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  1. #151
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Thirty-Four - Tommy Lynn


    “Family, co-workers, former co-workers, and other interested parties, good day to you all. Being of sound mind but rapidly disintegrating body, I make this video as my last will and testament. It will only be shown once and it won't take long. So sit back, sip your drinks slowly, and pay attention. Or not, as you see fit. The important features will also be available in a printed version, which my lawyer says is necessary in Virginia.

    “What a time we've had, huh? I'm aiming this remark at my older friends. For my younger friends time means nothing yet; but, trust me, it will. Remember in the sixties when sex was frightening and illegal? Not much better in the seventies for us in the South. Lately, however, times are changing. I'm married to a man, for example. His name is Buddy, he's the good-looking one with black hair. Introduce yourselves; he'd love to meet you all.

    “Buddy refused to accept much of an inheritance; he said I'd given him enough already. So there's another reason to like him. That leaves all the more for the rest of you.

    “Some people, on flimsy evidence, have called me a good old boy, a nice guy, a trustworthy businessman. Well, I'm about to prove you wrong.

    “Shall we get this on the table? I've had sex with almost all of you. As your mentor or as your employer, I was coercive according to current mores; I used a position of power to force myself on you, isn't that what they say? Wrong. This same lawyer who insisted on the written will, he says I acted shrewdly. Remember the conversations we had? About me not forcing you to do anything? About me not holding a no against you? About your employment not being conditioned on anything other that scholastic qualifications? And the exit interviews in which you agreed that the sex had been consensual, freely given, and not exchanged for the expectation or fact of any promise or reward? Well, I recorded those conversations. The earliest ones are oral only; the later ones are video. I watched them recently and I must say I have great taste in men. Y'all are a nice lookin' bunch. There were noticeable trends. My blonds-only phase. That string of redheads. Tall ones, short ones, athletic, aesthetic, super-straight, flaming queens. In every case, there was something about you that appealed to me. Something special. And you can't sue me in case you're suddenly struck with remorse. You were all of age; and you all did it willingly.

    “And here's the pay off. Y'all got fucked in a good cause. I'm leaving you fifty thousand dollars apiece. Ok? Fair compensation? Oh, but what about the ones who said no? Well, there weren't many; but they get ten thousand just for the embarrassment. I considered giving them more, but the lawyer says ten thou is plenty. So bitch at him, not me, or my memory.

    “Shall we pause the video here? Let most of you leave? Because that's all your getting. Thanks for the good times and, if you're nice to Buddy, he said he would hold annual reunions, in case any of you want to hook up in memory of me. Ok?”

    Tommy Lynn paused with a small smile crossing his face.

    “Ok, let's resume with the disposition of the company. There will be income participation and voting particip …”

    A badly aging man with a little pot belly and jowls rose. Once, some years ago he had probably been seriously hot. Now he was seriously not.

    “All right, big deal, so I took it up the ass a few times. Where's my check?” he asked looking around the room.

    “Son of a southern bitch, Farley. You swore to me he never touched you. Are you lyin' to the lawyer or were you lyin' to me?”

    “A couple times, for fuck sake, Rawlie. Everybody's done it a couple of times!”

    Another very slim, aging former beauty gathered his coat around his shoulders and rose a little unsteadily. “Not me. No, nay, never has any man's penis ...”

    Huge guffaws erupted. “Except on weekends in years that end with a number. Any number. Any weekend.” More laughter. “And the weekends all start on Thursday and end on Tuesday. I know that part is true, 'cause he always went for his shots on Wednesdays. Dintcha, Louise?” Louise snorted and drained his champagne flute before heading to the bar for more.

    Rawlie was now nose to nose with Farley on the side of the room. “You swore to me, Farley. You swore you were a virgin.”

    “Dude, it was years ago! And technically, I was a virgin. Before I came to work here. That was what counted.”

    “I let you ...”

    “Yeah, you did. No hesitation, neither. Big deal! Why are you bringin' up this old shit?”

    “Because you don't deserve fifty thousand dollars when you lied.”

    “It's about the money? Really?”

    There were other discussions, some light-hearted, some not, all on the subject of Tommy Lynn's conquests.

    The video wrapped up. “So my friends, and a few foes, I guess, that's how it ends for me. On the whole, it was worth it at least from my point of view. Anybody who is unhappy, see my lawyer. I don't give a damn any more.”

  2. #152
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    R.I.P Tommy Lynn

    Why do I feel like this is the end of this story?

    Or, is there going to be a helluva wake/orgie in Panavision and Technicolor?!


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

  3. #153
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    I spoke to the author and he said this chapter, while the shortest, is not the final.

  4. #154
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Oh, good.

    - - - Updated - - -

    p.s. I hope you and yours had a good Thanksgiving.


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

  5. #155
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Thirty-Five - Richard


    “ 'So, ideally, you want to find companies that can increase sales at no marginal cost.' See, I was trying to explain to Will the aggregator theory of stock value.”

    “I have no idea what you're talking about,” Brandon laughed.

    “Neither did Will. He was standing next to me and concentrating on rubbing his cock against my arm. I tried another approach, but he just said, 'You like it when I fuck you.' It wasn't a question, it was a statement.”

    Brandon's mouth fell open. “I swear, dude, I will never understand the way you gay guys talk,”

    “That's the thing, Brandon. I don't think Will is actually gay, not the way you think of gay.”

    “Dude ...”

    “It would be ok if you called me Richard. We've known each other since before Tommy Lynn died.”

    “Richard.”

    I smiled at him, “Thank you.” Damn he was good-looking in that basic blue-collar way. No wonder Buddy was … doing whatever Buddy was doing to him.

    “But you two were practically living together! How can he NOT be gay?”

    “I admit right after Tommy Lynn died I did see a lot of him. But I never actually moved in clothes and all.”

    “And you had sex,” Brandon said, as if that proves anything.

    “We did. For a while, every day, almost until summer. Sometimes more,” I giggled at the memory. “But then it tapered off quite a bit. Especially after he got married. And after the first kid, who is named Tommy Lynn Richard I might add, it tapered off to almost nothing.”

    “Almost. So he is gay!”

    “He said he likes fucking me because I'm the most responsive sex partner he's ever had. Plus he does like me.”

    “Um.” I laughed at Brandon's discomfort. Just say it, dude. He did. “What's he mean 'most responsive'?”

    “I come when he fucks me, almost every time.” Brandon choked on his beer. I smiled again at him. I do like him; and he and Buddy together … the two of them? I swear, they are made for each other. “Well, don't you come when Buddy fucks you?” I was teasing; he choked some more.

    “Richard, we … uh, we don't ...”

    “Fuck?” I suggested.

    “We don't do anything.”

    “That must be frustrating. I've seen you hold his hand. I've seen you kiss him.”

    Brandon blushed furiously. “Not often.”

    “You live with him. You love him. You do, Brandon. You two light each other up when you're together. Don't deny it.”

    “We're business partners. I do love him, kind of. But we don't have sex!”

    “Why not?” I wasn't letting him off easily.

    “Because ...” he leaned close and whispered, even though there was no one near us. “Because once when we tried, I threw up when ...”

    “Say it!” I demanded.

    “... when he put his dick in my mouth.”

    “Didn't he shower after work?”

    “Um, we did it at work … out in the field.”

    “Cleanliness counts, Brandon,” was all the advice I had to offer. Euie interrupted us.

    ”Just the three of us?” Euie said as he sat down and signaled the waitress for another glass and another pitcher of beer. Before I could answer he gave us both a huge grin and said, “I think I'm in love with my butcher.”

    “Your butcher? Really? You HAVE a butcher?”

    “Now, Richard … He's not MY butcher specifically; he's everybody's butcher who shops at Enrico's in Georgetown.”

    “Wow. I've heard they have great aged steaks,” Brandon commented.

    “YOU know about Enrico's?” Brandon looked at me as if I was a troglodyte. “Money sure does change some people is all I have to say.”

    “It's not a question of money … Enrico's buys some of our produce. You know, the things Buddy and I grow.”

    “Awesome!” Euie said, charming Brandon. “That's awesome!” As if selling a few limp celery heads was a big accomplishment. “Is that your chard and parsley and uh … cilantro they sell? It's marked locally grown.”

    I couldn't stand more discussion of vegetables, as if we're a bunch of lesbians. “Tell me more about the butcher.”

    “Steve, right?” Brandon prompted. “He's the young one.”

    “Busted,” Euie laughed. “Yeah, Steve.” He turned to me as if I needed a private explanation. “He's not really cute, not the way you think of cute. He's nice though and really a genius at … butchery? Is that the word? Butchering? Cutting meat. I get turned on by competence. You wouldn't believe how thin he can cut cheese.”

    “Farting. I knew it. You're into farting.”

    “They sell cheese at the meat counter, Richard,” Euie explained. Brandon was laughing uncontrollably as Euie's glass and a fresh pitcher arrived.

    “Here y'all go,” Charleen said. “Haven't seen you in a while, Eustis.”

    “Yes 'm, Miss Charleen, I've been real busy.”

    Charleen sighed, her aging heart aflutter. “Euie, you are the cutest thing,” she added with a forgiving note.

    “Euie, did you fuck her?” I whispered.

    “Her daughter,” Euie whispered back loudly enough to be heard across the room.

    “You're straight?” Brandon asked.

    “No, he's not!” I interjected.

    “But he just said ...” Brandon protested.

    “I'm gender fluid,” Euie said. “I believe that's what it's called these days.”

    “You're as gay as a Judy Garland festival, Euie. Don't give me any of that 'gender fluid' bullshit.”

    “Just because you can't manage it, Richard, don't hamstring the rest of us.”

    “Manage it! Manage it! I can ...”

    “When? Name one time you did a girl.”

    “Well, I could if I had to. Really! How does it always become about ME?”

    “Because you attack others first,” Euie said dispassionately.

    “Kind of ...” Brandon agreed, nodding genially.

    “Honestly! I don't mean to. You just say such preposterous things. I have to respond.”

    “No, you don't. You're supposed to tolerate eccentricities in friends … allow them a little room. The fact is I fucked Charlette. Why not accept it?”

    “Charleen's daughter's name is Charlette? I think I knew a Charlette,” Brandon added.

    “Well, there's something else we have in common,” Euie grinned. Brandon grinned back. Oh for God's sake!

    I had to admit the idea of both of them fucking the same girl was kind of hot; the thought of it was giving me a semi. I have an uncanny ability to envision my friends having sex. I have no idea how accurate my vision is, but it's always arousing. Dirty movies in my head; cheap thrills. Jacking off. Yeah, well, back to the real world.

    “Hey, y'all and Richard,” George Brightwater called out, joining the table. “We could almost have a board meeting if Buddy was here. Where is Buddy?” he asked Brandon.

    “He's callin' on some kin of Tommy Lynn's.”

    “Givin' 'em money?” George asked.

    Brandon shrugged. “They're old. It's his money.”

    “Old, yes. But every time I hear, there's more of them.”

    It wasn't criticism, just a gratuitous judgment. So why isn't everybody pouncing on George. If I had said that, they'd be all over me.

    “Fuck!” Hollis said, sitting down next to George. He had a scowl on his face.

    “What's wrong?” I asked him.

    “Nothing. It was an offer.”

    Everybody laughed. Again, at my expense. I wondered if Hollis had told them about our little session. Of course, he had, the little shit. 'The time I raped Richard.' I could tell they all knew. We were waiting for Mac to arrive, but I was tired of being the butt of the jokes. I left. Went home. Masturbated. And felt disgusted.

  6. #156
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Poor, maligned, pain in the ass, or ass that gets pained?, Richard.

    The meeting of the board of Gay, and gender fluid fuck buddies is called to order and the first item on the agenda is sticking it to Richard - or something like that.

    That was a fun read, Rory.


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

  7. #157
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Thirty-Six - George Brightwater

    “You shouldn't have said that to Richard,” I whispered to Hollis as I watched Richard leave the bar. His response was to wiggle closer to me and put his hand on my thigh. Brandon and Euie pretended not to hear my reprimand. “We can't afford to lose him.”

    “Sorry,” Hollis whispered back. “But you know how he sets me off.”

    “He didn't do a thing. You barely sat down.”

    “He knows stuff about me.”

    “Stop it.”

    “He does, George.”

    “You know what I mean.” I didn't mean anything to do with Richard. What I meant to say was get your hand out of my jeans. Hollis had popped a few buttons and was playing with my dick. I knew I should have worn underwear. “NO!” I almost shouted.

    Brandon and Euie looked over. “What?”

    “Nothing,” I said and tried to pretend nothing was happening while Hollis stroked my cock to an erection. He grinned up innocently at me. The little fucker loves public sex. “Euie, what ever happened to that guy you were dating a couple Christmases ago?” Diversion worked. Euie pantomimed something to Brandon while I grabbed Hollis's hand and squeezed. Harder. Harder until it had to hurt him. He pulled his hand away and I tried to stuff my cock back in my jeans.

    “Oh, shit! You mean the apple farmer?” Euie remembered and laughed; Euie had a nice laugh. “Rayner Reynolds … I was crazy for him. He went away with his family on a Christmas skiing trip and never came back. He transferred to some school in Europe.”

    “You're crazy for everybody, Euie,” said Mac, who had just joined us. “Evenin' y'all.”

    “I guess,” Euie admitted. “But Rayner was special. So how're you doin'?”

    “Not much. I took a portfolio analysis to a customer in Falls Church and he offered me a drink. That's the way it starts. I told him, no, I had to drive and he acted like I'd asked for a divorce or something. You know, it's the fifty-somethings that are the most trouble. How come investment advisors can't claim sexual harassment?” Mac shook his head at the offer of beer and signaled to Charleen. “Whatcha got for brandy?”

