Date: Wed, 05 Jan 2000 23:16:53 CST
From: Brew Maxwell <brew_drinker23@yahoo.com>
Subject: Nick's Adventures in the Caribbean, Part One

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real people is
purely coincidental.  It is also a work intended for adults, and it involves
sex between men, women, and young adult men.  If you are offended by
material of this kind, or if it is illegal in your political jurisdiction to
read material of this kind, please exit immediately.  This story is posted
to the Nifty Archives, and it may be read and downloaded for the pleasure of
individuals.  It may not be posted to any other media outlet without the
written consent of its author.  The author appreciates comments from
readers.


Nick's Adventures in the Caribbean
Part One

	During the summer after my senior year of high school, I had my first taste
of sailing, and I had it in the Caribbean.  I got to spend four weeks on a
forty-foot sailboat with two other guys, and it was one of the greatest
adventures of my life.
	As soon as school was over in late May, I spent a week being initiated into
the Branding Circle, which is a kind of exclusive fraternity at my school.
It was a lot of fun, and I got to know guys I had been in school with for
years in a way that I never thought possible.  After that, though, I really
didn't have any plans.  Ordinarily, my summer would have been scheduled
pretty tight.  I might have spent time travelling in Europe or South
America, and I certainly would have spent time with my parents and with one
or both of my brothers at our plantation in Mississippi--The Country Place.
	That summer was different, though, because my parents had been killed in a
plane crash the November before.  They left us very rich, but they left us
very alone.  My older brother, Scott, was only twenty-two and deeply
involved in the three ladies-only strip clubs we had bought shortly after
the plane crash that took our folks and our only other relative, my father's
brother Matt.  My second brother, Matt (named for my uncle), was twenty and
had a very active life that didn't really involve Scott or me all that much.
  I worked for Scott as a fill-in dancer at the clubs, but that was only
occasionally.  It really wasn't enough to fill a summer, and there's only so
much reading you can do.
	I had lots of friends, of course, but most of them came from the same kind
of family I did.  They all thought summer was for travel, camp,
self-improvement.  The guy I had been hanging out with pretty regularly for
the last few months--Mike Sutton--was going to a top-flight tennis camp in
California, so he wouldn't be around.  Other guys I knew, younger guys, were
going to computer camp or debating camp or wrestling camp or something of
that sort.  Football and track were my sports, and there were camps for both
I could have gone to if I hadn't graduated.  Thus, my summer prospects were
pretty grim.
	We finished Summer Week, the Branding Circle initiation camp, on a Sunday.
The following week I hung around the house, shot pool a good bit at Chubby's
Place--a pool hall that my brothers and I hung out in--sunbathed nude at our
backyard pool, worked out nude at a gym I belonged to, watched TV, watched
movies, read three books, and went out a couple of nights with Sutton before
he left for camp.  I worked two nights at one of our clubs, and I gave
private shows for--which is code for "had sex with"--four women each night,
but it wasn't exactly an adventurous week.
	Things changed on Friday, though.  My parents' wills set up trust funds for
me and my brothers, and each of us had a trustee.  Those three guys were all
very old friends of the family, and they took a real personal interest in
us.  My dad and Uncle Matt had been lawyers, so these trusts were
masterpieces of the lawyer's art.  They were interlocking, which is why all
three of us had to buy the strip clubs, rather than Scott buying them on his
own.  Anyway, I met my trustee once a month or so for lunch, or sometimes
breakfast on Saturday morning, and we just shot the shit.  That particular
day I was supposed to meet him for lunch in a nice restaurant in a downtown
hotel.  I got there about fifteen minutes early, and he was probably a
little late.  As I was waiting, I saw a guy I knew sitting at another table.
	I had met this guy one night at a gay bar that my friend Jody and I had
gone to to pick up some dance moves.  The guy's name was Chip.  He was a CPA
with some big accounting firm, and he was, maybe, twenty-five.  Jody and I
had ended up spending the night with Chip, fucking our brains out.  We had
exchanged phone numbers and promised to get together, but we hadn't.  Chip
was with an older guy, who might be his boyfriend.  When Chip looked over
toward me, I flashed him a big grin.  He didn't smile back, but he cocked
his head to the left slightly as he stood up to leave the table.  I figured
he wanted to talk to me, so I got up and walked to the restroom, too.
	When we met in the men's room, we checked the place out to make sure nobody
was in there taking a dump, or something.  The place was empty, except for
us.  Chip hugged me.
	"How the hell have you been," he asked.
	"Good, man.  And you?"
	"Well, I'd have been a hell of a lot better if you had called."
	"The same here," I said.  My comment was ambiguous, and he laughed after a
brief pause to think about what I had said.
	"Look, I'm with a client," he said, "so I don't want to be gone long.  I'd
like to see you.  What are you doing tonight?"
	"Nothing," I said.
	"Meet me here tonight at nine.  Okay?  You promise?"  He handed me one of
his business cards with the name of a restaurant I knew written on the back.
	"I'll be there," I said.
	"On second thought, come to my apartment at eight.  We can have a drink
before we go eat."  He grinned when he said that.
	I grinned back.  "Where do you live," I asked.
	"It's on the front of the card," he said.  "Look, I'm out of here.  See you
tonight."
	At least I had plans now.  I went back to my table just as Uncle Larry was
being shown in.  We shook hands and kind of hugged a little.  He ordered
himself a martini, and, as the waiter was about to leave, he told him to
make it two.  The second one was for me, and I was pretty surprised.
	"Oh, come on, Nick.  You think I don't know you drink?  There's no
eighteen-year-old in New Orleans who can't handle a cocktail before lunch,
and you know it.  You smoke, too, don't you?"
	"Yes, sir," I said.
	"Well, smoke 'em if you got 'em."  This was the first time he had ever said
anything like that to me, and it made me feel pretty grown up.
	We talked about how the summer was going.  I told him I had spent a week at
a fraternity camp.
	"That's right.  I knew about that.  Your dad and I were initiated the same
week.  It was the first time we had it at your Country Place."
	I hadn't known Uncle Larry had been a member of the Branding Circle.  That
meant he and my dad had probably had sex.
	"I guess that means you aren't a virgin anymore," he said.
	I probably blushed a little.
	"There's no need to blush, Nick.  I've been through it.  The guys in my
initiation class are my best friends in the world."
	There was a kind of awkward pause.  "So how was it?"
	"I won the "Best Initiate" medal, and I had a ball," I said.  "No pun
intended."  He liked that and laughed hard.
	"Congratulations.  Your father won it our year, if my memory serves me
correctly." Then, after a pause, "It _was_  your first, wasn't it?  Or am I
way behind the times."
	"You're a little behind the times, Uncle Larry.  My first guy was when I
was twelve, and my first girl was when I was thirteen."  I said that
matter-of-factly, not braggingly.
	"Jesus Christ," he said.  "I am behind the times."  He thought for a
second.  "If I had thought about it, I would have known.  You _are_ working
for Scott some, aren't you."
	"Yes, sir, I am."
