I hope nobody's pissed off at me.


  22. #72
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Sixteen

    “That's exactly what he said, Paul. What do you think?”

    “Wolf … I don't know your brother, but I'd say he's messing with you.” Paul looked at Wolf in the mirror while applying the makeup that created Zorita.

    “Mmmm, I doubt it. I'm always the one messing with him. If I didn't, he'd never even know I'm alive. It's the only way I ever get his attention.”

    Paul recounted what he heard from Wolf. “So your older brother, whom you have adored all your life and who generally ignores you, tells you to go get fucked – saying it's the logical thing to do – and then tells you he was more or less kidding, don't get fucked - and then you go ask a zillion-year-old gay guy for advice on whether to try gay sex … Am I right so far? And you're planning to make some personal sense out of all this and do the right thing?”

    “I wouldn't say I adore him ...”

    “But you do. He's driving you crazy because things seem to come easily to him and not to you and you think you deserve a little equality.” Paul tried to soften his assessment. “And you do, Wolf. You really do … Plus he can be a nice guy … sometimes … right?”

    “Heiko is always a nice guy.”

    “There you go … enough about him; think more about yourself. As far as I can tell, you are about as good as they come.”

    Wolf picked up his sign board and headed for the door as one of Paul's friends came in. The new arrival took a long look at Wolf as he walked away from the store. “My God, I can't believe that boy is still under your spell. How much do you pay him?”

    “Hardly anything, considering what he has done for my business.”

    “Well … I tell you … if I were ten years younger ...”

    “Ten, Cornie?”

    “...thirty years younger, I'd be so in love with him ...”

    “What makes you think I'm not?”

    “You dog! I knew it!”

    “Not that way … He's like this sweet kid who appreciates me. The rest of the world treats me like a tired piece of furniture that's pushed back against the wall, almost invisible.”

    “Gettin' old is a bitch, you mean. And there's not one damn thing we can do about it, my dear.” Cornie patted Paul's hand with an elaborate version of concern.

    “Wolf had a great experience with a gorgeous girl and his brother told him that doesn't mean he isn't gay, it only meant he's capable of appreciating a woman. The brother all but challenged him to go have some gay sex and then said he didn't really mean it. Now Wolf is confused about what he really feels … Personally, I think he's straight, but he seems determined to experiment.”

    “Wish he wanted to experiment with me ...” Cornie sighed.

    “As I recall, Cornelius, in your day ….”

    “Trouble is, I can't remember exactly how long ago you are talking about. Pre-war? Or post-war? Which war?” Cornie joked, but it was plain he missed his youth.

    “Alright … just for you … and I'll never say it again … you were a fabulous fuck. I couldn't believe you were interested in me. You were the best man I was ever with.”

    Cornie stole a glance at Paul and smiled. “I thought that asshole Tony de Whatwashisname was your big love.”

    “Love, yes; fuck, no. You were the best fuck.” Paul had become Zorita and rose from the makeup table. “Tony was an asshole wasn't he? Why couldn't I see that? It would have saved so many tear-stained pillows.” Then he laughed and said, “Enough of this pity party. We've got fortunes to tell and fortunes to make. I'm raising my prices.” Paul shut up the shop and the two old friends walked west.

    Wolf wandered the other way down Market toward the city center. A guy in a pickup called out, “Sign guy! Where you going?”

    “Union Street.”

    “Hop in. I'm taking Van Ness.”

    It was going to be a hot day so a ride to the cooler side of Nob Hill was welcome. Wolf put the sign in the bed and got in the cab. “Thanks. I hate starting out sweaty.”

    “I wondered what you wore under the sign.” The driver closely checked out Wolf's dark cargo shorts. “I have to say I'm a fan. Love seeing where you show up next.”

    “Thanks. It's fun and I make a little money.”

    “You could probably turn it into something. Have you had any offers?”

    “Lots. But nothing serious and I'm going home at the end of the summer.”

    “That's what I said - about five years ago.”

    “I like it here. Maybe I can come back. My brother lives in East Bay.”

    “Yeah, come back. You're almost part of the city's legend now.”

    “Can I ask … are you gay?”

    “One hundred percent all-American homo.”

    “Did you pick me up to try to … get a date or something?”

    The guy got a little offended. “Hey, I can let you out here if you want.”

    “Wait. No. I … I'm just not very smart about this stuff. Sometimes I can tell when people are hitting on me, but sometimes not … and I never know how to react.”

    The guy relaxed. “Just play it cool and keep looking the way you do. Here's your corner ...”

    “Thanks.” Wolf put the sign back on and walked east. The grade was mostly downhill and the street was crowded with window shoppers. Wolf assessed the looks he got. Some people looked and smiled, recognizing him. Some read the sign and then looked him in the face. Some just looked at him directly, ignoring the sign. Some tried to see what was under the sign. It was hard to figure out who might be gay and who wasn't.

    He got to the boring stretch between the chi-chi shops and North Beach and walked faster until he got back to more of a street scene. At the corner of Union and Columbus he saw two women of about his mothers age, who from their dress, seemed to be in the wrong part of town. Well-dressed in a conservative way, they looked more like Post Street than North Beach. As he approached, one of them remained very striking looking, but there was something off about her companion.

    “Sign boy!” the much more attractive one called out and gave him a pleasant smile.

    “Sign MAN,” Wolf corrected her and waved back.

    “Do you have a flyer for the gypsy?” she asked coyly.

    Wolf pushed the sign out in her direction, offering to let her pick one out of the hopper located approximately where his crotch would be lacking the sign. It was a thrill for some, but not this time. She smiled and said, “You're a rascal, aren't you?” She looked him over. “Would you like a job in the evenings? It would pay better than what you're making now.”

    There was something fascinating and sexy about her. Wolf took the card she offered and said he would call at the time she suggested. He looked at the card. “I-H Entertainment.” There was an address on Stockton Street and just one name: Istanbulla.

    “Thank you ...” Wolf fished for a name.

    “Just Istanbulla,” the woman replied. “What's your name?”


    “Just Wolf?” She spoke directly with a personal immediacy. Wolf hoped she would keep talking.

    “Maximilian Albrecht Wolfgang Aloys von Wittelsbach.”

    “Throws 'Helena Hahn-Bosquette' right under the bus, doesn't it?” the unusual looking companion commented.

    “You will call? Please?” The sound was hopeful. Wolf agreed; he would have done anything she wanted. Istanbulla had her ways.

    Chris was impatient for Seth's arrival. “Have you seen there scenes? Have you seem them?”

    Seth shrugged. “Which ones?”

    “The ones of you and those kids from Saint Mary's. The scenes are amazing. Where did you learn to act?”

    “What are you talking about?” Seth asked.

    Chris sat him down and played Kevin's audition. “You're like Svengali the way you corrupt him. We could actually make something with a substantial plot. Kevin is so sweet and you demolish him and then use the lawyer to finish him off.”

    “That is sounding nothing like what happened. You better show me.”

    “See. My God, you're venomous,” Chris pointed at the screen. It was a trick of the lighting, but there was no doubt Seth was the heavy in the scene. “When he offers to let you fuck him … incredible. Just unbelievable. And then while you're fucking the lawyer, the kid is jacking off in frustration that you rejected him. It's quite … touching.”

    “What? That never happened. The studio was empty. And that part with Jody wasn't supposed to be recorded.”

    “The studio is sound triggered. Anything that moves is recorded.” Chris fast forwarded the recording to the point that showed Kevin watching the Jody and Seth, stripping, and then masturbating.

    “Even Jody's interviews with the guys are dripping with evil. We've got the makings of a pretty damn good flick. More than porn, Seth. Way more. Just a little filler. That's all it needs. And then the two of them ...”

    “What two?”

    “Kevin and … what was his name? The roommate. Kevin shows him how … See?”

    “The little fuckers must have hidden in the studio. I never authorized these scenes ...”

    Seth shook his head. It was great porn, if not exactly ready for the cable stations. “Chris … The other roommate -Jeff - would play well against you, you know? The coloring is right. His size is right. What about it? Does that fit your storyboard plot?”

    “You just won't give that up, will you? I operate the cameras. I don't perform. Not in a long time.”

    “Back Flip Fuck – starring YOU - dollar for dollar, is just about the most profitable porn scene ever made. A lot of its appeal is because of you. Waiting for Larry to flip and fuck you … your anticipation … your trepidation ...”

    “My depredation, you mean. My mother still cries when she thinks of it.”

    “Mine would be selling the rights overseas,” Seth joked. “Which gives me an idea … but that can wait. What I need today is a portfolio. Kind of, but not really. I'm not sure where Adan even learned the word. Just some nice shots of a cute young kid who's interning in the office for Andrew. He wants something to send home to his family.”

    “Interning for Andrew? Aren't there laws against sex slavery?”

    “He's got a scholarship to college. Starts in September, I think.”

    Chris's attitude changed when Andrew and Adan arrived. He took one look at Adan and cameras began whirring in his head. “I can make this guy look gorgeous!”

    Andrew sniffed. “He already is gorgeous. You are just going to record it to best advantage for future generations while Seth and I edit this porn masterpiece of yours.”

    The two pairs worked diligently and quietly for a time. Chris took a series of shots of Adan ranging from almost formal portraits to less posed, candid settings in the studio as well as outside. Adan was a malleable model and responded well to direction. He hesitated briefly but took his shirt off at Chris's request. The rest of his clothes came off even easier.

    “My God!” Chris was in awe. “Your body planes reflect light so uniquely. Lie back and draw up your right leg a bit. I don't want to see so much of your cock. Just a hint … That's right … Now half turn … That's right … Good … No. Too X-rated that way. Can you tuck it in between your legs … No, not to hide it, just make it less … Here … do you mind if I … oh … oh, I'm sorry … Wow! … That's really … Wow! You're big ... Can you make it go down?” Chris stood back and admired the rampant cock, straining upward and half-drawing back Adan's foreskin so attractively.

    In the editing room, Andrew abandoned his skepticism. “You're right. This is hot. How did you keep from jacking off all morning? You know what would be super hot? If we could interleave some of that Attila stuff as if it's what Kevin and Jeff THINK they're doing. We show sweet boyfriend sex with Kevin and Jeff and play off the rough stuff in their heads. That would make the scene with you seem less aggressive. Even if you were a little ...”

    “A little what, Andrew?” Seth let a tiny smile cross his face; the room was too dark for Andrew to see it.

    “Now, Seth, sweetie, you know I love you, but this is a little … how to put it? You've changed. You're not a cute little boy anymore. You're quite handsome and your body has matured. Your approach to sex is more, uh, masterful than it used to be.”

    “”Jody says I'm a hot fuck.” Seth wondered just what else Andrew thought.

    “You are … and you always were … but now, it shows more. Does he top you?”

    “Jody? He likes me to fuck him. You think my dick looks bigger?”

    “I think it's because you're slimmer and maybe you have trimmed your pubes a bit. That's why it looks bigger. Maybe it actually is a little chubbier. You're very handsome.”

    “Oh, no longer 'quite' handsome. Now I'm very handsome.”

    Andrew caught on to Seth's tease. “You know I loved you right from that first day in Alameda, no matter how you looked.”

    “Oh, so I looked like shit back then. Yeah, I always knew it was a pity fuck.”

    Andrew laughed and accidently pressed a couple of buttons. One was marked 'Live Feed” and it presented a different scene. Seth was mystified by the scene longer than Andrew was. “That son of a bitch. He's seduced Adan!” Andrew rose dramatically from his seat.

    “Wait … look … it's not exactly a seduction scene.” Seth watched fascinated as Adan backed away and then did several handsprings toward Chris. “I've never seen a guy with a hard dick like that doing flips.” Chris's voice came through the speaker. “Larry only did that one back flip,” he told Adan.

    The audio came through more clearly. Chris was directing. “Ok, now pretend you're coming out of the flip and fuck me. AHHH! Jeez! Don't really fuck me! Just stick it in a little.” Adan poked at Chris repeatedly, went deep once more and pulled out. Adan's chest was heaving. He closed his eyes and held his cock as it spurted, giving Chris a facial of epic proportions.

    Seth poked Andrew in the ribs. “Yeah! Can't you see it! Cum flying in slow motion. Landing like artillery shells on Chris's face. Music swells.” Seth was laughing so hard he had to sit. “OH JEEZ ….His mother is gonna be sooooo pissed.”

    Andrew saw the possibilities. “Front Flip Fuck?”

    “How about 'Flip Fucked Again'?”

    “Wait, Seth. Whose mother is going to be pissed? Chris's? Or Adan's? We haven't signed Adan to a contract, you know. Better give Jody a call. Like right now.”

    Gale Parker was delighted with his new assistance. Assistance or assistants? he asked himself. Either way, the two boys were way more fun than a Social Security check, the only other thing in his life he really looked forward to seeing. The regular visions of young love put a spring in his step and a smile on his face. His customers noticed it and complimented him.

    “Gale Parker, you look twenty years younger. What is your secret? If you bottle it I'll take a case,” Mrs. Collita commented. The widow of a former mayor of Alameda had been his customer forever.

    “These roses are called 'Love in Bloom' and I think they inspire me,” he answered. “I love having them around.”

    “I'll take two dozen,” she said.

    As Gale boxed the roses, Bo and Finn came in. “Hi, Mr. Parker. Got anything for us to do today?”

    “For a start there's a pile of boxes in the back. Could you smash 'em down and put them in the recycling bin?”

    “You like the roses? Or the rosy cheeks, Gale?” Mrs. Collita whispered.

    “Marian … I'm shocked.” He winked. “Are you sure you can carry these? Or would you like them delivered?”

    She left and Gale looked for the boys. “I've got some deliveries to make. Will you two keep an eye on things?”

    Five minutes after Gale left, Bo's cock erupted in Finn's mouth and they switched positions. Bo didn't hurry. Despite Finn's urging, he sucked gently first on the velvet cockhead and then on Finn's balls. Finn groaned and sat in the chair spreading his legs wide. “Hurry, Bo, before Parker gets back. Suck me, ok?” Instead, Bo pulled up Finn's jersey and licked his nipples. “Oh!...Yeah! ...Oh, fuck ...” Finn hugged Bo's head against his chest as he felt the amazing rasp of Bo's tongue against the tightened flesh of nipples. “That feels soooo ...”

    The tinkling bell of the shop door interrupted them. Finn's shorts were around one ankle and he had a massive erection. He looked panicked. Bo put his finger to his lips and then called out, “Be right there.” He stood and pulled up his shorts. His erection was gone and only a small dark spot betrayed his earlier orgasm.

    “Mr. Parker's making a delivery. Can I help?”

    “Two bags of potting soil, please. Is that $9.98?”

    “I'm afraid that sale is over. But I believe we still have bags for our own use. Would you like two of those?”

    “How much?”

    “Well, these include bloom booster fertilizer. So they cost a little more. They're seven ninety-five each. If that's too much, that garden place in Hayward … right off the 880? … I think they have the same sale going.”

    Six extra dollars beat driving to Hayward almost any day. The customer, however, settled for just one bag. Bo went to the back room and again signaled Finn for silence. He threw a handful of fertilizer into an open bag of soil, shook it, and closed the bag with twine. He gave the bag to the customer and said, “This is Mr. Parker's special formula.”

    “What bullshit!” Finn whispered when Bo returned to the back room.

    “You don't have to whisper. He's gone.” Bo knelt between Finn's legs and tugged at his shorts. “We can finish ...”

    “Better not. That guy scared my dick into noodlehood. I don't think I could get a hardon if ...” Bo's hand put an end to Finn's protests. The resulting erection gave Bo trouble getting the shorts pulled down. Straight cocksucking got Finn off, although he groaned when Bo's fingers sought his nipples again.

    “Where'd you learn that stuff about nipples?” Finn asked as he pulled up his shorts.

    “Nowhere. I just thought it might be fun.”

    “Here ...” Finn said and pulled Bo's shirt up. He gently teased a nipple and Bo gasped, wanting so much more from Finn than a simple lick. Instead he pulled his shirt down and said, “Let's finish the box smashing.”

    They were finished soon before Gale returned. Bo started to tell Gale about his fertilizer sale but Finn said he had to leave and hurried to get home.

    “Really? You got eight dollars?” Gale was surprised by Bo's tale of enterprise. Now that is a price that would make potting soil profitable. A handful of potassium and phosphorus? That was terrific thinking, Bo.” Bo smiled but not as enthusiastically as Gale. “Is something wrong?”

    “No, nothing wrong. I just don't want summer to end.”

    “Who could blame you? You and Finn are having such a good time with each other …” Bo looked up with alarm at the idea that Gale knew all. “Oh, good grief! I'm so sorry ... I guess I wasn't supposed to know about that. Pretend the words were never said. We'll never mention it again.” Gale stole a glance at Bo. “Unless you want to talk about something.”

    That got Gale a bigger smile. “You caught us almost in the act that day in the alley. I guess we should have expected you knew what we were doing.”

    “Just two boys having a good time with each other. Nothing wrong with that.”

    Mr. Parker … Gale … it's not just a 'good time' we're having. For Finn it is, I guess. He just likes the sex part. But for me … I want more.”

    Gale smiled ruefully. “We all hope for more; but maybe Finn isn't ready yet. Give him time, Bo. Same as with flowers, patience pays off.”

    “He's got six weeks. Then we go to different schools.”

  23. #73
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    I'm still trying to "get" the nuanced differences with the new board software.
    I followed you, previously, so I can see when you're online in my Buddy List.
    I guess we still can do that, but "friending" allows people to see your private galleries, if you have one?
    I'm still a bit grey on that.

    (I haven't read the latest post, yet - on my way out the door, will have to wait for tonight.)

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

  24. #74
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    A great update.

    Wolf meets Istanbula - What will Tom say, lol.
    All in the Family - and good money, too.

    Meanwhile, back at the studio - Hot Times in the old town, tonight!

    And in the potting shed - They could add a little Extra Special Protein to their fertilizer mix!

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

  25. #75
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Seventeen

    Wolf opened the door to I-H and saw Istanbulla's unusual friend talking to two young men. Her now-garish makeup went with the lurid lighting of the doorway. “Hello boys, I hope you're here for the show, I don't get off until eleven ...” She spotted Wolf and waved him inside. “Door on the right side of the bar.” She returned her attention to the patrons. “You can call me Lotte Loven, especially if you've got a 'lotta' cash,” she told them in a faintly German accent.

    Wolf found the door to Istanbulla's office and knocked. The discussion got quickly to the point. “Basically, you dance in your underwear and smile at the customers. They give you tips. You've got an appeal that will shine in a place like this. I'm employing you as a part-time bus boy. That avoids all sorts of government and union entanglements that won't help you here. You declare your tips and that's it. Well, almost it. No side deals with the customers. Anything like that has to happen outside the bar. I need to be perfectly clear about this. No hustling.” Istanbulla was playing the friendly but serious business woman.

    “I won't be here for long.”

    “That's what they all say.” Wolf got a little smile along with the cynicism.

    “It's true. I'm going home to Germany in about a month.”

    “Honey, a month is a long-term contract in this business. Let me show you around and introduce you to the staff.”

    The bartenders were Ace and Lonnie. A surprisingly attractive waitress was named Janice. A burly guy with unspecified duties shook hands with a grip of iron. “I'm Frank. If you have any trouble with the customers, let me know.”

    Istanbulla took him to a room at the other end of the bar. “This is your dressing room and break room. Rocky, this is Wolf … Wolf, Rocky. See if you can work out something. The customers like it if the dancers have a bit of an act.” With that, she was gone and Wolf was employed.

    “Hello,” Wolf said formally. “I'm new.”

    Rocky smiled. “I have you beat by one day. I started last night.”

    “What did you do?”

    “Danced in my underwear. Boxer briefs. There's a carton of them over there.” Rocky pointed to a large box next to a half dozen metal lockers. “Made over a hundred in tips. I think the customers are mostly gay. Can you believe that? They tucked the money right into my ...” Rocky pointed at the zipper area of his jeans.

    “You think they're gay? I'd say it's a guarantee.”

    “No shit?” Rocky looked perplexed. “Well, I don't know much about that. I thought they were joking.”

    “Joking about what?”

    “Sucking me off … stuff like that.”

    “Ach.” Wolf now clearly realized what he was getting into. The job no longer sounded like easy money for a couple of hours work. “Maybe I'm not ready for this.”

    “Dude, it's ok. They just talk. Nothing really happens. Frank knocks heads together if it does. I'm back for night two. I'll be back tomorrow for night three.”

    “We're the total entertainment?”

    “No, we just fill in. The real stars are the comedians and the 'women' who sing.”

    “I don't know ...”

    “Channing Tatum started this way. He's doing ok.”

    Wolf didn't recognize the name and a knock at the door kept him from asking. “Five minutes,” a voice shouted.

    “Ok, let's do it.” Rocky selected a pair of black underwear and began changing. His work outs had given him a well-developed build. Wolf picked out a dark gray. “Ready?” Rocky said. “Grab a towel.” They went into the main room in underwear carrying a small towel.

    “No, not that bar,” Rocky said. “This one over here without the bartenders.” The bar Rocky indicated had once been a service area, but now it functioned as the stage with sets of stairs at both ends and a wide stage-runway combination in between. There was a central baffle that concealed some cubby holes for the comedians props. “Put your towel back there. If you start sweating, just dance behind the screen and wipe off,” Rocky advised.

    “Here are our new friends, Rocky and Wolf,” Istanbulla's amplified voice announced. The lights and the music began pulsing. Customers crowded the stage bar.

    “Just let 'em tuck the tips in. Don't let 'em grab you too much.” Rocky's final words of advice puzzled Wolf. Too much? What did that mean? He found out soon enough when a customer tried to pull his briefs off. His dancing was unpracticed but the customers didn't seem to mind. He listened to the comments.

    “I like the one with the muscles.” “I like the one with the ass.” “I like the one with the big dick.” “Oh, baby, come home with me now!” The comments were all variations on those four and were easy to ignore.

    Wolf watched what Rocky was doing and was impressed with how Rocky would dance close to the edge of the stage just long enough to let a bill be tucked into his waistband and then back away. He only moved toward the guys waving money. Wolf tried it and got mauled without getting a tip. He turned away from the intrusive hand and felt a tug at the back of of his waistband. “Sweet ass,” the guy shouted and Wolf got his first tip. He tried it again, dancing sideways toward a guy waving cash. He got a pat on the butt and a five tucked into the side of his briefs. The pat on the butt was a whole lot easier to take than grabbing at his dick. He tried again with a frontal approach and when he got close enough he bent at the waist so the guy could reach only his waistband. The guy was a shy old gentleman who seemed embarrassed to be doing what he was doing. Wolf made eye contact and smiled at him. The guy mouthed 'thank you' and put the money in Wolf's hand. Wolf backed away and tucked the bill into his shorts himself.

    The music and the lights died and Rocky hissed, “Grab your towel and let's go.” Wolf got a few bits of something pressed into his hand as they moved to the dressing room. Inside he looked at hastily scribbled names and phone numbers. One of them included the number $500.

    “Throw 'em away,” Rocky advised. “Frank told me it never works out.”

    Wolf complied as Frank came in the door. “Good work, Rocky. And Wolf, a nice start. That first guy … don't let 'em sample the goods so much.” As Wolf muttered that he'd try not to, Frank got out a notebook. “Tips?”