    “You don't want it.” Charleen wasn't looking for a discussion.

    “Why not?”

    “It's shitty.”

    What's it called?”

    She gave Mac an exasperated look. She spat out the name. “Coronet VSQ”

    “What's the VSQ stand for.”

    “Very Shitty Quality.”

    “Ok. Anything brown and a lot of ice, por favor,” Mac compromised. Charleen left for the bar. “What's wrong with her tonight?”

    “Nothing 'til you got here,” Euie joked.

    “While you reminisce about lost loves? How many is it now?” Mac teased back.

    “All of them,” Euie admitted.

    “Not the butcher?”

    “No, not the butcher … yet.”

    Brandon was nonplussed. “Why? You're very ...” He got embarrassed by the compliment he was about to pay Euie. “I'd think you'd have no trouble at all.”

    “He smothers them,” I suggested. “He looks for love from people who are incapable of loving.”

    Thank you, Doctor,” Euie answered. “That's as good an explanation as any.”

    “I love you, Euie.” Mac sounded sincere.

    “But not in a sexy way,” Euie said.

    “I love you in a sexy way,” Hollis said.

    “George, control the boy,” Euie laughed.

    “Seven and a half and it's thick. I'd make you happy,” Hollis pursued. Euie looked surprised, as if he was no longer sure whether Hollis was joking or not. The little fucker can do that, even to me, even after two years of being together.

    Buddy arrived and popped Hollis's suspense-filled balloon. We no longer had to wonder if Hollis was a possibility for Euie. “Bad news,” Buddy began. “Where's Richard? Hey, Bran.” He gave Brandon a kiss on the cheek, ignoring whether anyone in the bar noticed.

    “He just left a couple minutes ago,” I said, knowing Buddy was serious.

    “Can you call him? Get him back?” Charleen arrived with Mac's drink. “Can I have one of those, too, Charleen?”

    “This is from Charlette,” she said, glaring at Mac. “She says you're the father.” Mac's eyes about fell out.

    “What? Say, WHAT?” Mac gulped. “!!!!” He tried but no words came out.

    She put the drink down in front of Mac and said, “Buddy, hon, this drink is poisoned. I'll get you a regular one.” Mac automatically recoiled and looked at the drink with terror in his eyes.

    Buddy smiled at Brandon with calm and complete satisfaction. “It's always like this Brandon. You should have stayed home. If we still have a home to go to ...”

    “I can't get Richard … he's not picking up.” I put my phone back in my pocket. “What's the bad news, Buddy? Don't make us wait.”

    “Tommy Lynn's relatives? They're not satisfied with what he left them. They want to break the will.”

    “I guess we could let them have something more ...” I ventured.

    “They want it all. They want the company. The money. The house. Everything.”

    “Well, fuck 'em,” Euie said.

    “They say we corrupted Tommy Lynn. Sexed him. Drugged him. Alienated him from his real family. If they go to court, there's a lot of our customers who are going to get outted. Real sudden like. Lives and families are gonna be ruined.”

    “They can't do that! … Can they?” I looked around the table. There were no answers present.

    “We need to get lawyered-up in a hurry,” Buddy sighed.

    I got my phone out. “GOD DAMN IT ANSWER!!!” I typed. Silence followed. Charleen arrived with a drink for Buddy. He tossed it down in one swallow and offered her the glass for a refill.

    My phone vibrated. “I'll think about that tomorrow,” appeared in the little box.

    The party broke up. Hollis and I walked to my car. “Let's go home,” he said. “I want to fuck you while we still have a mattress.”

    I started the car and then asked him, “Have you fucked Richard?” He acted hurt.

    “George, I don't fuck around nearly as much as you think I do.”

    “Did you?”

    “Maybe ... a little ... back when I was new. You knew at the time! And nothing since. Stop the car.” I did. He kissed me with an unusual amount of passion. “You're the only one I care about.”

    The rest of the trip he touched me, not in a sexual way, more in a familiar way, a little clingy in fact. The sex that followed when we got home was spectacular. It was the talk afterward that was disconcerting. He kept asking questions about Euie – all the while lying in my arms acting all fucked out.

    “Ask Euie himself. He'll tell you.” I was through giving out Euie-info. That was after he asked about the Turkish oil wrestling.

    “Maybe I will. It sounds hot, Turkish oil wrestling. You want to fuck me again? Because if you don't, I'm taking a Tylenol PM.” I said nothing, just enjoyed holding him. He can be very affectionate.

    “Are you having trouble sleeping?” I asked after a bit. No answer. He was already asleep.

  8. #158
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    As the World Turns, Gay VA style...

    Here's hoping they can figure out a way to keep the bastard family members from getting anywhere near close to the company - or the money. They didn't give a shit about Tommy Lynn when he was alive, they sure as fuck don't deserve his estate now that he's dead.


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

  9. #159
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Thirty-Seven - Hollis


    “Oh … Yes … NNNNGH … DO IT … AH! AH! FUCK! … I'M COMING! FUUUUCK!!”

    I'm usually a good predictor of things and I did in fact shoot all over Rayner's face. He tried to blame ME, of course; but he was the one with my cock in hand. It was HIS bad aim, not mine.

    “God damn it, Hollis ...”

    “Shut up and kiss me!”

    I like being kissed after I've come, especially after I've come while being fucked. I need a little comfort then. He KNOWS this. We've been fucking since the semester started. And, come on, that's not a tiny dick I'm taking.

    “Ah … that was sweet … as usual...” I try being appreciative and what does it get me?

    “Gimme a towel, damn it.” Rayner was blinking his eyes furiously; he must have got jizz in them.

    “Aw, why is my pretty boy all frowny-faced?” He tried to stay mad but he couldn't. Once he wiped his face off he lay back down and kissed me some more.

    “We came almost at the same time,” he sighed. “We're getting' good at this.”

    “That's because we're not in love. It gives us enough distance that we can concentrate on perfecting the sex.”

    “Am I fucking you too much?”

    “What would too much be? Three times a day?”

    “You know what I mean. I'm always the top lately.”

    “Aren't you the considerate dude!” If I didn't like getting fucked, I wouldn't do it. He didn't seem to get that. Shit. Now he looks hurt. “Come on, Ray … it's just sex. Pretty good sex. Pretty great sex, in fact. If you want to take a dick, I can arrange that.” He smiled and nodded. “Evan is dying to fuck you.” Which was true. My roommate would do anything to get a shot at Rayner. “He's got a nice dick,” which was also true. It was Evan's face that cut into his score count. Not a pretty boy. But after you get to know him he gets better looking. At least I think so. Rayner, obviously, didn't. “There you go all frowny-faced again.”

    “You are such a ball-buster, Hollis.” Rayner got out of bed and stretched. What a hot body. I could stare at him for days. He claims he used to be skinny and look like a kid until he spent six months in Europe eating. Evan who knew him before says it was true; he looked like a boy. Which made me wonder if that was what Euie goes for. Real young ones maybe?

    “Rayner, you remember a dude named Euie?” He spun around and looked at me. “I work with him and he mentioned your name. I didn't tell him I knew you.”

    Rayner pulled on some clothes, spoiling my view before he answered. “Yes. We were … uh … close for a while. How well do you know him?”

    “Well enough to want to fuck him; but he doesn't seem interested.”

    “Did he say anything about me?”

    “I believe he called you 'special'. We were having a discussion about the fact he falls in love with every dude he meets and another dude said, 'Who was that apple farmer you used to date?' or something like that. That's when he mentioned your name.”

    “I came closer to lovin' Euie than any other guy I've ever known. I mean it was this close!” He held his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. “What does he do?”

    “He's a fairly successful at signing up new accounts at the investment firm I work for on weekends.”

    “Salesman, huh? I figured he wouldn't be a numbers-nerd. He's action oriented … very.”

    “Everybody likes him.” I said that a little too wistfully.

    Rayner laughed. “You, too, huh? Well, you couldn't do much better.” Rayner paused. “Damn! I probably fucked that one up. Totally my fault.”

    “Yeah, no. He's got no time for me. He's having wet dreams over some butcher in Georgetown.”

    Rayner laughed heartily. “A butcher! That is SO LIKE EUIE. It's all about the dude. He doesn't give a shit about money or education or … anything else. I bet that butcher is smokin' hot. Have you ever seen the way Euie lights up when he's with somebody he likes?”

    “You mean the way you are lighting up talking about him?” Rayner almost blushed. I say almost. It was close. “You'd go back with him, wouldn't you?”

    “No … no … I don't think so … well ...”

    “You want to meet him? I can arrange that.”

    “A blind date? We're kinda past that.”

    “No. I work on weekends during school. He's usually there on Saturday mornings. I can take you along for an orientation and we'll just happen to bump into him.”

    “Sounds lame and contrived,” Rayner said, waggling his cock at me before he zipped up.

    “He doesn't think like that. He'll think it's pure accident or kismet or something.”

    “Yeah, ok, maybe. I'll think about it. Are you just gonna lie there? Don't you have class or something?” Rayner was finished dressing and ready to leave.

    “Evan's due back any minute. I like to keep a little sexual tension going. He gets flustered when he sees me naked.”

    “You're a dick, you know?” At that moment Evan walked in and looked from one of us to the other and back again.

    “Oh … uh … sorry … I ...” He left quickly closing the door with a small slam.

    “Yep, a dick, but you like it, don't you, Rayner?” He didn't answer directly.

    “You want to get together tomorrow, maybe three-thirty? My room this time?”

    Five minutes later I was dressed. I probably should have showered, but I was hungry.

    Evan arrived back breathless. “Did you and Rayner just …?” He couldn't say the word.

    “I have no idea what you mean. Just what?”

    “You know … have sex? I saw Evan on the way out and he seemed very up.”

    “Evan thinks he's fuckin' me too much. He wants to bottom. I told him you be glad to do it.”

    “Jeez! Hollis! You didn't!”

    “You gotta put yourself out there, Evan. You'll never get laid sitting in the room waiting for Princess Charming to drop by. Repeat after me: I have a beautiful body.” He would die before he said that. The thing is he does have a beautiful body. God knows where he got it. He never goes to the gym. “Evan, say it: I have a beautiful body …” His ass especially. I hugged him and pulled him close. He resisted, “You absolutely do, admit it.” I squeezed his butt in both my hands before he got loose.

    “Don't tease me, Hollis.”

    “You want to come to work with me next Saturday?”

    “YES! Really? Could I?”

    “Maybe Rayner will come along, too.”

  10. #160
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Funny what money can, and can't do. It can't buy you their attention when you're alive, but when you die ...

    Lovin' the story with all of it's "entanglements".
    Chaz
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

  11. #161
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Oh! Rayner is "back".

    I'm thinking Euie is going to be happy ...
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    That was a fun interlude - or is that innerlube?!
    Some pretty candid conversation - You do keep us horny!


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

  13. #163
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Thirty-Eight - Rayner


    I was a little edgy, combined with horny, combined with curious about what it would be like to see Euie again after two years. Hollis gave me no clue about what to expect. Maybe he has gained twenty-five pounds from steriods and is all Muscle-Mary looking. Somehow I doubted that. Maybe he'll be all pissed off because I dumped him. That would be more likely. I guess I should have sent him a post card or something.

    Hollis said we would spend a couple of hours at the company and then go to their annual Christmas party. One of their parties, that is. Hollis said they had one for their gay clients and another one for their straight clients and the gays who didn't want to advertise. That second one actually sounded like the more interesting one. Less competition, less pressure to connect, probably more money.

    Hollis said to be a little dressy, so I decided to wear a black blazer, open collar, and jeans without holes in them. I mean it's an afternoon party, right? Not really an occasion for velvet smoking jackets and dance pumps.

    Hollis and Evan were wearing black suits with white shirts and ties! Oh well, what the hell. It's not like I'm expecting to be hired. I'm not even a business major; I'm an art major, so why not be a little arty? Maybe I should have worn the jeans with holes in them.

    The drive seemed long. Evan and Hollis were yackin' non-stop about business stuff. YAWN! I looked out the window and watched the winter Virginia landscape roll by. The last time I saw Euie was in an apple orchard. I knew he loved me; I pretended I loved him. It was fun and sexy and light. That was really the word. Being with Euie had been light. No heavy emotions. No heavy complications. No heavy portents of what comes next. We had all the fun of getting to know each other, getting in synch with sex, except he was the nicest one of the half dozen or so guys I fell in love with. Except it wasn't love, it was semi-love. Light. Good times. Good sex. And then get the hell out before it got intense, dramatic, and HEAVY! God, I hate HEAVY.

    “When are we gonna get there?” I asked Hollis.

    “Aren't you the whiny little bitch!” he answered as he turned into a long driveway.

    “I get that way after bad sex,” I replied, which shut him up. As far as he knew he had been my last.

    We were apparently there years in advance of the party. Euie wasn't there yet, so Hollis passed me off to some skinny queen named Richard while he and Evan went to see George, Hollis' sexual interest.

    Richard was friendly at least and launched into some endless mash-up of statistics and witchcraft by which he selected investments. He finally paused for a breath and I inserted, “Where's Euie?”

    Richard looked up. “Oh, you know Euie?”

    “I used to see him around school.”

    “I bet you did. Well, now you'd need to see him around Georgetown.”

    “Is he in grad school there?”

    “No, he's slicing up hearts and beef carcasses there.”

    Very clever, I suppose, asshole, I thought. Of course I didn't say that. I said, “My father says master limited partnerships suck.”

    “He must have a lousy accountant. They can be useful in the right circumstances.”

    After another dissertation on how the parterships can be awesome if you have an income over a million a year, there was a knock at the door. “Richard, can I ...” The voice was familiar. “Wow, Rayner!” Euie was stopped dead in his tracks. As was I. I just wanted to stare at him. Two years changed him from preppy-sexy to … I don't know the word.