	"Well, that's really none of my business.  You're an adult now.  Changing
the subject, how were your grades?"
	"All A's.  I think I did really well on the AP exams I took, too."
	"Tell me about these exams," he said.  I did.  I also told him about what I
would be taking next year when I started at the University of New Orleans,
what I had been reading, what my friends were doing that summer.  We made
small talk of that type throughout the whole lunch.
	He finally got around to asking me my summer plans.
	"To tell you the truth, I really don't have any.  For some reason, summer
kind of snuck up on me.  Mom and Dad used to handle that kind of stuff, and
I just didn't think to make any plans."
	"What about that boy you stayed with in Paris.  Y'all got to be pretty good
friends, didn't you?"
	"Yes, sir.  I've thought about giving him a call and seeing if he would
like to come over for a few weeks.  You remember, he came back with me and
stayed for a week.  He really liked it here, and we talked about maybe
making a cross-country car trip.  What do you think?"
	"Nick, most boys your age couldn't handle something like that, but I truly
believe you can.  Mary and I have encouraged our girls to travel as much as
possible, and I'm a firm believer in the benefits of seeing the world.  I
say do it."
	After we finished eating, Uncle Larry offered me a cigarette--a Carlton.  I
wanted a Marlboro, but I took his to be polite.  We finished pretty soon
after that and said goodbye.
	I didn't get downtown very often, so I decided to wander around to see what
was going on.  I went into a real up-scale shopping mall that was part of a
hotel near the Super Dome and looked around.  I bought three shirts, some
shorts, and a new baseball cap at Lord and Taylors.  I picked up a couple of
CD's I thought looked interesting, and I bought some books for summer
reading at a bookstore.  The actual purchases didn't take long, but I poked
around in all sorts of stores to see what they had.  I paid for everything
with American Express.  Uncle Larry, or, rather, his accountant, would take
care of actually paying the real money later.
	I got my car from the garage I had parked in and drove home.  I put my
purchases away, went down to the pool with one of the books, took off my
clothes, settled down to read, and fell fast asleep.  I woke up around 4:30.
  I decided to go to the gym for a workout before my date.
	The gym is usually pretty empty during the day, with most of the action
starting around six.  Friday afternoon in the summer is the worst time for
business, and there was only one other guy in there.  I said hello to Alvin,
the owner and trainer, when I went in.  He rented me two towels, and I went
back to my locker to undress.  Alvin's Gym is all-male, and about half of us
work out in the buff.  I like the way it feels, and I especially like the
way I look in the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling mirrors.  Hell, there were
even mirrors on the ceiling so you could watch yourself pump iron lying on
your back.
	The other guy in the place was nude, too, and I checked out his package, as
I usually do.  He wasn't circumcised, and his soft cock wasn't more than a
couple of inches long.  He was in his late twenties, probably, and pretty
good looking.  He stared at my five-and-a-half inch soft cut cock, and his
got noticeably longer.  I decided to see where this might lead.
	I walked up and introduced myself.  He said his name was Walter.  I asked
him if he would mind spotting me after I stretched and warmed up, and he
said he'd be happy to, if I'd spot him.  I went through my usual stretching
routine, and I could tell Walter was eyeing me through the mirrors.  Then I
did about fifteen minutes on the cycle.  I was ready for the free weights,
and that's what I wanted Walter to help with.  Ordinarily, my routine
doesn't include heavy weight because I'm trying to improve definition, not
bulk.  Today, though, I wanted Walter to help me, so I used the heavies.
	When, at my call, he came over, his dick was twice as long and a good bit
thicker than it had been before.  His foreskin was pulled behind the head of
his cock.  He stood behind me as I lay on the bench, and I started my reps.
I purposely exhaled harder than I usually do because I wanted him to feel my
breath on his cock.  He did feel it, and his cock started really putting on
some size.  By the time I finished my first set, it was sticking out at a
perfect right angle.  I didn't say anything, and I pretended not to notice.
I did my second set, and this time Walter pulled up closer to me.  I
continued "blowing" him, and, by the end of my second set, he had a
full-scale hard-on.
	I still didn't say anything.  Instead, I sat up, popped his cock into my
mouth, and sucked it.  Walter's face was a mixture of rapture and
incredulity.  He came in my mouth in about two minutes, and I swallowed his
cum.  I lay back down and did another set of reps.  I wasn't even hard.
	Walter moved even closer to me this time.  His cock was limp but still
distended, and a large dollop of cum oozed out and hung there.  It was a
little distracting because I didn't want to get it in the eye, so I cut my
set short by two reps, reached up and took the cum on my finger, and popped
it into my mouth.  That set Walter off, and he started getting hard again.
I was really through with all the heavy weight I wanted to lift, but I
wasn't through with Walter.  I struggled through another set, really puffing
on Walter's cock every time I lifted and lowered the bar.  He got even
harder, and, once again, I sucked him off.  I still hadn't said a word.
	I wanted to do some chin-ups and pull-ups anyway, but I thought they might
be a good way to get Walter hot again.  I stood up, grabbed his cock, and
led him to the chinning bar.  I finally spoke.
	"Walter, can I get you to keep me straight when I do my sets?"
	"Sure," he said, probably without much comprehension.
	"When I get up on the bar, put one hand on my cock and the other one on my
ass to keep me in the same plane.  Understand?"
	"Er, yeah."  He was probably a nuclear physicist, and I was talking to him
like he was an idiot.
	I jumped up to catch the bar, and Walter did as I asked.  I did
seventy-five chin-ups and twenty-five pull-ups, which was really showing off
for me.  I usually did thirty and fifteen.  Walter was giving me renewed
strength.
	"Okay, Walter," I said when I was through, "how about some sit-ups."  I lay
down on a mat and had Walter squat over my thighs.  He moved up pretty close
to my crotch, but I made him move up even farther.  He finally got so far up
that his balls were touching mine.
	"Let me get this thing out of your way," I said, as I draped my cock over
my stomach.  "Now, don't let my hips up off the mat."  I bent my legs a
little behind him, and I started my set.  I did thirty, rested a minute, and
then did thirty more.  Every time I sat up, my cock would flop forward and
hit his.  Under other circumstances, my meat would have been rigid in no
time, but somehow I managed to keep it down by concentrating on what I was
doing to this guy.  His cock got hard as a rock after about five sit-ups,
and I stimulated it every time I did a rep.  Toward the end I could tell
Walter was ready to spew, so I speeded up my reps and stayed in the upright
position, rubbing my cock and stomach on his hard-on, a little longer each
time.  I was right: Walter started trembling, and he came hard.  There
wasn't much cum left, though, so it wasn't that big a mess.  When he had
finished, he got off me.  I scraped his cum off my chest and stomach with my
fingers and ate it.
	"Walter, can you help me with one more exercise," I asked naively.
	"Sure,  Anything," he said.  "What now?"
	"Push-ups.  I have a tendency to let myself drop too close to the floor,
but if you were under me, I think it would be just right.  Will you do that
for me?"
	"Yeah.  Anything."
