Date: Sun, 14 Dec 2003 12:03:28 -0800
From: Marlyn Lewis <gymhunk@msn.com>
Subject: Black and White, Chapter 99.
All Disclaimers
BLACK AND WHITE
Chapter 99--Party, Party, Party!
Dave's party was an enormous success. Everyone who'd been invited
attended. The monster bottle of champagne surprised him, and the launch
and trajectory of the champagne cork delighted the guests. Dave received
several pairs of edible underwear and scandalous cards celebrating his
birthday. I got him more house plan books and a weekend away at a health
spa. He said he'd only go if I went along. He was sure it was something
that had to be shared to be truly enjoyed.
Our guests paired off (as usual) after Dave's parents left, several
couples leaving with other couples they'd met for the first time. My Utah
cousins (Preston and Jed Talmadge) left with Jeremy (the stripper and car
salesman) and his new boyfriend, Jack. Bobby Brown and his boyfriend,
Terry, left with Junior and his delicious boyfriend, Ben. The latter two
showed such outrageous dicks in their shorts that everyone wanted them.
The two youngsters got them, though, beaming in triumph.
The twins, Keith and Karl, took on Max and Conrad. I'm sure the
rapturous squealing of the fucking foursome could be heard in the next
county. Our next door neighbors Nick and Mark waltzed out the door with
Reed and James. Christian and Captain Poindexter Garvey had eyes only for
each other. Brad and Steve left with the coaches; Bill "Robocop" Dundee
and his boyfriend, Bob Francis, ended the evening at the home of our
neighbors, Robert and Gary; and Kurt and Gene took Dave's brother, Donnie
and his boyfriend, Trevor, home for some "night maneuvers," as they'd
phrased it. I'd seen my cousin Larry and Dr. Grant Hartung closely
conversing, but didn't see if they'd left together.
There were other pairings, but I wasn't able to keep up with all of
them. It had been a warm evening, so all the men wore next to nothing,
revealing their various attributes, hoping to score more than a good time
at someone else's birthday party.
Jeremy invited everyone to the strip club for the Saturday night
celebration of our second anniversary. He gave everyone his card and told
them to call the club (which number he'd scribbled on the back) to be sure
they'd be guaranteed a table. "Mention my name, so you'll get preferential
seating," he'd added. "We'd like to make this a private party, so everyone
come, now. Hear?" he said mysteriously.
Darren and Jerrod had graciously stayed behind to help us clean up
the place as the last guests departed. "Besides, this gives us a chance to
spend the night with you, again," Jerrod quipped. "Everyone else seems to
have paired up, leaving the birthday boy and his paramour in our evil
clutches!"
Our overnight guests paid particular attention to Dave (he being
the birthday boy), catering to his every sexual wish. Both offered their
eager butts to him bareback, but he declined their generous offers,
reluctantly. "We've not come to a conclusion on that, yet," he'd remarked.
Nonetheless, his big dick and hungry ass were constantly in demand, all
night long. We were still in bed, asleep, when our houseguests returned
from their adventures.
"Best fuckin' birthday I ever had," he whispered in my ear as he
rolled atop me and pushed my knees into my hairy chest. "Once more for the
road?" I grinned up at him, eagerly nodding. Rather than join us, Jerrod
and Darren improvised their own "hide the wiener" marathon. Clearly, we
all loved barebacking. Everyone got a nice load, delivered deeply.
After showers, we went out for a late breakfast to one of our
favorite restaurants. The maitre d' was pleased to see us, escorting us to
the prime table by the front window. Of course, it didn't hurt his
business that eight hunky men added more window dressing than the
restaurant had seen in some time. Despite it being midweek, the restaurant
filled up nicely with the lunch crowd. We got more than our share of
envious stares. One guy even asked us if we were members of an athletic
team. Conrad said that he'd played football (soccer to us) and, of course,
Jerrod was a well known face about town.
Conrad and Max made a play for Jerrod and Darren, but the latter
couple declined. "Not that we don't find you delicious," Darren added,
cushioning the turn down. "It's just not our style to trick around."
Left unsaid was the obvious fact that they'd been fucking with us the
night before. Sensing that, Jerrod added, "We've known Mike and Dave since
forever, so they're an exception to our rule. I'm sure you understand."