    “Wow, Euie!” I finally said back.

    “Awww, time for reminiscences. You two just prance out to the Lillibullero and have a sweet time.”

    I took Richard's invitation and left with Euie. “What's the Lily Bolero?” I whispered.

    “Cornwallis's favorite tune!” Richard shouted at our backs.

    “Richard likes colonial history,” Euie whispered with a grin.

    “So do I, but … who knew Cornwallis had a favorite tune?” I didn't want to be talking about forgotten generals, I wanted to talk about Euie … who looked amazing … and myself … Richard was right about that. “So, uh, I guess I kind of owe you an apology.”

    “Maybe, but forget it. I have,” Euie brushed me off. That was bad news.

    “Honest, Euie … I should ...”

    “Here, have a drink. Rattle-Skull Sling. It was Ben Franklin's favorite, Richard says.”

    “Thanks,” I said accepting the cup. “HHHHHHHH!” I could barley get my breath

    “It's a lot of rum and a couple of spices. Like it?” Euie was laughing at my reaction to a small sip. Before I got my breath back, Euie's expression changed totally. I looked where he was looking. Shit. Some hot looking guy who looked like some combination of Secret Service and prep school. “Excuse me,” Euie said and went to talk to his friend. But they didn't talk. They just stared stupidly at each other. Love, obviously. Disgusting.

    Out of nowhere I heard a voice. “So what do you do here?” a middle-aged businessman asked me. I blasted him with a megawatt smile.

    “I'm an intern, sir. In my last year at James Madison. Can I get you a drink?” Ok, so I was a friend-of-an-intern. I could have been an intern. Why not?

    “Do you work under Eustis Fortney? I saw you talking to him. He is the most persuasive salesman I think I've ever known,” he said with a wide smile. What did that mean? Had Euie fooled around with him? I felt the guy looking me over. He was trying to be subtle, but I know when somebody's checking me out.

    “Milligan, pull in your eyeballs! You lay one paw on this little gum drop and I'll cut your dick off!” An effusive, older man turned to me. “How are you, little gum drop? If Santa's not good to you, let me know. I could be. I love little gum drops like you. I'm Marlon Ringtree and who are you?”

    “I'm Rayner Reynolds, sir.”

    He took a breath of surprise. “Yes, of course. I see it now. Is your daddy Wrappy Reynolds?”

    “I think my uncle Staunton had that nickname.”

    “Wrappy Reynolds nephew! My boy, I could tell you things …”

    “But you're not going to, Marlon,” Milligan interrupted. “The boy is not interested in Paleolithic sex practices.”

    Before I could say, “I might be,” Milligan nodded and led Marlon away to talk to some other old guys. I turned to look for Euie and barely caught a glimpse of him leaving with the hot dude.

    “That's the butcher from Georgetown,” Hollis explained. “You want to get drunk? I found the real stash. Not this colonial punch stuff.” I didn't know what to say. “Too bad,” Hollis said dismissively, “You're a good fuck when you've had a couple.” He headed off in the probable direction of the stash.

    “I'm a pretty good fuck when I've had a couple,” Evan said, appearing from the crowd..

    “Evan, seriously, are you offering?”

    “Not exactly, but it does make me horny.”

    “Sweet Evan, it makes EVERYONE horny. Why do you think people drink?”

    “To forget how horny they are?”

    Alright, I admit there is something appealing about Evan. Maybe some day I'll make his wish come true. Then Richard appeared in the room, working his way around the crowd, quick comments here, back-pats there, one butt slap, and then he got to us.

    “Fucking music! It's impossible to please everybody so we put up with stuff that nobody likes. Plus it's too loud! What are you gonna do?” He shrugged assuming I was feeling sympathetic. Actually I was. “And we are doing the straight crowd in three days, which will be even worse. They will have the balls to complain!” Richard wandered away, grabbed a drink off a tray, and chatted up some queeny-looking dude.

    “Evan, this is your chance. You want to go back to school and have sex with me?”

    “Uh … wow, Rayner … I mean …”

    “This is not sounding like yes, Evan!”

    “Well, you know I like horses and this guy said he has a barn and ...” he let his story trail off.

    Great. I just got turned down by a truly desperate man. “Where's Hollis?”

    “Oh, uh … he left with somer guy. He said it shouldn't be a problem catching a ride to Harrisonburg. You could come with me, if you want to see some horses, I guess.” I could tell Evan was only being polite.

    Across the room I could see Milligan and Marlon getting their coats on. I hurried over. “Would you happen to be going anywhere near Harrisonburg?” They eagerly invited me to ride with them. On my way to get my coat, I spoke to the bandleader. What the hell? It might help.

    Marlon and Milligan had a Cadillac pickup. I had never ridden in one before. It was heavy on comfort and light on utility. The doors locked automatically as we began moving - an ominous sound, but so what. We've all had sex that we didn't exactly want, right? And I needed a ride. Milligan drove and Marlon sucked my dick and then Marlon drove and Milligan fucked me. It wasn't so bad and I got back to school in time for a pizza before bed.

  14. #164
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Well ... I think Rayner lost a few points there, at least with me ...

    Still lovin' this story, though!
    Chaz
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    The worm has turned on Rayner. But, as ye sew so shall ye reap as the saying goes...


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

  16. #166
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Thirty-Nine - Hollis

    “Alright! I want to know! WHAT is going on with you? I am not to be trifled with.” Evan laughed at me, in a good natured way, but still he laughed! “See, a month ago you would NOT have laughed. You would have cowered. What is going on?”

    “I don't know what you're talking about.”

    “You're still smiling. You know exactly what I'm talking about!”

    Evan stopped and looked directly at me. I had no idea what he was thinking. My formerly transparent roommate had become a mystery.”It's your fault, you know. Taking my to your work that day, you and Rayner.”

    “Oh, my God. Did someone molest you?”

    “More like changed my outlook.” He shrugged off his jacket and sat in his chair by the window. A month ago he would have slumped timidly in his chair; now he possessed it, owned it, dominated it.

    “Evan … don't tease. This is sounding juicy.”

    “I just developed a little confidence in myself, that's all.”

    “Oh my Gawd! Somebody molested you and you LIKED it!”

    “Not exactly. Maybe somebody convinced me I'm worth molesting. But, trust me, Hollis, nothing happened that I didn't want to happen.” His tone said he would kill any potential molestor. I believed him. He might not succeed, but he would try. I looked hard at him. He wasn't boasting; he was just stating a fact.

    “I've seen you naked. You're worth molesting.” I'm not sure why I told him that; he already knew. “You always have been worth molesting as long as I've known you.”

    Which was going on four years, now. All of college we've been friends. I never really needed help, but Evan helped by listening, letting me spout off my idée du jour no matter how juvenile. Like the time I said I would fuck every dude on campus. He took me seriously and estimated how far I would get; and, give or take a dozen, he was pretty accurate. I told him everything and he told me nothing. That was because he didn't have much to tell. But now there was something and he was NOT telling me.

    “It's early. Want to go for a drink? We never really celebrated your birthday.” That got me a quick yes and shortly we settled into a booth at Sipe's. It was noisy enough that nobody would hear us, but private enough to talk. Evan ordered a shot of Single Barrel Jack with a “You're paying, right?” to me. Three shots later he started talking.

    “So I was looking out the back window in that porch room and this dude came up to me and said, 'Planning where to put the stable?'

    “I was thinking about what a great view it would be for a pasture.” I turned to smile at him and was surprised at how close he was standing. 'I have a horses, but the property is flat, not a nice rolling meadow like this.'

    “That got us talking about horses and next thing he invited me to see the horses. 'Right now?' I asked and he said something like sure, he needed to get them settled for the night. And next thing I know we're speeding toward Haymarket in a Range Rover.”

    “You knew he had ulterior motives?”

    “I suspected, but he was easy to talk to and ...”

    “They always are,” I interrupted.

    “Ok, I don't have your experience, but I'm not a total innocent. I figured something was up and decided what the hell.” He ignored my “Good boy,” and continued.

    “He had actual horses, quite a few of them. We walked through the barn and he'd stop and talk to each one. You know horses? Well, they aren't like dogs, but you can tell when they trust you. And these all trusted him. 'You mind if I take your picture with Ghost?' he asked.

    “Innocently ...” I inserted.

    “Yeah, so there I am posing with this huge gray horse.”

    Evan described the posing routine and I kind of zoned out looking at his mouth, which I'd never paid much attention to before. Nice lips, full, firm. I was musing about what it would be like to kiss him, when he pulled me back sharp.

    “And then he said, 'Would you mind taking off your clothes?' He sort of made it a joke. 'The horses aren't wearing anything,' he said. I laughed too but froze in position. You know what, Hollis? The hardest part was taking off my shirt. I felt so exposed and naked, but then Ghost helped out. He wrapped his neck around me and rested his head over my shoulder. The softness of his neck and his warm breath made me feel .. . I don't know ...welcome? … comfortable? 'Stop there,' the guy said just as I started on my belt. And he took more shots of us. I whispered a quick thanks to Ghost and he nickered. Just like he understood. Like it had happened before. And then the guy said, 'Ok, the rest,' which wasn't hard at all, taking it all off. Again Ghost wrapped me in his neck and I've never felt so tuned in to a horse. 'Keep your shoes on,' the guy cautioned. 'We don't want any hoof prints on the tops of your feet.' He tried keeping it light, but, Hollis, my God, it was so erotic!”

    “Erection time, huh?”

    “No, but, dude, was I ever straining. Precum was dripping down my leg.” Evan paused and looked hard at me. “What are you doing? With your hands? Are you jacking off?”

    I shrugged. “It's a hot story, roomie. Nobody can see me. Keep talkin'.”

    “So he keeps posing us and taking pictures and suddenly he says, 'You're beautiful.' Nobody ever accused me of that before. Lika a reflex, I put my hand to my face, like I was trying to hide something. He pulled it away. 'I didn't say pretty; I said beautiful. You and Ghost, standing together.' He ran his hand down my back and then over my ass. He sank to his knees and I felt the warmth of his breath on me. And then I felt his mouth on me. Ghost took a couple steps back as the guy sucked my cock. It was awesome!”

    “Dude! I bet!” I wasn't really jacking off, just kind of petting myself. I could feel a wet spot at the end of my jean-covered dick.

    “But it didn't last long. I blew a couple of spurts into him before he pulled away leaving me jerking and still coming. 'I wanna watch,' he said. When I started to recover he stood up and I sank to my knees. Pay back, I figured. 'No,' he said when I started unfastening his pants, but he didn't stop me. He came almost as quickly as I did. When it was over he quickly pulled up his pants and left. 'Phil will take you home.' I looked around for my clothes and didn't find them. We had moved around as the pictures were taken. I felt really stupid. The guy had put Ghost back into his stall so quietly I barely noticed. I found Ghost. Do you have my clothes? I asked him. He just breathed a sigh and grabbed up a mouthful of hay.”

    “So then what?” Evan's story had me breathless and afraid to touch my dick I was so close to exploding.

    “A dude came up to me. 'Are these your clothes?' I heard. Are you Phil, I asked him. He nodded and gave me a bunch of jumbled cloth. He stared at my body while I dressed and then suddenly became aware of what he was doing. He half turned away to look at a blank wall and said, 'The boss said to give you a ride.' Thanks, I said. We barely talked as he drove me to the school gate. Will I see you or him again? I asked. 'Probably not,' Phil said and drove away.”

    “Jesus! Did you get the license plate?”

    “I didn't need to. The door of the truck said Phantom Farms and gave the address in Haymarket.”

    Awesome story! Even if you never did see him again.”

    “Except I did. Over Christmas I went to a barn sale and found a couple of old halters. One was stamped CSA and I told you the guy liked old tack.”

    “Evan, you never did tell me that.”

    “I did. It was while you were jacking off.”

    “I was never jackin' off.”

    “You were. You still are.”

    “NOT! I'm just putting a kind of confidence hold on the goods.”

    “Anyway, I found an old halter and an old bridle. There were dirt cheap. The halter had 'CSA' stamped on it, so I though maybe it was War Between the States vintage, right? Maybe? And the other one ...”

    “Does this story have a sexy part?” I admit I was a little abrupt.

    Evan smiled like a snake. “You mean the part where I get fucked?”

    “DUDE!!! You got fucked? Lost your cherry?”

    “Well, technically … I wasn't a virgin, Hollis. But the only other guy who tried it got a fat lip for his trouble. He got in me, but he didn't get off.” Evan laughed recalling the memory. I remember him crying when it happened.

    “But you did it??? COME ON!”

    “I went to the horse farm and showed Phil the tack. He went to get 'the Boss' as he always called the guy. So the guy came and said the 'CSA' halter was probably fake but the other one, the bridle, was probably Mexican ...”

    “Get to the sex part,” I demanded.

    “Hollis, you have to quit jackin' off. People can see you.”

    “They can't and the only reason you can is you know what I'm doing. So how did he fuck you?”

    “On the floor of the barn,”

    “No! Details!”

    “He cleaned up the bridle a little and put it on the white horse, Spectre. And then he asked if he could take more pictures of the horse and me.”

    “Yeah, yeah, and then he talked you out of your clothes and … what???”

    “Well, at the part where he gave me the blow job the first time, he started that again an it was so hot my legs got weak and I kinda collapsed to the floor and he kinda fell on top of me and then his pants were around his knees and I could feel his cock against me and then it just kinda happened. I was in the right position and his cock was wet and he spit on it some more and he fucked me.”

    “DUDE! Did you come?”

    “No, but it didn't hurt. Not really. Not like the first time. Not a lot. It didn't feel great, it felt … I don't know … it felt right somehow, like that's what we were supposed to do … and then Phil showed up, just as the guy was about to cum. 'Boss?' he started and then saw what we were doing and just about ran back to his office. And then the guy came.”