    They counted their money. Wolf was finished counting way ahead of Rocky. “Seventeen dollars,” Wolf declared and Frank wrote it down. “Fifty-three,” Rocky said and watched Frank record the amount.

    “See, Wolf. It can be done ...” Frank smiled. “A few years back I used to have your job,” he added in explanation. “For the next set … what if you guys danced behind the screen and exchanged underwear? Wear something distinctive, so they can tell what you did.” He shrugged. “I don't know … you could try it ...”

    Rocky looked in the box of shorts. He pulled out a red pair and a blue pair. “What do you think?”

    Wolf looked at the waist band. “I need a smaller size.”

    Rocky chuckled, “Says the guy with the big dick.”

    “Big dick? I thought they were talking about you.”

    Rocky just grinned. “Ok, clothes on. We gotta do some actual work.”

    The work wasn't too bad. For the next forty-five minutes they picked up bottles and glasses from tables and stand-up locations around the bar. Some customers made conversation, but most didn't. Hardworking busboys didn't present the same allure as hot-looking guys dancing near naked on the bar. And nobody recognized 'Sign Guy' either on the floor or on the bar.

    Their second set went better. The costume swap was a hit, although it wasn't really a swap. Because of size incompatibilities they used two sets of underwear and just changed color. It fooled the crowd, though; Wolf could hear a few gasps of surprise when he appeared to dance out in Rocky's shorts. It inspired some lame shout-outs about swapping shorts with the the customers. An added bonus was the customers at the very ends of the bar got to see some of the costume change.

    On his way back to the dressing room, Wolf got more notes pressed into his hand. He threw them away and counted his tips. The crowd had grown bigger for the second set and so had the tips. Wolf made almost sixty and Rocky counted seventy-five. “Wait a minute … This bill is Canadian. Does that count?”

    “It would in Vancouver,” Frank said, “But for the books, we'll ignore it. The underwear swap was a hit. You should keep that going, I think. And then … What if you guys pretend to have an interest in each other? Nothing radical, just share a smile now and then, make a connection.”

    For the third set, they danced close to the center of the stage and Rocky leaned toward Wolf. “Pretend I said something funny,” he whispered. Rocky made a goofy but cute face. Wolf smiled and then laughed. They kept up a little interplay and worked up to the color swap. When they came back out the guys at the bar cheered. “Isn't that cute!” “I think they're boyfriends.” “They're so sweet together.” The tips were the best of the night.

    “How much?” Frank asked as the boys toweled off. Wolf was in the seventies and Rocky kept his lead, making ninety-one. Great, guys. Did you hear 'em talking about you?”

    “Yeah. They think we're boyfriends,” Rocky said with a laugh.

    “So? How bad would that be?” Frank asked.

    At that point Lonnie the bartender came in and said to Frank, “Just stragglers left out there. I'm going home, babe. See you there.” He gave Frank a quick kiss on the cheek and left.

    “Slow night tomorrow. Just two shows. Come in about eight thirty, ok?” Frank left to check out with Istanbulla.

    “Do you get that part?” Rocky asked.

    “Get what?” Wolf toweled the sweat off. “Wish they had showers here.”

    “Get the deal between Lonnie and Frank? I think they're gay.”

    “The deal? I've never tried it,” Wolf answered.

    “Would you?”

    “I don't know. Maybe … but I wouldn't know even where to start. With a kiss?”

    Rocky thought about that. “Well, I can help you out there,” he said. He very deliberately took Wolf's face in his hands and kissed him. He broke the kiss and shifted to a more comfortable position and kissed him again.

    It didn't last long, maybe ten seconds, but it seemed like forever to Wolf and it wasn't just a frat boy peck on the cheek for his drunken buddy. It was Rocky, up close and smelling like a man, kissing him soundly and holding nothing back. Rocky finally broke away and said, “There. How was that?” Wolf was speechless. “I think I liked it,” Rocky said and resumed dressing.

    Once Adan was convinced his real name would not be associated with the video, he willingly signed the contract. “Thank you, sir,” Jody said and brushed imaginary crumbs off the official papers. “We are now fellow porn actors. I'll witness your signature and you can witness mine, if you don't mind.”

    “As long as my family doesn't find out ...” Adan sighed.

    “But I told you, you should assume that they WILL find out. You should assume that your favorite abuelita will SEE the video.”

    “No way. My grandmother lives on the same rancho where she worked all her life and gets to town maybe once a month. It'll be embarrassing if my mentor sees it, but as long as I get good grades, I think he'll understand.”

    “My ex-wife is definitely gonna see me. I'm mailing her a copy. Two copies!” Jody laughed so much he choked on his coffee.

    “What about your sons? The one with the foreskin?”

    “Does everybody know about that? I don't see what's so funny. He can't be the only half-Jewish kid with a foreskin.”

    “Half … like from the waist up?” Adan asked.

    “Pretty smart-ass for a Mexican,” Jody answered with an edge to his voice.

    “Will you two kiss and make up? What if the director wants you to do a scene together?” Seth said sharply.

    “Who is the director?” Adan asked.

    “Me,” Seth said while he tried to read Chris's modified story line.

    “Oh ...” Adan looked at Jody, who by then was sipping more coffee.

    Chris came in with proofs for Adan to look at. “They'll look better on glossy paper, except for these sepia ones. I think I'll use matte for them.”

    Adan paged through the shots as Jody looked over his shoulder. He liked the conventional poses but hesitated when they got into the nudes. “What are you going to do with these?” Adan asked nervously. The nudes were dramatic; they seemed to reveal a lot about Adan beyond just the size of his dick.

    “You could hang those in a gallery,” Jody said in awe of both the photography and of Adan. “You are a beautiful man, Adan. I don't think you should ever be ashamed of those.”

    That comment drew Andrew's attention. “Jody, have you read the clause about models falling in love with each other? It's cause for termination.”

    “What if they fall in love with the staff?” Jody eyed Seth as he spoke.

    “Totally different. That's at staff discretion.”

    “The love part or the termination?” Adan asked.

    “Both,” Andrew answered. Instinctively Adan moved a little closer to Andrew and Jody moved closer to Seth.

    “Yeah, and it's fuck the photographer every time,” Chris put in. “I gotta get a boyfriend.”

    “You're too kinky. I told you that,” Seth said without looking up from his reading. “All these acrobatic fucks you're famous for. I warned you.”

    “You never warned me. You sold me out, that's what you did!” Chris turned to Jody. “I was making a nice living taking weddings, graduations, proms and stuff and Seth here got me fucked by this crazy fireman who literally pounced on me from four feet up ...”

    “And the results got you more money than ten years of weddings, brises ...” Seth observed.

    “Brises!!! I never did child porn,” Chris protested.

    “It's not porn. Is this another reference to my kid?” Jody demanded.

    “All right, children. Time for everybody to go home and fuck,” Andrew said. The temperature is too high in here. Not you Chris. But you can masturbate to the memory of Larry fucking you.”

    “Fuck you, too, Andrew.”

    “Ah, life in a porn factory,” Seth said pulling Jody up by the hand. The four of them left Chris alone in the studio.

    He pressed a series of buttons and a scene came up on the monitor. It was parts of Back Flip Fuck that had been cut. The shot of Larry smiling at the camera started the viewing. He was so cute and young, Chris admitted. So willing but amazingly experienced … and to look so innocent … the whole fuck had really been Larry's idea … the acrobatics weren't what turned Chris on … Seth is totally wrong about that, Chris told himself … it was Larry's innocence that turned me on. Still turns me on … the tape got to the part where Larry was seriously fucking Chris … Chris reached into his pants and massaged himself … he was so sweet, Chris thought … it wasn't all back flipping … he could be gentle … loving …

    As always, at the part where you could see the penetration Chris shoved his pants down urgently. Right after that shot Larry bent forward and kissed him … That was the part that always made Chris cum. “My beautiful boy ...” Chris was close to weeping at the memory, hoping his sperm hadn't landed on any equipment.

    The dinner was progressing smoothly and Jerry began to get over his jitters at being host. The food was good. The chef was a real artist at presentation and service. Most importantly Neil and his wife Lorica seemed to be enjoying themselves comparing stories with Bernice and Cyril about being married on not enough money. That wasn't really true in the case of Cyril, who made more than Bernice actually knew about; but Cyril always seemed like poverty on the hoof and secretly enjoyed giving that impression.

    Jerry was happy seeing Eric and Z again. Z turned out to be the one who had taken cooking lessons from Chef Steve and they had a little reunion of sorts. Steve said he would make a special drink to celebrate. Z almost choked on it, but Steve drank a double with a pitcher still left in the kitchen. It was a congenial crowd enjoying themselves. Every ten minutes Steve would appear from the kitchen with a new plate of tapas and toast the crowd with a glass of his special concoction. Six excellent varieties were eaten with gusto.

    The trouble started when Darren, Rory, and Tim arrived a bit late. Chef Steve apparently heard Rory's voice and recognized it immediately. Wearing his toque at a rakish angle, Chef Steve appeared at the door of the living room with a medium length but sturdy knife in hand. “Assassin,” he hissed at Rory. “Crippler of beautiful boys ...” He patted his open hand with the knife blade. “Cursed of Nanahuatl ...” The words were a little slurred, betraying the number of drinks he had had and his eyes were wild.

    “Steve? Esteban?” Rory seemed to recognize the chef. “Long time ...”

    “He destroyed my life!” The chef wailed.

    “Wait a minute!” Tim intervened.

    “Wait? Did he tell you he cut off my lover's dick?” The chef made some passes at an imaginary target with the knife. “Hah!”

    “I was there. It wasn't like that.” Eric said, getting to his feet.

    “He fucked me and abandoned me with my head stuck in a wall!!” He picked up two pinwheel shaped hors d'oeuvres and hurled them like ninja throwing stars, missing Rory but hitting Lorica who wailed.

    “Neil let's get out of here!” She cried and Neil stepped to her side while Tim moved to restrain Steve.

    “That's your husband? You married a queer?” That comment caused Eric to swing, trying to quiet Steve but he missed. Then Tim held the chef with his arms behind his back.

    “I'm not a queer.” Neil spat the words out. “He's not,” Lorica echoed.

    “Swear to her you've never sucked a dick in your life! Everybody else here has.” Steve snarled.

    The room fell silent for a few seconds and then erupted with a half-dozen people turning on Steve and defending Neil. Steve was dragged to the kitchen. “Notice the punk isn't saying a word,” he shouted while he tried to put his toque back on his head. Confronted by six angry men, Steve hurried out the back door of the house. They watched him go. The first to react was Tim, who called the station house. “There's a drunk driver in a black Nissan on Buena Vista east of Willow. He looks seriously dangerous.”

    The next voice was Lorica's soft soprano. “Neil? Swear to me?” She waited. “Neil?” Her volume rose. “Neil? Say Something!” She lost patience. “SAY SOMETHING YOU SON OF A BITCH!” She cast her glance about the silent room. “I guess I married a queer.” She was crying. “A fudge packer … is that what you are?” She looked about the room for her purse and sweater.

    “I'm not,” Neil answered.

    “Then swear you've never sucked a cock,” she challenged him.

    The rest of the room intervened again. “Lorica, honey, it's been such a weird day ...” “Neil is a fine man.” “He was drunk, Lorica. Drunks will say anything.”

    In the midst of Lorica's search for her things Tim watched the black Nissan slowly pull away from the curb. Instantly a siren wailed and a waiting black-and-white pulled the driver over. “Moving violation,” Tim whispered to Rory. “Much bigger crime. Did you really cut somebody's dick off?”

    “Indirectly ...” Rory replied. “It's a long story.”

    “And jammed his head into a wall?”

    “It didn't really get stuck in the wall. He made up that part.”

    “I love you,” Tim said chuckling. He hugged Rory and followed with a kiss.

    “Well, there you go … They're kissing,” Lorica said pointing at the couple. “Is everybody queer? You too?” she asked Bernice.

    “It was the drugs, mostly; I never really got into rug-munching.” Bernice held Cyril's hand and winked at him.

    Lorica stormed out with Neil following. There was a brief argument on the front walk and Lorica left alone.

    The onlookers commiserated, “She'll cool off.” “Don't worry, Neil.” “Just a misunderstanding.”

    Neil looked directly at Jerry and said, “I couldn't lie about it.” Again the room fell quiet, just briefly, as Neil and Jerry looked at each other.

    Z was the first to react. “Eric, help me with these dishes,” he said, making a clatter with some plates.

    “I'll do that,” Bernice offered. “Cyril, can you find a garbage bag? There's food all over the place.”

    Rory and Tim helped carry the remains of the buffet into the kitchen, and Darren carried glasses, leaving Neil and Jerry alone.

    “I sucked your cock, Jer.”

    “We were drinking beer, Neil. It was a drunken mistake.”

    “No, it wasn't. The beer just made it easier.”

  26. #76
    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Bonus chapter this week. I'm taking a long weekend.

  27. #77
    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Thanks for the double instalment, Rory.

    Some interesting new developments. . . And a drama filled dinner party!

    Have a good one

  28. #78
    Defender of Downtrodden
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Talk about your action packed evenings!
    It looks as if Wolf might get an opportunity to explore the alternate life style with Rocky, at least a little bit.
    And the money's not bad, either.

    Meanwhile, back at the studio . . . Poor Chris.
    I know I'd like to see Adan's portfolio. I'm sure they're all very artistic, with many also being erotic/evocative.
    What a mash up of men and mental images you bring alive!

    And, yeah, the dinner party is quite the episode - you brought back several people I'd almost forgotten about - it IS a small world. If memory serves me, Rory pretty much saved the guy's life, IIRC.

    Poor Lorica. Wasn't she part of the shared room doing it together alone scene?
    I guess not.

    You have us all waiting for the next installment!

    Enjoy your weekend.

    And, Let me be the first to congratulate you, in advance, for your NEXT post - # 1000!

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

  29. #79
    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Eighteen

    Wolf got home late and found Heiko reading, pretending that he wasn't waiting up. “What are you reading,” Wolf asked quietly.

    “Shhh ...” Heiko said, as if Wolf wasn't almost whispering anyway. “Tom's asleep. Die Gordische Schliefe.” Heiko held the mystery novel up for Wolf's inspection. “You keep reminding me that my German isn't completely current.”

    “Your German is perfect.”

    “Not the slang. I've been away too long. Um ...” Heiko didn't want to ask, but he felt he had to. “What have you been up to?”

    “Nothing too bad. Are you sure you want to know?”

    “If you want to tell me ...” Heiko hoped he sounded interested but not snoopy.

    “Dancing in my underwear in a gay club. In fact, not even my underwear. The club provides the clothes.”

    Heiko bit his tongue, stifling his concern. “What's the club called?”

    “It's not much more than a bar. It's called the I-H on Stockton. I went after my signboard walk.”

    “Two jobs … Impressive,” Heiko noted, hoping Wolf would say more.

    “You're not upset?”

    “Papa might be; but I'm not Papa. I've given him a 'batzen' of disappointment. Now it's your turn.” Heiko smiled.

    Wolf grinned. “Batzen is not current slang, Heiko. When have you ever disappointed him? He worships you.”

    “He worships the family, Wolf; he can ignore any of us individually so long as the family survives. I'm gay. He doesn't actually care about that, he cares that I'm not going to marry and give him more heirs. He's bitterly disappointed over that part.”

    “I think you're wrong. He was bragging about you to the rest of the family right before I came to visit. He's very proud of your success in America. And he likes Tom.”

    Heiko saw the earnestness in Wolf's eyes and didn't question him. “Ok, if you say so. I'm going to bed.”

    “Were you waiting up for me?”

    “No, no. Of course not. You don't need a babysitter.” Heiko tousled Wolf's hair and yawned as he left the room.

    My brother's being friendly; my neighbor is fucking me; my co-worker is kissing me; and a two gypsies are paying me. Wolf shook his head at the past few days and took the shower he longed for at the I-H. Lying naked in the cool sheets, with an even cooler breeze coming in the window, Wolf felt his nipples contract. He pulled the blanket up and nestled his head in the pillow. The feel of Rocky's kiss came rushing back; he felt the heat on his lips, so different from Torrey's kiss.

    The end of summer was approaching at breakneck speed. Farewell parties had begun as the recent graduates prepared for the unknowns of college life. Dave gave another party that featured a lot of people, a little drinking, and some cautious nudity. Finn took Raelle and Bo took a girl he had dated somewhat regularly. Nostalgia for their recently-ended high school days, some vague peer pressure, courtesy, gratitude, a horny ache, and a few beers combined to get almost everybody laid. The guys all agreed to take their girls home and regroup at a sports bar on Tilden Way. When they got there, they found it closed and the next closest bar refused to admit them. They loitered, not wanting to go home.

    “What did you do this summer, Finn? Make any money?” Reed asked. He was that guy who was second rate at everything but never hesitated to mock the earnest efforts of others.

    “Bo and I have been working in a flower shop,” Finn answered.

    Reed wet a finger and smoothed his eyebrows. “A flower shop. That's kinda faggy.”

    Bo reacted instinctively and hit him with a closed fist. The blow didn't really hurt, but it knocked Reed to the sidewalk. “What the fuck, Bo?” he complained.

    The loitering and the hint of violence attracted attention. They were told to move along by the bar bouncer who had refused them admittance. The guys broke up and headed home.

    Finn walked with Bo and finally spoke up. “What was that about? Reed was only joking.”

    “I didn't like him calling you a fag,” Bo replied.

    “But a flower shop is not the manliest workplace on the island. And ...”

    “And what?” Bo was grumpy.

    “And I'm suckin' your cock every chance I get. Wouldn't you say that's kind of faggy?”

    “He doesn't get to say so.” Bo was unrepentant. “Let's turn here.”

    Finn put his hand on Bo's shoulder and gave a squeeze. “You're awesome.”

    They walked not on Park Street but on Park Avenue, a parallel street that was much quieter, much darker. Finn took Bo's hand and stopped him. “Let me give you a bj.”

    “Right here?” Bo protested.

    “Yeah, it's dark. Nobody's around. Come on ...”

    “I smell of pussy down there ...”

    “I don't care.”

    Finn sat on a park bench in the shadows and Bo stood in front of him. The exposure of flesh was minimal. Bo unzipped and pushed his underwear down under his balls. Finn complained, “You do smell of pussy.”

    “I warned you.” Bo started to pull his shorts up.

    “I don't care.” Finn took Bo's cock in his mouth and got it wet. Then he licked it all over, replacing the crusty remnants of Bo's date with his own spit. He looked up at Bo. “Ok?”

    Bo didn't answer. He pulled Finn's head back onto his cock and thrust into his throat. Finn's hands gripped Bo's ass holding him steady as he bobbed on the hard shaft in his mouth. They tried to be as quiet as possible, but a few sounds of passion escaped. Eventually Finn stopped still and let Bo do the work, fucking his throat until he came. His long final thrust almost made Finn blackout while Bo stayed balls deep pumping his seed down Finn's throat.

    “Finn!” Bo gasped and pulled the oxygen-deprived young cocksucker up into his arms and a kiss. Several kisses. Then they separated and Bo pulled his pants up. Finn sat back down on the bench and got his breath.

    “You never kissed me like that before,” Finn whispered.

    “You never sucked me like that before,” Bo whispered back.

    They walked another block close to each other, bumping gently into each other as they walked, feeling a warm glow. At the corner, they would part, Finn's house in one direction and Bo's in another. “You're awesome,” Finn repeated. He squeezed Bo's hand and walked away.

    At the office on Monday, Jerry began to apologize for the events at his dinner. Nobody would listen. “You don't owe me any apology,” Darren said. “Me neither,” Cyril added. Bernice just winked and gave him a mini-hug.

    “The food was good … until it started flying,” Rory said.

    “Guys … and Bernice, I don't know what to say.”

    “Say nothing, Jerry,” Rory answered and went into his office.

    “Heiko,” Tom called from his work station, “I guess we missed something.”

    Bernice motioned for Tom to be quiet. “Tell you later,” she whispered.

    “Yeah … well … ok, I tried,” Jerry said. He sat at his desk and tried to interest himself in his work while the others quickly found tasks of their own to dig into. After time and a few coffees, the office resumed its usual pace.

    Jerry ate lunch alone and wished the afternoon would end. Eventually, as always, it did end and he went home wondering if one small martini could possibly make things worse. He turned up his walk and began to climb the front steps. On step three he looked up and saw Neil, sitting in a porch chair waiting for him.

    “Neil … I hope everything is right with you and ...”

    “It isn't.”

    “I'm so sorry that my ...”

    “We've been having trouble anyway. If it wasn't this thing, it would have been another. She felt being a cop's wife basically sucked. And then when she found out I sucked, too ...”

    “Neil, don't say that. It's my fault.” Jerry sat in the other chair.

    “It's not your fault. We wouldn't have lasted another six months anyway.”

    “You want a glass of water?” Jerry offered.

    “Yeah. I'd like that.” Neil kicked at a bird's feather that lay on the porch deck. He couldn't look up. “Fuckin' pigeons ...”

    Jerry put on a clean t-shirt and poured two glasses of water. He added a couple of ice cubes and a slice of lemon to each glass and returned to the porch.

    Neil took a big drink. “See this? She never would have thought of that, the lemon peel. You remembered I like lemon.”

    “Don't feel so special. I always make it that way.” Jerry's attempt to lighten the mood didn't work. “Sooo ... can you two try again?”

    “Maybe. Not with her, though.”

    “Can I help?”

    “We can be friends again, right? Can we do that? Play lacrosse. Have a beer or two. The way we were.”

    Jerry felt a tightness in his chest, a fear of making things worse, for himself, for Jerry … Stay cool, he thought. Don't commit, he told himself. He looked at his water glass, something about the lemon slice looked so pure, uncorrupted, clean, and tart. He felt a puckering in his mouth thinking of the taste. Tell him no. Be tough. “Sure, Neil. Like always ...”

    A look of relief showed instantly on Neil's face; the tension was gone. “Want to go to Nick's in San Leandro for dinner?”

    “You're just playing us along, aren't you? You're never going to have sex with us again.”

    “For sure not today, and tomorrow's not looking good either. But never say never,” Darren told Jeff. “Rene Descartes says anything that is conceivable is possible.” Darren liked calling the Frenchman Rene; it added an intimacy to their connection, despite the four hundred year difference in age.

    That notion was frustrating for Jeff. “I can conceive of being fucked by Descartes, but that isn't going to happen either, is it?”

    “The possibility is remote,” Darren conceded. “Besides, you and Kevin have each other, now. Wasn't that a great discovery?”

    “Kevin doesn't give a shit. If there's nobody else available, he'll settle for me.”

    “Ah, you want love; I thought you wanted sex,” Darren was sympathetic.

    “I did, 'til I got it. Then I wanted more.”

    “From Kevin? Or will anybody do?”

    “Kevin,” Jeff admitted.

    “So demand it. You used to be the bossy bottom. Now you need to be demanding about his attention span.”

    “Attention span? I want him to love me.”

    “Same thing, essentially. If he's thinking about you, he'll love you.”

    “You make it sound so easy.”

    “It is ...” Darren said, mentally carving out an exception for himself. “That's your homework assignment: make him love you. Demand it.”

    Darren drove back to Alameda with the sun in his eyes. Where was the afternoon fog bank when you needed it? “Demand it, I told him,” Darren said aloud. “Should I call Nicky and demand he come back? Like that would work …” He adjusted the sun visor.