Of course, they didn't, but were gracious enough not to pursue it.
The balance of the week, we spent entertaining our guests,
volunteering (our house guests were good enough to join us), and hitting
the gym. My cousins spent more time in the sauna fucking and sucking than
working out. Conrad and Max were less obvious about it, catching their
prey in the showers and working them over before Jed and Preston could get
to them. But, some did slip through when our English guests were otherwise
occupied. We finished our workout and joined their games, pulling Conrad
and Max into the sauna with Jed and Preston, and working over a couple of
"sluts" (Scott and Dan). All six of us pounded the butts of our two "slut"
friends. They loved it, squealing loudly when Conrad and Dave skewered
them with their monster meats. The "sluts" drank three loads each, begging
us not to cum in their dick hungry butts in a condom, but down their eager
throats, instead.
By Saturday (our second anniversary), we were anxious to see what
Jeremy had cooked up for us at the strip club. His boyfriend, Jack, was
evasive, only hinting at the show to come. There were enough guests for
our anniversary bash to fill the club's first performance at 9:00 p.m.
Others were told to wait for the next show or come back another night. In
effect, this was the private party Jeremy had hinted at.
The emcee promised an evening of unabashed decadence, hunky,
friendly, well- hung musclemen, and free champagne. We'd arranged for a
couple of cases of champagne to be delivered to the club for our
anniversary. When Jeremy and two of his "helpers" wheeled out a huge
Salmanazar (containing the equivalent of 12 bottles of champagne), the
crowd went wild. It could have been the enormous bottle, but more likely,
it was the rippling musculature of the three men and their bobbing,
dripping, hard dicks.
Jeremy was the tallest and most heavily muscled, but the other two
men had bigger dicks. One of them, I'd seen at the gym, but had never
talked to him (other than a casual greeting). He was as tall as Jeremy,
but weighed about 220 instead of 250. His build was more like a guy who
worked out, but didn't get into competitive bodybuilding as Jeremy had.
His trimmed goatee gave him a hot, sexual look that riveted my attention.
Of course, the fact that he was sporting a hard, dark 10" dick might have
swayed me, too.
"Have you ever seen that yummy number standing behind Jeremy?" Dave
asked, nodding toward the tall, dark figure slowing humping Jeremy's ass in
mock coupling.
"I think he goes to the gym, but evidently not very often at the
times we've gone. I've only spoken a few words with him," I replied. "I
have no idea what his name is or if he plays on `our team'."
"If this night is anything like the last time we were here, I know
we'll find out a whole lot more about him," Dave grinned evilly. I nodded
in avid agreement.
The third man was at least half a foot shorter than the other two
giants. But, his compact, muscular body oozed sex appeal. His high bubble
butt and heavy, black snake had nearly all of us forgetting the bottle of
bubbly.
When the audience finally quieted some, the emcee continued. "In
honor of our special guests tonight, and because we've filled the club with
their friends, this is a private party. Touching is allowed! In fact,
encouraged!" he shouted to laughter and applause. "Some of you know that
we usually have six dancers. Tonight we have ten." More applause
thundered through the room. "The extra men will not be dancing on stage."
That pronouncement was followed by a chorus of good-natured boos. "They'll
be lap dancing, instead!" Laughter and applause greeted the clarification.
Formally clad waiters bounded on stage to assist in the uncorking
of the enormous bottle. Lewd gestures such as trying to sit on the neck of
the bottle broke the tension of when the cork would fly. Although they
struggled mightily, the cork refused to budge. "The lucky gentleman who
catches the cork (if we ever dislodge it) gets his pick of the dancers to
accompany him on a special date," the emcee breathlessly said, adding to
the building tension in the room.
Finally, the stubborn cork flew out, sending a gushing geyser of
champagne three feet toward the celebrants. Waiters scurried to capture
the fountaining liquid, capturing most of it in a basin. Quickly filling
glasses, they hurried about the tables, delivering their golden liqueur.
Lost in the bustle was the winner of the flying stopper: Cousin Larry!
Knowing his libido, he'd struggle trying to decide on only one of the
dancers. To my eyes, they were all bedroom material. To his, they were a
sexual cafeteria.