    “Awesome!” I didn't dare touch my cock; I was about to come, too.

    “Almost awesome. Once he came he pulled out and pulled up his pants and left me lying on the floor. I never felt so alone.” Evan sounded wistful, but not hurt about it.

    “Yeah, some guys are like that. You do your best for 'em and poof! They're gone.”

    “So a couple of minutes later, Phil showed up with my clothes. I guess I had left them in the stall where we started taking pictures. He handed them to me and checked me out a little. I didn't care by then; let, him look - I just started dressing. 'Meet me in my office; I'll give you a ride home,' he said. I got a truck, I answered. And he said 'Right.' He nodded and walked slowly back to his office.”

    “Wow! Hot! So you want to go back to the room and we have sex?” I can't tell you how disappointed I was when he said no. Evan, of all people! He turned me down! I couldn't believe it. We got in our beds and turned out the light for the night.

    “Evan? You sure?” He chuckled. That was all the answer I got. In the morning he was up first. He came back from his shower and I checked him out. I get that's a nice thick cock, I thought. “Evan?” He turned in surprise.

    “I didn't know you were awake.”

    “Last night? I'd have let you do it. You could have been the top.”

    “One of these days it just might happen. Hollis.” He was being polite. I knew it never would.

  17. #167
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    How do I sign up to be an active member in this story - although always the bridesmaid never the bride sucks.

    "... and poof! They're gone." took me straight to Hee Haw's weekly "I searched the world over and thought I'd found true love, you met another and poof, you were gone ..."


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

  18. #168
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Good for Evan!

    Sorry, Hollis. Really sorry.
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

  19. #169
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Forty - George and Richard


    “Here we are, ten years later, and we're back to sharing an office,” Richard mused.

    “You sorry? Regret anything?”

    Fuck, no; well, almost no. I do miss the pool and the pool house. I always liked looking at Euie's ass.”

    George laughed at Richard's throw-away line. “I feel sorry for Buddy. He gave the most and got the least.”

    “I guess I'm sorry we share the office with Euie. Despite the pleasures of watching his pneumatic ass, he's always so damn cheerful. Mac I don't mind. He's as depressed as I am most of the time.”

    “That's not true, Richard. He's not really depressed, he's just ...”

    “Forlorn? Lovelorn? Oxygen deprived? Dieting?”

    George laughed again. “Mac saves his dazzle for special events. And Buddy? Buddy's probably the happiest person I know. Why don't you feel sorry for me? I have the least faithful boyfriend in the history of Western civilization.”

    “At least yours is animated; mine is the prototype for that sex-bot company we invested in.”,

    “Speaking of which ...”

    “They don't actually make sex-bots. They make actuator motors and hydraulic stuff, which they SELL to the company that makes the sex-bots ... which I hear are pretty good substitutes if the only competition is your hand night after night.”

    “Why are you calling Rayner a sex-bot? I thought you liked him. You've been living with him for ...what? Three months now?”

    “Yeah, since my last swim at Tommy Lynn's old place. It started out so promising ... “ Richard laughed at some recollection, which he didn't share with George.

    “Come on … tell me,” George insisted.

    “It was that box of bathing suits Tommy Lynn had. Remember? The ones designed not to fit anybody? Rayner was hanging around waiting for Hollis for a ride to school. I suggested a swim and he agreed. I told him about the box of suits and he went into the pool house too change. I just stripped and sat on a chaise waiting for him. He appears in the doorway naked and says, 'What box of suits?' I go to show him and sure enough the box is gone. Maybe Buddy pitched it. Anyway there we are naked. He is checking me out and I said, 'It's real. You can touch it.' He doesn't but he says, 'It's big.' I take his hand and put it on my dick. He doesn't need any more encouragement. Next thing he's sucking me. Next thing after that I'm fuckin' him. Then we showered and hit the pool. At which point Hollis showed up and said, 'You comin'? I'm driving back to school.' Rayner tells him to go ahead. We finished swimming and I invited him back to my house. The rest is history.”

    “Sounds pretty hot, Richard. Why call him a sex-bot?”

    “He's almost … almost everything. Almost good-looking. Almost a great fuck. Almost fun to be with. Almost has a personality. Almost has a great body. His idea of versatility is doing it on the floor instead of in bed. I will say, though; he's always ready. Like a sex-bot. My little sex-bot. Batteries and emotions not included. I'm almost looking forward to seeing him when I go home tonight.”

    “He'll be there on a Thursday?”

    “He graduates in a couple months; hasn't got any Friday classes this semester.”

    “Hollis has a Friday morning one. Ruins all his weekends he says.”

    “You like Hollis.”

    “Yeah, I do. I know he fucks around a lot; but when he's with me, he's different. I'm the focus of his attention. He never mentions anybody else. No invidious comparisons. No lurid recollections of 'temps perdu'.”

    “Do you love him?”

    “Good question,” which George didn't answer. “Here it is,” he said at the successful conclusion of a desktop search. “Do you remember meeting a dude at the Christmas party in the old house. His name is Evan. He called asking for you.”

    “There's a story for you. He called me on my personal phone and said he was given the number to call for investment advice. Which means only one thing … our horsy friend gave him my number.”

    “Don't make fun of our horsy friend. He's just about the only straight guy who stayed with us after the law suit.”

    “Yeah, well, maybe he's not so straight. The last time he referred somebody, it was a payoff of a sort for a bit of pornography. I have the feeling Evan has the same story. An unexplained gift that he wants to invest. Turns out it's not that much money, only fourteen thousand, which happens to match the government's tax-free gift limitation.”

    Don't turn him down; we need the business. Maybe he has a rich daddy. Or maybe he'll be another Steve Jobs if we give him time.”

    “I didn't. He probably wants to drop off a check or something. Let me call him.” Richard stabbed at his phone and waited. “It's Richard; I'm returning your call … Why thank you ...” Richard covered the phone and raised his eyebrows to George, “He says I have a nice phone voice.” He put the phone back to his ear. “This afternoon? Uh, sure … I'll be here until six-ish. Ok, see you then … Yes, he will ... Uh, we're not in the old place any more, we're … Ok, see you then.” Richard turned back to George. “He has a ride. Wanted to know if you were here. Do you know him?”

    “I took the message and gave him my name. I tried to remember him from the party, but no recall at all,” George shrugged.

    “Hey guys? Got time for an idea?”


    “Buddy,” George's face lit up. “Of course. Any time.”

    “Well, the first idea is we're gonna run some pipes to this place so you at least have drinking water and you can make coffee and stuff.”

    “Awesome,” Richard laughed. “That will really brighten up this corn crib. More ways to make us walk a hundred yards to your house to take a piss.”

    “Well,” Buddy smiled, “That's another thing. Brandon and I are messing with some plants that don't mind salt and urea. So it'd be ok if you pissed on them. The bears breeches and serviceberries will provide a little screen, you know, just until we have enough money to install a toilet facility and the lavender will cover up the smell. Most times, anyway.” Buddy saw no enthusiasm in his audience. “What? I'm trying to help.”

    “We know and I, for one ...” Buddy didn't let George finish.

    “So what I really came to ask about is what about an IPO? Brandon and I made a proposal to the college and they have offered us a grant to try CRISPR technology on local plants. Better apples. Better beans. That kind of stuff, but we have no academic credentials to justify the grant so we need to be incorporated and I was wondering if we could sort of crowd-fund something with the customers you have left.”

    “You can incorporate without money, Buddy. Stockholders are a pain in the ass. They want to know stuff. They want to run things. They want dividends. Don't smile at me that way ... You can have stockholders if you want. Hollis and I will buy in. So will Richard. We can round up a few more guys.”

    “Crisper? Like that vegetable drawer in my refrigerator?” Richard asked.

    “CRISPR-Cas9. Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats. Cas9 is a nuclease – a protein. It's for gene editing.

    “I love it when you talk dirty. Does Brandon do it, too?”

    “Don't make fun, Richard. Brandon is awesomely bright. He just went to a really crappy high school. He doesn't know molecular genetics; but he learned ALL about the editing techniques in about a day and a half.”

    “And you love him. Are you having sex yet?”

    “We're talking about business, aren't we?” Buddy was getting inpatient.

    “I'll take that as a 'no'. Yes, we're talking business and incorporating is easy. Public stock registration or even a private placement of stock is hard. It involves the L-word.”

    “Love? Lesbians? What are you talking about?”

    “Lawyers. Even the cheap ones are expensive, Buddy. Remember how much it cost to LOSE to Tommy Lynn's kin? I'd really recommend a C corporation, if it's just you and Brandon, who I think is very hot by the way, or an S corporation if you want to bring in a few more people.”

    “I want some names on the board of directors that will impress the grant committee. The Senator said he would help.” Buddy pondered, his initial enthusiasm fading. “You really think Brandon is hot?” he asked as an afterthought.

    “Of course, he is. And he's crazy about you, whether he admits it or not.” Richard patted Buddy's hand.

    “He admits it,” Buddy said with a small grin and left.

    “That was nice of you – patting Buddy's hand like that.”

    “Buddy and I have a long history. He's probably the best human being I've even known.

    “You were saying that about Euie the other day. You getting sentimental, Richard?”

    “Buddy I love. Euie I lust after. They're both appealing, but there's a difference.”

    “No shit? You lust after him?”

    “For all the sanctimonious bullshit we heard from Tommy Lynn's family, they were right about one thing. The company was one big orgy at times. I think I had sex with everybody in the place. 'Cept for Euie. I never got a shot at Euie. And he's hot, too. Hotter than Brandon. Don't tell Buddy I said that.”

    “Why are you telling me all this? What's up with you lately? You miss the old days? The money? The sex?”

    “Yes, frankly. Not the money, but the sex, definitely. All I've got let is my little leech of a sex-bot Rayner. I don't know anybody any more. I'm not meeting new people.” Richard kept his mouth shut as he watched Hollis sneak up from behind George. He put his hands over George's eyes.

    “Guess who?” Hollis shouted and jumped back.

    George jumped out of his chair in alarm. Then he saw who it was and calmed himself. “You!” he said in an even tone. He locked eyes with Hollis. “Come here!” Hollis approached and then snuggled up to George, giving Richard his best imitation of a bad boy who has been caught.

    “I couldn't wait until tomorrow,” he said and gave George a kiss full of promise that neither one of them wanted to break off. “And look who I brought!”

    “Hi. I'm Evan,” said a shadow still in the doorway.

    “What?” “How?” “Who?”

    “I'm Hollis's roommate.”

    “Holllis, you never said Evan was so ...” George was at a loss for words.

    “Handsome and sexy?” Hollis suggested. “He didn't used to be; and, I can't find proof, but I swear he used to be shorter than I am by a good three inches. Evan, give Richard the money while I see if I can seduce his partner here.” Hollis turned back to George. “We have to give Evan a ride to Purcellville and then, my man, get ready! I don't think I'll last until we get to your place.”

    Richard sighed audibly.

    “He's worse at school,” Evan said. “Much worse.”

    “I don't want to hear,” George said with no real concern.

    “I do!” George said. “Sit down, Evan, my good man. I'll give you a ride to Purcellville. Did you bring cash or a check?”

  20. #170
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Reminiscing as it leads to a revival of the good old days with some new players, perhaps?!


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

  21. #171
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Forty-One - Brandon


    It was the end of a perfect late winter day, sunny and somewhere in the fifties. Buddy and I had built two raised beds for one of Tommy Lynn's former customers. I guess she felt sorry for Buddy being a … what? A widower, I guess. Anyway she gave us some business. We got home decently tired at about two-thirty in the afternoon to the very small house we called home. He had gone over to the drying shed that now served as a rough and ready office for the guys to get some advice on an amazing possibility that just fell into our laps. As I said, a good day; I felt good enough to sing.

    “Oh it's a mighty rough road from Lynchburg to Danville
    For the line has a three-mile grade
    It was on that grade that he lost his airbrakes
    You can see what a jump that he made.

    He was goin' down grade makin' 90 mile an hour
    When the whistle broke into a scream!
    He was found in the wreck with his hand on the throttle
    And was scalded to death by the steam.”

    I was giving a real plaintive wail to the scalded-to-death part when I head Buddy's tread on the porch.

    “Was that you singing?” I looked around for another possible singer and then back to Buddy. “I never heard you sing before,” he smiled in greeting.

    “Scalded to day-eth by the steam,” I repeated in the song's slowly descending notes.

    “You're good.”

    “No, I'm not. How did it go with George and Richard?”

    “Oh, ok, I guess.” That was nothing left in him to match the excitement he showed when he left. “They kind of agreed we could do a Chapter S Corporation or maybe an LLC without a lot of trouble. George thought an S corp was good enough; Richard liked an LLC for future flexibility.”

    “Great!” I tried to generate some positive emotion but Buddy was in the dumps over something. “What?” He shook his head. “No, tell me”

    “Oh, you know how Richard is. I should have ignored him. I can't let him get to me over nothing.” My eyes demanded more from him. “Oh, alright. In the middle of talking business he said, 'Are you and Brandon having sex?' I said I was there to talk about business and he said, 'I'll take that as a no.' It pissed me off. What right does he have to question what we do?”

    I felt the hurt in Buddy's eyes and hugged him. “None, Bud. No right at all.” I could feel the tension in his body. He tried to pull away but I wouldn't let him. Eventually he relaxed in my arms. I kissed him, something we don't do very often. Thanks he muttered and again tried to pull away. Instead I kissed him again and held him tight. And then it came to me. “We're gonna have sex.” He looked astonished. “Right now, Buddy Lynn!” I kissed him again and then broke away. I grabbed a jar of Vasoline out of the bathroom and started taking my clothes off.