	"Get on your back and spread your legs.  Keep your arms by your side."
	I got over Walter.
	"See, this is just right.  Your shoulders are the perfect distance apart
for my hands to be."
	I moved into position so that my cock was hanging down touching his cock.
I started my set, and, every time I moved down, Walter's dick got
stimulated.  I can do a lot of push-ups, but it only took fifty to make
Walter come again.  That time must have been a really powerful one because
he groaned loudly when he came.
	"Are you through with your routine, or do you need me to spot you," I
asked.
	"Nick, I don't think I could lift a pencil right now.  I feel like a limp
washrag."
	"Well, let's get a shower," I said.  I put my hand on his butt and rubbed
it a little.  "You're a good sport, Walter, for helping me.  I really
appreciate it."
	"Thank you, Nick," he said.  "This was the most, er,  interesting afternoon
of my life.  Didn't any of that make you the least bit aroused?  How could
you stand it?"
	"I don't know, Walter.  You're a good looking guy, and you've got a nice
body.  Your cock ain't that big, but it's well shaped.  Ordinarily, I would
have popped a woody right off.  Maybe I'm becoming impotent."
	"Aw, come on, man.  Not a guy your age.  Say, what are you doing after we
clean up?  You want to go get something to eat, or something?"
	"I'd like to, Walter, but maybe some other time.  I have a date tonight.
At eight.  If I don't haul ass, I'm gonna be late."  I jumped into the
shower, washed off, dressed, and was out of there in twenty minutes.  I
hadn't thought to bring the clothes I wanted to wear that night, so I had to
go home to dress.  On the way I thought about Walter and what he might be
thinking right now.
	When I got home, Matt's car was in the driveway.  I hadn't seen him in a
couple of days, so I went into his room to say hello.  He was getting
undressed to take a shower in preparation for going out.
	"Hi, Matt," I said as I walked in.
	"Hey, Bubba.  Long time no see.  What's up?"
	"Not a fuckin' thing," I said.  "What's up with you, Bubba?"  All three of
us used that as a pet name for one another.  We'd beat the shit out of
anybody else who used it, except Philip, who's like our third brother.  We
even call him that sometimes.
	"Come on and take a shower with me.  We haven't done that in a long time."
	"I just took one at Alvin's," I said.  "Besides, I'm going out, too.  I
gotta be someplace at eight."
	"Well, have fun," he said.  "Don't forget, Sunday is Philip's birthday.
Don't make any plans."
	"Right.  I bought him a present today, in fact."
	"You go, boy.  Later."
	Matt seemed to be in an unusually good mood.  He was always pretty up, but
that night he seemed especially happy.  The relationship of all three of us
is really strange to most people outside the family.  We love each other
dearly and would cheerfully die for one another, but usually we fake a macho
toughness with each other that most people don't understand.  Matt wanted me
to take a shower so he could jerk me off or suck me off or fuck me, and it
would have been an act of love.  He would have called me a no-dick,
motherfucking son-of-a-bitch, but he would have loved me.  I was sorry I
didn't have time.
	I quickly shaved for the second time that day and dressed in the new
clothes I bought that afternoon.  I decided to wear a pair of white Levi
501's instead of the shorts I had bought, and I chose a pair that was pretty
tight to better show off my basket.  I got a fresh pack of smokes from the
carton I kept in my desk, and I headed to Chip's house.  I grabbed a bottle
of single malt scotch as a host gift on my way out.
	Chip was ready when I got there, and he poured us each a drink from the
bottle I had brought.  After we had settled in on the sofa, the phone rang.
It was the restaurant, asking if we could push our time back to 9:45.  What
could we say but yes?
	"So what's been happening," he asked.
	"Not a hell of a lot," I said.
	"Have you had any gigs?"
	I must have had a puzzled look on my face because he said, "You know, with
your band?  You told me when I met you that you were trying to break into
show business with a band.  Any luck?"
	So this was the guy I told that to.  I'm glad he reminded me; otherwise, I
would have made up some other shit to tell him.
	"What do you do in the band?"
	"I sing.  I also play piano--keyboard, usually--and guitar."  That much was
true.  I can sing, and I do play those instruments.
	He quickly lost interest in that.  He moved closer toward me.  "Do you mind
if I put my arm around you," he asked.
	"Not at all," I said.  He put his left arm over my shoulders.  I shifted my
drink to my left hand and put my right hand on his thigh.  I knew what he
wanted, and, frankly, I wanted the same thing.  I started rubbing his thigh,
first on top and then on the inside.  He moaned a little, and I could see
his cock growing in his pants.  I let my hand stray in the direction of his
crotch, and in a second I was rubbing his hard-on.  I felt a little twinge
in my groin, but I was far from hard yet.
	Chip's breathing started getting more labored.  "Take your shirt off for
me, will you, Nick?"
	"You take it off.  I'm busy," I said, grinning.
	We turned to face one another, and he started unbuttoning my shirt.  He had
it off in a second, and he put both hands on my shoulders.
	"God, you look good."  The workout had paid off.  He rubbed my shoulders
and upper arms, and then he moved to my chest.  He kneaded my pecs and then
moved to my nipples.  I was starting to react in earnest, and my cock was
becoming a little uncomfortable in my jeans.  I adjusted myself with my
hand.  "Am I doing that to you," he asked.
	"Yes," I said.  "You're turning me on, Chip.  I've got a hard-on."
	"Can I see it," he asked.
	I didn't say anything.  Instead, I stood up right in front of him.  I took
his hand and placed it over my cock.  He rubbed it for me, and, God, did it
feel good.  After a minute, he undid my belt, unbuttoned my fly, and pulled
my jeans down to just below my knees.
	"You've got the biggest and most beautiful cock I've ever seen," he said.
Then, without asking permission, which was unusual for him that night, he
took my cock into his mouth.  He gave outstanding head, and I was pretty
close to coming.  He released me, though, and stood up himself.  He started
taking off his clothes and piling them on the sofa.  When he was completely
naked, he said, "Will you fuck me, Nick?  Please?"
	I kicked off my loafers and pulled my jeans the rest of the way off.  I
never wear underwear, especially with jeans, so that wasn't a problem.  I
moved Chip around to the end of the sofa and sat him on the arm, with his
back against the wall and one foot on the floor and one on the sofa.  I sat
on the arm myself, also with a foot on the floor and one on the sofa.  I
pulled him away from the wall slightly so I could have a better shot at his
asshole, and I drove my cock home.  He gasped with pleasure.
	"Let's take it slow and easy," I said.  He only grunted his assent.  I
shoved into him slowly and pulled back at the same speed.  He got with the
rhythm on the third or fourth shove, and, in no time, we were a slow but
steady fuck-engine.  I pulled him up close to me and nibbled his ear.  He
loved that.  I moved one of my hands to his chest and played with a nipple,
and that made him breathe even harder.  He was giving off a stream of clear
pre-cum, and I put the palm of my other hand on the head of his cock and
moved it around.  In a minute, the sensations were too strong for him, and
he came.  I almost did when he did, but I managed to hold off.
