Date: Sun, 13 Apr 2014 13:39:23 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Best Sex Ever 21

Best Sex Ever 21
By Bald Hairy Man

This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex.  If this offends or
bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a
discussion of safe sex. If you have, comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com

If you enjoy these stories. Please consider giving a donation to Nifty!

I am Johnny Jones and have worked for Senator Goddard Smith for twenty
years. I was regarded as a fixture on Capitol Hill. I was an insider, and
while few knew my name, I was the go to guy for the senator. As a
conservative senator from a conservative state, he was reelected every six
years with little problem. He was a good-ol-boy and that played well to the
audience back home. I was the member of the staff who read the newspapers
for him and kept up on current events.

The Senator specialized in sounding folksy and reading press releases from
the party headquarters.  It was a good life for me. He told me to do and I
did it.  He paid me well. We were one big happy family. The only bad part
of my job was dealing with his family. For years, another person took care
of that, but he quit and I took over the position.  I knew the family
through campaign literature, but they played no role in the office.

His wife, Selma, was a former high fashion model and was now a happy
housewife.  That is what the campaign literature said.  Reality was
different. Selma went through a bottle or two of gin or vodka a day, more
on weekends. The kids were rebellious, spoiled brats.  Selma wasn't a good
mother, but at least she remembered their names.  The Senator could not do
that without thinking.

The Senator had a little apartment in the city. His family lived in
Scottstown, a small, rural, Virginia community. They lived apart except for
publicity photos.  The Senator had an arrangement with the local cops. When
his wife or kids did something bad, he donated to the Police Athletic
League and paid off all damages.

Disaster struck when a school nurse sent his seventeen-year-old son, Mark,
to the doctor because he seemed sick. It was well-advanced cancer.  I
assumed the family would pull together when confronted by this disaster,
but that did not happen. Selma had a breakdown.  It was a total,
off-to-the-hospital for a year or two breakdown.  The senator did nothing.

The Senator's chief of staff put me in charge of the family. Luckily,
Selma's brother, Uncle George, came to the rescue.  He was a trained nurse
and he came to the house to take care of the kids.  Selma's family was well
off and they paid George to leave his work.

The Senator hated George. I had heard of him only as Selma's fag
brother. Politically having a gay relative was not a possibility for the
Senator. The Washington office was none to happy with the brother, but they
were more worried that someone would find out about the Senator's
family. He was a big family values, Christian, prayer-in-school and
traditional values man. His actual life didn't include family,
Christianity, prayer or traditional values.

I was put in charge of the family. My rare visits to the family before had
been either surreal or nightmarish. Looking back, they were usually surreal
nightmares. When I arrived in Scottstown, the place was calm and
quiet. Uncle George was at the hospital with Mark.  It was his day for
radiation. The fifteen-year-old daughter, Sally, who had all the makings of
a slut, was doing her homework and the youngest daughter, Penny was playing
with the dog.

Mrs. Washington, the housekeeper-cook, was getting dinner ready. I talked
with Mrs. Washington. She said the girls were in shock. They had idolized
their older brother now that he was sick and their mother institutionalized
they were frightened.

We had been talking for a half hour when Uncle George and Mark
returned. Uncle George may have been a fag but he looked like a marine. He
was brawny, crew cut and big. He took Mark to his bedroom to rest before
dinner.  The girls went to keep him company.

"What are you here for?" George asked when he came in the kitchen.

"I am here to help where ever I can," I said. "Let me be frank, I have no
idea what that might be."

"Are you here to set up photo ops with Goddard playing the role of the
concerned father?" he asked.

"I think the plan is to show him as deeply concerned but putting the needs
of his constituents ahead of his family needs," I said.

"Well, that's a relief. He likes to show up, play the role of a father and
then vanish," George said. "There is a lot of murky water under the
bridge."

"How is Selma doing?" I asked.

"She not doing well, but it's not hopeless," he said. "I think she would
like to be a good mother, but the ratio of gin to mothering got out of
whack. The doctors think she might make a go of it. They are afraid of
permanent damage from the booze."  The girls came in the room and the
conversation turned to their schoolwork.

"None of my friends come by to see me anymore," Sally complained. "Only the
nerdy girls come. I think their mothers make them."

"Have you ever heard the phrase fair weather friends?" George asked. That
opened up a line of conversation between George and his niece. I was
talking with Penny. I found out she was afraid she was going to be sent off
to boarding school. Apparently, she had not considered the possibility that
her father would take care of her.