    “Brandon, we don't have to do anything just because Richard said something stupid.”

    By that time I was naked. “Fuck Richard. This is about us. You and me. Come on. Don't you want to try?” I hugged him again and tried to take his shirt off. He resisted briefly. I kissed him again as I snuggled up to the warm flesh of his chest. I kissed the side of his neck and felt him melt against me. I felt the start of his erection and knew I was doing the right thing. “This is exactly what we should do.” I unfastened his jeans and pushed them down. He sighed as I took his cock in my hand. “Exactly what we should do,” I repeated. I smeared some of the grease on him. I stroked his now-rigid cock and felt a drop of moisture wet my palm. One more kiss before I had to ask for help. “I don't know the moves for what comes next, Buddy. Should I lie back on the bed and put my legs in the air?”

    “Brandon, we don't need to start that way. Maybe a hand job ...”

    “No. You're gonna fuck me. The question is which way.” I gave him my determined look, which made him smile.

    “Probably better if I lie on the bed and you sit on me.”

    Which he did, and which I did. Slowly. Guys don't hook together as easily as guys and girls do. Getting the angle right was trial-and-error and then whoosh! He was in me. I gasped in surprise. To tell the truth I was pleased about it. Another accomplishment! It was uncomfortable but not horrible or anything. No virginal screams.

    “Stop if it hurts,” Buddy whispered. I bent forward and kissed him, causing his dick to pop out. I was frantic to get it back in. This time it actually felt better in than out. I kissed him again more carefully this time and tried making my hips go up and down. It kinda felt like work until I noticed the expression on Buddy's face. I was really making him happy, which really made ME happy and it wasn't so much work after that. Pretty soon Buddy started fucking up into me and then, I guess I wasn't watching the signs, he came suddenly, pulling me against his cock as he shot off. It was so good, truly an amazing feeling, it felt like I was the one cumming. I leaned forward and kissed him gently; he grabbed me and kissed me hard back, still pumping his cock up my ass. He sighed my name and I could hear his pleasure.

    “Yes!” I didn't do a fist pump, but I wanted to. “We did it. Fuck you, Richard.” I thought he'd laugh.

    “Shut up!” he said and pulled me back into A LONG KISS. I thought he was gonna eat me alive. He didn't, but I would have let him. I had no idea how … fulfilled, I guess is the word … how fulfilled I would feel after getting fucked.

    It wasn't quite time for dinner and Buddy kind of dozed off. I got up, showered, and looked out the door at the setting sun. I saw lights on and Richard's car at the shed. I went with my impulse, put a warm jacket on, and walked over.

    “Is that you, George? I just drove Evan back to … oh, it's you. Hey, Brandon.”

    “Richard ...” I steeled myself, not normally being an aggressive person. “Richard … not that it's any of your business, but ...” I looked at my phone. “ … about forty-seven minutes ago Buddy fucked my ass.” I took a deep breath and looked for his reaction, which was none. “And when I get home, he can do it again if he wants. Not that it's any business of yours. And if you ever hurt him again, I'll take your head off.” Another gulp of air. “CLEAN OFF! You got that?”

    Without a hint of a smile, Richard answered, “I believe you would.” I could take Richard if I needed to, still I was glad he was still sitting in his chair.

    “Good. Remember it,” I said without quite the threat I was hoping to convey. I turned to go.

    “Brandon?”

    “What?”

    “Tell him you love him.”

    I did, of course. I think I loved Buddy from that first day I saw him; it took me a while to realize it. How did Richard know I hadn't told him? Lost in thought, I tripped over a random clod in the field and fell flat on my face. Oh, God! I hoped Richard wasn't watching. I could just hear him laughin' his ass off. I looked back. No face in the window and the door was closed. I got up and dusted off the knees of my jeans. Suddenly cold, I hurried back to Buddy. He;s probably up and hungry, I thought. 'Cept he wasn't. He was lying in bed looking like the handsomest sleeping boy I ever did see. I crawled in with him and immediately felt his warmth. He must have immediately felt the chill of my body.

    “Hey ...” he said sleepily. “Why do you feel cold?”

    “I've been up. And now I'm back down.” I kissed him. He pulled me back for another.

    “Regrets?” Buddy asked.

    “Oh, no. Me? None. Not one.” I pulled him close against me. “In fact, if you want to ...”

    “Let's eat first.”

    My Richard-fired courage returned, “No, let's fuck first.”

    The first time wasn't really a physical pleasure. It was a pleasure, but it was totally mental. The second time at least I knew what to expect. As I sat slowly down on Buddy's cock, I must have shown some apprehension. Buddy asked if I was alright. “I love you,” I told him through the discomfort. Magic words, those. I repeated them and started the slow up and down motion that worked so well the last time. Buddy pulled my body down against his and started fucking up into me. Harder than the last time. His motions were strained, almost frantic. He reached between us and held my cock.

    “You're soaking wet, babe,” he said.

    “I love you,” was all I could say before I came in his hand. And that's what I've been doin', case you wondered. I paused and drank my beer.

    “Alright, alright, we get it,” Eddie groaned. “Love conquers all.”

    “Come on, Eddie. Play nice. You ain't the straight cop any more. That was a beautiful story, Brandon,” Lonnie said. “I'm happy for you.”

    “There's more. We fucked all weekend! I even sucked his dick a little.” I wasn't sure they believed me. “And I didn't throw up!” I assured them.

    “That's Eddie's favorite part, cocksuckin',” Lonnie blurted out. “He a specialist at it.”

    “Don't need to tell ALL our secrets, Lonnie,” Eddie groused. “Can we change the subject. Talk about fishin' or something?”

    “Don't play him any mind, Brandon. I'm so happy for the two of you.”

    “What I want to know is: did Richard say what he said to Buddy just to set us off?
    Did he KNOW what Buddy's reaction – AND MINE – would be? Should I actually be GRATEFUL to the asshole???”

    “I don't know, Brandon. He's known Buddy for a long time. And I gotta say you ARE a good singer. I'd like to hear all of that song sometime.”

    “The Wreck of the Ol' Ninety Seven,” I told him. “Well, look who's here at last.”

    “Is everybody drunk ahead of me?” Buddy asked as he sat down. “What's the topic?”

    “You!” I was grinnin' so much my face hurt.

    “That must have been boring. You know what I heard? The shad are running in the North Anna. In the branch over near Ladysmith. We could probably catch dinner if we left now.”

    “Awesome,” Eddie said. “Maybe Donnie and Gus would like to come along,” he said, punching his phone.

    “I don't much like shad. Not much flavor and it's full of bones. But the roe is tasty. And it doesn't fill you up. It make a great pre-fuck dinner,” Lonnie said. I laughed along with him. Eddie and Buddy shared a pained look.

    “Let's take my truck,” I suggested. “It's got that little back seat thing and it's the closest to being a total wreck.”

    On the way to the parking lot, Buddy whispered, “I love you.”

    Eddie was unhappy, “If y'all are gonna be like that all day, we can just BUY the fish at Safeway.”

  22. #172
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    I loves me some happy ending times. Richard may be an old ass, but he does care about those close to him, in his own way.
    I'd day he'd deny it if they tried to thank him.


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

  23. #173
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Interesting how things have changed, but at least "the group" is still together.

    After that last chapter, I has a Happy!

    Thank You!
    Chaz
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

  24. #174
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Forty-Two - Hollis


    I raised my head from my task and surveyed the results. Nothing. There sat Rayner in my desk chair, naked but for running shorts down around his ankles, with a limp dick that I had been sucking on. “What's the matter, Ray? Have I lost my skills?” I lowered my head and took his cock into my mouth again. I tried massaging his thighs, working his balls. Still nothing. He pulled my head away.

    “Sorry, I'm just not into it.” He stood, pulled up his shorts, and looked around until he located his shirt that I had tossed aside when I pulled it off.

    “Did you just jack off or something? How long since you've had sex.” I hated to think my own cocksucking skills might be the problem.

    “It's been a week. Richard is in a funk and pickin' up somebody around here is too much trouble.”

    “Maybe you should dump Richard.” The hook up of Richard and Rayner had always amazed me. Oil and water mix better.

    “You know, I would except there's nobody to take his place and the sex, when it happens, is pretty good. Ok, very good.”

    “You like a big dick. I get that. But didn't you like Euie? And he's no giant in the dick department.”

    “Euie has a very nice sized dick and a ton of technique. He could make me feel special, not just fucked. And he was cheerful about taking as well as giving. I should have stuck with Euie. I didn't realize what a good deal he was at the time.”

    “Ok, so with Richard just do it for the sex. Skip the involvement. Pure friction. No entanglements.”

    “I'm not sure I want that any more. How do you handle it with George? You don't love him.”

    “I think maybe I do.”

    “Hollis, that's absurd. You cheat on him constantly.”

    “Is it cheating if you don't have any agreement? When we're together, we're together. We don't talk about the other times. And I like being with him. Don't look at me like that! Really. I like being with George better than anybody else. It's just that I can't pass up an opportunity. I need a lot of sex. And during the week, when we're here at school, opportunities come along. Like that dude on the third floor of Gifford – the one with the barbed wire tattoo on his arm?”

    “I don't know who you're talking about.”

    “Yes, you do. He spent a couple years in Marines. Tall. Shaggy light brown hair. Awesome body after you get his clothes off. I had to talk him into fuckin' me, but once he got the idea … it was memorable! For me, anyway. I'm not sure he liked it when it was over. In fact he said he never wanted to do it again.”

    “So how was that satisfying?”

    “Another notch. Another orgasm. Another good night's sleep.”

    “Knowing you disappointed him?”

    “It wasn't love, dude. He came. I came. He says hey when he sees me around. No regrets. Where's the harm? That's what you get from being a math major. Things have to come out equal. But they never do in real life. Well, sometimes they do, like with George. That's another reason I like George. Wait ...” I rooted through my sock drawer looking for the picture. “And the REAL reason I like George ...” I handed him the picture of George from a couple of years back when he was at JMU playing touch football, some dude attempting a touch pulled his shorts half off. George has an awesome ass.

    “Nice picture. Cute smile. He looks so happy.” Rayner comments contrasted with his own depression.

    “Smile? Look at his ass!!! Prime beef! He doesn't know I have a copy of this picture. Don't tell him.”

    There was a knock at the door. “Mr. Harrison, sir?”

    “Who the hell calls you Mr. Harrison?” Rayner asked.

    “Yes,” I said to a young man in the doorway. “Who are you?”

    “I am a mudsucking pledge named Lee, sir. The pledgemaster ordered me to bring this to you, SIR!” He handed me a brown bag that obviously contained a bottle.

    “A bottle of Jagermeister?” I looked in surprise from Rayner to the pledge.

    “Yes, sir. It was left over from a kegger and he sent a bottle to all the graduating seniors, SIR!” The effect was spoiled by the hiccup that followed the final sir.

    “Was it a good party?” He said it was as I read the label. “Pledge, say Wolfenbüttel.” His response was something like Wolf's butthole. “Not a German speaker I take it.”

    “No, sir, I speak Virginian, a form of English, SIR.” He giggled at his little joke.

    “Come in,” I said to the pledge. “Evan has some shot glasses, I believe,” I said to Rayner. “Yes, Virginia, Mother of Presidents, the complete set of portraits. Washington for you.” I passed a glass etched with the old guy's portrait to Rayner. “Jefferson for me.” I set it on my desk. “Pledge?” The pledge nodded eagerly. “Woodrow Wilson for you.”

    “Woodrow who?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

    I opened the bottle and poured out three shots. Rayner sniffed skeptically at th yellow liqueur and smiled for the first time all evening.

    “Alright, here's how it's done. Knock the glass on wood three times and chug.”

    Knock, knock, knock. Swallow ... followed by a gasp of two from Rayner and me; the pledge just grinned stupidly. We did it again. “Thank you, SIR!” the pledge almost shouted.

    “Ok, so knock off the pledge shit. What's your name again?”

    “Edward Prince Lee. I'm from Prince Edward County. My parents like geographic names but they didn't want to name me Prince Edward, so they switched ...”

    “I get it. And what brings you to James Madison University, Edward?”

    “I'm a math major and it's a good school for that; at least that's what my guidance counselor said.”

    “Rayner Reynolds,” Rayner said, sticking out his hand. They did a sloppy half shake half high-five. “We need to practice that. I'm a math major, too, for a couple more months.”

    “Something bad happen,” Edward asked all frowny-faced.

    “Graduation. Another shot, Hollis?” We tossed back another Jager.

    “How's your sex life here?” Rayner asked, kind of a bold move I thought for the man who had so recently all but sworn off sex.

    “Sucks,” said Ed.

    “Missing essential information. You suck? Somebody else sucks? Or life in general sucks? I'm a stickler for precision.”

    “Life in general sucks, I guess. My sex life is indistinguishable from zero.” Edward and Rayner chuckled at the math reference, which wasn't even funny. “Got any advice?”

    Edward Prince Lee was no prince charming, but there was nothing specifically wrong with him. There was no obvious reason why he should not be enjoying a modestly active sex life. Maybe he drinks way too much? All freshmen do that. Sophomores, juniors and seniors, too, for that matter.

    “What seems to be the problem, Edward?”

    “I would love to get a blowjob. I've never had one.”

    “What about other stuff?”

    “Oh I'm no virgin. I've done plenty of ...” He searched for a word, “... penetration. I'd just REALLY like a blowjob.”

    “Are you prepared for get one?” I asked. A thought worth pursuing crossed my mind.

    “What do you mean by 'prepared' exactly?”

    “Do you trim DOWN THERE?” I pointed. “A proud alumnus of Madison said, 'You gotta trim. After a nice blowjob, you can't expect a generous cocksucker to go around all night pulling pubes out of her teeth.” His eyes widened in amazement. “Or HIS teeth, I guess, if we're being inclusive.”