We toasted to Larry's good luck, then, several rounds of bawdy
toasts were proposed and downed to Dave and I and our two years together.
The thumping, dance music (suggesting the strippers approaching acts) cut
short the calls for speeches from us. "Saved by the music," Dave chortled.
Wearing only g-strings, the four extra dancers circulated about the
tables, pressing their muscular butts into eager crotches and faces.
Although it was our anniversary party, the extra dancers worked the crowd
well, giving us the same attention they were giving our guests. In all,
the audience numbered about 40, sexually hungry men.
On the stage, Jeremy and five other men performed erotic strips,
simulating copulation (oral and anal) with regularity. The more blatant
they became, the more daring became the partiers. Tongues slipped between
hard, dancer ass cheeks. G-strings were groped and freed of their
packages. Lap dancers pulled down the zippers of their dance partners.
This would quickly become an orgy, if someone didn't slow some of our
friends down.
Ever the steady hand and head, Jeremy shouted, "Change partners!"
It worked. The lap dancers went on to other quarry, cooling the libido of
the guests and themselves. We later found out that Jeremy had instructed
all the dancers that "change partners" would be the key phrase, if things
started to get out of hand. Anyone could say it, and all dancers had to
comply. This may be a private party, but even that kind of party had
limits.
Jeremy and his fellow performers joined the extra dancers,
swarming into the audience of sexual barracudas and piranhas. The music
hammered as the dancers sweated to their gyrations and overheated,
testosterone-flooded systems. Every dancer came by our table, putting the
moves on us, wiggling their tight asses in our faces, bouncing in our laps,
causing some discomfort to our hard dicks. Delightfully, they all
propositioned us, Jeremy being the most brazen about it. "Wanna fuck me
right in front of everyone?" he whispered in my ear as he shoved his hot
ass in Dave's face. Before I could think of an answer, he turned and did
the same to Dave. But, this time, Jeremy pushed my face into his spread
ass cheeks, letting me sample the ass that Jack had been hammering so well
for him.
I reached between Jeremy's legs and stroked his enormous dick as I
ate his ass. He moaned something in Dave's ear, but I was too focused on
ass eating to care what was said. The downward curve of Jeremy's 9" dick
easily allowed me to pull it between his legs and lick off several drops of
precum. I added the sticky fluid to his asshole when I resumed butt
munching. His fingers reached between his legs and grabbed at my hard,
bent dick (now painfully captured in my slacks). Someone called, "Change
partners!"
"Fuck!" I whispered to no one in particular. Jeremy danced away,
spotted Jed and Preston, and gave them the same treatment we'd just
received.
"Gawd! He's so hot!" Dave murmured. I nodded in sweaty agreement.
"We gotta get that boy back into our bed," he added.
"I don't think Jack will mind," I nodded in the direction of where
Jack was sitting. "He's always wanted more of your big, black dick," I
allowed.
"And your daddy ass is one of his favorites, Mike," Dave smiled. I
had to agree with that assessment. Jack may be new to gay sex, but he sure
knew what to do in bed I remembered.
More dancers worked us over, but none of them as explicitly as
Jeremy had: until John came by.
Although he'd helped Jeremy on stage with the Salmanazar of
champagne, he wasn't one of the regular dancers. But, he had all the
moves. His sinewy body slithered around me, finally landing in my lap. He
bent over to kiss Dave gently on the lips. Then, he bent over more and
buried his face in Dave's crotch. His hard ass gripped and released my
hard dick so well that I nearly came in my pants! He switched position,
giving Dave the dick rub and me the hot breath on my crotch. Now, he
stood, pushing his bare ass into Dave's face. "I've seen you at the gym,
but I didn't know you were gay or attached. I hope this many friends means
that you fuck around," he whispered breathlessly in my ear. Every few
words were moans. "Damn! Your boyfriend sure knows how to eat ass," he
grinned, kissing me, again.
"I'm even better," I assured him. He grinned and turned around,
again. I dove in, spreading his high, tight, brown, bubble buns with my
hands. Dave had already moistened his hole, but I drilled it. I reached
for the guy's dick, but couldn't find it hanging down. I searched higher
and found it hard against his abs. Yeah, I thought, one of those honeymoon
dicks that you have to pry off his abs because he's so hard. And it was
thick and long, too. Just the way I like them. Although there was African
heritage in his background, his skin was more the color of honey, almost
like a good beach tan, although his big dick was nearly coal black.