    He parked near his house and walked to Parker's to get his landlady some flowers. Parker's always had a good selection. He pick up some Love-in-Bloom roses and walked home. Carolyn was delighted with the flowers; but she would have been delighted if he gave her a dandelion from the lawn – at least she would have pretended to be.

    “Oh, my goodness, I haven't had flowers this pretty since … hmmm … since I stole a bouquet from Mitzi Fischer's wedding dinner. Darren, thank you so much … they're beautiful!” She didn't attempt to kiss him. Their relationship was warm but not touchy-feely. “Let me get you a tea?”

    Darren had nothing better to do, so he accepted. “Thanks, this tastes great.” It was hot, with lemon, no sugar. He bit into a gooey macaroon.

    “All right … out with it. Why the flowers?” Carolyn asked.

    “I just gave someone the same advice that I refuse to take myself. I figured I'd give you something better.”

    “You know, the advice we give others often is excellent, even if the advice is so hard we lack the courage to take it ourselves. Give it some time. You'll find a way to use it. Do you like the macaroons? Monica made them. She uses more vanilla that I do. I think hers are better.”

    Darren was polite but if he had told the truth he would have said Eric's mother's macaroons made him want to have his teeth sandblasted. He declined a second one. “I'm going out for dinner,” he lied again, which meant he would have to go out somewhere. There weren't any signs of life next door, so he couldn't ask Z to go. Maybe Jerry …

    He went to his room and tried calling Jerry but the call went direct to voice mail. The lacrosse game would have broken up already, so he couldn't count on any of them. Maybe I shouldn't have turned down Kevin, he thought. He flopped on his bed and closed his eyes.

    The vibration in his pocket woke him up. It was dark. “Hello ...” He checked the time. Not that late.


    “Nicky ...”

    “I just got in and Morrie's not coming until tomorrow. Do you want to get together?”


    “I'm sorry I missed you in New York, but ...”

    “Never mind that. Are you at the Marriott?”

    “Um, no … the Day's Inn across from the airport. The Marriott's out of our price range lately. I'm really sorry about ...”

    “I'm on my way. What room?”

    “Three twenty-seven.”

    “Forty-five minutes, ok?”

    The traffic on the San Mateo Bridge was light. He made it in thirty-five and ran up the stairs after losing patience with the elevator. Once on the third floor, nervousness hit. He paused in front of three twenty-seven. Do I look ok? What if … Nicky opened the door before he could knock.

    “I thought I heard footsteps. You look great. You want to come in?” Nicky in fact didn't look so great. “Man, I had a four-hour stopover in Tokyo. It was fifteen hours plus in the air. I think the last time I slept was yesterday or was it tomorrow? I never get that date line thing right.” Nicky took a breath and the talk lapsed.

    “How have you been?” they both started and stopped again. It was hard to get a conversation started but that's what inanities are for. Yes, Darren was back living with Carolyn and Monica. No, Nicky sold the house in Rockaway and lived near Chinatown now. Part time courses at Saint Mary's for Darren. Walking distance to work for Nicky. What about dinner?

    “You know, I'm not really that hungry,” Nicky said. “All that airline junk … and no exercise. There's a little coffee bar in the motel, if you want. And maybe we could go for a walk? I ache … need to move.”

    “Lie down … I'll start with my patented back rub.” Nicky flopped onto the bed and Darren climbed on top. He began at the neck, gently massaging at first. Nicky sighed and relaxed under the pressure.

    “Too many clothes. You mind?” Nicky stripped to his underwear and after a considered pause took that off too. He lay naked, face down on the bed. His face may have looked tired, but his ass was still perfect with wisps of curly black hair peeking out of his crack. Darren kept his boxers on and resumed the massage.

    “Feels good,” Nicky purred. “You haven't lost your touch.”

    “It's a familiar back. Nothing has changed,” Darren tried to sound indifferent. He used the palms of his hands on Nicky's rhomboids and lats. His cloth-covered cock was rubbing along Nicky ass. Shit, Darren thought, I'm getting hard. Now what?

    “Is that your cock I feel?” Nicky asked. “It feels good,” he quickly added.

    Darren said nothing and got a giggle out of Nicky when his hands got too close to Nicky's ribs. “Don't! That tickles.” Darren backed off immediately. “I didn't mean stop,” Nicky said urgently; and Darren resumed his pressure on the traps. “Just don't tickle me. You can do anything else you want.” Darren continued the massage. “Anything, Darren ...” Nicky sighed and waited to see what Darren would do. “Anything at all ...” Nicky waited but Darren just continued the massage. Finally Nicky heaved a sigh and said, “Don't make me beg, Darren.”

    Darren bent forward and kissed the side of Nicky's neck. The bulk and pressure of his cock in Nicky's crack was unmistakable. Nicky whispered. “Fuck me.”

    Darren forced Nicky's legs apart and knelt in between them. He kissed his way down Nicky's back and then began licking his crack, pushing deeper with his tongue, wetting the area. He had to use his hands to spread Nicky's full cheeks apart and then he began eating Nicky's' ass, probing with his tongue, pushing, probing again, sucking. Nicky helped by arching his back, inviting more. Darren kept rimming until Nicky's ass was slick and soaking.

    “Don't tease me, baby. Put it in,” Nicky pleaded. Darren lay on top of Nicky; his weight forced the air out of his lungs. With each intake of breath by Nicky, Darren pushed against the resisting asshole. Every breath meant pain, every breath meant more cock, every breath meant more pleasure until Darren was as far in as he could go. Slowly he began the motion, moving his hips, thrusting his cock, crushing Nicky under his weight. It was torture and perfection at once. He increase his pace only a little before he came. He tried to minimize his motions, keeping the thrusts gentle as he pumped out his load, panting on Nicky's neck. He heard Nicky sob once as the fuck wound down, the heat faded.

    Darren worked them up into a kneeling position, keeping his cock in Nicky. He took a gentle bite on Nicky's shoulder, to keep him in place while his arms embraced Nicky's sweaty torso. He reached around and found Nicky's semi-hard cock. It was slick with warm sticky fluid. Just a few strokes caused a firm erection and a few more caused a flood. Nicky fell forward back onto the bed with Darren still on his back kissing every part of Nicky he could reach. Gradually they relaxed as the peak faded. Nicky pulled Darren's hand out from under him and squeezed it hard. He began kissing the fingers, licking the cum off them.

    Darren tasted salt when he kissed Nicky's cheek. “Are you crying?”

    “No,” Nicky insisted even as Darren felt him sob again.

    “You are. Did I hurt you?”

    “Darren ...” Nicky's breath caught in his throat and he inhaled deeply. “I'm not doing so well without you.” Darren kissed a tear off his cheek. “I still love you. It hurts how much I love you.”

    Darren moved off Nicky and rolled him over into his arms. They kissed over and over, touching each other's faces, making love for a time just with their eyes. “I never stopped loving you. Never. Not one minute,” Nicky said.

    “I know,” was all Darren could say. For a while the ache in his chest and throat kept him from saying more. He substituted kisses for words.

    “Are you two done fucking for now?” The rasp of Morrie's voice shattered the peaceful paradise Day's Inn was providing.

    “Morrie! You weren't supposed to get in until tomorrow!” Nicky wiped his eyes and sat up.

    “Wei Fang Gu let me borrow his Gulfstream. I got here before you did. Hello, Darren. You're looking good.”

    Darren pulled the blanket over his nakedness. “Thanks, you too. Nice bathrobe.”

    Morrie preened in the mirror. The red silk was embroidered with dragons that rose up the front and curled ferociously on his chest. “You don't think it's a little girly? With these birds wrapped around my tits?” Morrie didn't wait for an answer; he rarely did. “So I've been having a good time, too. Tin-Tin? Come here.”

    “Tin-tin?” Nicky questioned.

    “Tsien-tsien.” A naked Asian corrected Morrie's pronunciation.

    “Come here,” Morrie repeated and opened the robe to enfold the young man before he got cold. “He was the steward on the Gulfstream. He can make fabulous dim-sum,” he confided to Nicky and Darren. “Can't you, you little Chinese lovebug? Tell the boys, 'Tin-tin love Morrie.' ”

    The young man smiled at said, “Tsien-tsien love money.”

    “No, no, my dear. Morrie. Not money.”

    “Tsien-tsien love Morrie money.”

    “There are still some things to work out,” Morrie acknowledged. “But look at you two! Happily fucking like bunnies again! I suppose there will be no separating you now.”

    Darren and Nicky just smiled.

    “So what have you decided?” Morrie wasn't tipping his hand.

    “I'll move to New York tomorrow, if that's what Nicky wants.” Nicky's face lit up at Darren's words and he kissed him in a clumsy way. Tsien-tsien giggled; but it was probably because of Morrie's cock, not Nicky's misaligned kiss.

    “Very noble. And it would have works a year ago. Instead Nicky's moving here.”

    “I am?”

    “These China-New York trip waste two days in the air every time we do it. And since we – or rather YOU – will need to do it monthly, you better live here. Mr. Gu signed making us his exclusive North American agent.”

    This time Darren was about to explode, hugging Nicky. “But Morrie,” Nicky protested. “Who will do my job?”

    “Remember my nephew ...”

    “Morrie, he's a total dickhead.” Nicky's opinion of the nephew was widely shared.

    “All he has to do is kiss my ass. You'll be doing that rest here.” Morrie got another giggle from the boy sharing his bathrobe. “Tsien-tsien will be helping him.“

    “Tsien-tsien like Morrie money!” the giggler repeated and did some sinuous wiggle within the robe.

    “So, now that we have used the minimum guarantee for Day's Inn, I'd like a ride to the Marriott and you two can resume your regularly scheduled activities. Darren, make Nicky wear a condom for a while. I think he was fucking around in Guangzhou.”

  30. #80
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Another great update.

    Things are definitely starting to get better between Heiko and Wolf - baby steps, but they're getting there.

    And, What happens in a couple of weeks as Summer winds down and our football boys, Bo & Finn, all head to school(s)?

    Jerry and Neil - "back to the way things were" - yeah, right. That's going to be real easy.

    And, finally, Darren and Nicky, together - well, after a bit of time with a condom and some testing?????

    Morrie, the man is all class. (At least he has a bit of a good heart, as long as it doesn't interfere with his needs!)

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

  31. #81
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Nineteenth

    Bo stood alone at the sales counter, doodling on the back of a pad of order forms. Finn was at some family affair to hell and gone in Livermore and Gale was at a show of succulents in Milpitas. Even for a Wednesday walk-in business was slow. He had sold three potted African violets to a woman who was certain kill them all inside of two weeks. She was a receptionist in a doctor's office and didn't know a bromeliad from a broomstick. His doodling was interrupted by the tinkle of the shop bell. A young man entered and walked directly to the palms, where he began sticking his finger into the soil of each pot.

    “Can I help you find something?” Bo asked.

    The bent-over young man looked around and up. “Are you checking me out?” The odd question made Bo's eyes go the the young man's ass. “I knew it. I told a friend the best place to meet hot guys is in a florist's shop.”

    “You think I'm a hot guy?” Bo asked.

    “Now you're flirting with me.” the shopper responded. Before Bo could get angry at the accusation, he added, “Of course you're a hot guy. You don't need me to tell you that. I'm just slightly above average, but you are … a dream walking. That's what you are. How often do you water these arecas?”

    “Arecas?” Bo asked.

    “This palm, I believe, is called an areca.”

    “Oh … water every other day, mist daily – but you can skip a day now and then. And in the winter … um, I'm not sure. Maybe weekly in the winter? I'll check our book.”

    “That's ok. I know what the book says. I just wondered if you did anything different here.”

    “We use Parker's Potting Soil. A special blend.”

    The young man stood up. His trousers had ridden up around his thighs and what looked like a massive cock was outlined in cloth right where a massive cock should be. He tugged at the cloth and the outline disappeared. “A big dick makes up for other short-comings,” he explained to Bo.

    Damn, Bo thought; he caught me looking again. “Would you like a sample of the soil to try yourself?”

    “I'd like a sample of you ...” which made Bo blush furiously. “I'm sorry. I'm being too aggressive, huh?”

    “It's just that ...” Bo stammered. “... that ...”

    “If I took your hand ...” The young man took Bo's hand. “... and put it on my cock ...” He pulled Bo's hand against his crotch. “... how would you react?”

    Bo reflexively squeezed the cock and felt a growing firmness. He blushed again. This guy owns me, he thought; I couldn't stop him if I wanted to. He gasped when the young man gave him a squeeze back and then felt oddly abandoned when the young man stepped away, breaking contact.

    “Unfortunately, I have places to go and people to see. I'll give you my card … you can call some night after six if you want.” The bell tinkled again as he left.

    Bo got a drink of water and waited behind the counter until his jitters passed. He had never met anybody like that guy. He wasn't nearly as cute as Finn; he was not athletic at all, in fact he was a little skinny; but there was something in his eyes that could hold people's attention, something fascinating that let him get away with outrageous conversations. Finn looked at the card and put it in his pocket. For something to do, he misted the palms and then returned to his doodling.

    Gale returned from the show with ideas for selling more succulents. “They're easy care, almost impossible to kill, and the varieties are infinite. People like collections of them.” He looked at Bo's doodle. It read 'Finnbarr' in elaborate lettering surrounded by fanciful scroll work. Bo ripped the page off the pad and balled it up. He pantomimed a jump shot and hit the trash basket from about ten feet.

    “Nice shot.”

    “He thinks I'm awesome. That's what he said, awesome.” Bo shot a look at Gale.

    “That's good, isn't it?”

    “I guess … I'm going home.”

    “Night, Bo.” Gale retrieved Bo's doodling from the trash and carefully smoothed it out. It was worth saving.

    Wolf wondered about Rocky's kiss as he walked down Stockton Street toward the bar. It had seemed both passionate and detached at the same time, as if Rocky was testing himself, as if Rocky's uncertainties matched Wolf's own. Would I 'do it' with Rocky? Do what, exactly? He had seen Torrey earlier in the day; Torrey kissed him while Candy was out of the room; her warmth promised more to come. Friday, she promised specifically. Rocky hadn't promised anything.

    Istanbulla saw Wolf come in and signaled him. “Wolf, some paperwork ...” Inside her office she gave him the W-4 tax form.

    “What's an SSN?”

    Istanbulla looked at Wolf to see if he was joking. “You're an illegal alien?”

    “No, I'm here as a tourist. I have a visa. Nothing illegal. I'm German.”

    “You said you were going back to Germany. I thought it was part of your story … like the accent.”

    “I'm going to the University of Freiburg in about six weeks.”

    “I'm so sorry, Wolf. You can't work here on a tourist visa.”

    Frank entered the office rubbing the knuckles of one hand. “Helena sure had her bosquette full at the door. How do we attract drunks so early in the evening? Izzie, have you seen Rocky?”

    “No. And Wolf can't work.”

    “Then we got no show. What Wolf's problem?” The problem was explained. “Paperwork, screw that.” Frank dismissed the entire federal apparatus. “So we call it Amateur Night. He won't be an employee – just a volunteer from the audience.”

    “Who's going to bus tables?”

    “Light crowd tonight. You think you and I could handle it? Ace can run the bar while the show is on and Lonnie can dance with Wolf.” Frank gave Wolf a friendly grin. “No messing with Lonnie, Wolf.”

    “Lonnie's gonna be unhappy,” Istanbulla commented.

    “Not when he sees you bussing empty beer bottles. We're all in this together.” Frank, who never discussed his ownership of an interest in the business, felt the problem was solved.

    On the way to the break room Wolf asked, “What about the comedians and the 'ladies'? Where are they?”

    “They're only on Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The other nights it's just you boys. Ok, here goes … Lonnie? Guess what? Have I got a job for you!”

    A few minutes later Lonnie joined Wolf in the break room and put on a set of underwear. He stood next to Wolf and looked in a mirror. “Next to you, I look forty.” Lonnie pawed at his neck, trying to rub away some defect only he saw.

    “They won't be looking at your face,” Wolf suggested.

    “If you smile like that, they won't be looking at me at all. I haven't done anything like this in … a long time. The body's ok, I guess.” Lonnie was being overcritical of himself.

    “Wow! Sorry to be late.” Rocky burst into the break room and began changing. “There must have been a jumper on the bridge. Traffic was backed up to Sacramento. Took forever to get here.”

    “Thank God!” Lonnie shouted, put his clothes back on, and happily returned to bartending duties.

    “You should take the BART. No traffic problems,” Wolf suggested.

    “I did take the BART. I got involved with a couple of guys at school and lost track of the time.”

    “Involved? Playing games?”

    “You could call it that, I guess. Should we do the same stuff as last night?” Wolf nodded and Rocky winked. “Let's go, partner.”

    The crowd in the bar was light enough that it was individuals, not a crowd at all. Wolf couldn't help making eye-contact with the customers, increasing the creep-factor by an order of magnitude. When they danced behind the screen to change their shorts, he said to Rocky, “Ugly tonight.”

    “Play up the boyfriend act. Maybe that will cool 'em down.”

    At the music's end, Wolf and Rocky stood close together and approached the edge of the stage for a final shot at cash. Rocky put his arm around Wolf's shoulders. That got applause but no money.

    “You two lovers?” a patron called out.

    “Just friends,” Rocky answered and jokingly kissed Wolf's cheek.

    “Awwww ...” the crowd responded. One man tucked a couple of tens into their waistbands.

    Frank met them in the break room. “Numbers?” he asked. “That sucks,” he reacted when they gave him numbers in the twenties. “Guys, um, Istanbulla wasn't crazy about the kiss. She didn't say no, exactly, but she doesn't want things getting too, you know, graphic.”

    “It doubled our tips,” Rocky challenged.

    “Yeah, ok, I'll tell her that.”

    “Frank … if it's amateur night, what if we invite the customers onto the stage? For a price...”

    “Wolf … you may have something … if we can handle it.”

    Frank announced Amateur Night at the next break and challenged the crowd to dance on stage. “Remember our guys work for tips. Fifty bucks will get you a dance. So who's ready? Nobody? Nobody wants a chance to shake it with the best?”

    After some encouragement from their friends two guys agreed to give it a shot. They were middle aged but in fairly decent shape and didn't disgrace themselves in their underwear. For the next set, two new guys from the audience were much lower down the food chain. Even their underwear was ugly, but they were willing and fifty was fifty. The third pair were a disaster. Rocky's partner was drunk and could barely walk, let alone dance. The first time he fell, Rocky helped him up. The second time he fell he couldn't get up and pulled Rocky's shorts down in the process, ripping one leg. Rocky repaired his attire as best he could and went behind the screen for a costume change, while Frank and Lonnie disposed of the drunk.

    “Ok, so that wasn't too great,” Frank said in the break room.

    “But we each got a hundred and fifty,” Rocky noted.

    “Yeah, but it kinda lowered the tone, as Istanbulla put it.”

    “We're strippers. How much lower can it get?” Rocky had a point.

    “You don't strip. You cover up just as much as you would at a gym – minus the t-shirt. Izzie doesn't want to turn it into lap dancing. That gets you a whole different kind of attention from the cops.” Frank's argument sounded reasonable to Wolf, who just listened.

    “Yeah, well, a hundred fifty a set is the most I've ever made,” Rocky pressed.

    “Try escorting, if you're looking for cash. We're not going to change the rules here.” Frank was firm but friendly.

    “Escorting ...” Rocky mulled the idea over.

    “I was kidding, Rocky. That's a whole different … life. Not a good one; and I'm speaking from experience. Business has picked up. Since you're not bussing tonight, we're gonna do a third set, ok?” Frank left.

    “Escorting?” Wolf questioned when they were alone.

    “It's what they call prostitution,” Rocky answered.

    “Do you need the money that much?”

    “No. I don't need the money at all. But it's kinda cool, getting paid the way we do. I've never done anything like this before, and it's a turn-on, you know?”

    “A turn on. Yeah, I guess. It's naughty.”

    “Naughty? It's hot!”

    Their third set was a repeat of the first set and not nearly as profitable as dancing with the customers. In the break room afterward, Rocky was pumped. “Don't you feel it? Man, I get so turned on by this.” He was dancing to some private fantasy. “The way those guys stare at me … Makes me want to ...” He grabbed Wolf and kissed him again, like the night before. Wolf tried to pull away but Rocky held him. And then his hand moved down Wolf's body and slid into his underwear.

    Wolf reacted violently, shoving Rocky away. “Keep your hands off me!” he warned.

    “Chill, dude. Just messing with you ...” Rocky said. He dressed quickly and left.

    Wolf sat on a hard wooden chair, bent forward, trembling from the adrenaline rush, feeling angry and violated. He also had an erection so hard it hurt.

    “Flip Fucked Again” was one of those videos that leave people with their mouths open. It was barely longer than a minute so Seth priced a viewing at ninety-nine cents. In it's first week it took in over three hundred thousand. The setting was a locker room. It showed Adan doing hand springs at normal speed and then in slow motion, approaching the bent over, naked Chris, dressing in front of his locker. The slo-mo editing made the penetration look like a seamless part of the final flip. The penetration was repeated in slow motion from various angles, showing Adan's look of delight and Chris's looks of astonishment, pain, and then ecstasy. The final shot was Chris spurting cum.

    “You think Adan's grandmother has seen it yet?” Seth asked.

    “I don't think so. Mexican revenues were fairly light, although they were building by the end of the week,” Andrew calculated. “I wish the long scene with Jeff and Kevin was doing as well. We'll be lucky to make twenty thousand on it.”

    “Give it a chance. I bet it's a slow but steady seller. What did Adan think?”

    Andrew smiled at the memory. “He spent the night for the first time.”

    “Jody wants to try something on a trapeze. Can you see ME on a trapeze?” Seth laughed.

    “Sweetie, you'd look great on a trapeze.” Andrew suppressed a laugh.

    “His ex-wife is trying to sue him for defamation. She's horrified by his porn appearance.”

    “She watches gay porn?”

    “He sent her several CD's. One a day for almost a week. Told her one night with me was better than five years with her.”

    “Sweetie, you know I love you, so tke my advice and don't get too involved. Neither one of them sounds stable. You just never know ...”

    “He's counter-suing to get the kid circumcised.”

    “When does he have time to work for us? You know, maybe that trapeze idea might work. Not the trapeze itself, but some kind of follow-on of an athletic nature. Do you think Andy Roddick's serve is powerful enough to drive a ball up somebody's ass?”

    “Andrew, our workmen's comp rates would go through the roof if we tried that. Besides I don't think Roddick would do it.”

    “He's not winning much on the court lately. What about a synchronized diving fuck? No? Naked relay racing?”

    “Put the sports section down. We need to do a fashion shoot today. No sexcapades.”

    Andrew gave Seth a lingering hug. “You are the best possible partner I could ever have.”

    Z got home from his fashion shoot with Andrew and stopped in the front doorway. He could hear Monica talking to Eric. Lecturing Eric was a better description.

    “You're not paying enough attention to Z, Eric. He's home here lots of nights by himself and when you do come home, you spend half the weekend sleeping.”

    “Mom, you don't understand.”

    “I DO understand. I'm the one with two marriages down the drain.”

    “Dad died. You two didn't split up.”

    “We didn't have a chance to. But it was headed that way. And I'm telling you, you need to be a lot nicer to Z or you're going to lose him. And you'll never find anyone like him.”

    “He understands about school ...”

    “Mark my words, Eric. Pay attention to him or ...”