    “You really mean TRIM my pubes? You're joshing me, right.”

    I'm not. Rayner and myself, for example, take two different approaches to it.”

    “TWO?”

    “I shave; he trims.” I stood, opened my jeans, and pulled down my shorts just enough to show an eighth inch of my dick and a broad expanse of cleanly shaven pelvis. “Rayner, show him.”

    “Another Jager first.” Rayner requested; and then he complied, displaying a hint of his dick and pubic hair that resembled four-day beard stubble.

    “One way or the other,” Rayner commented with a slight slur. “ You have to manage the fur. It's only being polite.”

    “I swear that frat is fallin' to pieces. They used to give pledges all kinds of helpful hints. Edward, how hairy are you … DOWN THERE?” I added in case of any confusion.

    “Well ...”

    “Show us,” Rayner prompted with clinical detachment. The pledge gave us a similar show to what we had given him. “Edward, my friend, I've seen French poodles with less hair. Are you trying to HIDE your dick?”

    “No!” Edward plaintively assured us. He pulled his shorts down farther and a dick appeared.

    “I assume it gets bigger,” Rayner said with mock disappointment. I thought it was a very nice dick and was about to say so when I notice it start to stiffen a little. Then Rayner reached out and rubbed Edward's pubes. At the touch Edward leapt backward. “It's like a Brillo pad, Edward. What cocksucker's gonna wanna fight through all that hair?” Edward sputtered and the dick rose some more. In his panic he stumbled backward onto Evan's bed.

    “Scissors, please,” Rayner said to me. “Eddie, my man, this isn't going to hurt a bit if you LIE THE FUCK STILL.” The drunken pledge complied and muttered “Jeez” repeatedly as the scissors went snip, snip, snip. “There!” Rayner leaned back to admire his work.

    As far as I could tell, it looked like shit, all raggedy and uneven, but I had to watch in awe as Rayner played with Edward's erection and then proceeded to give him a blowjob.

    Edward protested in a half-hearted way, claiming, “I'm a straight boy; I'm a straight boy,” right up until the moment he shot. Then it changed to, “I'm coming; I'm coming.” He lay stupefied as Rayner rose, exposed himself, and jacked off. Edward turned his head away as Rayner's cum spattered onto him.

    “There! Now you have respectable pubes and you've had a blowjob. Back to the frat house, mudsucking Pledge.” Which Pledge Lee did as fast as any drunk boy could manage.

    “Rayner!” I said, “Dude!”

    Rayner shrugged and replied, “If you had helped, I bet we could have fucked him.”

    “What if he reports you?”

    “He won't. One, he'll be too embarrassed. Two, he liked it. Three, I bet he calls me for more.”

    “What about you wanting to avoid meaningless sex?”

    “Mix a half dozen shots of Jager with a pound and a half of horny; suddenly things change. And in the middle of all this I decided things are gonna change with Richard, too. I'm tired of getting fucked all the time, even if it is the best fuck I've ever had.”

    “I guess that makes sense, Rayner.”

    The next day he texted me, “played with pledge lee again. score!” George looked over my shoulder and asked what the message meant.

    “Pick up basketball. Sounds like Rayner won … We could play ball, too, you know. I open my mouth and you put your balls in it.” George likes having his balls sucked and I like what George likes, provided its followed by a fuck.

  25. #175
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Oh, the banter and the ball busting - and the cherry of a sort picking.

    What's not to like in your little corner of Ol' Virginny?!


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

  26. #176
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Forty-Three - Euie


    It was the fourth of Steve's butcher shops that we were opening. Georgetown was the original; Tysons Corner was the first branch, Great Falls was second, and now Alexandria. We put together a tough plan. Each store had to do a hundred thousand a month by its third month or we would close it. Great Falls was almost there, the other places were doing better. With two and a half successful places going, the company had enough cash flow to open Alexandria with very little outside financing. I felt confident enough in the pattern to use the money Tommy Lynn left me as the financing, although I didn't tell Steve. I told him the money came from other customers at the investment firm, which we now called Warrenton Capital. I thought the name was kind of cheesy; but George, Richard, and Will liked it. So Warrenton Capital was financing the Alexandria branch with my money. They had only the regulatory minimum of their own. I felt that when we hit six branches, the butcher shops' volume would be near a million a month and we could actually hit up other customers for an investment not a loan.

    Meanwhile it was almost like being back with Rabbit and the Bunnies, except we were dressed like a barbershop quartet. Striped shirts, arm garters, straw hats, and butcher's aprons. Steve and the two permanent stop employees were with the company; I was there because, well, because I liked being around Steve. Around him, on top of him, under him, I didn't really care as long as he was close by. The sex was awesome; the closeness, the intimacy was even better.

    “Young man,” a plummy voice piped.

    “Yes, m'am,” I answered.

    “Oh, good. A Virginia boy. With that haircut I was afraid you were from Maryland.” She giggled at her regional put-down and proceeded, “I want to make a nice pork stew while the weather is still chilly.”

    “Would you like it cut into cubes or a boneless roast? There a great introductory price on boneless roasts today. Three pounds should serve six unless you want leftovers.”

    “The trouble is it's only myself. How do I make stew for one without eating it for three days and then throwing the rest away?”

    “Do you think we need to sell prepared meals?”

    “Only if you can do them better than the frozen food people. Are you one of the butchers?”

    “No, m'am, I'm an investment banker. My company has invested in the butcher shops and we like to participate.”

    “Hands on, as they say. I believe my husband would have liked you.”

    “Thank you. I'm sure I would have liked him.”

    “No, you wouldn't have; but that's a long story.”

    “See that tall man dressed like me? That's Steve. He's the CEO. Let me talk about your stew problem with him. Will you come back?”

    “Tomorrow at three.” She looked at the name on my shirt. “Eustis. I'm Marina Faye.”

    It was a long day; we closed at six. Steve shooed the two regulars away, saying he'd lock up for this one night. They left with the cash for deposit.

    “Not much cash,” I commented.

    “It's all plastic, these days. Twenty-eight hundred, give or take. Not bad for the first day. I'm going to hose down the cutting area.”

    “I'll help,” I said with a smile. I untied my apron and began undressing. I almost got my boxers off before Steve sprayed me with a cold water hose. I remember when Tyson's opened, he didn't wait and soaked everything. I rushed him and grabbed the hose, turning it on him.

    “Don't! My dick will shrink up to nothing.” That wasn't true. Steve wasn't gigantic, but he was more than big enough for what I liked. I backed off and adjusted the water to a comfortable temperature and sprayed us both. I handled the water and he poured on the soap. It did feel good to get the blood and gore of a butcher shop off ourselves and the cutting room floor. “You're my charm,” he said as he crushed me against his slippery, soapy body. “You make everything work.”

    On the top level of his words, he meant he thought I was good luck at his store openings. Next level down, he meant I was giving him a hardon. On another level he was saying he loved me. Typically, he would now fuck me. That's what happened at the Tyson's and Great Falls openings. Instead, he turned around and urged, “Do it.”

    I am such a sucker for a sweet fuck. “Stevie,” I sighed as I slid in. “Baby.” I felt him relax as he got used to me. The act felt terrific, but a standing fuck takes work. He came first as I reached around and jacked him off. I told him I came, but I didn't. It was too exhausting. No matter though. His body and his kisses were enough.

    “Will you marry me?” he asked.

    I gave him my traditional answer. “No.” Usually we just laughed. This time he followed up, “Why not? I've been serious every time I've asked you.”

    “You're busy and successful. I don't want to hurt that. I don't want to be a distraction.”

    “You wouldn't be.”

    “In that case, I'd be sorry. I want to be a distraction!”

    “You know what I mean. We work well together. We, well, I, anyway, think the sex is great ...”

    “The sex IS great,” I assured him as we dressed. “I don't know how well we work together. I don't know shit about meat.”

    “You're learning. I don't know shit about finance. You got us money. You told me what to buy, what to rent. You told me ...”

    “Anybody in the business would have told you the same thing.”

    “But I would have ignored them. I wouldn't have trusted them the way I trust you.”

    “That might be a problem. I think M.C. ...” M.C. was his accountant. “I think M.C. knows we're … lovers.”

    “Of course he does. I TOLD him. I said, 'M.C., I'm pretty much living with Euie,' and he said, 'I figured that out, Steve. Everybody has.' Word for word, that's what he said.”

    “Everybody knows? EVERYBODY?” I was thinking of his aunt, who did the ordering.

    “Everybody. And everybody's fine with it, including Aunt Estelle. You mind if I take a nap before dinner.”

    We drove to his place in the West End of D. C. I brought a few things from the store and stopped at a Safeway on the way. When we got there I asked him, “Could you cut the pork into one inch cubes and the squash into bigger ones and slice that onion?” I wasn't giving him orders; the fact was his knife skills were much better than mine. He did it in about two minutes and was asleep two minutes after that. Meanwhile I browned the pork, sauted the onion, and added the squash and the coconut milk. Set to simmer forty minutes, the recipe said. I set my phone to buzz at thirty and climbed in with Steve.

    “Did I wake you?” I asked hopefully. “Sorry, I'll just lie here and you can go back to sleep.” I rubbed up against him.

    He squinted at the bedside clock. “Thirty minutes is the perfect refresher,” he answered and then he got amorous. Basically he pounded me half to death. I sighed half in relief and half with satisfaction when his final spasms stopped. My body felt like it was a puddle of jizz on the sheet, in a good way, of course. If he had asked me to marry him that minute, I would have said yes, assuming I could form the words with every muscle in my body limp.

    I paused, took a deep breath and a swig of beer. “So that's my story. How has your life been?”

    “Wow. Nothing like yours,” Mac replied. “Although ...” He teased me.

    “What? Tell me?”

    “Well, remember New Year's Eve? I was going into DC with Lonnie and Eddie to J.R.'s?”

    “Isn't that a college bar? Lonnie and Eddie were going there?”

    “They were meeting friends and going to a late dinner. I was along for the ride, figuring I'd find some way home.”

    “This home would be your place or his?” I joked.

    “What do you think I am? A hustler? Don't answer that. Anyway I left the place and was looking around for a hook up when I got mugged. Easy, Euie, this has a happy ending.”

    “How does a mugging ever have a happy ending?”

    It's complicated, Euie, my dear. It didn't start out well, of course. The dude had a gun to my neck while he pulled my wallet out of my back pocket. It was that RFI wallet, the one with the steel mesh in it. He had me against the side of a pick up while he tried to get into the wallet. He put the gun on the side rail of the bed while he went at the wallet with both hands.

    “How do you open this fuckin' thing?”

    I grabbed the gun, spun around, and aimed it at his face, “Gimme the wallet back!”

    He appeared unconcerned and continued trying to get into the wallet. “Fuck you, it ain't loaded,” he laughed. He handed me the wallet and grabbed me by the balls, squeezing painfully. “Open it,” he demanded.

    Reflexively I squeezed the trigger. Click, nothing. Click, nothing. Then BOOM!

    “JESUS!” He grabbed the gun back from me and said, “Get in! Hurry!” He started up the truck and we sped away down P Street and across the bridge into Georgetown. “Why'd you DO that?”

    “I don't like getting mugged. Why am I in this truck? Where are we going anyway?”

    “We're getting away from the cops.”

    “Nobody called the cops. Give me my wallet back. You can have the twenty dollars in it.”

    “TWENTY! Is that all? I thought gay dudes had money.”

    “Do I look like I have money?” He said yes, which was kind of flattering. I got the twenty dollar bill out of the first divider of the wallet, not letting him see what else was there. “Here. I guess I can hitchhike home.”

    “Where's home?” I told him. “Warrenton? And you come all the way to DC hoping to get laid?”

    “I came with friends.”

    “And left without 'em I guess.” He scrunched around in the seat and then stopped the truck suddenly. “Damn!” he complained and lifted his butt off the seat. He just about ripped his jeans open and hauled out his cock, which stood straight out in dim light. He must have ripped a button off his shirt; something small pinged against the windshield.
    “DAMN!” he repeated, settled back into the seat, and resumed driving. “Gunfire gets me SOOOO hard!”

    We drove in silence heading west down residential streets. Suddenly, he made a left turn and arrived at an intersection of M Street. The bright lights showed his cock, still hard and standing straight up out of his lap. He caught me looking.

    “You like that?”

    “I've seen bigger,” I said, looking away and pretending indifference.

    “Marlon Wiggins,” he said.

    “That's what you call your cock?”

    “No, myself,” he laughed with a casual warmth. “Anyway, it's not the size; it's the action that counts,” he said swinging onto Key Bridge heading into Virginia. “Touch it,” he suggested. I didn't and he kept driving turning onto Lee Highway. The area got darker and more residential. “Go ahead, touch it,” he repeated. “You could give me a blowjob.” I still stared straight ahead. “What if I held a gun to your head. Would you do it then?”

    “The gun's not loaded. You said so.”

    He reached down the side of his seat and pulled something out. “This one is.” I turned and looked down the barrel of a small revolver. “How 'bout a nice blowjob?” I complied.

    “Uh, ok, uh ...” I groped for his name..

    “Marlon,” he offered, putting a hand on my back. “Whoa! You're pretty good at this.” He squirmed in the seat and thrust his his forward a bit. “I ain't no homo; but I gotta say you know what you're doing.” A few minutes later he pulled to the side of the road, while the traffic whizzed past us. “Keep going; I'm about to come!” So I … Oh, shit! Look who just walked in. I'll tell you the rest later.

    “Richard!” Euie called cordially. “Sit down. I'll order some long necks.”

    “I need more than beer!” Richard signaled to Charleen. “A white negroni, please.”