	"Don't stop," I whispered into his ear, making sure my breath was hard
against that sensitive organ.  He didn't stop, and we fucked some more.  I
came very close to shooting my load, but I stopped moving for a few seconds
and recovered.  Chip didn't have as much control, and he came a second time.
  This time he moaned loudly.  I kept fucking him, though, and in five
minutes we came together.  It was very intense for me, and I know it must
have been for him, too.  His ass contracted so hard he almost pushed me out,
but I plunged deeper when I felt him come.  I shot a huge deposit into his
ass, and we slumped onto one another, completely satisfied.
	When we finally separated and I pulled out of his ass, we noticed our
chests were covered with his cum, and my cum was leaking out of his
butthole.  We got back onto the sofa and returned to our drinks, which were
pretty watery by then.  We both lit up.  In a minute, Chip took our drinks
to the kitchen and returned with with fresh ones and paper towels to clean
ourselves up.  We didn't really speak.  I put my leg over his lap, and he
put his hand on my leg.  Mostly, though, we drank and smoked and luxuriated
in the afterglow of sex.
	"Do you want to take a shower," he asked.  "Cause if you do, we better get
to it."
	My arm pits were still damp, and I was covered with his rather pungent cum.
  I lifted my arm and put my pit in his face.
	"What do I smell like?"
	"Heaven," he said.
	"Then, no.  I don't want a shower.  Hell, I just took one a couple of hours
ago."  I knew what I smelled like: raw young male sexuality.  And I liked
the smell.  Fuck anybody who didn't.
	We got dressed and left for the restaurant.  We got there at 9:40, five
minutes early for our reservation.  Time didn't mean much at that place,
though, and there was a crowd of people waiting in the lobby.  The host told
us we could wait in the bar and that they would call us in a half hour or
so.  He apologized for the wait but said there wasn't anything he could do
about it.
	"Do you mind waiting," Chip asked.
	"Hell, no.  Let's get a drink."  I had eaten a huge, rich lunch with Uncle
Larry, so I wasn't starving.  True, my workout had burned quite a few
calories, but I could last another half hour.
	The bar was nice, and we took seats on stools.  We ordered single-malt
scotch, and it was delicious.  Chip looked past me at a guy who was sitting
on the stool on my other side.  I could tell he recognized him.
	"Tom.  Tom Grant," Chip said loud enough for the man to hear him.
	"Somebody call me," the guy said.
	"Yes.  I did," Chip said.  "It's me.  Chip Wilson.  From Price Waterhouse."
	I turned slightly to get a glimpse of the guy.  He looked toward Chip, and
a smile grew on his face.
	"Well, hi there, Chip."  He reached his hand around me to shake with Chip.
Chip did the same.
	"Tom, this is Nick Marshall.  Nick, Tom Grant."
	"How do you do," I said as I shook his hand.  He nodded courteously.
	"You here by yourself," Chip asked.
	"Yeah.  All alone.  And, frankly, a little pissed off.  Not only have I
been here since 8:30.  I was supposed to meet a guy, but he called to say he
couldn't make it."
	I pushed my barstool back a little to make the conversation easier.  I
started to ask him to join us, but I remembered it wasn't my party.  Chip
stepped in, though.
	"Well, you'll join us, then.  We'll take whichever table opens first."
	"That's kind of you, Chip, but I don't want to horn in.  You guys don't
want me."
	"Oh, no," I said.  "Please do join us.  You look like you could use the
company.  And I know we could."  The last was a lie, but it was part of the
social ritual of New Orleans.  I didn't know him, but I knew who he was.  He
was the black sheep of a very prominent family, and his older brother and my
dad had been friends.
	"Well, if you're sure you don't mind. . . ."
	"We insist," I said, overstepping my bounds as a guest of Chip.  "Besides,
you and I have a connection.  Did you know a man named Sam Marshall?"
	He thought for a moment, and then a smile came to his face.  "Hell, yes.
But he and his wife and brother were killed in a plane crash about a year
ago.  How do you know him?"
	"It was last November, and I'm his son.  Nick Marshall."
	"Well, I'll be goddamned.  Your daddy and my brother were good friends.
Hell, I've known your daddy all my life.  Stand up.  Let me look at you."
	I stood up, and a smile of recognition came over his face.  His eyes
dropped to my crotch, though, after he looked at my face, and I could tell
he was impressed, and maybe even interested.
	"Hell, boy, if I hadn't had three drinks before you got here, I would have
recognized you anywhere.  You look just like Sam.  How old are you?"
	"Twenty-two," I said, lying through my teeth.
	"Yeah.  That would be about right.  Sam had a son about the same time my
brother did, and his boy is twenty-one or twenty-two.  Don't you have some
brothers?"
	"Yes, sir.  Matt is twenty, and Scott is eighteen."
	"Well, I'll be goddamned.  I have a son.  He's eighteen.  I had him young.
I'm only thirty-six."
	He didn't look that old.  In fact, as I looked at him, he looked to be in
his late twenties, maybe middle twenties.  He was a really nice looking man.
  Blond, deeply tanned, chisled features.  His build was good, too.  It was
obvious he worked out and took good care of himself.
	"In fact, that's part of why I'm so pissed off.  The guy who canceled on me
tonight was supposed to go with my son and me on a month-long cruise of the
Caribbean on my sailboat.  We were supposed to fly to Key West Monday
morning at six sharp, and that's where I was supposed to meet my son.  Now,
I don't know what I'm going to do."
	"Can't you and your son go by yourselves," Chip asked.
	"Not on a forty-footer," he said.  "Besides, I don't really know him.  His
mother and I were only married six months when I was eighteen, and I haven't
seen him since he was an infant."
	"That sounds like a great boat," I said.
	"What does the size of the boat have to do with it," Chip asked.
	"A crew for a boat that size is at least three people in the open ocean," I
said.  "That's Coast Guard regulations, and it's also just good sense.  You
can't haul about with less than three."
	"You sound like you know something about sailing," Tom said.
	"Yes, sir, a little," I said.
	"Lose the 'sir' shit, will you?  I'm Tom.  Fuckin' Tom."
	"Okay, Fuckin' Tom."  They both laughed.  "I'm sorry, Tom, I just am used
to saying 'sir.'"
	"I know it," he said.  "That's New Orleans bullshit.  Hell, I was the same
way.  'Yes, m'am; yes, sir.'  I still speak to my parents that way."
	Just then they called for Tom's table.  He went up to talk to the host and
came back to the bar.
	"He said give them five minutes to convert a two-seater to a three.  Let's
have another drink.  This one's to your daddy, Nick."
	The waiter brought the drinks, and I decided to go to the bathroom before
we went to our table.  I excused myself and went into the men's room.  I
stood at a urinal and took out my cock to piss.  Just then, the door burst
open and Tom came in.
	"I decided to join you to bleed the lizard," he said.