    Z slammed the front door and called out, “I'm back!”

    Monica was red-faced and quick out the door. “Z, you look wonderful. Good shoot?” She was gone.

    “She thinks I'm neglecting you,” Eric said, taking Z into his arms. “I don't mean to.”

    “I know. Nobody ever breezes through medical school,” Z said.

    “One more year. Can you stand it?”

    “I can if you can.”

    “Was the shoot tiring?”

    “No. It was very professional. No tempers. No screw-ups. Just a lot of changing clothes. Andrew had us pretending to be a flash mob. Little dance steps. It was ok. I bet it will look good. He's actually pretty talented.”

    “Have you seen Flip Fucked Again? All the nurses were watching it.”

    “Flip Fucked ...what?”

    “Let's go look. It's pretty funny.” It was more than funny. It was inspirational. They spent the rest of the afternoon trying moves of their own.

    “Am I neglecting you, Z?” Eric asked.

    “A little. I'll survive,” Z said with a kiss. “I miss you a lot during the week.”

    “I forget how much I need you, until I get your cock in me. You are the best fuck …. I come better with you than ...” Eric fell asleep.

    Since the disaster with Lorica, Jerry and Neil ate every night at Nick's in San Leandro. There were always either off-duty cops or programmers pigging out to hang out with. Neil could eat the contents of a garbage truck every night without gaining an ounce. Not so with Jerry. He carefully limited himself to one beer but the food was putting pounds on him. A side benefit was it gave them something trivial besides the Oakland A's to talk about.

    “I gotta get back to running,” Jerry announced as they drove back from the sixth consecutive night of Nick's Mexican combination platters.

    “What about the lacrosse game? Do they still play? I need something more goal-oriented, something more competitive,” Neil countered. “Plus it's cheap. That armor-plated bitch wants lifetime support from me. Thank God there was no kid involved.”

    “Why do you call her that? She didn't seem ...”

    “That's what her name means. Lorica means armor in Latin. Even her father called her that. Ok, not the 'bitch' part, but I don't think he liked her much either. I should have known ...”

    “Don't be so hard on yourself. You couldn't have known how it would turn out.”

    “I married her for the wrong reasons. I was getting close to thirty, feeling desperate ...”

    “Wow! Is that a fire at the airport?” They were driving down Doolittle and Jerry was glad to change the subject.

    “Just training, I think,” Neil answered. “Every couple of weeks that same plane catches fire. It better be training or something is seriously fucked up.” They got to the golf course and Neil changed the subject again. “I'm working nights next week. Leave me notes if you want me to do anything.”

    “That's ok,” Jerry said.

    “No, I'm serious. Stuff like cleaning or shopping … I feel like I'm a sponge just sleeping at your house. I'll start looking for a place this weekend.”

    My house, Jerry thought; it used to be 'our' house. “No rush. Figure out what your finances are gonna be like after the settlement with Lorica.”

    “That could take weeks ...”

    “No rush,” Jerry echoed. “The company is giving away A's tickets. You wanna go on Sunday?”

    “Sunday's a good day to look for an apartment,” Neil answered.

    “Yeah, but the market's soft; there are lots of apartments around. Plus they'll be on the road for ten days after that. It's the last chance to go for a while.”

    “So tempting … and your company does pass out great seats ...”

    “I'll get two tickets, unless you want to ask some guys from work. I could get more ...”

    “Two's fine,” Neil answered.

  32. #82
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    I am so glad I put posts on this on my e-mail notify list. Made for a nice distraction today when I checked my e-mail over the lunch hour.

    Bo's being flirted with, in a BIG way, while minding the store, while doodling about someone he obviously cares a great deal about. What will our Gale do with the sketch?

    Und Wolf und Rocky - what is happening there. He wondered what Gay would be like, but when Rocky got a bit too forward, he really freaked out. That painful point of pensive ponderings and gut check break stomping. Then there's Istanbulla trying hard to stay on the good side of the law - I wondered if that whole W-2 thing was going to come back to haunt Wolf. What about using Heiko's - he's working legally in the states, what's a little passing of the Social Security Retirement Fund to your big bro?!

    Seth and Andrew's "short" is quite a hit at the attractive price of $0.99/view Over $300K?!!! That's a respectable gross for 1 week!

    Poor Eric. He tries SOooo Hard. He and Z are the perfect couple, except for the Med School work load - and Mamasan is merciless. I understand where she's coming from, but I think Z understands. Poor baby, some passion and passed out cold.

    And then there's Jerry and Neil. At least Jerry finally got a "2's fine" out of Neil. Oh that he got a "it's good to be back home, I love you, I was a fucking idoiot for not realizing it, earlier!" out of him.

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

  33. #83
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Twenty

    “Wolf, do you want to go to Tahoe with Tom and me for the weekend?” Heiko had to explain the details of the offer. “It's like Garmisch-Partenkirchen, with better food and worse beer. Rory and Tim have rented a huge cabin and they invited you, too. Fishing, hiking, mountain climbing ...”

    It was tempting, but Wolf had work and a competing offer that implied sex with Torrey. He declined even before he realized that he would have the apartment to himself.

    “There's more to America than San Francisco streets. You're missing a lot,” Heiko said.

    Not as much as you think, was Wolf's silent response. “I told the gypsy that I'd advertise for him. It's his last big weekend of the summer and I figure a little more money won't hurt.”

    “Ok, it's up to you. Papa would be happy to see you pick work over play.”

    “Mmmm. You and Tom enjoy yourselves. You have that China trip coming up in September. And right now I'm dead tired.” Wolf showered and went to bed. He needed time alone to think.

    In the next bedroom, Heiko said to Tom, “Wolf has grown up a lot this summer. It was good for him to be here, almost on his own.”

    Wolf's thoughts were much less settled. He touched me! And I must have liked it! I've never been so hard! But … What is next? I'm definitely not attracted to Rocky. I mean, am I? He tried to picture Torrey and Rocky next to each other. Which one would he chose? He didn't go immediately for either. And then in his head, Torrey and Rocky turned to each other. Rocky's hand slid into Torrey's underwear just the same way as … Wolf's erection returned. He held himself and felt the heat, the pressure. He could come so easily. One hand held his cock, the other cupped his balls. No, he decided. He got up, went into the bathroom, and brushed his teeth vigorously, willing his erection to go away. A splash of cold water helped. He returned to bed. How will I ever get to sleep, he wondered. Lying on his side helped.

    The next thing he heard were the noises of Tom and Heiko leaving for Tahoe. It was morning, early though; the sky was very gray. He heard the door close with finality and got up alone in the apartment. Well, almost alone. His hard-on accompanied him to the balcony where the cold was determined to kill one of them. His penis wilted first, but it was close. It was the cold cement on his feet that did it, he decided; the ache in his feet was cured by a hot shower. He dressed and hustled to Park Street for some breakfast. While he waited for coffee his phone buzzed. “Candy has ballet. I'm alone all AM.”

    He texted back, “My bro & bf gone 2. B back in a few with bagels and coffee.” He hurried back to the condo and barely got the coffee out of the bag when he heard the knock and let Torrey in.

    “I saw you on the balcony this morning. You looked like you needed company,” she teased.

    The progress from doorway to bed was simple and direct. The sex for both of them was much better than their first time. It filled most of the morning. Wolf's capacity almost matched Torrey's eagerness. She would have gone a fourth round, if he had been able.

    After Torrey returned to the apartment next door, Wolf lay exhausted in the most pleasant way. His dick stung from the effort. His mind was soothed by the scent of their sex, the smoothness of the sheets, and the quiet of the beachfront as noon approached. He slept with a smile on his face.

    Jeff was disappointed that his porn adventure hadn't led to more of an improvement in his sex life. He assumed that a week after the scene hit the Internet there would be a line of guys at his door. He saw no line at the door after his last class, just Kevin inside.

    “Are we gonna fuck or do you want to go eat?” Jeff asked. He dropped his backpack on the long desk they shared. “I could go either way.”

    “That's why I like you, Jeffie. You're always so up for anything. Torn between the dazzling prospect of getting fucked by me and the gustatory allure of the cafeteria …”

    “Fuckin' English major.” Jeff sneered in mock disgust. Their affair of the heart had peaked twenty minutes after it began. The heat was less already but the affection was greater. “Give us a kiss, big tits ...”

    “Big tits?” Kevin pulled his t-shirt tight and looked at himself. “Am I getting man boobs?”

    Jeff flopped on the bed next to Kevin. “No. But your nipples are standing out.” He teased the nearest nub with a finger. Kevin squirmed under the touch. Jeff made good on the kiss as he ran his hand under Kevin's shirt and pressed his groin against Kevin's thigh. “I'm leanin' more toward the fuck option, Kev.” He pulled their interfering t-shirts off and nuzzled into the softness of Kevin's neck.

    “Shit,” Kevin complained when he heard the knock.

    Jeff got up and looked down at his handiwork. Kevin lay on the bed with an obvious erection in his pants. Jeff poked at the front of his own jeans to smooth things out and opened the door. “Rocky!”

    “By any chance, do you want to go back to that bar on Stockton tonight?”

    Kevin groaned and rolled over to hide his arousal. “Dude, couldn't you have texted?”

    “I guess, but it's complicated ...”

    “Of course it is. So is coitus interruptus.” Kevin groused.

    Jeff sat on the bed and patted Kevin's ass. “Sit,” he said to Rocky. “Explain.”

    “The last time we went and I danced … well, I got invited back to dance some more ...”

    “You got raped and now you're pregnant?” Kevin suggested, earning a slap on the butt from Jeff. Jeff left his hand in place, warning Kevin to stop.

    “So now I'm dancing with this guy … and I think I'm falling in love with him. Last night I touched his cock and he freaked. I've never done much … ok, I've never done anything with a guy before … well, ok, a little, but ...” Rocky was having trouble with his story.

    “You want us for chaperones?” Jeff asked, while squeezing Kevin's butt to keep him quiet.

    “No … I was hoping if you met him you might be able to guess if I have a chance. The guy seems interested … kind of ... but not really. We spend a lot of time almost naked and ...” Rocky threw up his hands. “I don't know what I'm talking about. I shouldn't have bothered you.”

    “No, that's alright, Rocky.” Jeff was interested. “We can go with you.”

    “Yeah, Rock … if you could give us a few minutes, say, a half hour ...” Kevin suggested.

    “Sure ...” Rocky left quietly.

    “Now that he's gone … grease up, dude. I'm so ready!” Kevin rolled onto his back and began unfastening his jeans. Jeff was out of his clothes just as fast and squirted some lube onto his cock. “Wait,” Kevin said. “I'm planning to fuck you.”

    “Kevin! You know how I like to top first. When we get back tonight you can fuck me.”

    “Dude. Look at this thing!” Kevin pushed his cock toward Jeff, accentuating its length and rigidity. “I'm dripping already.”

    “I'm not ready, Kev. I'd need to shower and … you know … get ready ...” Jeff lay on the bed next to Kevin. He pressed his erection against Kevin's side. Kevin turned toward him and their cocks rubbed together.

    “That is a sweet dick,” Jeff said, taking Kevin in his hand.

    “Bigger than yours,” Kevin said, holding their shafts together.

    “Bull shit!” Jeff answered. “You aren't holding 'em right. And they're all slippery.” He straddled Kevin, aligning their cocks as much as he could. “See. I'm bigger.”

    “Just teasing you,” Kevin said as he pulled Jeff down for a kiss. The kiss persisted and Kevin held Jeff tight against him and rolled them over. From that new position, it was easy to press his advantage. He was half-shaft into Jeff before Jeff knew what was happening. “Please, baby. Don't fight me … I gotta ...” Kevin was in all the way and pumping.

    Jeff was annoyed but didn't resist. “Slow down, at least,” he complained and Kevin complied once he realized Jeff wasn't going to fight him. “Asshole ...” Jeff added and slapped Kevin's ass hard. “You like that?” he asked hopefully.

    “No, quit it.” Kevin increased his pace and came quickly. Once he was done, he relaxed and rolled off. The smell of their sex filled the air. “When did you last take a shit?”

    “I told you I wasn't ready. How about sucking me off, at least?” Jeff slowly stroked his cock waiting for Kevin to take over.

    “Mmmmnnn ...” Kevin didn't sound too interested.

    “Then get ready. You're getting fucked.” Jeff rolled Kevin face down and forced his legs apart.

    “Jeff, you know I can't handle it after I cum. It hurts … No, don't! Ah! AHHH!” Kevin was gasping for breath. He tried twisting and bucking, but he couldn't dislodge Jeff's cock.

    “Lie still and take it like a man,” Jeff ordered. “You're screaming like a girl.”

    Kevin wasn't really screaming at all; but he did lie still and tolerate the fuck. The pain abated but there was no pleasure in its place. He just relaxed and felt his asshole loosen as Jeff pumped slowly, so slowly, too slowly. “Hurry up, ok, Jeff?” It sounded like a plea. A reasonable plea. A few strokes later he heard Jeff's breath stop and his motions became irregular; then came the groans and spasms of orgasm. Then Jeff turned to dead weight on his back, crushing the breath out of Kevin. “You done?” Kevin gasped.

    They separated. “Are we just gonna rape each other from now on?” Kevin asked.

    “Not our finest hour, huh?” Jeff asked back. “Maybe a schedule ...”

    The knock on the door was punctual. They hurried into their boxers before opening the door. Rocky was ready for a trip to the city. Kevin and Jeff needed some extra time.

    The difference was immediately obvious. Adan's innocence was gone. Even the way he made love to Andrew was almost perfunctory. Yes, he pressed all the right buttons and Andrew came spectacularly, shooting cum onto his own face; but Adan wasn't into it.

    “Your grandmother saw Flip Fucked Again?” Andrew asked.

    “The whole pueblo did,” Adan said quietly.

    “And now you're disgraced?” Andrew rubbed his back hoping his physical touch would soothe the mental pain.

    “No. Yes. Maybe. They wanted to know how much money I made. That was all they asked. '¿Cuánto se gana?' all my grandmother's friends asked her and that is what she asked me.”

    “What did you tell her?”

    “The truth.” Adan was disconsolate.

    “We're giving you a bonus. The scene is very popular.”

    “People will know about it at school, won't they?”

    “Yes, the students. Probably the professors.” Andrew gave Adan's shoulder a reassuring kiss.

    “I think if people knew you, they wouldn't think so badly of me for doing it. You're very nice to me, Andrew.”

    “How do you know they think badly of you? You said the only comment was about your earnings.”

    “I think badly of myself. Didn't you think badly the first time you ...”

    “I don't remember, to tell the truth. I did fall madly in love with the first guy who fucked me and made a fool of myself over him, but that's different.”

    “It's just all out there. I feel so exposed,” Adan said. “And I don't know what to do about it.”

    “What's all out there? That fact that you're a healthy young man? That you're great looking? That you like sex?”

    “The homosexual part,” Adan added so quietly Andrew could barely hear him.

    “If you want to pretend you're straight, you can. Lot's of straight guys do gay porn.”

    “What do I tell my mentor ...” Adan had no idea how to explain things to his mentor.

    “Who was the first guy you had sex with?” Andrew asked.

    “My mentor,” Adan admitted.

    “So doesn't he already know?”

    “Yes, but … we never talked about it. It was lpart of my education, not part of my life.”

    “Weird relationship,” Andrew commented

    “I know, but ...” Adan was unconsoled.

    In the next room, Seth couldn't believe his ears. “You've sued for possession of his foreskin?”

    “No, no,” Jody assured. “It's a legal concept of rights in possession. He doesn't even know.”

    “He's going to know eventually when somebody comes to take possession.”

    “That won't happen,” Jody answered.

    “Then why are you bothering? If you can't actually get him circumcised, how does the issue of possession even ...”

    “Because the bitch will be enjoined from acting,” Jody announced with fierce pride.

    “But she's not going to act. She likes him having a foreskin.”

    “You don't understand. That's no longer even her prerogative.”

    “What about little Moishe? Isn't it his prerogative?”

    “That's not his name, Seth.”

    “Whatever ...”

    “That's not his name either.”

    “For the record, what is his name?” The bed shook from Seth's giggles.

    “Lemuel.” Jody dipped Seth's cock in his wine and sipped.

    “Lemuel? That doesn't even sound Jewish. It sounds three genes short of Ozark incest.”

    It's a king's name in the Bible. 'Give not wine to kings, O Lemuel …' It is Jewish.”

    “Give not wine to lawyers, O Seth,” Seth mimicked.

    “It's a nice red. What kind?” Jody asked. He dipped Seth's cock in his glass again and sucked on the cock this time.

    “Not sure. Andrew probably knows,” Seth said between sighs as Jody continued sucking his cock.

    Jody paused. “Don't make fun of me, Seth. I love you. I'm trying to give you the best sex I know how to do.”

    “I don't like to see you obsessing over your divorce and … er, Lemuel's future. Can't you just let it go?”

    “Ask me if I can let go of your cock. That's easy. I can't. I want you in me. You feel so good. Could we make a CD? Together, I mean. You fuckin' me. Me coming.” Jody hovered over Seth and positioned himself to ride Seth's cock.

    “I'll ask Chris.”

    “I don't want Chris. I want you.” He dragged out the you-u-u-u-u as he sat slowly down, impaling himself.

    “No, I mean I'll ask him to come up with a story line. He's good at that.”

    “Make sure I get fucked a lot, ok? Wait til the bitch sees that CD!” Jody started to buck.

    “What if she's showing these things to Lemuel?”

    “Then I can nail her on unfitness. We'll revoke her fuckin' motherhood!” Jody sounded delighted with the prospect as he bounced on the length of Seth's cock. “Petrified pussy!” he cried out as his cock started spurting.

    “What do you think?” Darren asked Nicky. “It will only be until we can get our own place back. The furniture is beat up, but the bed looks comfortable.” Darren had given his tenant notice to vacate when the lease was up, but that wasn't for another six months. Meanwhile he and Nicky needed a place.

    “It's plenty big enough. We don't really need a lot of room,” Nicky allowed. “You don't think all that Polynesian stuff will get creepy? That Easter Island god at the entrance?”

    “It's California, Nick. You get your choice of pseudo-Spanish, pseudo-Polynesian, pseudo-Cape Cod, pseudo- ...”

    “But real you. That's all I care about.” Nicky gave Darren a kiss and kept his arms around him. “We ought to try out the bed. Just to make sure it's comfortable for two.” Nicky pulled Darren along with him into the bedroom and then onto the bed. “You should get me into a good fucking position.” He pulled Darren on top of himself and kissed him lingeringly. “So how does this feel?”

    “Let's go back to the motel,” Darren suggested. “Right now.”

    Nicky didn't move. “Do you know time slows down when I'm with you? I don't want to do anything. Just keep making love. You always did that to me ...” Nicky gave Darren a final kiss and then let him get up.

    They walked back to the manager's office and returned the key. “Thanks. It's a possibility. We'll let you know by tomorrow,” Darren promised. As they walked out to the parking lot, Darren took another look at the concrete figure that was made to look like carved wood. “You know, it looks a little like Morrie.”

    Nicky laughed and looked at the apartment's name. “The Tiki, huh? Why not? They don't want a lease … Fully furnished … Fairly new … A pool … How bad could it be? And I can live anywhere for six months, if it's with you.”

    Somewhere a neglected god laughed and locally a phone rang. “Hello, Morrie? … Oh, it's you ...” Nicky mouthed 'the nephew' to Darren. “What? … Tomorrow? … For how long?”

  34. #84
    Defender of Downtrodden
    DonQuixote's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    A little more in the life of . . .

    Wolf enjoyed "a little"! hetero sex while Tom & Heiko are away, but not without thinking about Rocky. . .

    Jeff & Kevin appear to have a definite problem. Where's the romance?
    Getting pretty base and self-gratifying there. Then there's Rocky stopping by to enlist some extra eyes and ears. . .

    Pobrecito Adan - his whole village, including his abuela have seen him do his memorable back flip fuck - again.
    Y la pregunta es - how much did you make?!

    He has some definite self-image issues.
    Here's hoping Andrew can help him there.

    Meanwhile, Seth and Jody continue their very interesting conversation over vin du cock.

    Darren & Nicky - HOW bad could it be? You don't have a fucking clue!

    And, where is Morrie's nephew sending Nicky and for how long? China?

    One more example of the many ways you can get UNpleasurably fucked.

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

  35. #85
    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Twenty-One

    After the first dance set, Rocky sought out Jeff and Kevin for consultations. “So what did you think?”

    “He's a cutie,” Kevin said.

    Rocky followed up, “Into me, you think?”

    “You want the short answer or the long answer?” Jeff asked. “The short answer is 'No.' The long is 'Hell, no.' The very long answer is ...”

    “Bull shit. He lets me kiss him.”

    “Lets you … I guess I'd need to see that,” Kevin said.

    “Alright … Ok, Mr Genius Analyst ... I can take care of that.” Rocky looked determined.

    “So, how come you're bussing tables and he isn't?”

    “No green card.”

    “He sure doesn't look Mexican.”

    “He's German,” Rocky explained. “I really was hoping … ah, never mind.”

    “You dragged us twenty miles. Say it.”

    “I wanted him to be my first.”

    “First what?”

    “My first guy.”

    “Dude … I mean … What the fuck? You're dancing naked in a gay club and you've never … Really? REALLY???” Kevin couldn't believe what he had heard. “The first time I talked to you I guessed you were kinda innocent, but then you wanted to go to a gay bar and ended up with your clothes off and all … I assumed that … Never? Really?”

    “We're not dancing naked. Frank says we're wearing as much as guys would in a gym.” Rocky explained the only part of his recent experiences he understood and shrugged off the rest.

    “I guess you've never seen yourself in these lights then. They make things pretty obvious.” It was Rocky's turn to look unbelieving. “Ok,” Jeff continued, “I can tell you're cut and your friend isn't. I can tell your balls hang lower than your cock. I can guess you trim your pubes. I can tell you have some kind of mark on your left cheek.”

    “Frank, my boss, had me trim my pubes after the first night. He said too much was sticking out. Yeah, it's a tattoo.” Rocky frowned again. “So you can pretty much see ...”

    “... everything.” Jeff finished Rocky's sentence. “Don't go gettin' all weirded out. You look good with your clothes off, very good, in fact.”

    “In fact, if things don't work out with the German dude, you could try it with me and Jeff. We'll be gentle with you,” Kevin joked and patted Rocky on the butt, but Rocky didn't see the humor. He backed away abruptly, thinking immediately about how Wolf had backed away the night before.

    “Yeah, well .. I gotta work. Talk after the second show.”

    After finishing the tables he returned to the break room and found Wolf looking at a copy of the tax form Istanbulla had shown him. “The government will deduct whatever you want?” Wolf asked him.

    “Yeah, some people, like us - with tip income, get extra withheld. You still owe the same amount, but you don't have to come up with a bunch of extra cash when you file. That's how Frank explained it.” Wolf said nothing else and kept reading the W-4's instruction page for declarations. “The W-4 produces the W-2. Where is the W-3?”

    “Um, Wolf ?” Rocky was uninterested in the mysteries of the U.S. Tax Code. “Would you mind if I kissed you as part of the boy friend act? Just a little. Just a joke thing. I … er, I won't do anything else.”

    Wolf smiled and was glad for the distance between himself and Rocky. “Why are you kissing me still?”