    “Honey, we don't call 'em that any more, even if they are white.”

    “What?” Richard, being exasperated. “What?”

    “Order something else,” Euie suggested. Richard remained flummoxed; so Euie ordered for him. “He'll have a vodka martini very cold; thanks, Charleen.”

    Tight-jawed and tense, Richard spit out the words. “That little bitch, Rayner, dumped me. And then I find out YOU,” he glared at Euie, “YOU had him first!”

    “Rayner Reynolds,” Euie mused. “I never did figure him out. By the way, Mac knows this guy – gunfire gives him a hardon!” Euie chuckled.

    “Marlon Wiggins.” Richard muttered. “I fucked him ten years ago after he begged for it and then he says to me … with cum dripping out of his ass … 'I ain't no homo.' I should introduce Rayner to him. They deserve each other.”

    I looked at the disappointment on Mac's face and said to Richard. “Might not be the same dude.”

    “It's the same dude, dude. The Virginia countryside ain't got that many homos runnin' round.” Richard exaggerated a country accent and drank off the whole martini. “'Nother, please, Charleen, my dear.”

  27. #177
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Talk about bursting Mac's bubble, lol.

    This is just what I needed tonight. Thanks!


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

  28. #178
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Forty-Four - George


    It was a good chance to get some time to myself. Hollis left for spring break on the Redneck Riviera somewhere in the panhandle of Florida. His senior year, he said; he wanted to make it memorable. While the idea of him eager to attend a drunken orgy was a little bit of a hurt, I remembered my senior year. Wow, was it really five years ago? Yes, it was. So while I suffered in silence, missing him more than I expected to, I was luxuriating in the time I had to try to figure out block commodity trades. Playing that game required more capital than we had, but the logic of it was persuasive. If Euie and the butcher opened a few more stores, it might pay to know how to execute block trades in beef and bellies.

    I was using the good old standard text, “A Trader's First Book on Commodities.” It was an expensive book. Tommy Lynn had said buy it, but I got a used copy for much less from some poor dude who had lost his shirt in pork bellies when the Chinese bought out Smithfield Hams. Chapter Two was about the difference between hedging and speculating I needed to always keep this in mind.

    “George, what are you doing still at work?”

    I looked up. “Rayner, I own the place. Somebody has to work. Why are you here?”

    “I guess you know Richard is out of town ...”

    I wasn't real sympathetic. “He thinks you dumped him.”

    “DUMPED HIM? I'm in his bed four nights a week! And he's probably in Charlottesville dickin' some booth bunny from Wall Street. What? There are MALE booth bunnies!”

    “Easy, big fella … whoa, boy!” He laughed at my John Wayne impression. “Hollis is in Panama City Beach doing the same thing.”

    “How do you handle it?”

    “Well … we made no promises. He doesn't owe me anything.

    Rayner looked at the ceiling, “Let's see … He's been gone for two days, probably fucked six guys ...”

    “You don't have to rub it in!” He was no doubt right but I didn't want to think about it.

    “You want to get a pizza? There's a new place in Manassas ...”

    “Do they deliver?” I asked. “I don't want to drive to Manassas.” We drove separately to my place.

    “Order whatever you want,” I told Rayner and gave him my credit card. “I'm gonna take a quick shower. Get the dirt of all that money off me.” I meant it as a joke but Rayner didn't laugh. Still, the shower always felt good and, if it was something of a metaphor, so what.

    “George, I ordered … Wow!” Rayner caught me drying off. “Why do you hide that body under the suits you always wear at work?”

    “One, it's professional. Two, there was an atmosphere of sexual tension what with Tommy Lynn fucking everybody and Racer washing cars naked and the pool and hot tub and everybody being kinda hot … Anyway, Buddy, Richard, and I decided we wanted to get rid of that way of doing business.”

    Rayner was sitting on my bed doing his best not to look at me. I liked the fact he couldn't resist a peak now and then. I wasn't exactly flauntin' it, but I could have dressed faster than I did. Suddenly he looked up. “George, I want to suck your dick.” He got up and came toward me. “I'm a good cock-sucker,” he said as he sank to his knees. “You'll like it,” he said as he took my cock in his hand and licked the tip.

    “R-Rayner,” I stuttered.

    “Shut up,” he mumbled and took me down his throat. He wasn't just good; he was awesome. I was getting weak in the knees and moved toward the bed. He grinned at me and knocked me onto the bed with just one finger pushing on my chest. I was horny. Hollis was gone. Rayner was spectacular. I exploded sooner than I wanted to.

    “Sorry I was so quick.”

    “We're not done, are we? There's the rest of the night.”

    A loud knock on my door prevented my answering him. With an exaggerated desperation, Rayner said, “Food!” and left me to dress.
    I heard the door open “Rayner?” said a voice.

    “Marshall,” Rayner answered without enthusiasm. I got interested, pulled on some sweats and went to see.

    “I never expected you to answer the door,” said a hot guy with a pizza in his hands.

    That's more than you said four years ago,” Rayner replied and turned to me. “George, this is Marshall James. Despoiler of young boys. Ruination of promising youth. Solicitor and receiver of my first blow job. Who then claimed he was straight and never talked to me again.”

    “I was stupid. I apologize,” said the young man. The silence became uncomfortable.

    “The pizza's getting cold,” I said. Marshall James handed me the warm box and left. “Is that something you're still bitter about?”

    “Bet your ass I am,” Rayner growled. “Do you have any pepper flakes? Parmesan?”

    “Cabinet by the sink.” I got two plates and some napkins, We sat in front of the TV and watched the latest news of crime, disaster, and normal weather made to sound frightening. After two slices each, we ate the third more slowly and sipped beers.

    “Would you like to peel a tomato?” Rayner asked. He solved my confusion. “It's a line from “The Sterile Cuckoo”. Liza Minelli is askin' hunky Wendell Burton if he wants to fuck. So, what I'm saying is 'Want to fuck me?' Then you say yes.”

    I hesitated.

    “You KNOW Hollis is fuckin' somebody. Right? You KNOW Richard is doing God-knows-what to somebody. Right? Why are we sitting here getting fat on pizza and beer?” He put his hand down my sweats. “You've got a beautiful body. I want to see you naked again.” With a choked sob, he kissed me and tugged at my clothes. I helped him out of his. He handed me a condom. I tentatively pushed into him. I paused to see his reaction.

    “Do it!” He was hungrier for cock than pizza. No more kisses. It was a pure pounding fuck. I stroked his cock while pounding him faster. He came and shouted, “DON'T STOP. KEEP FUCKIN' ME!” My rhythm became erratic as my own cock erupted. I collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his legs around me holding me in him. Our breathing gradually slowed.

    “George? I'm home!” was followed by a gasp. “Oh … uh … I … I'll be back in an hour.” Hollis gently shut the door.

    Rayner sighed. “Knowin' your boyfriend is getting laid is one thing. Seeing it happen is something else, I guess.”

    We didn't say a whole lot. “You want to take a shower?” I asked him. He said no and left with a muttered “Sorry.” I cleaned up the remains of the pizza and opened a window to get rid of the smells of the food and the sex. I turned the TV back on and didn't watch it. I wondered what would be the result of a little meaningless sex. I couldn't imagine a shouting match. Hollis wasn't the type. Maybe he'd just punch me out, pack, and leave. No, that wasn't Hollis either. Besides, I'm bigger than he is. Would I hit back or just try to avoid his fist? Would he be furious? Would he …

    “Hey,” he said quietly when he came in. “Sorry for interrupting back then ...”

    “Hollis, er …”

    He sat down next to me and lowered the TV volume. “You know, the first night I got to Panama City I fucked somebody. A girl if you can believe it. She didn't really know what she was doing and I didn't care. One of THOSE fucks, right?” I started to interrupt but he shushed me. “The next night I went to a gay bar. The Splash Bar, they called it. It was crowded and I looked the guys over. Not as cute as George, I thought. Not as well built as George, I thought. That guy is totally stupid, nothing like George, I thought. I left with some dude who asked nicely but I dumped him in the parking lot. Nothing like George I thought. I went to the motel and lay in bed thinking about you. I got up before dawn and I've been driving ever since. I missed you, George. I just wanted to be here with you and tell you I think I love you.”

    Again I started to answer; but he wouldn't let me. “I'm dead tired. I'm going to take a nap. To be continued ...” He gave me a light kiss and went into the bedroom. I heard the springs of the bed yield under his weight.

    A couple hours later his nap showed no signs of ending. I undressed and crawled in with him. “Love you,” he muttered without being really awake. We slept. The fireworks came in the morning.

    He was already up and in the kitchen. Big smile for me. I kissed him. He said, “Did I tell you I love you last night? I nodded. “Good,” he said. “By the way how was Rayner?”

    He said it in such a light-hearted way that I answered honestly. “He's a pretty good cocksucker.” Wrong answer.

    “PRETTY GOOD COCKSUCKER??? I CAN SUCK A COCK! YOU WANNA SEE! I CAN SUCK A COCK!”

    He attacked me determined to prove his skill. My first thought was if these sweats get yanked off me one more time, I'm gonna need new sweats. My next thought was about Hollis. I watched him doing his best. The thing is - I'm not all that into oral sex and Hollis, my beautiful boyfriend, you're not all that good at it. I struggled for an erection; the result depended on it being morning and not having taken a piss yet. Getting off was even harder. I closed my eyes and reran the movie of that first time: me fucking Hollis right on the desktop in my office. That was a beautiful fuck. I came.

    “SEE! I CAN SUCK A COCK!” He wiped his mouth and calmed down. “Did you like it?”

    I kissed him and tasted my cum. “Hollis … it was fabulous. Awesome. You're the best.”

    He laughed. “George, you are so full of shit. You came, at least. So maybe I can't suck a cock, but I'm a better fuck than Rayner. You believe that, right?”

    “Tell me you love me again. That's what I'm having a hard time with.”

    “It just crept up on me. I like you better than anybody else in the world. Then it occurred to me that it hurt when I wasn't around you. By which I mean touching you. Me right up against you. I ached to touch you. And it wasn't all about sex. It was just you, George. I want to BE with you. So I'm callin' that love, ok.” He looked hard into my eyes. “You're supposed to say 'I love you too' now.”

    “You know I do. I was afraid of cramping you. Frightening you away by talking about love.”

    “A year ago you would have. I'd have been out the door so fast … But not now. Now I just want more. I don't know anything about 'forever' but here, right now, I want more of you. So say it. Say I love you, too, Hollis.”

    “I love you, too, Hollis.” No flashing lights, no sirens, just this sweet boy in my arms. Kisses after sex are great.

    The phone interrupted. It was Richard, with a simple message. “Whatever you said to Rayner, put a patent on it.” I'd never heard Richard sound so happy. I gave a mystified look to Hollis.

    “By the way, George, I picked up a hitchhiker and I think he might actually be a customer for you.” Hollis looked pleased with himself and we went back to kissing.

  29. #179
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    I'm so glad I got back here to start to catch up on what I've been missing.
    This sounds like there can actually be some happy stories in the VA backwoods.


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

  30. #180
    JUB Addict EasyRory's Avatar
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Forty-Five - Richard


    I went to work in a foul mood. Over Rayner, of course. Why did I even get involved with that kid? George saw me and greeted me with a big smile and a thumbs up. “George,” I began. I was going to follow up with “Fuck you!” but I walked to my desk and sat down quietly.

    “What? You sounded ecstatic last night?”

    “That little fu ...” I took a deep breath and began again. “Last night Rayner came in acting very different. To cut it short, he took me to bed and had his way with me, and none too gentle was he.” I paused to breath. “For such a little pissant!” Another breath. “Then he was stony all evening. Later, when we went to bed, he fucked me again in the most uncaring way you can imagine.” It hurt to admit it even to George who knows everything about me. “I loved it. This morning I woke up and reached for him and he was gone. The closet was empty. Even a toothbrush that wasn't even his was gone. I found a note that said 'I'm done.' That's all. Not even a name on it.”

    “Oh, sorry to hear it. I thought you were torqued about the sex.”

    “What sex?” I demanded. George looked sheepish. “He fucked you, too???”

    “Uhh ...”

    “YOU fucked HIM???”

    “Uhh ...”

    I laughed at George. The whole thing was preposterous. “I'm not mad. Just surprised.” I hugged George, in case he thought I was seriously angry. I gave his dick a playful squeeze, making him back away suddenly. “You are more his type, I guess.”

    “It just happened. Hollis was away. You were away. Rayner and I assumed the two of you were playing around … It just happened.”

    “So much of life just happens. Well, at least my closet space has expanded … in case we ever make enough money for me to buy anything again.”

    “Hollis thinks he has a customer lined up. I think he's coming in later today.”

    “Is he as rich as Jeff Bezos?” I asked in a mocking tone.

    “He has underutilized assets, Hollis said. That's about all I know. His name is James something.”

    Underutilized assets made me think of the little boy gagline about not letting your meat loaf. My meat was in for a long dry spell. Finding casual but good sex in the boonies of Virginia is about as likely as catching a shark in the upper Potomac. Not only that, the hunt was time-consuming and fraught with the possibility of extreme reactions to any misplayed approach. SO MANY cute guys get violent when stroked the wrong way! The alternative was a LONG drive into Washington. Why can't there be gay bars in suburban Virginia? Because suburban Virginia is so full of violent straight guys, that's why.

    Meanwhile, I tried to figure some advantageous way to use exchange traded funds. Hedging was all I could think of because, frankly, who wants market performance, right? A phone call from Racer interrupted my thought.

    “Are you dudes tired of life in a corn crib? Because I had a tenant move out and I was thinking maybe it's time to turn these apartments into offices – it's a good location. It would be a very cheap experiment for you. Like no rent, except what I need to make it look good to the tax guys. Oh, shit! Gotta go. Here's Latham. Talk to him.”