Mark came down for dinner. He didn't want to eat anything.  I had some
experience with that from when my father was undergoing radiation
treatment. I went off to a market and returned with watermelon and
cantaloupe. That was total success and I became the hero of the moment. I
told them about my father's experiences. He survived.  Everyone at the
hospital was upbeat, but I was a stranger and had more street cred with the
kids.

It was a Friday and I was to spend the weekend "getting to know the lie of
the land" according to the Chief of staff. At ten, I said I was off to find
a motel.

"Why don't you bunk with me?" Uncle George asked. "I have an extra bed in
the apartment over the garage." I didn't want to do that, but there was no
way to say no. Mrs. Washington stayed in the maid's room in the house. She
was there for the kids.

I got my overnight bag from the car and went to the garage. It was former
stable that had once held a horses and a carriage. The apartment was
interesting architecturally but not fancy. It was for a hired man or
chauffeur. It had an ineffectual air conditioner, so it was hot.

"Would you like a beer?" George asked. "I don't drink with the kids
around. It brings up too many memories." I had a beer. George took off his
shirt exposing a well-tanned and hairy, barrel chest. He was in good shape,
but he wasn't a gym rat.

"I hate to tell you this, but this beer is just about the only
entertainment available here.  Most of the locals keep to themselves,"
George said.

"Washington has a lot of night life, but I wouldn't know that from any
personal knowledge. I am a worker bee," I said. "My strong suit is being
dependable and boring."

"I assume you are here because you drew the short straw?" he said.

I smiled. "When the Senator asks, "Johnny, can you do this?" it means that
no one else wanted the job." We talked for a while.  George seemed to know
I was gay.  It was a deep dark secret in Washington, but it was obvious to
him.

"I need to get to bed," he said. "You can take a shower first. The hot
water is limited and I am used to cold showers."

"Thanks," I said.  Out of the blue, I added, "I wouldn't mind sharing the
hot water."

George smiled and said that was fine with him. I hadn't been in a group
shower since college and I was excited. Fortunately, my cock stayed at
rest. It firmed up a little but no so much to be too obvious. George looked
good, but seemed to have more balls than cock. We showered and then dried
off.

"Johnny, I'd love to give you a blow job. If that's out of order forget I
said it," he whispered.

"I haven't done that in a long while," I said. "I'll tell you when I get
close."

"I like the cream, don't worry," he said. I left everything up to George
and he did not disappoint.

I had some friends in Washington, but they were men in my situation. We
were all congressional aides working for conservative men and most of us
were in the closet. Some of my best friends went back home when their
senator or representative lost an election or retired. I was in a sexual
slump now without anyone particularly close. One of my playmates described
our sex as "code minimum."  It was sex, thus it was fun but not earth
shaking.

Uncle George liked sucking and he must have made a study of it. George
enjoyed it and I could feel his enjoyment. George seemed to know when I was
close and he would pull off and let me get in control.  As soon as I did
that, he returned to his sucking duties. George was good, and kept me near
an orgasm.  That was exciting, but I was a little uncomfortable too.  I am
very reserved and do not like to expose my feelings to a man I just met.
You can't be reserved when your cock is spurting semen. Eventually, I
needed a break, and I asked if I could suck him.

George was uncut and his cock had been up and down a few times. He was
semi-hard when I started to suck him. I am not into man tastes or man
smells. When my tongue poked into his skin, the taste of his bodily
secretions was overwhelmed me. His foreskin had collected his precum and
other sex juices and seemed to have fermented the stuff into a potent
sexual brew. I went a little crazy.  The right word might be frenzied.

I forgot about George and concentrated on his cock. His man tool was a
magic wand that drove me crazy. For years, I had said that I wanted a
relationship, not a cock. This was a cock I wanted and I did not care about
George. I calmed down a few times, but when I did, George's organ began to
ooze more of his sex juice.

It seemed that George's cock was exceptionally responsive. It rewarded me
every time I did anything pleasurable. My most recent playmate in
Washington had a cock that was more like a stick that sprung a
leak. George's cock was a well-developed sex organ, a pleasure stick.

We switched around several times, and I finally climaxed. Usually that is
the end of any sex for me, but George did not just take my load, he milked
me. He wanted every drop in my balls. I fell asleep. When I woke, it was
dawn and George was up.

"Ready for a day with the kids?" he asked.  I looked at him and saw he had
an erection.