    “I think you mean 'lately' … not 'still'.” Rocky avoided an answer.

    “Lately. Why are you kissing me lately?”

    “I think I like you.” The instant he said it, Rocky turned away to avoid eye contact. His Central Valley tan hid his red face. He gritted his teeth waiting for Wolf's answer. The silence grew. “Did you hear me? I said I think I like you.”

    “Do you like kissing me?”

    “Yes. I do. I like it very much.” The long silences were killing Rocky. “Are you pissed at me? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it.”

    Finally Wolf said, “I don't know if I liked the kiss, but I didn't mind it. Touching my cock … I wasn't ready for that.”

    “I know. I know. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry.” Rocky hoped for some kind of positive reply but all he got was silence. “Time to get ready, I guess.” He pulled off his shirt and jeans.

    “Rocky, what is the tattoo on your arsch?” Wolf used the German word.

    Rocky breathed a sigh of relief and pulled the waistband of his underwear down enough to reveal a happy face with devil's horns crudely added. “Souvenir of Stockton. Too many beers,” he added. He's not pissed off, Rocky told himself.

    They danced as usual including the costume change and then posed while the crowd applauded at the end. “Are you boyfriends?” came a question from the crowd. “What do you think?” Rocky teased. There were shouts of yes and no. Rocky looked at Wolf for permission and Wolf winked. Rocky kissed him on the cheek. “That's not a boy friend kiss!” came back from the crowd. “More! More!” some guys chanted. One older gentleman tucked a fifty into Rocky's waistband and said “Give him a real kiss.” Rocky shook his head no. “Gimme my fifty back!” the guy complained.

    Wolf approached Rocky and took the fifty and tucked it into his own waistband. Then he took Rocky's face in his hands, imitating Rocky's break room moves, and firmly kissed him. He broke the kiss, smiled at Rocky, and kissed him again. “You should see what we do for a hundred,” Wolf yelled to the big tipper. Prioposals for what they might do filled the bar but they left the stage before anybody could pull out a Benjamin.

    In the break room Wolf told Rocky, “We can split the fifty.” He began toweling off. “Ok? Twenty-five each?”

    “Sure … whatever, Wolf,” Rocky answered quietly. The ton of necessary bricks had fallen on . Rocky; he was in love. Deliriously. He needed to say the name again. “Wolf?” It seemed to taste good in his mouth.


    “Do you want a ride home tonight? I'm with two guys from school. They have a car.”

    “Thanks. That would be great.”

    The drive wasn't long enough in Rocky's mind. He and Wolf sat at opposite ends of the three-person back seat. Rocky thought the seat was way too big. Wolf was like a magnet and Rocky would have been happy cramped into a Smart Car's trunk if the cargo included Wolf. He sat and listened to Jeff and Kevin talk to Wolf, not saying much himself. He's fucking beautiful, Rocky thought, stealing glances.

    The ride to Alameda was over in a little over a half hour. Wolf got out of the car and paused to say thanks. Before he was finished he was joined by another.

    “Hey, cutie,” she said coming up to him and putting her arm around his waist.”

    “Everybody, this is Torrey. Torrey, that's Kevin, Jeff, and Rocky.”

    Rocky's bubble burst. On the way to St. Mary's Kevin said, “Rock, I thought maybe you had a chance before Torrey came along. She's very possessive. I bet they're fucking.”

    “No doubt, they're doing the deed,” Jeff added. “She practically dragged him off by the dick.”

    Rocky slumped lower into his seat, watching the roughness of eastern 96th Street pass in the window.

    Kevin jumped in. “He's super sexy. No wonder you want to ...”

    “ … share him with the fish,” Jeff finished.

    “Don't call her that. Ok?” Rocky asked. Rocky closed his eyes, not to avoid looking at Oakland, but to conjure the memory of Wolf's kiss.

    “Rocky, you want a shot of tequila?” Kevin offered when they got to school. “Jeff and I have a bottle in the room.”

    After three quick warm shots of Sauza, Rocky lay with his eyes closed wishing it was Wolf and not Jeff trying to get into his pants. “Quit it,” he told Jeff. Kevin tried to kiss him, but Rocky pushed him away and grabbed the waste basket just in time. The odor of vomit killed any remaining amorous impulses.

    “Sainshand, Mon-fucking-golia?” Nicky didn't see humor, not even irony. “Is that a joke, Junior? Mongolia?” Morrie's nephew Morrie did not like being called 'Junior' except by Morrie.

    “Come on, it's not the end of the world. It has almost three million people. There is train service several times a week.”

    “Sainshand, a city no one has ever hear of, has THREE MILLION PEOPLE?”

    “Well, no. Mongolia does, but Sainshand is a real up-and-comer in that part of the world. The fabric factory used to be part of a Russian copper smelter. The only problem so far has been the smell of sintering lingering in the cloth. It smells like burnt pennies, but it goes away eventually. The real problem is color-fastness. Morrie is counting on you, Niccolo.” Only Junior could wheedle and insult you at the same time. Nicky's name was Nicholas.

    If Nicky's phone had been as poorly made as Morrie's last shipment of sweaters it probably would have shattered in his hand. “Three weeks in Mongolia, Darren! Three weeks! All because the color blue evaporates.”

    “How does a color evaporate?”

    “The blue sweaters, once out of the plastic wrapper, turn purple. Morrie thinks it's because copper ozidizes. Who puts copper into sweaters? Nobody! Unless your factory is next door to a copper smelter!”

    “Wouldn't copper turn green? Why wouldn't you get teal or something?”

    Nicky shrugged. “I'm not a chemist. But I have to go to Mongolia. I need to make Morrie feel obligated. He is going to need a reason to forgive me.”

    Darren was curious. “Forgive you for what?”

    “You know I love you, right?”

    Darren frowned. “You're sounding like Andrew, Nicky. What are you getting at?”

    “I messed around with Tsien-tsien in Guanzhou. Morrie hates it if somebody plays with his toys first. That's why my predecessor got fired.”

    “Because your predecessor messed around with ...?”

    “Me,” Nicky explained.

    “Then you messed around with me.”

    “But that was after you were with Morrie, not before. He cares about that. He thinks he set you and me up.” The phone buzzed again. “Yes, Junior?”

    “No, it's me … Morrie Junior says you're not happy about visiting the knit factory. And no wonder, Nicky. Thoughtless of me … You always think of these things. I'll send Tin-tin as your translator. You really can't trust the locals; but already Tin-tin is practically family and I think he's losing weight on New York food. His ass is looking scrawny. Unattractive, not to mention uncomfortable ...”

    Nicky ended the call and relayed the conversation to Darren. “Tsien-tsien won't be a translator, he'll be Morrie's spy. Now he's spying on me!”

    “Maybe not, Nicky ...”

    “Wasn't there a novel about it? 'The Spy Who Fucked Me' or something?” Nicky shook his head. “Why does it have to be so hard? Why can't you order blue sweaters and get blue sweaters? I don't suppose you'd like to go to Mongolia with me, would you?”

    “School … job commitments … or I would. I would in a minute.”

    “Joking … Mongolia isn't much fun if you're not Mongolian, I guess.”

    “So it will just be you and Tin-tin … messing around for three weeks?” There was no jealousy in Darren's question.

    “I never planned the business with Tsien-tsien. Morrie and Wu were eating some endless meal with a hundred courses, most of which tasted alike and I went out for some air. Tsien-tsien was working in the restaurant and he followed me. He was exotic, he didn't look either male or female, just other-worldly. Not my type at all. I wasn't even attracted, not at first. But ...”

    “Did you take him back to your hotel? Maybe Morrie knows already? He's not so dumb about that stuff.”

    “No. It was so strange. The alley next to the restaurant stank of rotting food but Tsien-tsien and this area around him - like some kind of cocoon - smelled of incense. We did it right in the alley, standing up.”

    “Now I'm jealous. You never fuck me standing up.”

    Nicky hugged Darren. “You're too tall. I like you in a bed.”

    “There's a bed right over there.” Nicky's cheap motel room contained little else than a comfortable bed.

    Nicky looked at his watch. “We have about six hours. Tsien-tsien is arriving on a late plane.”

    Seth sat at his desk and watched Andrew work with Adan, going over his secret coding system for clients. Andrew was so smitten, touching Adan when he got the chance, smiling at him in a moony way, not even trying to hide a partial erection so obvious in his loose khaki slacks.

    “It's not really much of a secret. RGL means really good looking. NoN means won't do nudes. XOTC means exotic looking, generally in a swarthy way ...”

    “Like me?” Adan asked.

    “I wouldn't call you swarthy, Adan.”

    “I'm Mexican. And I look it.”

    “You look wonderful, sweetie. Now back to the codes … “

    “A lot of them have FH and a number. What does that mean?”

    “Fucked Him. The number is for how good he was.

    “A lot of threes. On what scale?”

    “Six, like the Kinsey Scale. Three means probably straight – just doing it to get the job. I was younger then … still putting notches in my belt. Those guys were nothing really. So … Anyway … SSL means 'speaks simple lines'. Anything really unique about a person I just spell out. So if you want to organize this stuff, you're welcome to try.”

    Seth joined Andrew in the kitchen for a coffee. “You really like him. I've never seen you like this. You're turning into a real softie,” Seth said in a low voice.

    “Adan's different,” Andrew answered, smiling, not giving much away.

    There was a knock at the door followed by Adan's call. “Seth? A messenger for you!”

    “Mr. Seth Behar?” the man asked. “For you. It's a subpoena.”

    “A subpoena? For what?” Seth was astonished. The large manila envelope suddenly looked ominous, even monstrous.

    “I don't know. I just serve them. It's all explained inside.” He left and Seth opened the envelope only to find another that was sealed even more securely. He pulled a letter opener out of his desk and stood at the counter to use it.

    “Shit ...” he moaned. “Shit, shit , shit ...”

    Adan looked apprehensive. “What is it?” Andrew asked.

    “I've been named by Jody's wife in the divorce. I thought California had no-fault divorce. I don't get this ...” He punched his phone and waited. “Jody, this is Seth. Seems like I'm part of your divorce. Give me a call.” Seth looked at his partner and Adan; but they were ignoring him, sitting very close together going over Andrew's client list.

    Bo giggled and squirmed. Finn's tongue was tickling him in a very touchy spot. “Wow, Finn. How did we get to this place?”

    “We walked,” Finn said and resumed lprobing for Bo's asshole.

    “No. No, I mean, how did we ...” Bo was tongue-tied.

    “I told you my parents had gone to my brother's for a birthday party for his daughter and asked if you wanted to spend the night. You said you'd need to think about it ...”

    “For about two seconds,” Bo filled in.

    “And then you got shy and said you'd meet me here ...”

    “I stopped at a drug store … condoms … lube ...”

    “And it's a good thing. I was totally unprepared,” Finn admitted.

    Bo pulled Finn against him and sighed. “And then you got so kissy ...”

    “Yeah, I did.” Finn kissed him for a while and then said, “Kissin' seems to go with fuckin'. So can I get back to kissin' your awesomely awesome ass?”

    “There's that word again,” Bo commented.

    “I got others. Unbelievable, fantastic, amazing, sexy, and … surpassingly awesome. How was that? Surpassingly? Think I'm college material?”

    “I think your three-headed shower is awesome. You are completely different from awesome.”

    “Yeah? What am I?” Finn asked with a sudden curiosity. “What do you think of me?”

    You are the love of my life, Bo wanted to say. “I think … uh … all that stuff you said.”

    Finn was happy with that answer, climbed on top of Bo and resumed kissing him, working down his body to his cock. “You're getting hard,” he reported, as if it was news to Bo.

    “Don't … I don't want to cum yet,” Bo said. “Fuck me again first, ok?”

    “Oh, man, I was so hoping you'd say that ...You want to roll over?”

    “Let's do it this way ...”

    “I can kiss you a lot this way,” Finn said. “I can kiss you all the time this way ...” Bo wrapped his legs around Finn's waist, showing him how things fit together in missionary position. “You're still all slick from the last time,” Finn whispered as his cock found its target. “Ohhh,” he moaned as he felt the enveloping warmth.

    It was all Bo could do to breathe as Finn entered him slowly. He tried to spread his legs wider, to use his body to welcome his new lover. Finn responded by wrapping Bo in his arms and trying to merge their bodies. He held Bo so tightly there was barely room for fucking, just small pulsing strokes, which turned out to be perfect preparation for Bo. Bo broke the kiss; he held Finn's head and looked at him for what seemed like a long time before he kissed him again.

    “You feel so good in me,” Bo panted.

    “Do I?” Finn asked as he began a slow pumping stroke. “It can't be any better than you feel to me.” Finn reached between them and held Bo's cock. It was swollen with blood but not hard at first, not until Finn began stroking.

    “Easy! I'll cum!” Bo warned.

    “You think we can time this so we come together? I'm close, too.” Finn bent forward for a kiss. It was the long kiss, the kiss hat turned biting and stinging that triggered them. “Oh, yes! YES,” Finn cried.

    “Fuck me,” Bo begged as he began spurting in Finn's hand. It wasn't perfectly coordinated and it was very messy, but neither boy minded. It was an excellent second time; it made both of them want the third time with an urgency.

    “Do you want to get cleaned up?” Bo asked.

    “Let's just lie here in the fruits of our lust, like a Shakespearean … I don't know what,” Finn answered.

    “It was that inspiring?”

    “Awesome,” Finn answered.

    “Again, that word,” Bo teased.

    “How did you get to be so 'awesome'?” Finn stressed the word. “Did Long teach you?”

    Bo didn't want to be reminded of Long. “Sort of. With Long it was sex and it was new. It's much better with you. I like it with you just because it's you.”

    Finn kissed the tip of Bo's nose. “Just because it's me? I guess that means you think my technique needs work.” They relaxed in the comfort of post-orgasmic kissing.

    “If you get bored during the night and want to practice, wake me up, ok?” Bo yawned.

    “Seriously?” Finn snuggled as close to Bo as he could get. Contact with curly hair on Bo's thigh was unbelievable erotic, triggering a rush of desire. Finn gently held Bo's limp cock with reverence. The new ache of yearning filled his body. The feeling wasn't explicitly sexual; he didn't have an erection. It was more than sexual, it was a more comprehensive, totally involving. He felt Bo in his head and in his heart. “I can't let go of you, Bo.” Bo turned his head for a kiss and heard Finn sob with pleasure as he covered Bo with kisses. “So awesome,” Finn murmured.

  36. #86
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    A great mid-afternoon treat!
    Rocky and Wolf - a little more open discourse at the club, resulting in a fairly intense kiss - MAYbe there's more - but Torrey soured the mood in a hurry for Rocky.

    Nicky and Tin Tin in Outer Fucking Mongolia. What a pain in the ass turn of events. Darren must be underwhelmed.

    Then, welcome to the movie studio, you've been served.

    But, Finn and Bo, our soon to be college boys of the Summer.

    Thanks, Rory!

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

  37. #87
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    I'm debating how long to make this story ... I'm thinking I should do shorter, but more diverse stuff; although the last time I tried for diversity, I took a long, winding road back to the same thing ... Sigh.

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    We enjoy getting to know about all of our guys.
    The young loves, the confused, even the old "almost married" couples who are working hard in med school and such, trying to make a life together.

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

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Twenty-Two

    “You guys are like an old married couple,” the pretty blond named Lynne quipped. “Except one of you should be a Giants fan.”

    “Sorry, the A's are more fun,” Jerry answered. “The Giants are too serious, too business-like.”

    “A cop and a programmer are complaining about being too serious?”

    “The Giants costs more,” Neil noted.

    “There's the real reason,” Mara winked. “One I can agree with.”

    They hadn't started the game next to each other, but the Coliseum wasn't crowded and reseating was possible. The upper deck was a friendly, low-stress hangout, far enough from the action to promote fun in the stands and still close enough to make hot dogs and beers essential by the fifth inning. The girls paid for themselves, although Jerry came back to the seats with four cold ones after the seventh. Tyson Ross was pitching, one of the only pitchers with more than a year on the team; it wasn't a good day for him, but there had been worse.

    “He's getting tired,” Mara pointed out. “I give him about two more batters.” Her comment was followed by the crack of a Seattle bat and a small white ball headed for orbit.

    “Not our year,” Neil sighed.

    “You know what's fun? Going to Sac'to and betting on who they bring up next.”

    “Lynne always guesses the guy with the cutest ass,” Mara commented, adjusting her halter top. It was warm in the sun.

    After the game they adjourned as a foursome to Nick's to augment the hot dogs with salads for the girls, sandwiches for the guys, and more beer for all. The girls lived in San Lorenzo, one town to the south, and numbers were exchanged with a promise of a trip to Sacramento for a game on some unspecified future date.

    “That was fun,” Jerry said as they drove back to Alameda.

    “More fun than looking for an apartment,” Neil added.

    “Have you looked along the shore?”

    “Can't afford it,” Neil admitted. “Lorica gets two years of support. I guess I'll look up toward the base.” Although the Navy base had been closed for almost ten years, the northwest end of the island was still 'the Base' in everybody's mind. Cheap apartments buffered the rest of the island from 'the Base'. There had been some redevelopment, but not enough to gentrify the area.

    “That's basic. You'll be living with ...” Jerry left the rest unsaid.

    “I'll be living with the guys I'm trying to apprehend, you mean? I've thought about that. But money is money. And I don't have any.”

    They got to Jerry's house and showered after the hot afternoon. It wasn't a big house and sharing a bathroom made it even cozier. The front porch and another cool beer were irresistible afterward.

    “When did you get the tattoo?” Jerry asked.

    “You noticed? It's was Lorica's idea. If you look closely, it says her name in fancy letters. She wanted to brand me, I think. At least it doesn't say 'Property of'.” Jerry took a long swig of his beer. “Another fuckin' mistake.”

    “I didn't look that closely,” Jerry said. The tattoo was on Neil's ass. “It seemed ok. It kinda looks like an Interstate Highway symbol.”

    “Or the stamp they put on meat. That was what Lorica called it.”

    “Prime Beef,” Jerry suggested.

    “Choice was her word. Second best.” Neil still sounded bitter.

    “No, you're the best. She would have changed her mind eventually.”

    Neil changed the subject. “We should call Mara and Lynne. You have a preference for which one?”

    “Mara, I guess. I like light brown hair,” Jerry said.

    “I have light brown hair. I always thought it was kind of mousy.”

    “No, it's got streaks of red in it in the sun. It looks good.”

    “Really? Me? Or Mara?”

    “Both of you.”

    Bo got to Parker's shortly after the Sunday noon opening time still walking on a cloud. The night with Finn had been the best of his life and it showed.

    “Who lit up your Christmas tree?” Gale asked. “Never mind. I think I know.”

    “Yeah,” Bo answered, grinning a silly grin. “The whole night.”

    “You know that soil mix idea of yours? I got some bags. Thought we might make up a batch and see how it sells. I debated about the additive and decided a mix of starter and general purpose fertilizer would be best.”

    “You're the boss,” Bo answered. “You think we could stack them on the sidewalk? So they'd be closer to people's cars?”

    “Then you'd have to keep moving them in and out everyday. They won't be that heavy, anyway. What about near the door?”

    “I don't mind moving them,” Bo said, moving toward the back room. He had two twenty-five pound bags of regular potting soil on his shoulder.

    “I do! And you're going to school any day now. When are you going, by the way?”

    “Three more weeks and CSM, here I come.” Bo noted the puzzled look on Gale's face. “CSM … College of San Mateo and then I'll transfer to a bigger school.”

    “Are you going to commute?”

    “No, I got into a group house near the school. What I'll save on bridge tolls almost pays the rent.”

    “And Finn's going to Cal Poly … that's not convenient at all.”

    “We haven't talked about it. CSM is what my parents can afford. I'm not that great a student and not good enough the get a football scholarship anywhere.”

    “Don't sound so negative about it, Bo. I think you're more than good enough to do whatever you want.”

    “Just being realistic … Hey, it's Finn calling!” He put the phone to his ear. “Morning … again! … Yeah! Great! … What? … Tomorrow? … Wow … Yeah, sure. I'll tell him. Best of luck, Finn.” Bo's rapidly sobering expression told Gale the advance version of the phone call. Bo took the bags of soil to the back room and then came back into the main store.

    “There's a special intro session for freshman football and Finn got a late invitation. He's going tomorrow. He said to tell you thanks for letting him work this summer.” Bo returned to the back room.

    “I still owe him his last pay,” Gale said to Bo's back. A customer came in the door and Gale decided to leave Bo alone.

    In an hour's time Bo had converted two big bags of potting soil into twenty-five two pound bags of Parker's Special Blend. Bo stacked them on a table Gale had set up near the door.
    “You're right. About the location, I mean. Anybody can handle a two pound bag,” Bo acknowledged.

    “Bo … if you want to work weekends in the fall, I'd be happy to have you.”

    “Thanks, but I don't think so. Not until I get my feet on the ground at school...” Bo sounded like his life had ended.

    Gale addressed the subject directly. “It was going to happen, wasn't it? It just came a little earlier than you planned.”

    “He didn't even say good bye. Not really. 'Keep it awesome, dude.' And then click.”

    “I'm gonna get something from the Bagel Boy. You want a coffee or anything?” Gale nodded in answer to Bo's no and decided leaving him alone was not a bad idea.

    Bo restacked the Parker's Special bags upright instead of on their sides. It filled the table top better, he decided. He could still feel Finn's cock in his ass from their night together. He was so great, Bo thought;it felt so close, like we were in the same body together. How could he blow me off with 'Keep it awesome' … like last night and this morning never happened? You can't kiss somebody the way he did without something more than fooling around going on. And now he's too busy to even see me to say good bye.

    He went to the counter and began drawing Parker's Special Blend in fancy letters. He added scrollwork around the name and then brightened it with a red highlighter. Gale wanted to charge $3.95, but Bo wrote $4.95, three for $12.95. He put the sign on the table just in time to sell three bags to a walk-in customer.

    The next customer wanted African violets. Bo convinced her that a grouping of three plants would look better than one. “And that way the one won't feel lonesome, plus you get a discount,” he added. The woman looked lonesome herself, and responded to the attention from a strapping young man. “And when they get bigger, you'll want to repot them in bigger pots. Do you need any?”

    “No, I've got lots of pots from other plants I have killed.”

    “Soil, water, and light; there are only three variables. For African violets, you want light soil, light water and indirect light. Try giving them half the water you think they need. And this potting soil is mixed to include nutrients.” He sold her the violets and a bag of Parker's Special. She left smiling and he felt pleased with himself.

    A third customer entered and addressed Bo straight out, “You didn't call.” It was the confident young man of yesterday, looking different dressed in a suit, white shirt, and no tie.

    “Uh … right. I lost you number,” Bo answered.

    “Let me see your phone.” The guy studied the phone briefly, punched at it a bit, and handed it back. “I put myself at the top of your list.”

    Bo couldn't help but chuckle at the guy's confidence. “Sorry.”

    “That's ok, I was busy last night anyway. But I'm not tonight. Call me. I want to put you on top of a mountain and show you my world.”

    “I can't promise …” Bo looked at the phone entry. “ … Jackson.”

    “Jackson Sands, if you want the whole name. Do not tell me it sounds like a Vegas casino. I've heard that before.”

    “Atomic testing ground?”

    Jackson laughed and asked, “What are you doing with this dirt?”

    “Selling it.”