    The next voice was quiet and powerful and confident and sexy. “Hey, Richard. You told Racer it was a mistake to buy this place after Mrs. Lucketts died; maybe you were right. Here we are with two out of six units empty and two more talking about leaving. It's gonna be us at one end of the row and Viking Vince at the other.”

    “Viking Vince?”

    “You know, with the wild blond hair and all, it fits. He likes the name. He says it improves his image at the drug store.”

    I recalled their neighbor and fellow tenant Vince. “Does an assistant manager need an image?”

    “Everyone needs an image. Besides he's the manager now. Come on over, you and George, and take a look at the place. You'll be surprised, I think”

    “Sure,” I agreed. It was always a vicarious thrill being with Racer and Latham, two pretty well known NASCAR drivers. Even in private there seemed to be a spotlight shining on them; they stood out.

    I had no office door; George just stuck his head in and then presented a young man. “Richard, this is James Christmas. He has an unusual asset situation.”

    “Pleased to meet you, James. Please sit down.” George handed me his summary sheet and left. “That's an unusual name, Christmas.”

    “Well, sir, my daddy said it used to be Kriegsmesser a couple hundred years ago, but folks in West Virginia liked Christmas better. Easier to say, easier to spell.”

    “And it's a lot more cheerful than war knife,” I quipped. He didn't react. “Just give me a minute of two to go over this and we can talk about your goals.” While I read his details, we could hear Mac and Euie talking.

    “I was in Vienna yesterday and stopped for lunch in this fresh pasty shop,” Mac said.

    “Pastie?” Euie asked, pronouncing it like the things strippers glue to their nipples.

    “No, pasty,” Mac corrected, using a short A. “They're meat pies … English, I guess. The place was full of British flags and stuff.”

    “Cool,” said Euie, not wildly interested.

    “The cool part was the guy who sold me the stuff. Cool and sexy. And wearing trou that said, 'I ain't giving you any details but YOU KNOW you're lookin' at a nice cock.' So glad those reveal-nothing, baggy pants are going out of style. I always hated findin' out the cock really was as insignificant as it looked from the outside. Baggy saggers never concealed awesomeness in my experience; they hid inadequacy.”

    “And you've had a LOT of experience ...” Euie chuckled.

    I glanced at James Christmas, who was blushing and looking at the floor.

    “Guys! Keep it down. I've got a client in here,” I called out. “I apologize, Mr. Christmas.”

    “Er, Hollis told me everybody was gay. I, uh, didn't believe him. I mean, they don't look ...”

    “Are you gay?” I asked bluntly.

    He swallowed; he stammered; he blushed some more. “I don't know.” He followed up with an unclarifying, “I'm not sure.”

    “Yes, well … I see that you own seventeen hundred acres near Beckley that produces about six thousand dollars a year.”

    “I lease most of it to a farmer … a lousy one, I guess. His rent is tied to harvests but he shows losses, which I don't believe; but I can't prove him wrong. So he pays me the minimum which is a dollar an acre and that covers the taxes. The rest is the mineral rights for coal, which used to be a good deal, but we're so far from the railroad that now the coal isn't worth the trouble of mining and trucking. The company keeps the lease payments up hoping the price of coal rises.”

    “I see.”

    “I was wondering if there isn't something I could do with it. It's inaccessible and isolated. Not much ground water. I can't sell it. There's talk of raising the taxes on it, which would make it worthless at the price of coal today. And I don't have the money to develop it.”

    “So you drive a truck ...”

    “Sporadically. It depends on the coal export market.”

    “And you work at a racino ...”

    “Part time … I watch a bunch of video games looking for hackers.”

    “Can you detect hackers?”

    “No. I just report anybody who wins twice in a row.”

    I liked his honesty, and his smile, and his clear blue eyes. “So if I go to your track, I should win big, lose a little for ten pulls, win big, lose … and so on and I'd get away with it.”

    “One time. They'd probably shoot you in the parking lot the second time you showed up.” I laughed and looked into his eyes. His earnest expression said he wasn't joking.

    “The house doesn't like to lose.”

    I watched his lips form the words; I wanted to kiss him. I stood up and walked around to the front of my desk. I stood in front of him and leaned back against the desk almost shoving my crotch in his face. He blushed again and looked down.

    “Why don't you know if you're gay?” I almost whispered.

    “I've never done much with girls. I have thoughts I can't explain.”

    I unbuttoned my coat. There was a characteristic bulge in my pants. He glanced and then looked away. I put my hands on my thighs, focusing his glance. “I have a big cock,” I told him.

    “Er, yes, ...” I heard a hoarseness in his voice.

    “Touch it,” I told him. He didn't, so I took his hand and put it on my cock. “Feel me.” He did. “Does that excite you?” I asked quietly lest Mac and Euie join us for a foursome.

    “It scares me shitless,” he whispered.

    “That wasn't what I asked. Does it excite you? Does it give you a hardon?” He didn't answer, but kept his hand on me. I reached for him. He was hard. I knew it; he knew it.

    “Ok, that was lesson one,” I said, returning to my side of the desk and sitting. “If you want a lesson two, come back. Meanwhile, we'll look at you case and develop some recommendations. I'll call when they are ready.” I stood. He stood and tugged at his trousers rearranging things. We shared polite parting comments and shook hands. He whispered a question before going outside my office.

    “Which one went to Vienna yesterday?”

    “Mac, the one with the darker hair.”

    His eyes almost popped out of his head. “NO! I thought he was totally straight!”

    “Maybe he is, but I don't think so,” I said back. I don't think he heard me. He left and nodded to Mac and Euie as he walked by their desks.

    The next morning I recounted my session with James Christmas to George. “I was honestly disappointed when he wasn't here waiting at the front door for lesson two this morning.”

    “Maybe he ISN'T gay,” George suggested. I gave him a very doubtful look. “You know I'm convinced Brandon isn't gay.”

    “Brandon, who has been living with Buddy from almost the day after Tommy Lynn died? THAT Brandon?”

    “Yes. When Hollis and I go out dancing with them ...”

    “You HATE dancing!”

    “The things we do for those we love … Brandon and Hollis both like line dancing, so Buddy and I go. Buddy is actually pretty good at it. I suck. Anyway, about Brandon. He never looks at the guys, never checks 'em out, you know? And there are some pretty hot guys who look even hotter shakin' their butts on the dance floor.” He paused while I conjured up the picture. “It's involuntary, looking at guys - but Brandon never does. He always checks out the chicks. Asses, tits, he's always looking. He never DOES anything, but he's always looking at the chicks, never the guys. I think he's straight.”

    “Except for the fact he sleeps with Buddy every night.”

    “That's cause he LOVES Buddy; I think love overcomes his natural sexual preference.”

    “Bullshit, George.” My exact words; but was it really bullshit? I could not conceive the woman who might straighten me out even for a day or two. Was it really possible?

  31. #181
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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Why not? The opposite is possible. Great chapter, Rory. You know I enjoy your entreaties.


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

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    Re: Fauquier County Whatever

    Chapter Forty-Six - Vince


    “I don't know, Latham. I really like living here. It's convenient to everything. I can walk to work. Nice neighbors. The dude in the Subway is convenient when no one else is ...”

    “We've got to do something. Racer thought it would be cool to own the place after Mrs. Lucketts died, and … well, it's skyrocketed in value being right in the middle of Warrenton. We're under pressure to DO something. I know you like it; we like living here, too; but the city wants to see something better done with the property. It's a lot of land for six apartment units and one little house.”

    “Good memories ...” I couldn't help thinking of all the guys I'd fucked in that little bedroom.

    “I know. Me, too. Think about it. An investment company, the one Racer and I use, might take the two units next to ours for their office. It would still be quiet at night.”

    “Well … it's Racer's place. I guess he can do what he wants ...”

    “But you're not thrilled. I can tell,” Latham said.

    “I don't like it when things change.”

    “Who does?” Latham agreed with a smile. “Here they are now.”

    I watched Latham go to greet the investment company people. Damn, he's fine. Racer gets all the good ones. Two dudes got out of the small sedan. The guy driving looks gay from a hundred miles away; the other one was pretty normal. Damn, why do I assume straight is normal? What's wrong with being gay?

    “Vince, you want to come look, too?” Latham called to me. I nodded and he introduced me to the rental prospects. Richard, the gay one, was funny.

    “You should be the centerfold of 'Viking Magazine'. You're gorgeous!” he said. “There is no 'Viking Magazine', of course,” he explained without making me feel totally stupid. “I just want an excuse to get you naked.”

    “All you have to do is ask; I'm easy that way.” I'm not sure why I said that. It's true; but still … Richard was taken aback by it and made no reply.

    “We can take out the upstairs kitchen,” Latham explained when we got to the second floor unit. “No need, right? It would give you another work space. Would you want a stairway installed to connect the units? That would be harder, but if we reduced the size of the bathrooms – you wouldn't need bathtubs in an office, right?”

    “Latham, we can't afford much right now. If that work would raise the rent, we can't afford it. Maybe someday, but not now.” Sanity spoken by the dude named George.

    “We could buff up the outside. Make the entry to your units look more professional. That wouldn't cost much and it's something your landlord should do for you.”

    “I'm glad you race cars, 'cause if you were a salesman, I'd be your best customer,” Richard flirted and flattered. I don't think he was really hittin' on Latham; it think he was just one of those naturally flirty guys. Everything was an opportunity or he made it like one.

    “You're sold?” Latham asked.

    “We should talk to Buddy,” George cautioned an eager Richard.

    “Bullshit, he'll go for it. We won't all be peeing on his field of weeds any more. What's up there?” Richard pointed to a hatch opening in the ceiling. Latham couldn't answer him. “Well we have to know. It could be the ghost of Mrs. Lucketts.”

    “No time. I have a meeting with our butcher friend,” George said.

    “I'll stay and poke around some,” Richard said.

    “I've got a ladder, if you want to look in the attic,” I volunteered. Twenty minutes later we were up in the unfinished and uninsulated attic. It contained nothing very interesting. An old chair. A mattress. Two lamps with torn shades. Assorted odds and ends. Even a very used looking artificial Christmas tree. And it was HOT. It must have been in the nineties in that attic. Sweat was pouring off me and climbng back down the ladder was a huge relief.

    “All that sweat! Your body is very efficient,” Richard noted. He wasn't sweaty at all. “It's cause I'm skinny,” he explained. “I'm dry and you need a shower. Can I watch?”

    It was a challenge, you know? Being dared to get naked. I like challenges. “My place has towels,” I challenged back.

    In ten minutes we were in my bathroom naked. “You're not so skinny,” I told him. In fact he had a very fuckable ass and an amazing dick. We didn't bother drying off, headed right for the bed, and got busy with out hands. I really like stroking a guy's dick, not to make him come, at least not right away. I just like playing with it, sliding the skin up and down, seeing if I can squeeze a drop out of him. Richard reciprocated before taking me in his mouth. Yeah! He was good at it. Then I reciprocated, licking, sucking. I was surprised by how turned on I was. Obviously-gay guys usually aren't my thing. He deep throated me and I got the signal he wanted to get fucked. My specialty. Always happy to satisfy. Always happy to see the reaction I get on entry. Richard frowned a little and grunted a couple of times and then pulled me all the way in. As I pumped I stroked.

    “Stop, you'll make me come,” he warned. “I don't want to come yet.”

    That part wasn't a hundred percent true. He did want to come, but he wanted to do it in me. I don't normally get fucked when I first meet a dude, but I pulled out just short of coming myself and lay back for a breather. He was on me. Not aggressively, but relentlessly. Little pressures, little advances, and then it was inevitable. I relaxed. I let him. The teasing went so far and then I wanted him. Did I really say “Fuck me”? I think I did. I think I meant it. His dick was huge. There's gonna be blood, I thought. He was considerate; he slow-fucked me until I got used to him. I was ready, really ready. And then he pulled out.

    Roles changed. I was back in him and it felt twenty times better than before. I kissed him. He laughed before pulling me back for another. “I didn't think you were the kissin' kind,” he said and kissed me some more. I was shaking I was so close to erupting. I pulled out. I didn't want to come yet; I wanted to make it last longer.

    He took the initiative. The next time he entered me I almost came. My cock was a fuckin' faucet of slickness. I was sweating again. I heard myself moaning. Finally I couldn't take it. “Make me cum! MAKE ME CUM!” A couple more thrusts by him, a couple strokes on my cock; and we both came and then collapsed, still hooked together.

    Our breathing slowed. We relaxed and took deeper breaths. I felt his rigidity relax and start to slide slowly out of my ass. I looked at him, wondering what would come next.

    “Jiminy Fucking Christmas!” he suddenly exclaimed and hopped to his feet grabbing for his clothes. “You don't mind if I fuck and run, do you?” He didn't care what I might answer; he quickly finished and was about to leave. I lay on the bed not sure what to do. He looked at me and smiled, “You are the most beautiful naked Viking I've ever seen. I almost love you.” He turned and left.

    “Almost” was the killer. If he hadn't said “almost” I could have laughed it all off. A quick fuck. A quick GREAT fuck even. I could have smiled, showered again, and moved on. “Almost” brought back the hard memories, the memories of Otis. I needed a drink before I went to work. A terrible idea, but I needed the relief I could bring. I hadn't thought of Otis in a long time. I thought I was over him; but I felt my heart break again. I would have a couple shots of bourbon. I would go to Subway and arrange to fuck red-headed, always-willing what's-his-name tonight. And I would try to forget.

    “I love you, Vince. This is almost perfect,” Otis had said. “It is perfect, Otis,” I told him and hugged him like I never wanted to let him go. “Almost,” repeated Otis. And then an hour later he was shot dead.

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