"Is there any chance I can get breakfast in bed?" I asked.

"There sure is. I'm fully loaded and have a short fuse," he said. This time
I did all the work and I loved it. I was excited in the way I was in
college when sex was new and thrilling.  I was also more experienced now
and I could do things that seemed impossible when I was twenty. He indeed
had a short fuse and he shot a spectacular load.  I had to swallow twice.
We took a quick shower and went to the house.

Mark had a bad night and was now sleeping. I had to take Penny to a dance
lesson and then take Sally to see a friend in the afternoon. The dance
lesson was a half-hour away so I stayed and watched. After a while, one of
the mothers came over to me.

"Are you a new servant?" she asked.

"I'm Johnny Jones, one of the senator's aides.  I am just helping out."

"I'm Margret Williams.  Penny is in my daughter's class at school. How is
Mark doing?"

"He's taking radiation therapy now," I said. "We won't know anything for
months," I said. We talked and a half-hour later five or six mothers were
talking with me. The senator's family seemed to have generated equal
feelings of dislike and pity. Selma liked pubic scenes of drunkenness and
rudeness. Mark was a wild child and Sally a threat to public morality.

There was a general question whether Selma of Mark would be the first to
kill someone in an automobile accident. Mark was a love-them then
leave-them man with respect to local girls and Sally was both oversexed and
mean.

Everyone like Mrs. Washington, but felt she was overmatched and undercut by
Selma's drunkenness and the Senator's near total lack of
interest. Officially, the Senator spent weekends at home, but that was at
his mountain cabin. He rarely came to Scottstown.

With the dance class over, I returned home and took Sally to see a
friend. I took an immediate dislike to her friend Monica. She was with two
other girls and three boys.  Her parents were in Las Vegas for the week and
there was a party in the works. The one of the girls and two of the boys
already were drunk.

Luckily, I got a call from George. He had to take Mark to the hospital. I
told Monica that Sally was needed at home.  There was an emergency. Sally
whined a little but she came. Sally had substantial pouting skills, but was
under the mistaken belief that the silent treatment was a tool to get her
way. I thought the silence was a blessing.

When I got home, Penny was near hysterical. Mark had an episode of
projectile vomiting with a good deal of blood mixed in with the puke. She
had seen some horror movies and vomiting terrified her. Sally seemed to
like her sister and she was comforting. I helped Mrs. Washington clean up.

Oddly, no one seemed to think the event was big enough to warrant calling
the Senator. Uncle George returned and said Mark was under sedation and
resting. A small blood vessel had ruptured and it looked worse that it was
medically. Penny was modestly relieved.

The family DVD collection was mostly horror and slasher movies. I went and
bought some animated movies. Madagascar turned out to be a hit with both
girls. I thought a movie with a little bit of friendship and the theme of
overcoming great odds would be good. We had a calm afternoon and
evening. George went to the hospital and came back saying Mark was going
well.

My own family was ordinary and I associated family life with boringly
conventional attitudes. The senator's family was in continual crisis and no
one seemed to be in charge, or even trying to direct things. In some ways,
the children would have been better off if they had be raised by wolves.

I was tired that night. Dealing with dysfunctional people is exhausting. I
thought I was too tired for sex, but Uncle George wasn't tired.  He was a
natural leader of men and told me to relax and let him take charge. I later
found out that George was always in charge.

Uncle George was always polite, gentle and considerate. He always seemed to
get what he wanted.  I am not much a fucker and even less of a bottom.
George liked it all, but he loved to top. He told me this and asked if I
would let him fuck me. I told him I was not into it much.

"Well Johnny, if you would let me in, I think I could change your attitude
towards fucking," he said.  I did not exactly say yes, but I didn't say no
either.

"Have you ever had a guy really work you over?" he asked. "I mean, fuck you
to the moon and back?"

"I like sex but it's never been like that," I replied.

"Well, fasten your seatbelts, we're going for a ride!" he exclaimed. I'm
not sure you would say he fucked me.  That seemed to be too crude a
word. He massaged my anus with his cock from the rear as he stroked my
cock.

I was expecting him to force my sphincter, but eventually I just relaxed
and it slipped in. His cock seemed to ooze a lot of precum and it was easy.
He then slowly pushed deeper until his cock head reached my prostate. He
spent ten or fifteen minutes massaging it into an excited state. While his
cock was shorter than mine is, it was a lot thicker. It seemed like a
telephone pole was in my ass. It was a friendly, oozing telephone pole, but
a telephone pole nonetheless. I began to rotate my ass, rubbing my prostate
against the pole.