    “I'll take it.” Bo looked skeptical. “All of it,” Jackson added.

    Bo gave the discount price on the twenty-one bags and helped him carry them to Jackson's car, which was a customized SUV with no visible nameplate. “Bo, call me. No strings, just a few laughs.”

    Jackson Sands, Bo contemplated. It sounds like a little town in some dry state without a coastline. He tried Google and got 'Jackson Sands LLC' of San Francisco in answer. Clicking on the link got him a blank screen that said “Enter Password unless you are Bo.” Bo clicked on red-highlighted Bo and got another screen that said, “Quit fucking around and call me.”

    Gale returned with a banana smoothie. “You sure I can't tempt you?” Getting another no thanks, he asked, “Where's the Special Mix? You put the price to high.”

    “I sold it. All of it.”

    Gale was briefly at a loss. “You think we should mix up some more?”

    “For sure.”

    “You want to go out for dinner?” Z asked Eric. “There's a new place on the estuary, near the yacht club.” The yacht club, where they had both worked once as waiters, was the source of good memories, but it's food had been only mediocre on a good day. The suggestion wasn't exciting Eric at all.

    “It's kinda late already, isn't it?” Eric answered. “I'd have to change.”

    “You look fine. You could go in that.”

    “I wore it yesterday; I smell.”

    “I see. You need to change for some restaurant you know nothing about, but it's ok to smell if it's just me. Is that what you're saying?” Z spoke with a smile on his face but the words were pretty plain.

    “Z ...” Eric said and hugged Z. “That's not what I meant ...”

    “Whew, you do smell,” Z said pushing Eric away.

    Eric had gotten up late and lazed around the house while Z cut their grass as well as Carolyn's next door. His big effort of the day had been washing a week's worth of socks and underwear to take back to the city for the next week.

    “I don't feel like cooking,” Z said. “Andrew has us doing a long shoot tomorrow for some catalog job and I don't want to feel exhausted. So you won't mind if I go with Larry and Cal? We won't be late and there is some left over lasagna you can warm up.”

    “A catalog job? You can do better than that, Z.”

    “Yeah, well, that's what's available. Catalog jobs and left-over lasagna. So that's what I'm doing. I'm going to walk over to their place and ride with them.”

    “Shit,” Eric said, looking in the refrigerator. He got out a square of lasagna to microwave and a bowl of yesterday's limp-looking salad. He watched the timer on the microwave slowly tick down to zero. “Shit,” he repeated. Microwaved pasta could turn to leather if … “Shit,” he said again, seeing what came out of the wave. He poured a big glass of red wine and sat at the table. He sniffed the air. “I hope that smell is me and not the lasagna,” he muttered.

    At the restaurant, Cal was enthused about the results of his football clinic. “It almost mints money, Z. Even my genius associate here admits it's way more profitable than he expected.” Z watched the way Cal looked at Larry, so much love in that look.

    “No overhead helps, of course,” Larry added.

    “So Marlon, who is a great partner, by the way, recommended we try to get Craig Grantland to come into the deal. He's experienced at defense and … here he comes! Craig? I'm Cal Rockridge. This is my partner Larry and our best buddy Z ...”

    The conversation revolved around football and the clinic. The food was better than average and a couple glasses of wine went down smoothly. Craig had played out his career with the Titans and was looking for something to do next. He was trying to act brave, but in spite of ample savings the uncertainties of unemployment were plainly gnawing at him.

    “I know you don't need to do anything right away, but give the Clinic idea some thought. The Bay Area is not a bad place to live and Marlon is great to work with. The kids are all good, some serious, some not; but there are rewards. We're sending two guys off to school who look really promising. It'll be fun to watch their progress.” Cal ended his pitch with the idea that they take a walk down the estuary.

    The walk went along the waterway that split Alameda and Oakland only by a football's hundred yards at one narrow point; the lights of both cities sparkled on the water, and the night was warm. Suddenly a single blast from a deep-toned whistle announced a huge, looming containership that was so close it seemed to fill half the sky. The ship commanded everyone's attention, as it passed slowly and almost silently. The deep thrumming of its diesels was felt more than heard.

    Larry and Cal paused and leaned on a wooden rail to watch. A few feet away Craig said to Z, “Are they fixing us up? Is that the idea?“

    “I don't think so,” Z said. “We're just old friends.”

    “Because I wouldn't mind … not at all,” Craig said quietly. “In fact you're the best part of my trip so far.”

    “Oh … wow … um, thanks, but I live with a guy who couldn't come tonight. I ...”

    “Ok, enough said. I have to tell you that I haven't met anybody as hot as you in a very long time. We'll leave it at that.”

    Z was flustered by the attention and the compliment. “Thanks again, Craig. You're pretty charming yourself. Didn't you say you're married?”

    “A little.”

    Wolf said his good-bye to the gypsy and picked up his pay. “You did wonders for my business,” Paul told him. “Fortune telling used to be my sideline, not it's doing better than the store.”

    “Good, now you have more time to work on the store. I'm going to tell my friend Rocky about you. Maybe he can do your advertising.”

    “Wolf … did you ever figure out the gay thing? Or is that no longer a concern?”

    “I'm not in love with my brother's friend any more, if that's what you mean.”

    “Not exactly, but close enough. Remember if your Uncle Luddie ever wants to get rid of his Biedermeier, I can sell a boatload of it.”

    The Sunday afternoon audience at the IH was a collection of tired guys with hangovers, eager guys whose San Francisco vacations had just started the day before, compulsive guys who hadn't scored the night before, and curious guys who were intimidated by the out-and-proud Saturday night crowd. When Wolf got there the lubricating properties of alcohol were just beginning to take effect.

    “Hey, Wolf,” Rocky was working tables and glad for the chance to switch to dancing; he joined Wolf in the break room. “I already smell sour from spilled beer,” he complained. “The Health Department should force Izzie to install some showers.” He wiped himself off with the cleanest bar rag he could find.

    “In forty-eight hours I'll be back in the land of beer,” Wolf offered.

    “Germany? Really? You're actually going home?”

    “School in a couple of weeks. University of Freiburg.” he added in reply to Wolf's question.

    “Cool. What are you gonna study?”

    “Exotic dancing,” Wolf grinned. “Then I'm going to open a branch of IH in Munich.”

    “You could give lessons. Seriously, what?”

    Wolf screwed up his face in distaste. “Business and accounting.”

    “Accounting, huh? I'm going for a math major. Not sure why. Numbers always make more sense to me than words. I've been getting some humanities out of the way this summer so I can take more … you don't really give a shit about this do you?” Rocky had noted Wolf's air of withdrawal.

    “I do. I like it here … and all the people I've met. I'm going to miss it. Freiburg is a small town.”

    “Even me? After I put the moves on you?”

    “Ja, you, too.” Wolf bowed formally and asked, ”Want to dance with me?”

    “I want to do more than that,” Rocky joked as they headed for the stage.

    Sunday afternoon was always slow and it was just two sets, their only chance to make tips. They had to work harder to earn less money; but, because there were fewer patrons, more eye contact was possible – the appeal could be more personal. On a percentage basis they actually got more guys to give them money, but it was never more than a single dollar. When the second set ended, Rocky gave an impromptu announcement.

    “This is my partner's last dance. You like him don't you? How about a farewell present?” With that Rocky elicited a half-hearted extra round of applause. “Aren't you gonna miss him? I know I will.” Rocky stood back and clapped for Wolf.

    “Show him how much, Rocky.” It was Frank who called out the encouragement. It was all Rocky needed. He gave Wolf a big kiss. It wasn't a sloppy, sexy, stagy kiss – just big, friendly, and affectionate.

    The crowd went wild. “What?” Wolf asked no one in particular, puzzled by the huge hand.

    “You're showing a bone,” Rocky whispered to him, causing Wolf to hurry off the stage.

    That night Torrey's good-bye was passionate. Wolf thought he could see waves of heat in the shadows on the wall rising from their bodies, but that was the effect of a couple too many beers. He felt the warmth of her pussy's engorgement; the moist clinging contact brought him to a huge climax. As he felt the final spurt leave his body he closed his eyes and he saw Rocky's face, Rocky's smile. His eyes popped open and he refocused on Torrey's parted lips, begging for his kiss.

    “So what are we gonna do tonight?” Jeff asked, squinting in the glare of noonday sun coming in the window.

    “Don't you mean who? It won't be me, asshole.” Kevin was still pissed about Jeff's overly aggressive coupling.

    “Aw, come on. The summer's almost over. There's no time to hook up with somebody new.” Jeff ran his hand gently over Kevin's crotch feeling soft, yielding contours of flesh that told him Kevin was uninterested. He squeezed gently and still got no response. He considered going out trolling, but the men's room of the student center never turned up anybody interesting. “Alright, alright … we can make it your turn. Anything you want, Kev.”

    “That's what you said the last time! And what did that turn into?”

    “I couldn't help it. I'm sorry, Kev. I really needed to top that time.”

    “Sure, sure ...” Kevin didn't believe a word from Jeff and reached into his pants pocket. “Yeah?” he snarled into his ringing phone. “Oh, yeah? … How long? … How much? … I'm NOT getting fucked! … Well, yeah, I guess … When? … You promise? … Let me ask ...” He looked at Jeff. “You want to reshoot a couple of scenes for Chris today? No cum shots. He only needs a couple of angles.”

    Jeff nodded enthusiastically. “Yes!! All afternoon making luuuuv with Kevie!” Jeff buried his face in Kevin's jeans and rubbed around.

    “Quit it!” Kevin said abruptly, shoving Jeff away. “It'll take us thirty minutes to get there,” he said to Chris.

    The drive took forty-five minutes and the preparation, getting cleaned up and cleaned out, took a half hour. Then they sat with Chris wearing bathrobes.

    “All I need is about four angles. The scene doesn't flow with what I've got. Watch ...” He put the scene on a large monitor.

    “I look pretty good there,” Jeff commented as he watched himself strip. “Not bad at all … wait! Really? Is Kevin really that much bigger than I am? We always seemed like the same size ...”

    “Shhh! Just watch,” Kevin said. “Ok, I see what you mean. The pants, huh, Chris?”

    “And the blowjob,” Chris added. “See this part … There … Ouch! What happened there.”

    “He kinda knelt on my nuts,” Jeff said. “I'll never forget that part.”

    “Ok ...” Chris fast-forwarded. “Here … the penetration is ...”

    “... just plain weird,” Kevin agreed. “Like it's sudden or something.”

    “And then at the end, I need more romance … like you enjoyed it. Don't break apart like an alarm clock went off. Stay with each other - like you can't get enough - like you want a second time. Ok? Ready to try? Kevin, I'll need you in the same jeans … Old Navy, I think.” Chris backed up the scene and checked. “Yeah, blue with no stitching, just a seam across the pocket.” Kevin found the jeans, put them on, and sat on the turntable. Jeff was costumeless and stood in front of him naked.

    “Ok, start with Kevin sucking Jeff, I think and we'll go from there,” Chris directed. “Wow! That was fast,” Chris commented on Jeff's quick erection.

    “He's a good cocksucker,” Jeff said.

    “Ok, then you kneel … look at each other … kiss … kiss some more like you can't believe what you're doing … good ... Can you look a little happier Kevin? It ain't a funeral … Now Jeff put your hands on the jeans … both hands … just hold his hips … that's right … eye contact … yes, then undo the top button … another kiss … come on Kevin, this is supposed to feel good … better … slowly, pull down the zipper … SHIT! Cut! You're supposed to have underwear on ...”

    “Jeez, Chris ...”

    “This isn't just porn, Kevin … well, ok, it is, but, come on! I have standards! Get some underwear on. Grey briefs or boxer briefs ...” Chris drummed his fingers while he waited for Kevin to return.

    “He's in kind of a bitchy mood, Chris. Go easy on the standards,” Jeff suggested.

    “Standards are professional. I'm paying for a professional standard of performance. Alright. Ready? From the zipper part ...” Chris resumed. “Nice, Jeff, keep your cock hard like that … now slowly open Kevin's pants … say something sweet to him ...”

    “I'm gonna make you love this ...” Jeff whispered.

    “Ok, now, reluctantly, Kevin, let him pull your jeans off … Hold onto the underwear like you're shy … yes … right ...there's my porn star … A wet spot … sweet! Now another kiss … eye contact. A little smile, Kev … perfect! Cut!”

    “How'd you do the wet spot?” Jeff asked. Kevin just scowled back and rearranged his cock.

    “Now you're both naked ...” Chris proceeded. “Right … try to stay hard, if you can, Kev … as you lie back push your knee between Jeff's legs … No, you're not trying to knee him, just to spread his legs so we and get a good rear shot … Again … better … slowly ... beautiful … Jeff move down to suck his cock … hold it in your hand and look at it … lick … suck the head … Ok and cut! Cut, I said. You can suck his cock on your own time.”

    “I like sucking his cock,” Jeff admitted. “It meets MY standards,” he mocked

    “Ok, the penetration,” Chris continued. “We'll do the close-up first. Kevin look like you're uncertain as Jeff kisses you … separate for eye contact … ok, a little pain, Kev … ease off … more … ok, big pain … easy off … discomfort … acceptance … kiss again … great! Now missionary position … aim your cock, Jeff … up against his hole … give him a half inch … Ok. Cut! … Oh for God's sake. CUT!” Chris said to Jeff specifically. “Ok, last take … you've come, you're done, but you're still glowing … lie in each others arms and make it look real.”

    “That's the fuckin' trouble. He doesn't know how to make it look real,” Kevin accused. “He cums and he's gone. That's real to him.”

    Jeff looked seriously hurt by Kevin's words. “Kev, you never complained before.”

    “Cause you were gone - brushing your teeth or something!”

    “Kevin, show him how,” Chris suggested. “Jeff learn a lesson here.” Two minutes later Chris relaxed in satisfaction and said, “Cut! We're done.”

    “That was fast. What am I supposed to do with this?” Jeff pointed at his erection but no one was paying him any attention. Chris was walking to the control room and Kevin to the shower.

    When they got back to school, Kevin went to the library and Jeff felt some discomfort. He wondered if blue balls were a myth or real. His erection had deflated but the need remained. He went to the student center and looked around. He saw Rocky and sat with him.

    “Um, Rocky … would you want to … fool around?”

    Rocky looked alarmed at the idea. “Dude … NO!”

    “So you decided you're straight?” The idea of rejection didn't come immediately to Jeff.

    Rocky looked around to see who might be listening. “No, I'm pretty gay. Not much doubt about that.”

    “So why not take advantage of my offer?” It all seemed logical to Jeff.

    Rocky was dismissive. “Dude! I have standards! Try the men's room.”

    “Standards ...” Jeff thought as he jacked off sitting in a men's room stall. “What about needs?”

  40. #90
    Contra Spem Spero rocabar's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    An enjoyable episode, Rory. . . Thanks!

  41. #91
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Very interesting update, Rory.

    You are increasingly worrying me about Z and Eric - too much attention being lavished on one after too many rejections by the other.

    Meanwhile, our "straight" guys are slowly heading that way.

    Und Wolf und Rocky - will there be a monumental moment of togetherness before Wolf returns to the Continent?

    Thanks for all the time and effort you put into this story.

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

  42. #92
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Twenty-Three

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

    Heiko came into the apartment and slid the balcony door half way shut. He slowly stroked his erection and gave Tom a challenging look. “Will you do anything for me?“

    “Yes. Of course.”

    “I want to make love to you right now.”

    “Sure … Let me take a shower and ...”

    “No, right now.” Heiko had Tom's belt open and was working on his pants. His kiss was brief. “Just bend over the arm of the sofa. I've been thinking about your ass from the minute I put Wolf on the plane.” He dumped a ton of lube on Tom's ass and began rubbing it around, into the crack and then gently into his target. “Ready?” He didn't wait for an answer. “I want to be in you,Tomi.“ He slid his cock all over Tom's slick ass and in and out of the crack, sliding and pumping enough to get his whole groin oily. “I need this so much ...” He penetrated Tom.

    Tom gasped and winced from the suddenness of the entry. “Fuck, Heiko! Take it easy! I'm not going anywhere.” It hurt.

    “I'm sorry. I can't wait. It's like we haven't made love all summer.” Heiko was taking long strokes, long slow in and out strokes feeling the warmth gripping his cock. “I missed you. I missed this. Making love like this ...” He bent forward and kissed Tom's neck. “Making love with the best man in the world. Tomi, your ass is so sweet!”

    Heiko pulled at Tom trying to bring him closer. The sound of Tom's shirt ripping didn't slow him, he went hard and deep, as deep as he could get in his aching need for Tom. “Tomi! Ungh! … Yeah! … Ungh! … Ungh!” The slap of their bodies and their groans filled the room and then Heiko collapsed on top of Tom, molded against his back, hugging his body, and biting his neck. “Yes ...” he sighed. “Thank you ...” he panted. “Sweet Tomi ...” He breathing slowed to long, deep sighs. “I missed you so much.” He eased his softening cock out of Tom and pulled them both onto the sofa in a sitting position. Still he clung tightly to Tom, now in a position to cover his face with kisses. With a final sigh he stopped and just held his lover.

    “Wow,” Tom observed, still surprised by Heiko's ardor. “I missed that, too,”

    “I'm sorry I ripped your shirt.”

    Tom shook his head dismissively. “Don't worry about it.”

    “I love you. I wanted you to know that.”

    “I know that every day just by looking in your eyes, Heiko.”

    “It just seemed like Wolf was always in our way … and even at Tahoe there were other people around all the time … I want you for myself sometimes.”

    “You got him to the airport ok?”

    “Unless that plane turns around, he's halfway to Germany by now.” Heiko kissed Tom some more. “I love you,” he whispered again.

    “But … on the whole … I didn't mind having him with us.”

    “He liked being here. He told me so,” Heiko replied. “Actually he told me a lot ...”

    “Like?” Tom prodded.

    “He's been fucking the babysitter next door.”

    “I guess I knew that,” Tom chuckled.

    “And he almost had sex with some boy he danced with at the bar in town.”

    “Almost being the important word in that sentence.”

    “So, he still isn't one hundred percent sure he's totally straight. He thinks there is the possibility of a kink somewhere.” Heiko smiled and paused. “You know the word for kink? 'Schlaufe.' It has none of the connotations of the English word.” Tom nodded and increased his German vocabulary by one more word and Heiko continued, “He told me all this on the way across the bridge. He compared the length of the bridge to the length of his dancing partner's cock.” Heiko chuckled at the impossibility of Wolf's comparison. “When he finished his last night at the bar, the poor guy practically told Wolf he loved him. Wolf seemed pretty touched ...”

    “He's not the 'ungeheuer' monster you thought, Heiko. He's growing up. He seemed pretty sensitive if you ask me.”

    “Yeah, well, he's gone! And now we can fuck on the floor if we want.” And that was exactly what Heiko wanted to do.

    “You look like a train hit you,” Andrew told Seth in a rush of sympathy. “How did it go?”

    “I was awarded custody.” Seth answered. “Here's the court order.” Seth lay a thick manilla envelop on the counter of the office.

    “Of Jody's kids? Is the court nuts? I mean it's San Francisco and all, but custody???”

    “Custody of the foreskin.”

    Andrew saw the intriguing possibilities. “Really? How do you get custody of a body part?”

    “Not custody, exactly, but that's what it works out to. I get to be the deciding vote on whether the kid gets circumcised.”

    Adan squeezed his legs together. “I don't even like to think about that.”

    “Caro, you could lose ten centimeters and still have lots left to work with,” Andrew consoled.

    “Ten centimeters?” Seth questioned. “Have you gone euro-sexual on me?”

    “Four inches. The centimeters are more real to Adan; aren't they, carisimo largo? ... But back to the kid, sweetie. Does he know all this is going on.”

    “He was in the courtroom. He heard it all. He's a nice little guy, in fact. Probably be handsome if his whack-job parents let him survive.”

    “So you are forever in his life, at least for the duration of the foreskin?” Andrew questioned.

    “Or until either or his parents remarries and gets sole custody. Right now it's shared custody, except for my little piece.”

    “So when you greet him it's 'How's my little foreskin today?' “

    “Not funny,” Seth groused. “It's a responsibility I don't want. The judge explained I could renounce it if I wanted, but that would require a separate action. So I would have to pay to get rid of a foreskin I never wanted in the first place.”

    “Kind of like getting circumcised twice!” Andrew laughed.

    “Can we talk about something else?” Adan shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

    “Yeah. I'm going to have to rethink my position on gay marriage,” Seth sighed. “Who needs all this shit?”

    “Sweetie, you know I love you. I warned you about Jody. It was for your own good. And now look at you.”

    “I know … I just couldn't say no to ...”

    “To somebody who flattered your ego. Why you would suddenly believe him when other people have been telling you the same thing I don't know.”

    “Other people? Like, which ones, exactly? Name them.”

    “Well … me, for one.” Andrew sipped a coffee, avoiding Seth's look. “And we're shooting Z today. The catalog job. You coming to that?”

    “No. Tell him hello. I'm editing with Chris.”

    Z arrived at the Jessie Street location with five minutes to spare, expecting to see the usual chaos of a fashion shoot; instead he found only Andrew and Adan. Andrew made the introduction, calling Adan his protégé

    “Does that mean you're fucking him?” Z whispered when he had the chance.

    “It does NOT! Although ...” Andrew let Z think whatever he wanted.

    “Andrew,” Z exclaimed. “You like him!”

    “I like lots of people ...” Andrew said defensively.

    “No, you don't,” Z smiled and then the light dawned. “Ah, now I get it … he's fucking you!”

    “Yes,” Andrew said tersely, as Adan returned to the room, his arms burdened with clothing. “Shall we start with outerwear?”

    The shoot progressed with little conversation as Z zipped in and out of dozens of garments. Andrew operated the camera and Adan worked lighting, moving fixtures and holding diffusers as needed.

    “No Chris?” Z asked at one point.

    “It's a cheap job. I couldn't pay him,” Andrew answered. “Ok … we're down to the underwear. Any ideas?”

    “Put them on?” Z joked. They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Adan answered it.

    “I'm Craig Grantland,” the voice announced. “I wonder if I could watch the shoot?” Adan looked to Andrew for approval. Andrew shook his head and waved a get-rid-of-him dismissal.

    “Craig,” Z called out. “What are you doing here?”

    “You mentioned the shoot at dinner. I thought I could get lost in the crowd and watch … but there is no crowd.” Craig stepped into the office.

    “Yeah, just me,” Z said.

    “That's right, ignore the rest of us,” Andrew said, more interested after getting a look at Craig.

    “Sorry, Craig this Andrew and Adan, cameraman and protégé extraordinaire. Andrew, Adan, this is Craig Grantland. He's thinking of working with Cal on a football camp idea. He just retired from the NFL,” Z explained.

    “You're big.” Andrew was impressed. “But not as big as I thought an NFL player would be.”

    “I was a receiver. You're thinking of a lineman. They block out the sun,” Craig said, extending his hand.

    “Ok, have a seat, Craig. So the problem remains, how do we make a standard bunch of underwear look interesting?” Andrew looked to Z and Adan for comment.

    “Mix it with athletic wear?” Craig suggested. Andrew stared at him. “Sorry, I was just saying ...”

    “No, don't apologize. It's a good idea except we don't have any athletic gear to use.”

    “A wife-beater and boxer briefs look almost like a wrestling singlet,” Z said. “I wrestled a little in high school,” he added and assumed the arms-spread crouch of a wrestler, laughing at his own pose.