	There were three urinals but no partitions between them.  As is the custom,
I took the one farthest to the left.  I expected Tom to take the one
farthest to the right, leaving the middle one empty.  He didn't, though.  He
took the middle one.  I started to piss, and I could see him checking me out
out of the corner of my eye.  I didn't say anything, of course, but I
decided to have a little fun.  I pulled my cock out as far as it would go
and made little designs with my piss on the porcelain of the urinal.  Then,
when I had finished, I made a big deal of shaking myself off.  I pulled it
and kneaded it and flicked the head.  I glanced over at Tom, and I caught
him staring at what I was doing.  He hadn't started pissing yet, and his
cock looked like it was putting on a little weight.  I turned away from the
urinal in his direction with my cock still out.  I looked into his eyes, and
he stared back.  "Maybe later," I said.  "I'm ready when you are," he
replied.  I tucked my cock away, buttoned my fly, and washed my hands.  Tom
still hadn't pissed when I left the restroom, and it took him another ten
minutes to join us at the table.

	We ordered more drinks before dinner.  Tom had been drinking for some time,
and this was going to be my fourth of the evening.  I was feeling a little
buzzed, and I'm sure the others were, too.
	"I want to get back to my problem," Tom said.  "I still need a third man
for the trip.  You wouldn't be interested by any chance, would you, Nick."
	"I might be.  Give me the details."  We all lit cigarettes.
	"Well, like I said, we fly out of the lakefront airport at six Monday
morning.  I meet Jerry at the airport in Key West, and we go from there to
the boat.  I'll do most of the sailing, but the other two guys will have to
take their turns.  We'll share mess duties and everything else there is to
do.  I don't really have a timetable of having to be somewhere at a certain
time.  I want to explore some of the lesser known islands and stay away from
the tourist places.  Hell, we might decide to anchor in the middle of the
Caribbean and snorkel.  Do you dive, Nick?"
	"Can you clarify that," I asked with a straight face.  Chip broke up, and
Tom, unsure of what he had heard, laughed, too, but not as hard.
	"Scuba.  Do you scuba dive?"
	"Yeah, I do.  I haven't since April, but I do scuba dive.  I'm certified as
an expert diver."
	"Great.  We'll dive, then.  I don't know if Jerry dives or not.  I think
he's mostly a book guy.  Hell, I don't know."
	The waiter came and took our orders.
	"You said before you haven't seen your son since he was a baby.  Why the
trip all of a sudden?"
	"Well, that's kind of a long story.  His mother has cancer, and she had
surgery earlier this week.  Jerry's grandmother is going to look after her,
and they wanted him out from under foot.  Anyway, I've kind of regretted not
knowing him.  When his mother called for this favor, I couldn't say no."
	"So you didn't have visitation rights or anything," Chip asked.
	"No.  That was part of the settlement.  I didn't have to worry about child
support or anything, but I didn't get to see him.  Which was fine with me.
For that matter, I barely knew his mother.  I was a senior in high school,
and she was a freshman at Newcomb.  We met at a party, went out a few times,
and, wham, she's pregnant.  Her parents were super-pissed at her and at me.
They made us get married, but neither of us wanted it to last.  Like I said,
we really didn't know one another, much less love one another.  She and
Jerry moved back home to Miami.  She remarried and has been happy ever
since.  Until the cancer thing came up."
	"Is she going to be okay," I asked.
	"They think so.  It was breast cancer, and they caught it real early.
She's got to go through the chemotherapy, though, and that's pretty tough.
Anyway, Nick, what do you say?"
	"Frankly, it sounds like what I need right now.  I've been pretty bored."
I paused for a few seconds.  I really wanted to go, and there was no reason
I shouldn't.  "Excuse me.  I'll be back in a second."
	I went to the payphone that was in the lobby near the men's room and called
Scott.  I didn't think he'd mind, and our rule was there were no rules.  But
I wanted to get his opinion as a courtesy.  If he left the country for a
month without talking to me about it, I'd be royally pissed.  I called his
pager number.  Then I told the host who I was and that I was expecting a
call.  He said he'd come get me.  He didn't have to, though, because the
phone rang before I left the lobby.  It was Scott.  I told him what was up,
and he said for me to go for it.  That was that.  He also told me that
Philip's party had been postponed until later in the week and not to worry
about missing it.
	"Feeling better," Tom said when I returned to the table.
	"Feeling great," I said.  "And yes, I'd love to go on the trip."
	"Oh, man, that's great," Tom said.  "You saved my life.  Chip, I want to
thank you for introducing us.  You're a full-service accountant, and I plan
on telling your boss as much.  I've known that son-of-a-bitch all my life,
too."
	So that explained how Chip and Tom knew each other.
	We didn't dwell on the trip during the rest of the meal.  In fact, we
mostly made small talk about New Orleans politics, a subject of endless
interest to Orleanians.
	After dinner we went to a piano bar that wasn't far away and had a few more
drinks.  Tom gave me his address and phone number, along with instructions
to get in touch with him the next day to talk about the details of the trip.
  We said goodnight around 1:30, and I drove Chip back to his place.
	"You want to come in for a nightcap," he asked.
	I went in with him, but I knew it was going to be for more than a nightcap.
  He poured us drinks, and we snuggled against each other on the sofa.
	"Tom's a nice guy," he said.  "And that trip you guys are going on sounds
fabulous.  I wish I could go."
	I hadn't even thought about Chip while we were making plans.
	"Hey, let's talk to Tom.  That boat's plenty big enough for seven more
people, much less one.  I'm sure he'd be glad to have you.  Three people are
the minimum, not the maximum."
	"I'm sure he would, too, but I can't get off work.  I've only been there
ten months.  In August I'm going to take a week off to go see my folks in
Chicago, but that's all I get."
	"That really sucks, man," I said.
	"What do you do for a living?  I mean, how do you support yourself?  That
shows how little I know about you."
	"Well, my folks died, you know. . ."
	"Yeah.  And . . . ?"
	"And they left a nice trust fund.  I guess I really don't have to work.
Just like Tom.  He doesn't work, does he?"
	"No, he doesn't.  I guess us poor boys don't understand the likes of you
rich boys."  He said that jokingly, but it was probably true.  Hell, I
didn't really understand "us rich boys," for that matter.  I was only
eighteen fucking years old.  I didn't understand much of anything.  I
thought life was going to school, playing football, running track, and
sticking my dick into anything it fit in.
	"So how much did they leave you?"
	That was a personal question, but I didn't care.
	"I don't know."
	"You don't fucking know?"
	"Not really.  It kind of changes, you know?  The estimate is between sixty
and eighty, but that's all it is.  An estimate."
	"Sixty and eighty what?  Thousand?"
	"Million," I said.
	Chip just whistled.  "JESus CHRIST!  Between sixty and eighty million
fucking dollars?  There are Vanderbilts, Rockerfellers, Kennedys who don't
have that much money.  You and I have to talk."
	"Don't get worked up, Chip.  I can't touch a dime of the principal until
I'm thirty-five.  I just get an allowance until I'm twenty-five."
	"Until you're twenty-five?
	"How old are you?  Really.  I think I have a right to know."