"Johnny, you are nice and open," George said. "I liked the way you let me
in. My cock is a natural battering ram, and I can always force it in, but
it's more pleasurable when you open wide. You can't believe how close to
shooting off I have been."

"Go ahead and shoot," I gasped. "I'm ready."

"When was the last time a guy fucked you to an orgasm hands free?" he
asked.

"That has never happened," I moaned.

"Let's make tonight your first," he said as he began to thrust vigorously.

"I don't think I can take that!" I cried.

"There's not much you can do about it. I'm in deep! Relax and go with the
flow!" George gave me a hard thrust.  I forgot to complain. Shortly
thereafter I shot off, hands free. I felt him squirting into my ass as I
unloaded.

When I woke the next morning, my legs were on his shoulders and his cock
was fully lodged in my ass. I felt warm all over.

"I forgot to ask if you wanted to be fucked again," he said. "Are you okay
with it?" I managed to nod. Ten minutes later, we shared orgasms. I went to
the house and Uncle George went to the hospital to check on Mark. He came
back with Mark and we all had a nice quiet breakfast. Mark went off to bed
again and I had a long talk with the girls about my father's bout with
cancer. I believe it is better to address the questions directly rather
than sparing the children for the bad news.

Kids pretend either that nothing is happening and they are blindsided, or
they make up things that are far worse than reality. My father' situation
had a happy conclusion, but I pointed out that was not the only possible
outcome. I think Penny and Sally didn't know what they were supposed to be
doing. In my father's case, I helped when I could and stayed out of the way
when I couldn't.

I had a sister who wouldn't deal with it. That caused considerable ill
feeling. I took care of Dad on the weekends while my mother and younger
sister took dad were he needed to be during the week. My older sister
dropped by every month or two and said she was praying for Dad and then
went home. If one of our aunts of uncles came to visit, she would appear
and be very concerned. I took that in stride, I was use to politics in
Washington. My younger sister took it badly. It caused a serious breach in
our family.  I think the girls understood. I had to go back to Washington
after lunch.

On Monday morning, I was surprised when he senator did not ask for a
report. Not even the Chief of Staff was interested. I went back to my
normal work. I never thought that the Senator would give Mother Theresa any
competition in the running for sainthood, but I hadn't expected him to be
entirely uninterested in the fate of his only son.

I was back in Scottstown four days later. Mrs. Washington's sister died and
she had to go to the funeral in Chicago. I am a good cook and I substituted
for her. Mark was at the stage when the chemo and radiation were at their
worse.  He was in pain and had problems tolerating the painkillers. Uncle
George had his hands full dealing with that.

Mrs. Rebecca Breckenridge, Selma's older sister, visited her in the
sanitarium, and then brought her home for a day visit. Selma did as well as
she could manage. Every time she was out of sight of the children she burst
into tears, but she held it together when she was with them. She managed to
act like a normal mother.  Aunt Becky got along well with George. She went
to the hospital with Mark and got detailed information from the doctors and
nurses.

Becky took Selma back to the sanitarium and then spent three nights with
the girls. I knew that Selma's family was well off.  I did not know they
had financed the Senator's career. George told me that Becky had married
well, very well. Becky was good with the girls. She had a good sense of
humor and was down to earth.

Selma had burned most of her bridges, but her family was becoming involved
and wanted to reestablish a connection with the children. That was a good
sign. I hardly knew the children, but it was clearly a train wreck in
progress, and they were trying to help.

Becky liked me and told me she was hoping that George would settle down
with a nice man. I was shocked. I had no idea that I was that obviously
gay. I also thought she suspected George liked me. I knew sex with George
was good, but I didn't know if it went any deeper.

Every night after playing the housekeeper for the day, I went off with
George to the garage. The sex had been good on my first visit. It got
better every night I was with George. We were both tired, but we were tense
and keyed-up. As his cock slipped into my ass all the anxieties and worries
of the day vanished.

Each of his cock's penetrations seemed to be harder, went deeper and was
more pleasurable. George could do no wrong.

It may sound odd, but I felt complete when his cock was in my ass. If
someone had told me that I needed a cock pumping man seed into my behind to
feel complete, I would had told them they were crazy. George was always in
control, but he seemed to have my interests in mind. He seemed to know what
I wanted and needed.