    Andrew thought for a minute. “Have you ever modeled, Craig?”

    “I was in a beer commercial once.”

    “What if you and Z are wrestlers? Want to try that?” Andrew asked.

    “Z?” Craig looked for a second invitation.

    “Z doesn't get a vote. It's in his contract,” Andrew said. “Ok, so ... Z, the gray you have on is good. Craig … blue or black for you.” With an athlete's lack of concern about nudity, Craig found the right clothing and changed on the spot.

    “Um, you can use the back room for changing,” Andrew said.

    Craig shrugged. “It'll save time this way.” He stood opposite Z and whistled for the start of a match. It went quickly. They fake-grappled for the camera, went through a couple dozen underwear options, and were done.

    “We need a closing shot,” Andrew thought out loud. “A real grabber.”

    “The underwear thrown on a chair, so that the label shows, of course. Focus on the label with the wrestlers out-of-focus in the background. You can tell they're naked, but nothing else.” Adan looked around the room for a reaction to his idea.

    “Guys?” Andrew asked his models. Craig was already out of his last set of underwear.

    “Ok,” Z said. He and Craig stood a dozen feet behind the display chair and grappled.

    “The distance is right,” Andrew announced as he relocated a diffuser. He and Adan worked to position the clothing items so they appeared carelessly tossed on the chair.

    Craig changed the grapple into a hug. They were both aware of their complete nudity and every point of bodily contact. “I'm enjoying this way too much,” he said to Z.

    “Yeah … “ Z pulled back and waited for Andrew to finish arranging the underwear. “Ok,” Andrew announced, He positioned the camera. “Z, rotate a little my way. Let's see your ass in half-profile. Good … Again … Got it.” He showed the result to Adan. “We're done. Craig, I need to sign a contract with you … ”

    “Sure,” Craig said without paying much attention. His focus was on watching Z get dressed. “I'm staying at the W Hotel, Z. You want to have a drink after this?” he asked.

    “Again, aren't you married?” Z asked back.

    “My divorce will be final in a couple of weeks.”

    Z nearly panicked thinking of a reason to say no. “My boyfriend is in town and we were going to have dinner. Maybe another time?”

    Craig corrected heard that as 'no' and finished dressing. Z hurried out the door, feeling a weight lifted off his chest once he was out of Craig's presence. In-fucking-tense, he thought. Once on the street he decided meeting up with Eric was not a bad idea. A surprise midweek dinner with Eric anywhere would be more fun than eating alone at home. There was no answer on Eric's phone, so Z decided to drop in.

    Eric's flophouse, as he called it, was in the Inner Sunset District, the closest somewhat-affordable area close to the medical school. Z took the Market Street trolley most of the way and walked the rest. It was close to dinner time when he knocked on the door. A scruffy zombie answered the knock. To meet the image of a future doctor, the guy needed a lot of cleaning up.

    “Hi, I'm Z, looking for Eric Malone.”

    “Yeah, he's in his room, I think. Second on the right. Name's on the door.”

    Z tapped on the door and got no answer. He's probably sleeping, Z thought and opened the door. The room was fairly dark but Z could see the bed was occupied. He turned on a small desk lamp and whispered, “Eric?”

    Eric stayed asleep but the other guy in the bed squinted at Z and said, “It's my turn. Pick another night.”

    Z's hands shook as he extinguished the lamp and left the room. He passed the zombie without a word and left the house. The last daylight was gone and the street was quiet.

    They were naked, Z thought. I couldn't see for sure, but from what I could see, they were topless at least. Z chuckled to himself. Of course they were naked; Eric hates sleeping in underwear. Why am I laughing? What's funny about this? Am I supposed to feel violated? Betrayed? It's more like one punch to the stomach. The punch was quick but I still feel it. A little hard to breathe. Will I forgive him? Of course I will. We never had any rules about stuff like this. We both had sex while I was in Europe all those months. Eric has been at school for two years, five and six days a week. It's only fair …

    He got to the downhill stretch of Market and tears began. He cried for a couple of blocks and then wiped his cheeks. I should have known, he told himself. It shouldn't have been a surprise. If we had planned it, I never would have demanded he stay faithful just to me. A totally unreasonable expectation. Fidelity is a meaningless idea anyway when you're talking about twenty-year-old guys. Everybody says medical school one notch up from prison. It's ok. Nothing to worry about …

    Around Van Ness Street he cried again, and this time it really hurt in his chest. He forced himself to stop and then felt anger. So how come I sat home like a fuckin' monk every night? It's not like I don't get offers now and then. It's not like I didn't feel horny half the time. Eric has been so much of my life. Maybe I should have seen more of life. Tanyeli … I could have married her. She was willing. And that crazy guy from Bolzano … Ignatz. Funny name for a funny guy. Also a gorgeous guy ... And the cook at Jerry's … Basically whole lot of Eric and a taste of three other people … My entire sex life …

    Z crossed to the south side of Market and got mad. 'Pick another night' the asshole said. How many people are on the God-damned schedule, Eric? While dumb old Z sits home and never even gets a phone call. What do I get? And when he is home, he spends more time on his laundry than he does with me. You're tired, Eric ... I get that … But I'm not just some home appliance you can get off on now and then … When you're not too fucking tired …

    He turned right on Fourth Street and walked past the Marriott. Where Darren used to hook up with his sugar daddy, Z thought. What a fuckin' pair! The Alvintzi Brothers! One is a hooker and the other is just hooked.

    Z didn't notice the teenager who came up to him as he waited at a light. “Want to play some games?” the kid asked. He might mean arcade games in the Metreon, across Mission; or he might mean something else entirely.

    “How old are you?” Z asked sharply.

    “Fuck you, fag,” the kid said and hurried away.

    The light changed and Z walked. He passed the Moscone and turned east. In another block he looked in the windows and saw an active bar. The patrons looked maybe a bit too put together, but the staff looked hot and the music was loud. He entered and sat at the bar. A shot of icy vodka woke him up, warmed him up, and made it real. He asked for a house phone and gave a name. Once connected, he changed his mind and hoped it would just keep ringing; but it didn't. “Hello?”

    He took a breath and said, “Craig, it's Z. I'm in the bar having a drink. I started without you.”

    If luck had been different, Darren would have run into Heiko at the airport. Nicky's and Wolf's planes left within minutes of each other, going in opposite directions.The Audi was too small for Nicky and Tsien-tsien both, so he dropped Tsien-tsien early at the BART and went back to the motel to get Nicky.

    There was time for only few moments together and then they needed to leave. Nicky packed very little and left the rest of his things for Darren to keep. “It's only three weeks. I can almost wear the same thing every day. Besides, didn't China invent the laundry?”

    “You're going to Mongolia, Nicky. There's a difference.”

    “Probably just something the press dreamed up to make the place sound special.” Nicky pretended a vague ignorance of Asian geography.

    “By the way, Tsien-tsien's English sure has improved.”

    “What? No it hasn't. He's barely able to say hello.”

    “His exact words to me were, 'Thanks for the ride, Darren.' He ever got the R's right.”

    “The Chinese can say R's; it's the Japs who can't.”

    “ 'Japs' … you will make a great ambassador.”

    “They don't mind being called that. It Americans who get upset. The Japanese think we're an alien life form barely out of the trees anyway. They're amazed we can talk at all.”

    “That's what John Quincy Adams thought about Haitians. What goes around comes around ... Watch it, ya dickhead!” Darren said to the driver who cut him off. The driver of the large Lexus, secure behind his darkened windows, sped on oblivious of the imprecation. “They take advantage of little cars ...” Darren noted needlessly with an edge to his voice.

    Nicky put his hand on Darren's thigh and squeezed the firm muscle. “Forget about it. We have plenty of time. I could give you a blow job ...”

    “Everybody could watch you, too. Another problem with little cars,” Darren continued complaining.

    “Take it easy, Darren. Are you pissed at me or something?” Nicky grabbed his hand and kissed it.

    “No … I'm just worried about the trip. We barely got together again before you're leaving for three weeks.”

    “Probably more like four. It's three weeks in Sainshand itself. We have to watch a whole shipment get manufactured.”

    “I wish you weren't going.”

    “So do I, believe me.”

    They were silent for a few miles.

    “So … Tin-tin speaks English. What's going on with his 'Tit-tin like Morrie money' bullshit?” Nicky was thinking aloud.

    “Who has motives to do something to Morrie … and you, of course?” Darren asked.

    “On the average, one way or another, Morrie screws about three people a day, so that makes … a LOT of people who would love to see him tortured by CIA contractors.”

    “Don't trust him, Nicky,” Darren warned.

    “I never do. Morrie would throw me over the side in an instant. He's already done it.”

    “No, I mean Tsien-tsien. He's the one not to trust.”

    “You know, he has an enormous ass for an Asian. They're usually so slim … he's as plump as a featherbed. Is that an apt analogy?”

    “No, but I get your meaning. Apt analogy? What kind of question is that?”

    “I was reading your logic book. You're getting to be so smart, I'm gonna be left in your dust.” Nicky sighed, “My boyfriend the genius ...”

    “That's the thing – I don't know shit and I'm tired of being stupid.”

    “Not knowing stuff doesn't mean you're stupid. It just means your education sucked. You know you're not stupid.”

    Nicky shifted mental gears and Darren downshifted for the exit to the 101. “Why are we talking about this? I should be telling you how I'm looking forward to getting a place with you again. How I love sleeping with you … I don't mean the sex part, just the sleeping … knowing I can wake up and you'll be there. I sleep so much better with you … I feel like a kid with you, full of fight, like I can lick the world. That's what you do for me.” Nicky kissed Darren's fingers again before letting him downshift again as they turned into SFO.

    “There's the Cathay sign; are you ready for this?” Darren smiled.

    “Pull into the garage, ok? I want to suck on more than your fingers.”

  43. #93
    Defender of Downtrodden
    DonQuixote's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Well, Shit, Damn, and Fuck. Eric & Z on the skids.
    Tell me Eric is letting his roommates have their way with him as his way of paying the rent on his room.
    This is a major clusterfuck. Our old, "married" couple. Craig, the soon to be divorced, let's try out some real ass interloper.

    Tom & Heiko - feel the Heat!

    I don't know if I want to call this a "good" installment. It's certainly captivating writing, but, our guys!

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

  44. #94
    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Sep 2009

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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Quote Originally Posted by DonQuixote View Post
    .. Eric & Z on the skids. Tell me Eric is letting his roommates have their way with him as his way of paying the rent on his room. This is a major clusterfuck. Our old, "married" couple. Craig, the soon to be divorced, let's try out some real ass interloper.
    Now, now ... nothing has happened yet - that we know of anyway; but it's not looking good, is it? Eric has some explaining to do.

  45. #95
    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Twenty-Four

    “Heiko, come inside,” Tom called. “Your bare ass is gonna … Huh? You're almost fully clothed. Is something wrong?” Tom walked out onto the narrow balcony. Heiko was sitting on a lounge with his knees drawn up as a chin rest. “Something is wrong …” Tom sat next to him and rubbed his back. “What is it?”

    After a pause Heiko turned to Tom and said, “I miss Wolf.”

    “Thank God. I thought it was something serious.”

    “It is serious, Tomi. I really miss him. It felt so good having somebody around I had known forever, somebody who knew me so well. I didn't realize it until he was gone. It is serious,” Heiko insisted.

    “Well, yes, it's serious, but we can fix it. It's an easy fix. No surgery. No diet and exercise plan. Just call him and invite him back.”

    “He's starting school. He couldn't come if he wanted to ...”

    “Call and invite him anyway. You'll feel better. He'll like hearing from you. And maybe you can work something out.”

    “I don't know ...” Then Heiko was distracted. “See that pelican? It DOES know me. It squawked twice as it flew past.” Heiko's eyes traced the flight of the gray bird that to Tom looked like every other gray bird in the world.

    “Call him, do it right now. It's what in Germany? Ten? Eleven? He won't be asleep yet.” Tom scratched Heiko's back and kissed his cheek.

    Tom went to get cleaned up and change, leaving Heiko on the balcony. Fifteen minutes later he returned refreshed. Heiko was watching the birds with his cell still in his hand. “What did he say?” Tom asked.

    “It was a very good connection,” Heiko commented. “Clear as a bell. As if he were calling from across the street.”

    “What did he say?” Tom asked again. Heiko was silent. “Unless you tell me, I'm going to tickle you ...”

    “Really?” Heiko asked, sounding as if getting tickled might not be too bad a fate.

    “Really no. It always turns into … sex, and I don't have time right now,” Tom smiled. “Don't tease me. What did he say?”

    “He's coming at Christmas time for two weeks.” Heiko's smile lit up the balcony. “He said this was the best summer of his life.” Heiko hugged Tom to emphasize his pleasure. And then he giggled at Tom's touch. And then he said, “Stop. You said you don't have time.”

    “I was wrong. I always have time for you.”

    The vodka shot was so icy it barely tickled as it went down. The warmth came seconds later. After three sips Z looked at the oversized, now empty shot glass. It looks better full, he thought.

    “There you are,” Craig shouted. He sat next to Z and signaled the bartender for two of whatever Z was having.

    The pulsing music and the hubbub made conversation difficult; but conversation beyond “Do you want to go to my room?” wasn't the point of W's bar. It was a place to look good, size up people, exchange cell numbers, text a subtext to friends, and touch. A lot of subtle touching helped people get acquainted.

    Z touched Craig's wrist. “Amazing watch,” he said, referring to the hubcap Craig was wearing.

    “The team gave it to me for five years of concussions and compression fractures.”

    Z leaned close to Craig's ear. “What do they do after ten?”

    “Prepaid nursing home policy,” Craig answered. “They don't give many of those out.” Craig leaned a little too close and his lips grazed Z's neck. “Sorry.”

    “Don't be,” Z said and raised his refilled glass to Craig. He drank off half the shot; the fire of the drink suffused his body.

    “I was watching a preseason game when you called. You want to watch it with me?”

    “Sure,” Z said, admiring the indirection of Craig's invitation.

    The room had a northern view of the city and the bay. Lights were coming on; the city sparkled. Craig turned on the TV and studied the selection in the minibar. “More vodka? Or something else?”

    “Vodka's good. Just one more, though.”

    They settled on the bed, the best place for viewing the television. Craig set glasses of orange juice to their iced vodkas. “I get thirsty,” he explained.

    They watched a few minutes of the game in silence and then Craig spoke. “Are we going to have sex?”

    “Do you want to?” Z asked back.

    “It's … Yes, I do; but it's awkward. I don't know how to get from here to there with a guy, especially with a guy like you. I'll probably do something stupid like try to kiss you and you hate kissing or something.”

    Z looked at Craig and saw a little confusion and a lot of sincerity. He leaned across and gently kissed him. “I don't hate kissing and what do you mean 'a guy like me'?”

    “You are the most handsome man I've ever seen. I'm afraid of you … a little. And ...”

    “And what?”

    “You have a big dick.” Craig stared hard at a beer commercial as he said it.

    Z chuckled and asked, “Do you like kissing?” He turned Craig's head from looking at the screen and kissed him again. This time Craig eagerly kissed him back. “What else do you like?” Z continued.

    “I've gotten a few blowjobs. I liked them. But we don't have to, if you don't want to.”

    Z got up and walked over to a chair near the windows. With the lights of the city as backlight and the reflected colors of the television coloring the walls of the white room, he took off his clothes. It wasn't an exaggerated strip show display, but it was deliberate and sensual.

    At the same time, Craig lay on the bed and wiggled out of his. He couldn't help gasping when Z shed his boxers. Z's semi-erection was impressive in the dim light; it bobbed as Z walked back to the bed and lay down. “My God, you're ...” Z silenced Craig with another kiss.

    Their kiss lingered and then repeated. Z's hands began to trace Craig's body, playing in his chest hair and then moving down his torso. Z's mouth followed his hands from face to neck to nipples. Craig took a sudden breath when Z touched his cock. A few strokes completed his erection and Craig groaned softly.

    Z moved up for another kiss and then began moving downward again using his hands and sometimes his mouth to look for pleasure points. He watched as his touches changed Craig's expressions from wonder to confusion to surprise to wantonness. Craig was softly sighing unintelligible words; his body moved under Z's touch. Again Z took his cock in hand and stroked, causing Craig to groan aloud. Z moved lower; he held Craig's cock tightly and watched a drop of moisture glisten on its tip. He licked it away, tasting the slick salt. Again Craig gasped and Z took the straining cock in his mouth.

    It was a good blowjob and Z had Craig almost vibrating from tension. He could taste cock juice with every swallow. Craig's thighs was as hard as iron as he stretched, thrusting into Z's mouth. Then he pulled Z off his cock. “Fuck me!” Craig gasped. “I mean … will you fuck me?”

    Z paused. “Have you been fucked before?”

    “No, but you can do it,” Craig pleaded.

    “It's not the easiest thing to do for some people. Are you sure?”

    “It's gonna happen eventually. I trust you and I think … I think I want it.”

    Z was careful. He rimmed Craig for a long while until he was moaning and then went back to gentle kissing, then cocksucking, until the time seemed right. He put his own cock against Craig's asshole and pushed using just his weight. Craig was tight. Z tried again and held Craig's cock as he increased the pressure. He felt a yielding, a feeling of heat beginning to swallow his cockhead.

    “Oh my God,” Craig groaned and started cuming. Z quickly switched positions and took Craig's cock in his mouth, catching all but the first shot spunk from the thrashing man and staying with him as his orgasm completed. He moved up and kissed Craig, feeding him some of his own cum. Craig held Z tightly, wrapping his legs around Z's waist and kissing him with an unsatisfied desperation.

    “Why did you stop?” Craig said with a sob. “Why did you stop? It felt so unbelievable.”

    Z spit in his hand and wet his cock. He again moved into position and pushed. Craig gasped as the first shot of pain hit. Z froze in position to gauge whether Craig would resist his entry. He pushed again and saw the pain come back. He kissed Craig as he pushed more. Craig whimpered and pulled Z by the ass into him. “Ahhh!” he gasped and then almost chewed on Z's lips as the pain abated slowly.

    Z kept his cock motionless and reached for Craig's cock. It was wet and limp. He stroked gently and drew another whimper. Z spit in his hand and stroked until he felt a warmth grow in his hand. Craig acknowledged this with a sigh as Z continued stroking. At the same time he began a tentative thrusting, looking for signs of pain. “Ok?” Z questioned.

    Craig nodded, unable to speak. He pulled Z into a kiss and his body relaxed slightly. Bit by bit Z's motions increased and Craig grew more tolerant. They kissed and Z stroked, but Craig never became fully erect even while his pleasure increased. Z tried to remain gentle but before long his own body demanded release and he thrust hard into Craig as he came.

    They didn't say much, they kissed and held each other, and then they fell asleep with the television still quietly reporting the progress of the football game. The morning fog report was eventually what woke Z. He opened his eyes and saw Craig watching him.

    “Morning,” Z croaked. Craig kissed him and then smiled. “You ok with what we did last night?” Z asked. Craig kissed him again. Z licked his dry lips and asked, “Vodka breath?”

    “A little,” Craig answered as Z got up and walked to the bathroom. Z returned after taking care of bathroom business and sipping from the small vial of mouthwash he found. He climbed back into the bed and felt warm again. Craig continued to look at him. “What?” Z questioned.

    “Nothing.” Craig snuggled against him. “Fascinating weather report,” he commented.

    “I don't know why they bother. It's the same three hundred days of the year.” Z giggled and added, “That tickles.”

    “What are you going to do today?” Craig asked.

    “Go home. Check with Andrew about how the shoot came out, clean the house, that kind of stuff. Maybe play some lacrosse in the afternoon.” Unbidden thoughts of Eric intruded on Z's musing. “What about you?”

    “You know the story about the guy who said to the girl, 'If you come home with me tonight you'll follow me for the rest of your life with a mattress strapped to your back'? Well, I'm gonna shop for a mattress.”

    “I'm sorry. It's too soon to talk about this. I'm still not sure what my responsibilities are.” Seth ended the call and explained it to Andrew, “Jody's wife. What a fucking nag! No wonder they split.”

    “Sweetie, I love you and I only tell you things for your own good. You know that, right?” Andrew waited for Seth's acknowledgment. “Well, I'm telling you now:GET THE FUCK OUT OF THAT RELATIONSHIP!”

    Adan snickered but said nothing. He was arranging and rearranging the shots from yesterday. “Andrew,” he finally said, “This wrestling stuff is good. Spectacular, in fact. Do you think Craig would let us use his name?”

    “Wow!” Seth agreed. “That looks like a love match, not a wrestling match. If I didn't know better, I'd say ...”

    “Job one today is to get Mr. Grantland signed – before somebody else sees these and grabs him,” Andrew resolved. “Where is the lawyer when you need him?”

    The door opened and the three looked up expecting the lawyer. Instead it was Chris. “Oh ...” they all sighed in disappointment.

    “Thanks a bunch for the enthusiastic reception and fuck you, too,” Chris replied. “I've got a couple of vids to let you see and plus I want to go to a gallery at Tenth and Market to look at some hot new guy's work. Everybody's talking about him. If you can review these vids by the end of the day, I'll send 'em to distribution.”

    “I trust you. Just do it,” Andrew said.

    “Mmmnnn, not so fast … I'll look and let you know by four,” Seth said.

    “Nice shots,” Chris commented, looking over Adan's shoulder. “Who took 'em?”

    “Andrew,” Adan said with obvious pride.

    Everyone waited for some expression of triumph from Andrew, but he said only, “Look at the big guy, Chris. Do you think he could be the center of a campaign? He's an ex-NFL player. Google gives you about twenty pages of hits for him, so he's fairly well known in the sports world.”

    “How does he look nude?” Chris asked.

    “Good body, all the usual parts, nothing alarming in the details,” Andrew answered.

    “Then I'd say he could do it. You have something in mind?”

    “Z said that Darren said that Nicky's working on a new line of sports clothes. Maybe they could use a signature model for it; and maybe we could supply that model.”

    “No! Don't call me again!” Jody snarled into his cell as he came in the door. “That bitch ...” he muttered.

    “She knows how to winds you up, hmmmm?” Andrew asked. “Jodith, sweetie ...” Andrew cajoled, “We need rights to use a famous guy's identity in addition to his pictures. Can you do that contract?”

    “The bitch calls me Jodith! Did she get that shit from you?” Jody asked Andrew. He wasn't a happy man at all. “I've got to talk to you,” he said insistently to Seth.

    Seth was alarmed by Jody's agitation. He led the way upstairs to his bedroom/office and closed the door. “What is it?”

    “I need to see your cock,” Jody said and began opening Seth's jeans.

    “What?” Seth exclaimed. Jody had his cock out and was examining it.

    “Nice cock,” was Jody's assessment. “Big, too,” he smiled up at Seth and then gave the object of his judgment a kiss. “And it has some excess skin around the glans when you're soft ... which isn't very often,” he continued and kissed Seth again, ending with a lick. “It goes away when you get hard … Yes! Just like that!” Seth was breathing heavily by the time Jody quit sucking his cock and sat back on his heels. “My rabbi says that a circumcision doesn't have to be a total excision. There are variations possible. The important part is that some cut be administered ...”

    “Since when do you have your own rabbi?” Seth was having trouble putting his cock away.