	"Eighteen?"  I stated it like a question to not make him mad.
	"Eighteen!?!  You're only eighteen fucking years old?"
	"Yeah."  Again, I was very tentative with my answer.  "Do you mind?"
	Chip thought for a few seconds and started laughing.  When he calmed down,
he put his arm around me and drew me to him.  He kissed me hard on my mouth.
	"No," he said.  "I guess I don't.  You're unbelievable, though.  What do
you do, go to high school?"
	"Yeah.  Colton Academy.  I'm one of the Cowboys.  At least I was until I
graduated last month."
	"Shit," he said, laughing.  "And Tom thinks you're twenty-two, doesn't he?"
	"I guess."
	"Don't tell him otherwise.  Just act twenty-two, and you'll be fine."
	"I try to act twenty-two.  I've got an ID that says I'm twenty-two.  It's
fake, of course, but it's pretty much perfect.  I paid a hundred bucks for
it."
	Chip didn't say anything for a long time.  Then he said, "Finish your
drink, and let's go to bed."
	We hadn't discussed my staying over, but that was a foregone conclusion.
We went into his bedroom, stripped off our clothes, and piled in.  Neither
of us made a move for the other one, and in five minutes or less I was sound
asleep.

	The next day we slept till eleven.  We woke at about the same time, and
Chip got up to make us coffee.  He brought us each a cup back to the bed,
and we lay there, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes and talking for
another hour.  I was getting a little bored with Chip and with what we were
doing, but I knew he expected sex again before I left.  I made a move.
	I put my hand on Chip's chest and started moving it around.  He responded
with a kind of purr.  I straddled him, with my cock resting on his, and I
started working both of his nipples at the same time.  His cock started
responding.  I leaned over and kissed him, and he kissed back.  We swapped
spit for a while, and by then he was fully hard.  I was about half hard, so
I jerked myself into a full boner.  I raised my ass up enough to get right
on top of his dick, and I eased him into me.  I squatted on top of him like
that for a few minutes until my ass was fully relaxed, and then I started
pumping.  I had my hand on my cock and stroked it up and down.  Chip came
inside me pretty quickly, but I wasn't all that turned on.  I lasted another
ten minutes, and then he and I came at the same time, him for the second
time.
	I leaned over and kissed him again, more tenderly and less passionately
this time.  I whispered that I had to go.  He nodded.  I got off him, took a
shower by myself, and dressed to leave.  He was still naked when he walked
me to the door.
	"Have a good trip.  God, I wish I could go."
	"Thanks, man.  For everything."
	"Call me when you get back, okay?"
	"Sure, man.  I'll call."  I kissed him goodbye and went out into the hot
June day.  My car was like an oven, so I lowered the windows and cranked the
air conditioner up all the way.  I pulled out of my parking place and drove
to Chubby's.
	Chubby greeted me warmly, as he always does.  I bought a pack of cigarettes
and ordered a beer.  I wasn't there to shoot pool, though.  I wanted to use
the phone.  I took Tom's card out of my wallet and used the payphone in the
back of the place to call him.
	"Hello," he said when he answered.
	"Tom.  This is Nick.  What's up?"
	"Where are you?"
	"I'm at a pool hall; Chubby's Place."
	"So you lost that faggot you were with last night.  Good.  Why don't you
come over.  We can talk about what you'll need for the trip.  Oh, and Nick,
I'm in the back.  By the pool.  Just come on around."
	"Gottcha.  See you in five minutes."
	I hung up and walked back to the bar.  "Chubby, I won't be seein' you for
about a month.  I'm goin' on a cruise.  In the Caribbean.  On a forty-foot
sailboat."
	"Well, have fun.  I'll be here when you get back."
	"Thanks.  See ya."  With that, I left.
	I found Tom's house without any trouble.  He lived more or less in the same
neighborhood we did, and his house was really nice, at least on the outside.
  I parked in the driveway and walked around the house to the patio.  He was
buck naked on a lounge chair, sunning.  He was lean and tight, just as I
thought he'd be.  His cock was maybe three inches long at that moment, but I
knew it would get a lot longer.  He was hairless everywhere but his crotch
and underarms.
	"Hi, Tom," I said.
	"Nick, old buddy.  How ya doin'?"
	"Good, man."  We shook hands.
	"Take your clothes off and get some sun.  You want a beer?  There's some in
that cooler."
	I pulled a beer out of the cooler.  It was icy, and the first swallow felt
good going down.  I took off my shirt and draped it on the back of a chair.
I kicked off my shoes and took off my socks.  He was watching me intensely,
smiling.  I took a swallow of beer and lit a cigarette.  Then I undid my
belt and the top button of my jeans.  I took another swallow and another
drag on my smoke, and then I cupped my basket and gave it a little rub.  Tom
was starting to get hard watching me do that.  I popped the other buttons on
my fly and wiggled my ass to make my jeans slip down.  They fell to the
ground, and I stepped out of them.
	I walked over to Tom, and he sat up straight in his lounger.  I moved in
front of him so that my cock was about even with his face.  Without a word,
he took my cock into his mouth.  I was completely soft when he started, but
he had me hard in two seconds.  My hard-on filled his mouth, and he let a
little of it slide down his throat.  I pulled back a little so the head was
in his mouth.
	"Suck it," I said.  "Suck my cum out, motherfucker."
	The language turned him on more.  He put one hand on my nut sack and
started stroking it.  He played with my butt with the other hand.  In a
second, he had a finger up my hole, and I almost lost it.  I didn't, though,
and I started fucking his mouth.  I couldn't reach any of him except his
head, so I started rubbing his ears.  He moaned when I did that.  He shifted
enough for me to get a hand on one of his nipples, so I went to work there.
He shifted again and got on his knees.  That gave me access to his cock, so
I stroked it gently, the way I like mine stroked.  That did it for him, and
he made as much of a moan as he could with my cock in his mouth.  He
stiffened and started bucking.  That was all I needed to explode, and we
came in a long, hard, mutual orgasm.
	"God, I wanted you last night," he said.  "I've been hard off and on all
morning waiting for you to get here.  This is going to be a hell of a trip."
	I got into the lounge chair with him, and we both lit cigarettes.  When we
finished, I wanted to show him what I could do.  I gave him a hot, wet kiss
with plenty of tongue, and then I started working on his chest.  I licked
and sucked his pecs, and then I moved to his nipples.  They were large and
dark, and in a minute I had them rock hard.  I moved down and took his cock
in my mouth.  I swirled my tongue on the sensitive part under the head, and
then I licked the shaft from top to bottom.  I took one, then both, of his
balls into my mouth, and I could feel the skin of his nut sack contract and
toughen.  I went after his asshole with my tongue, and in a minute I had him
writhing with pleasure.
	"I want to fuck you," I said.  Without a verbal response, he slumped down
in the lounge chair and moved his legs onto my shoulders.  I played with his
asshole with the head of my cock to get as much of my pre-cum on it as
possible.  Then I plunged all the way in.  He let out a whimper of pleasure,
and I stayed still for a few seconds to let him get used to having my rod
inside him.
	"Fuck me, Nick.  Don't wait.  And don't hold back.  I want all of you, and
I want it hard."
	I took him at his word.  I must have hit his prostate with every thrust
because he moaned every time I did it.  After three or four, he said he was
about to come, so I shoved my cock all the way in.  It was a good thing,
too, because his ass contracted like a vice, and he would have squirted me
out, otherwise.  He gave out seven or eight healthy squirts of cum, but I
didn't pull out.  I kept right on fucking him, and his erection never went
down.  I made little circular motions when I was deep inside him, and that
must have done the trick.  In ten or twelve thrusts, he said he was going to
come again, and by then I was ready, too.  I drew back from his torso and
bent down as far as I could.  I was able to get about three inches of his
cock in my mouth, and we both came at the same moment.
	"Shittttt," he screamed.  "OH. GOD. THAT'S. GOOD.  OHHHHHH!"
	That does it every time.  I only do that occasionally, when I really want
to impress somebody, and it always works.
	When we had recovered and I was out of him, he asked me, "How the fuck did
you do that?  I've never seen that before.  It was incredible."
	"I'm flexible.  What can I say?  I'm glad you liked it, though."
	"Liked it?  That was the best fuck of my life."

	I got up and moved to another lounge chair.  I was covered with sweat, and
I wanted to cool off a little, at least.  Tom got up and got both of us
beers, and he even brought me my cigarettes and lighter.  Thoughtful host.
	"So," I started, "what do I need to take on the trip?"
	"I don't know.  Not much, really.  The problem isn't the boat; there's
plenty of room to stow gear on board.  The problem is the plane ride down to
the Keys.  It's a little private plane I've rented to take us down, and
there won't be much room.  You don't need to worry about scuba gear.
There's plenty of that on the boat.  As far as clothes, a couple of pairs of
shorts, a couple of tee-shirts, some sandals.  I don't plan to wear clothes
on board, and, from the looks of that tan, you won't want to either.  Oh,
take some smokes.  I'm taking four cartons.  You can buy cigarettes down
there, of course, but most of them taste like shit."
	"Is there room for a guitar?"
	"You play?"
	"Yeah."
	"Hell, yes.  We'll make room.  You can be Jimmy Buffett.  You know any of
his songs?"
	"Every fuckin' one," I said, and grinned.
	"Great.  This is gonna be a hell of a trip."
	"What about your son?  What's he gonna think of this?"
	"Frankly, I don't know, and I don't really care.  I talked to him this
morning, and he sounded pretty excited about the trip.  If he's anything
like me, he'll be as horny for you as I am."
	We both laughed.
	"Do you know if he's, like, got a girlfriend, or anything?"
	"I asked him that, and, no, he doesn't.  He said he really isn't into girls
much.  I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but he might be into guys.
  We'll just have to see what happens.  That can be your responsibility.
I'll make sure you guys have some privacy whenever I can so you can explore
a little with him."  He winked at me.
	"Would you make it with him if he wanted to," I asked.
	"Would you think I was a freak or a pervert if I said yes?"
	"No."
	"Then, yes.  I would.  I mean, I don't really know the guy.  He's my son,
yeah.  But it's not like I raised him or anything.  Did you ever make it
with your dad?"
	"No, but I've made it a million times with my brothers.  That's almost the
same, ain't it?"
	"Hell, everybody makes it with his brother.  Or wants to, anyway.  Let's
just see what happens.  Hell, you might be fucking your ass off with the two
of us."
	We went in the pool to cool off, and then I decided I'd better get going.
	"What's your hurry," he asked.
	"One of my best friends has a birthday tomorrow, and I want to take him his
present."
	"Why don't you come back?  You can spend the night.  I'll cook you a steak
or something."
	"Sounds good.  In fact, I'll take Philip his present, pack my stuff, and
come right back over here.  I'll spend the whole weekend, if that's okay."
	"Better than okay.  Super.  Do it."
	"Okay, I'll see you in a couple of hours."
	In the car, I called Philip's pager on my car phone.  He called right back
and told me where he was.  He was at Male Call III, so I took him his
present there.  While I was there, I got him to shave me.  I started having
full-body shaves (except for pubes and underarms) when I went to work as a
fill-in dancer, and now I really like the way it feels and looks.  It had
been a couple of weeks since my last shave, and the hair on my arms and legs
was beginning to poke through.  I wanted to look my best for the trip.
	After I left Philip, I stopped at a grocery store.  I bought six cartons of
Marlboros just in case the trip lasted longer than four weeks, some
sunscreen, and two bottles of scotch.  I tried to think of anything else I
might want, but nothing came to mind.  I stopped at an ATM machine and got
five hundred dollars.  I'd have my credit cards, of course, so I could
always get more cash if I needed it.  It later occurred to me that they
might not take American money everywhere we would be going, but that was
pretty unlikely.
	I went home and packed a duffle bag with my clothes and the stuff I'd
bought.  I got out the older of my two acoustic guitars and decided against
taking the case.  I did grab some extra strings, though, in case I needed
them.  I also packed a harmonica, and I remembered to pack the books I
wanted to read that summer.
	I parked my car in one of the garages and got Corey, our houseguy, to drive
me back to Tom's house.  On the way I told Corey to start my car every few
days.  I also told him I'd call later with information about how to contact
us if there was an emergency.  I wasn't sure whether I'd be able to call
home, but I said I'd try.
	Tom let me in the front door of his house and took me upstairs so I could
put my stuff away.  Back downstairs, we settled in his den.  The house was
beautiful, and I could tell he'd spent a lot of money on it.  Of course, he
had a lot.
	He asked me if I was getting hungry.  The fact was, I hadn't eaten anything
all day, and I was starving.  It was around six, but the sun was still
pretty strong.   Tom and I went into the kitchen.  He made us drinks and
started working on dinner.  It was simple enough: baked potatoes in the
microwave, a salad out of a plastic container he'd bought at the store, and
huge steaks.  He had some rolls, too, but no dessert that I could see.  We
took our drinks out onto the patio for Tom to grill the steaks.  It was
shady now, and it felt good to be outside.  I had on a white tank top, khaki
shorts, and sandals.
	As I was sitting quietly watching Tom grill the meat, it occurred to me
that I was having an affair with a man old enough to be my father.  I had
had fuck buddies off and on for years, but usually they were guys around my
age.  Around Christmas I had had a buddy who was twenty-six, but he wasn't
interested in the same things I was.  It didn't last more than a few weeks.
I wondered what the son would be like.
	After we ate, we watched a movie on HBO.  It was over around 9:30, and Tom
asked me if I wanted to go somewhere for a drink.
	"What do you say to a party," I asked.
	"You mean call some people up and ask them over?"
	"No.  Going to one.  I know of three we'd be welcome at.  What do you say?"
	"I'm ready.  Should we change clothes?"
	"I can't.  This is the only kind of clothes I have.  Plus, everybody will
be casual.  You don't have to change."  Tom had cleaned up while I was gone.