    “Here … let me,” Jody said and finished the blowjob. Seth got himself back together while Jody spent a few minutes in the bathroom.

    “My rabbi says that even a token nick of the skin could in some technical manner meet the requirements of Genesis … So, strictly for religious reasons, if we could manage to 'nick' ...”

    “Jody!!! That's child molestation!!! Assault!!! In every state of the union!!! Jail for life or something!”

    “So, you don't want to help? After all I've done for you? All the love I've given you?”

    “Your rabbi is party to this? He's as nuts as you are!”

    Andrew and Adan looked up at the two and watched silently as Seth lead Jody out the front door. There followed a brief discussion not quite loud enough to be understood and then Seth came back inside.

    “We need a new lawyer … a lesbian, I think … no children.”

    “Hi. It's Bo.”

    “Took you long enough to call,” Jackson responded.

    “Yeah, well, I've been busy.”

    “I put that potting soil in my bed and I haven't seen any growth at all.”

    “It takes flowers a while to respond.”

    “Flowers??? It's for flowers???”

    Bo laughed. “You got me.”

    “But I haven't got you. You are wherever the hell you are and I'm here.”

    “Where's here?”

    “Emeryville.” There was silence on the line. “Come on, it's not the end of the world.”

    “That's true.” Bo didn't sound convinced.

    “Why don't you come over? You could help me get the potting soil out of my sheets.” Bo didn't reply so Jackson made another offer. “We could go to that new sports bar on Shattuck ...”

    “I'm not old enough,” Bo answered.

    “You can drink Powerade,” Jackson suggested.

    “I don't know ….”

    “Bo, your boyfriend dumped you and you need to get passed it. Let's go out.”

    “How did you know that?”

    “He did dump you? I didn't know that. Didn't even know you had a boyfriend. Although you deserve one. You deserve one who won't dump you. Someone like me.”

    “How well do you know Alameda?”

    “It's there … right across from Oakland … not going any place soon ...”

    “Meet me at Rittler Park around five o'clock. We'll play a pickup game of lacrosse.”

    “Lacrosse ...” Jackson said evenly.

    “It's like soccer with sticks.”

    “I know what it is ...”

    “If you're any good, I'll think about what else we might do.”

    “You're teasing me,” Jackson complained.

    “Testing you,” Bo corrected.

    “And if I pass?”

    “It's a sweaty game. We'll need to shower after. Maybe we could work on your sheets, too.”

    “I'm your man,” Jackson said. He sounded assured in accepting the challenge.

    Bo went back to work dusting the store. Soon he began humming as he worked. He laughed out loud at the idea of putting potting soil in a real bed. He tried to picture Jackson in his mind and couldn't. He's shorter and slimmer, he thought but facial details eluded him.

    “It's like the sun came out in here,” Gale remarked when he returned from a trip to the bank. “What brightened your day?”

    “Well, the sun did come out,” Bo answered pointing out the front windows. “Good for plants … and other living things.” His phone buzzed.

    The text read: “Missing our awesome workouts. Finn.”

    “Yeah, they were fun, weren't they?” Bo said under his breath. “Awesome, in fact. So awesome, you couldn't even say goodbye ...” Then a picture of Finn came on the screen, a picture of Finn making a goofy face. Bo put his phone in his pocket, feeling less positive about his lacrosse date with Jackson.

  46. #96
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Quite the update, almost all around.

    SOMEbodies got their rocks off, others are headed that direction.
    And, brotherly love abounds with absence making the hearts grow fonder.

    Thanks, it was a good read.

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

  47. #97
    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Chapter Twenty-Five

    After a hurried counter-traffic trip home in the rush hour, Z busied himself with some basic housekeeping chores. If I sold some more stock, we could afford a cleaning woman, he thought. Nothing smacking of privilege, just now and then, maybe twice a month. If all she did was the bathrooms and the kitchen, she'd be worth it, he concluded and then he sneezed twice. Using Formula 409 in a confined space did that to him. He sneezed again, hiding the sound of the front door opening and closing.

    “Darren!” Z said in surprise, hitting his head on the bottom of the bathroom sink.

    “Hi. Morning. Want some help?” Darren grabbed a cloth and began scouring the tub.

    “You don't have to do that. I'm almost done.”

    “I know, but mindless work clears the mind for other things … Don't you have something better for the faucet handles? This stuff could be corrosive.” Darren rinsed the cloth in the sudsy bucket and wiped calcified water spots off the brightwork.

    “Things like what?”

    “Nicky's in Mongolia … probably fucking around … literally. Should I stay home nights like some douche bag Penelope awaiting his return? That kind of thing. I figured you might have some insight to offer, you being so skilled at sitting around and waiting.”

    “Is Nicky's … what should we call it? … flirtatiousness? likely to wreck what you have together?”

    “Not as long as he stays healthy,” Darren answered.

    “What would he think of you fucking around?”

    “I don't think he'd care, as long as it was just fucking around.”

    “Have you talked about it?”

    “No, but I don't think we need to.”

    “You might want to think that part over again,” Z suggested. Why didn't Eric and I ever talk it over, he wondered to himself. “But I get it; Eric and I never made any rules either.”

    “Yeah, but you two don't need any rules,” Darren countered in admiring tones. Z's silence made him look up from the tub. “Z? Is something wrong?”

    “Not exactly. You're just making me think ...” Z smiled to himself. Darren's questions made Z decide that his reaction to Eric's infidelity had been both an over-reaction and unimportant at the same time. So long as our basic relationship is solid, he concluded, we can ignore a little wear and tear on the edges, like the chips in the porcelain of the sink – a blemish, not a disaster. Darren changed the subject to school and together they quickly completed the other bathroom.

    “Do you want some lunch?” Z offered. “We could go to Ole's.”

    “Thanks, but I'm meeting my professor for a tutorial,” Darren replied. “Good talking to you, as always. You always have the answer.”

    “I do? I don't remember giving him one,” Z said to himself as he watch Darren leave. Oh well, he thought, as long as Craig was a one-time thing … Eric probably feels the same way about his … hmm … what to call them?.

    A trip to the Scalese's for meat and the laundry completed the most urgent tasks of the day by noon. Z called Andrew to check on the shoot.

    “Fabulous, as always when it's with you, Z,” Andrew answered. “I've sent you the proofs. Do you think that Craig guy would be willing to do more? I have a few ideas for him.”

    “I don't know, Andrew. He doesn't need the money. You won't be able to buy him.”

    “Gotta make it an ego trip then,” Andrew said. “That always works better than crude cash anyway as long as the crude cash part is actually there. Know any show biz savvy lawyers? We need a new one.”

    The doorbell ended the phone call. Z answered and signed a receipt for the courier. It was an oddly shaped package for photo rushes. He opened it and found a smaller oblong box inside, which was harder to open, yielding finally to a chef's knife. Boxes within boxes, Z thought when he saw the black velvet case. He opened it and his mouth dropped open. It was a copy of the hubcap-sized watch he admired on Craig's wrist the day before. The business card included a hand-written “From” over Craig Grantland's name.

    Z immediately called to refuse the gift. “I can't accept it, Craig. It's too much.”

    “You have to. I can't take it back; it's engraved,” Craig protested. “Can't talk now. I'll call you.”

    Z took the heavy watch out of its case. He turned it over. On the back of the watch etched into the metal he read “My alphabet starts with Z”. Z couldn't help admiring the watch. It almost had a personality. It was eye-catching in a fuck-you way that barely escaped vulgarity. It really needed the company of a Super Bowl ring to distract from its boldness. It was not the kind of thing Z would wear. Ever. It stood out and Z admired subtlety. Heiko's word 'ungalant' came to mind. I'll never wear this, he told himself again. He put it on. It looked pretty good, in fact it looked amazing, but it called for a setting, something to surround it, something like a Ferrari, nothing like Z's aging Toyota parked outside at the curb.

    What will I do with it? he asked as he walked around the house with his eyes on his wrist. Where could I ever wear it? Despite its extravagance, its impracticality, its utter incongruity in work-a-day Alameda, it commanded attention. Z couldn't look away. It reminded him of European elegance, pointless except in itself, something objestively perfect and yet so jarring to an American sensibility. Would I still like uit if I didn't know how much it cost? Yes, I would, he told himself.

    Wiping down the kitchen counters while wearing a twenty thousand dollar watch became a very different task. The watch required as much attention as the task. Z was nearly finished when Eric burst in.

    “Z ...” Eric scooped him up in his arms. “I'm so sorry you had to see that yesterday. I came as soon as I found out you were there.” Eric kissed him repeatedly. “My idiot roommates never told me … until this morning … that guy was nobody … I didn't even ask him … he just showed up, sort of ...”

    “Are you going to tell me he raped you?” Z was smiling.

    “No, but ...” Eric was flustered.

    “He seduced you at a vulnerable moment?”

    “No, of course not.” Eric was confused.

    “Just a work relationship taken to the next level?”

    “Kind of ...” Eric noticed the watch. “Wow! Did you buy that after you left my place? That's alright. You deserve it. You have always deserved it. I should have thought of it myself ...”

    “It came this morning. A gift from a guy I worked with.”

    “Worked with? I guess …” Eric's mind filled with a dozen explanations for the watch all of which centered on sex. It was a sobering realization. “Are we alright, you and I? Please tell me yes.”

    “We need a little work, I think,” Z answered, an answer that terrified Eric. He looked stricken. “Do you love me?” Z asked.

    “Yes. More than ever,” Eric swore.

    “That's a start. Want to prove it now?” Z's invitation to bed was accompanied by a kiss.

    “Baby, I can't. I have to get back to the city. I'm scrubbing in on a knee reconstruction this afternoon. But this weekend … for sure. All weekend.”

    Z was disappointed by Eric's departure. He carefully put the watch back in its case. Just a little mistake, that's what Craig was. Accepting the watch was too. I'll give it back, he vowed.

    “You fired him? You can't!! We need a couple reshoots!” Chris's production schedule was going to be disturbed by the absence of Jody.

    “Specifically what?” Seth asked. Chris explained and Seth had the easy answer. “Use a dick double. Even it up with lighting. Actually, you could do it yourself; you're basically built like Jody.”

    “Everybody's basically built like Jody. Two legs, two balls, one ...”

    “I get it. Don't need the complete inventory.”

    “You don't appreciate my minimum production values, Seth.”

    “Back Flip Fuck and Flip Fucked Again are our biggest money makers. I appreciate that and they cost about twenty-seven cents to make.”

    “I used body makeup for Fucked Again. That cost thirty dollars,” Chris countered proudly.

    “You did look pretty good …” Seth mulled over the possibilities. “How much did you spend on Adan?”

    “Nothing. Not even makeup. He photographs great as is.”

    “So why don't we use him … make it a dream sequence. Jody's in the scene but his partner wishes he were Adan … The good sex is with Adan.”

    “Seth!” Chris lost patience. “YOU are the partner!”

    “Oh, that's right … Hmm ...”

    It turned out that Adan didn't mind but Andrew did. “He's a special property. You can't just throw him into some ho-hum two thousand dollar jackoff flick.”

    “Ho-hum? Again, nobody appreciates the hard work that goes into making porn,” Chris whined. “I get other offers, you know.”

    “Chris, sweetie … I know how hard you work, which is why you are paid so much. But Adan is special … we should save him for something just as special.”

    “That's ok,” Adan said. “I'll do it.” He regretted speaking up when simultaneously three people told him to shut up.

    Seth ended the discussion. “Use one of those college kids ...”

    “Kevin and Jeff?”

    “Yeah, but just one. We're watching costs.”

    Chris left and Seth went back to his office. Andrew called Craig to set up a meeting. It was a brief call. “Wow, he's easy to work with,” he remarked to Adan. “Always be careful of things that seem too easy, Adan. There's something in the deal you're missing.”

    “Did you have to tell me to shut up?” Adan had been nursing his hurt.

    “Sweetie,” Andrew hugged him. “My bitch was with Seth and Chris, not with you. I'm sorry.”

    “But why didn't you want me to do it?”

    “Because ...” Andrew turned I-love-you into “you really are special. Too special to waste on that scene. Besides, tu abuela, she wouldn't be happy to see you used as a stunt dick.”

    “But that's exactly what I was in Flip Fucked Again.”

    “Fucked Again was amazing. You were so much more than that. You were an acrobat, a breath-taking leading man, an actor ...”

    “Chris was. He was the star. You should have let me do this scene with Seth.”

    “Let you? Sweetie, I'm not stopping you. It's always your choice.” Andrew knew that was a mistake the minute he said it. He kissed Adan to try to divert him, but Adan wiggled out of his grasp.

    “Seth!” he called upstairs. “I'll do it. Tell Chris, ok? Or should I call him?”

    “It's just porn,” Andrew thought. “He can screw around without side effects. No fallout. He's done it before.” and then Andrew realized why he had been so instinctively opposed.

    Adan wouldn't be the problem at all. Seth would be. One fuck from Adan and my partner will be blown away, Andrew thought. He'll be delirious, the way he always gets when somebody hot makes sappy love to him. He's such a fall-in-love bottom. One sweet fuck and he'll be slapping out tortillas in a little log cabin in Portola.

    Andrew's lip silently curled. Portola! That thought was annoying enough. Andrew felt worse when Seth and Adan left almost immediately for Chris's studio with the lame explanation that “Chris must be crossing the bridge – his phone doesn't ring.”

    Andrew packed up the pasteup of the catalog shoot and decided to save the printing and courier expense and take it to Z. He needed to get out of the office and do something active.

    When he showed off his work Z was pleased, but that was not satisfying. Z lacked a critical eye, at least in Andrew's estimation. With Z's approval, Andrew packed up his laptop and prepared to leave. He tried calling Seth again and got no answer. “Shit,” he said out loud.

    Z made sympathetic noises and Andrew ended up spilling the whole of the Chris-Seth-Adan vignette. “I don't think you have to worry about Adan,” Z assured him. “If he loves you as much as you love him, it won't be a problem. Like with Eric and me, a misstep doesn't mean anything long-term.”

    “You don't sound a hundred percent convinced of that,” Andrew challenged. “Besides, I don't love him … I'm just looking out for him.”

    “Bullshit! I've never seen you so crazy about somebody. You're not worried about Seth, you're worried about losing Adan ... Andrew! Aha!!” Z saw the truth of the matter. “You're jealous.”

    Andrew sat silently and fiddled with the zipper on his laptop case. He looked at Z with a sad expression that broke Z's heart. “Everything was going so well … So smoothly … Everybody was so happy ...”

    “... that something had to go wrong,” Z filled in. “That can happen, but I don't think this is it. It may be something else, but it isn't this.” Z rose from the kitchen table. “You know what? Let's go beat on some people with lacrosse sticks.”

    “I'm not dressed for it.”

    “I'll lend you some stuff. Come on. It'll be fun.”

    Z was slightly shorter than Andrew. Z's shorts made Andrew's legs look very athletic and because of the way they hung there was no hiding his bulge. Andrew saw himself in a mirror and laughed. “Is there suck a thing as a slightly effeminate hunk?”

    Z thought 'slightly' was an understatement and laughed. “You look fine,” he lied. “Get your mind off yourself and carry the goals.”

    “Hi, I'm Cary.” The notable feature about Cary was a lot of red hair.

    “Jeff.” “Kevin.”

    “Chris is ready for you. We have lockers you can use for valuables if you want. There was a little theft problem during a casting call last month.”

    “I don't have anything valuable that isn't attached,” Jeff joked. He had left a wallet and watch locked in his SUV.

    “Three dollars and a student ID,” Kevin put on the bench.

    “I can hold those, if you want. Robes are hanging in the usual place. When you're ready there's a ******** sheet at the door of the studio. Name and time please. We're trying to get efficient, not to mention paying you the right amount.” Cary pocketed Kevin's stuff and left.

    “Next thing we'll meet a union organizer,” Jeff said. “Porn Workers International, Local 12. If you bare it, we'll take care of it.”

    “Don't bitch. The robe's clean this time. I hate wearing somebody else's dried cum.”

    A clip board with a pen chained to it made the sign-in easy enough. The studio looked different, too; it was nothing obvious, just a fresher appearance. Chris observed his models checking out the changes.

    “You like? A little titivation by Cary. Ok, what we want today it to smooth out the scenes with Jody and Seth. Seth will be here soon, but we may not need him. I think you two can be stand-ins. Your shape and coloring are close enough I can adjust. Could you just shed the robes and sit next to each other on the first tier of the stage?”

    Jeff was disappointed that Cary didn't even steal a glance at him. Cary left before he even got his robe off. He had to be satisfied with stares from Kevin and Chris. He liked attention; it helped him keep an erection. He tugged on his loose-hanging balls and gave his cock a couple preliminary strokes as Chris admired its stirings.

    “It's nice, Jeff, but save it for later. I just want to check color levels. Have you been hiding from the sun? You seem less tanned than I thought. Cary?” Chris called to the equipment room, “What do the histograms say?”

    “Jeff's lighter skinned than Jody by a noticeable amount. We can correct, but it's close. Body makeup, I think, will do it. The Sephora Bronzer.”

    “Here you go. Just do from your armpits down to mid thigh.” Chris handed Jeff a large tube.

    “Kevin is close enough to Seth in tone, but maybe not bulk. It will depend on your angles,” Cary called out.

    Jeff applied the cream and acquired a darkened mid section. They all waited for him to dry. “How's school going, guys?” Chris asked.

    “You know. Summer term. Easy B's. Not even the professors give a shit,” Kevin commented.

    Seth and Adan arrived the shoot began. “Cute,” Seth said, seeing Kevin's legs in the air. “Is that what I look like? I brought you some of the critics comments of the last batch.”

    Chris semi-ignored Seth while he got a few shots. “Ok, take it to his asshole. Slowly … slowly … push gently … Good, cut.” He turned to Seth. “And what did the Chief Critic have to say?”

    “You know me, Chris. I thought it was really good. It's hard to fault your work, but ...”

    “Ah! Here comes the but.”

    “But,” Seth continued, “I think we need a rougher look.” He glanced at Adan who reappeared in a robe awaiting his part of the shoot.

    “That's just because you're pissed at Jody,” Chris answered. “Guys, let's do a rear entry. Kevin on your stomach, please. Jeff, a little massaging and then spread his cheeks and take it to entry ...”

    “No I mean another vignette. We can't reshoot the entire Jody-me fuck, we need another pair.”

    “Chris, I think we've got all we need. These shots look good,” Cary called.

    “Who's that?” Seth asked.

    “Cary, come out and meet one of your bosses,” Chris called back. “Take ten guys,” he told Kevin and Jeff.

    Introductions over, Cary returned to the equipment room and the three models went for something to drink. Seth turned to Chris and asked, “You fucking him?”

    “I think of it as mentoring,” Chris answered defensively. “I needed some help so ...”

    Seth smiled broadly. “You ARE fucking him.”

    “I'm barely paying him and he's only here part time.”

    “Fine, bill him to general support; but don't tell Andrew. He's watching pennies lately.” Seth had to ask, “Is he a good fuck?”

    Chris bristled. “Do I ask you about the guys you mess around with? What about the dead ones? Were they good fucks?”

    “One was ...” Seth patted Chris on the back. “Would you use him in a scene? Cary, I mean?”

    “No. We've never discussed that.”

    “Cary?” Seth called out. “Would you mind getting fucked by Adan?” There was silence. “Might as well know his limits,” Seth whispered to Chris. Cary came into the equipment room. “That's quite a blush. You've turned completely red,” Seth noted.

    “I didn't expect to be in front of the cameras.” The other models looked up with interest.

    “Yeah, well we all started that way. Would you? Just theoretically, of course.” Seth watched Cary squirm.

    “It's not so bad,” Kevin offered.

    “Physically, he means. The bad part is everybody you ever knew including your grandmother will watch your scenes. Nothing will be a secret,” Adan advised.

    “You have to decide if you give a shit. The attention can be a turn-on,” Jeff said.

    “I've never done much with men, except for ...” Cary looked pointedly at Chris.

    “Chris, my man, you dog, you ...” Jeff teased. “Molesting the help ...”

    “You're not helping, Jeff,” Kevin cautioned.

    “I guess I could do it,” Cary decided.

    Chris's heart sank. Another boy friend lost to porn.

    The quality of play at the lacrosse game was below its usual level. Too many people were checking out each other. Bo had played before, but he was still a fresh face; so he got attention. Craig was even newer and he was a picture of athleticism; anybody would stare at him. And then Jackson Sands was a total mystery, the obviously gay and very attractive new guy.

    The lower level of skills allowed Jackson to appear better at the game than he was. His passing and catching was terrible, but he could run and his stamina was limitless. It was plain to everyone that Jackson and Bo had some kind of connection, but just what sort wasn't clear. For the first time, Bo, and Jackson, too, was included in the post-game dinner invitation. They shared a look and accepted immediately.

    At the end of dinner Darren spoke up. “All right, you new guys, if you had to pick a team, who would your first choice be?”

    Craig answered instantly, “Z. No question. Skilled. Adaptable. The total package.” Craig's level of interest raised some questions in some minds, but Darren moved on.

    “Ok, Jackson, you're next … and no picking Bo.”

    “Um … Hmm ...” Jackson looked the room over. “So many good choices … I'd pick ...” He hesitated. “I'd pick … yeah, for sure … I'd pick Jerry.” Jackson reached out to high-five Jerry, but,as Jerry held his hand up, there was a reaction to his choice.

    It was sudden and instinctive. “You can't have him. He's taken.” Neil came close to shouting his objection and he put a protective arm around Jerry's shoulders. He was immediately embarrassed by his outburst and backed away from the contact. He laughed nervously and was relieved when others eventually joined in the laughter.

    “Um, ok, then, I'd take Cal. Any objections to that pick?” Jackson kept it light-hearted. “No? Cal it is.”

    Later that night Jerry confronted Neil. “You can't have him? He's taken? What was that about? Neil stumbled on his answer. “The rest of us were talking about lacrosse.Out with it, Neil. What was that about?”

    “He was so gay ...”

    “He who? Jackson?” Neil nodded. “They're gay guys. We play lacrosse. Who cares?”

    “I just didn't like the way he wanted you ...” Neil held his palms up unable to offer a better answer.

    “He wanted me for a team.”

    “He wanted you for HIS team.”

    Jerry let it drop. “Are you still hungry? You want to go to Nick's? Or there's sandwich stuff here.”

  48. #98
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Another episode of "As the Stomach Turns" - The angst of our young guys - still wondering what the full extent of the Eric Episode is - the guy invited himself, sort of - is this Eric's way of making rent at the school week house?
    And the pricey watch arrival was well timed to defuse any excess criticism from Z. . .

    Seth and Andrew, and Chris and Adan and Cary - Oh the possibilities for a MAJOR motion picture of "erotic art".
    (Oh, yeah, and Jeff & Kevin, too.)

    Then there's the Lacrosse game - and the ever-frustrated Jerry & Neil relationship - when will they get past the "Straight" friends and start fucking each other?!

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

  49. #99
    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Quote Originally Posted by DonQuixote View Post
    Then there's the Lacrosse game - and the ever-frustrated Jerry & Neil relationship - when will they get past the "Straight" friends and start fucking each other?!
    I just noticed that this is probably my first chapter in which nobody gets off. It didn't start out that way, but revisions are a nasty piece of business.

  50. #100
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    Re: Four Miles and Counting

    Quite a marathon chapter but excellent as ever!

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