  He was wearing white jeans and a navy Hilfigger pullover.  He looked good.
	"So, are we ready?"
	"Not quite," I said.  I took off my shirt and shorts.  Tom didn't know what
was going on, and the look on his face said so.  I got down on the floor and
did fifty quick crunches.  Then I got on my stomach and did fifty push-ups.
	"Now I'm ready," I said, as I put my clothes back on.
	"What the hell was that all about," he asked.
	"I never go out unpumped, man.  I've worked too hard to get as cut as I am
not to show it off to its best advantage.  I'll stay pumped up like this for
about five hours.  That should be enough time."
	He laughed.  "Jesus Christ, I never thought of that.  You're teaching me
stuff by the hour."
	The first party was pretty dull, so we had a drink and left.  The second
one was better, though.  I knew several people there, and I kept feeling
that people were staring at me.  Tom even commented on it.
	"Does that bother you," he asked.
	"Hell, no.  That's why I pumped up.  I love it."
	I got into a conversation with a girl I knew from one of the clubs.  I had
given her private shows a few times.  After the pleasantries and small talk,
she got to the point: "Who's that guy you were talking to before?  Do I know
him?"
	"His name is Tom Grant, and you probably don't know him."
	"Well, I want to fuck him."  Even I was a little taken aback when she said
that.  "And you, too.  All three of us."
	I went over to Tom and told him what she had said.  He broke into a big,
toothy grin.  She took us upstairs to one of the bedrooms and locked the
door.  We got out of our clothes in a second, and in another second we were
all in bed, kissing, hugging, sucking, caressing.  While she was on her
hands and knees busy blowing Tom, I entered her from behind.  Her pussy was
as hot as I remembered it, and in a minute we got a rhythm going.  After
several minutes, Tom and I changed places.  I had made her come once, and he
set her off almost immediately.  Like most women, she wasn't all that hot in
the oral department, but I blasted my load in a few minutes, anyway.  Tom
watched me come, and then he came.  Cybil--that was her name--came twice
more, the last one a real teeth-rattler.  We collapsed onto the firm
mattress when we were finished.  Tom got cigarettes for all of us, and we
smoked quietly, enjoying the afterglow.
	We didn't hang around the bedroom long, though.  Cybil wanted us to meet
some people, so we dressed and returned to the party.  She couldn't find the
people, so Tom and I drifted out to the patio.
	"I figured you for a bi," he said, after we had gotten drinks.
	"I guess that's what I am.  Fuck, I don't know.  I hate fuckin' labels,
though.  When I've got my cock up your sweet ass, I'm as queer as anybody on
earth.  When I've got my cock in a pussy, I'm straight.  I can't figure out
what I am, and I don't think it matters.  To me, sex is sex.  It doesn't
matter if it's with a guy or a girl, as long as I like the other person."
	"What kind of line did you use to get her so hot so quick," he asked.
	"None, really.  She came on to me.  I'd fucked her before, though."
	"Oh."  That was all he said.
	We hung around for another hour or so, talking to people and drinking.  By
then it was after midnight, and I was ready to leave.  So was Tom.
	When we got home, we went right to the bedroom.  We stripped and got into
bed.  Tom and I kissed, and, of course, it went on from there.  When we were
ready for the next step, I said, "I want you in my ass."
	"I thought you were a top," he said.
	"I'm both--top and bottom.  I'll do anything, but right now I want you to
fuck me."
	Tom had done this before, of course, but it was pretty obvious he preferred
the bottom.  He had trouble getting his cock in me, and he didn't get a good
rhythm right away.  In a few minutes, though, he had my asshole singing, and
I came with a mighty contraction.  He did, too, but he pulled out and shot
his load onto my chest.  We wiped the cum off and snuggled for sleep.
	The next morning we both woke up around eleven.  Tom made coffee, and we
drank it on the patio, naked.  He had the _Times-Picayune_ and the _New York
Times_, so there was a lot to read.  It was shady and cool until the sun
came over the house, and then it got pretty hot pretty quick.
	About one o'clock he asked if I was hungry, and, of course, I was.  We went
to Applebee's and had a decent lunch.  When we were finished eating, Tom
looked at me very seriously.
	"You're not twenty-two, are you?"
	"What do you mean," I asked with exaggerated disbelief that he would doubt
me.
	"You're eighteen, aren't you?"
	I didn't know what to say.
	"Don't worry.  That doesn't change a thing.  Except to make me respect your
sexual skill a little more."
	"I can explain," I started to say.
	"Save it.  I know what you're going to say.  I did the same fucking thing
when I was your age.  Every kid does.  The difference between you and most
kids, though, is you're believable.  And, Nick, I'm flattered that you'd
even want to be with a guy my age."
	"How did you find out," I asked.  I wondered if he had looked at my
passport or something.
	"Last night when you got naked to pump up, your wallet fell out of your
pants, and your Colton Academy ID card fell out of your wallet.  I went to
Colton, so I was curious to see what year you had graduated.  Then I
realized the ID was current and that you were a senior."
	"Shit," I said.
	"No, man, it's okay.  I'm not offended you lied to me.  Like I said, I did
the same thing.  My balls weren't quite as big as yours are, though, and you
really do look much older."  He grinned at me, and I knew it really was
okay.
	"So tell me the real story about your brothers."
	I told him everything.  He asked about my tattoo, which I had seen him
looking at several times, and I told him about that, too.  He asked me how I
learned so much about sex, and I told him about starting when I was twelve
and fucking anybody and everybody I could get to cooperate since then.  I
told him about the clubs and about what I do when I fill in for somebody
there.
	"What about yourself," I said.  "Fill me in."
	He told me that he really was thirty-six and that he had knocked up a girl
when he was eighteen.  He had married her and divorced her within a year.
He had gone to college at Tulane.  He had married a second time, but his
wife divorced him when she caught him in bed with her brother.  His third
marriage had ended with the death of his wife from Hotchkin's disease three
years before.  He liked women fine and made it a point to get laid as often
as he could.  He also liked guys, especially young, muscular ones with big
cocks, like me.  He listed his occupation as "investor," which, he said, was
another way of saying he really didn't work.  He just lived off his trust
fund.
	"I suspect you'll know what that's like in a few years," he said.
	"I guess so.  Although I might want to get a job.  My brother Scott works
pretty hard.  A lot of our money is in rental property, and he supervises
that in a general kind of way.  There are also some banks and a pretty big
interest in TV stations all over the country.  I really don't know much
about any of it, though."
	When we got into the car, Tom kissed me.  "I don't do that kind of thing in
public very often, Nick.  But you're special."
	We spent the rest of the afternoon at the pool.  We'd swim and play in the
water for a while, then we'd lie in the sun for awhile.  One time we got out
together and we were both hard.  I pressed my cock up against his, and we
stood there rubbing back and forth, not touching in any other way.  When we
came, we both nearly screamed with pleasure.  We stayed in that night and
hit the sack early.  We fooled around some, of course, but we were both
pretty tired and had to get up early.