Again, someone shouted, "Change partners!"
"Fuck!" Dave spat, adjusting his crotch. Dave's dick was out and
wet. "One hot cocksucker," he smiled, tucking his hard dick carefully back
in.
"You check out his big dick?" I asked.
"I was too busy eating that beautiful ass to even think that far
ahead," Dave laughed.
"He said he's seen us at the gym, but didn't know we were queer," I
added mysteriously. "I think he's interested in something after this
evening."
"I sure hope so," Dave agreed. "He's got a big one?" he asked,
getting back to the important stuff.
"Yeah, a really big, honeymoon dick!"
"Damn! I love those. How big?"
"Felt bigger than mine, but not as big as yours. I didn't get a
really good grip on it," I sighed.
"I wonder if he has a boyfriend?" he said absently, checking out
the ass of another dancer working on our tablemates, Darren and Jerrod.
"I'm sure Jeremy would know."
In a few more minutes, the dancers trotted out of the room,
throwing their g- strings back into the crowd. Waiters appeared again,
ladling out more champagne to the parched celebrants. The Salmanazar had
been drained and the case of magnums opened.
Another cadre of waiters set up a buffet of finger food on the far
left side of the room. All 40 of us rushed to the buffet table. We needed
food after that sexually frustrating half hour. Good natured bantering
swept from one end of the two lines to the other. They compared notes on
who was the hottest, the most forward, the most sexually adventurous, the
most hung, etc. Of course, there was no agreement on anything. Each of us
had our own likes and preferences when it came to men.
As the line thinned out, all ten dancers joined us. Fully clothed,
they raced through the line and scouted out a table that another dancer
hadn't gotten to. Luckily for us, John was at the front of the line and
crowded into our table. Thoughtfully, the waiters had added one new chair
to each of the ten guest tables.
After introductions, we talked about his dancing (which he said he
only did for Jeremy as a personal favor and only on special occasions like
private parties), his work (he worked for the city in the Finance
Department), and his "marital status" (single, but looking). "But, this
isn't the night I'm gonna find my prince," he sighed. "All of you guys are
already married."
"Well, not all of us," I allowed. "But, not at this table," I
added quickly.
"So, who are the single ones?" he glanced quickly about the room.
"I think only my cousin and my doctor," I grinned. "I guess that's
not much to choose from."
"I'd take on any of these men," John smiled engagingly. "Which
ones are they?"
"His cousin's the one who grabbed the champagne cork," Dave
revealed. "And the good doctor is seated next to him. They're over by the
far right wall," he indicated. John looked and saw who was with Larry, as
he'd already singled Larry out as the date prize winner.
He smiled. "Yeah, I'd do either one! And single, you say?"
"Unless something happens with them tonight," I cautioned. "They
disappeared after Dave's birthday party on Tuesday."
"They do seem awfully friendly with each other," John sighed. "I
guess I'll have to keep auditioning more men from the gene pool."
"Well, you have a lot to offer," Dave ogled him.
"It doesn't seem to be enough or the right thing," John grimaced.
"Maybe, I'm just no good at relationships."
"I take it you've had your share of disappointments," I
sympathized.
"Yeah, the last one, for instance, found a bigger dick and moved
out. That was about a year ago. I didn't think he was that shallow. I
thought we really had something going," John whined.
"Gotta keep auditioning," I suggested. "Don't give up. I found
mine at the gym," I smiled, kissing Dave on the lips.
"And I found mine in the gutter," Darren laughed. Of course, that
required that he tell how he and Jerrod met. And we had to reveal how Dave
and I had met. John had a funny story about how he and his last boyfriend
had met at a party, both too drunk to do anything about it that night, but
he'd called the guy the next day and they'd fucked like rabbits from that
day on. "Well, from that day until he walked out on me for a bigger dick,"
John repeated bitterly.
The party was breaking up, and Larry had made a selection that
didn't include John. Dr. Hartung left with them, so it may have been a
three-way for the lucky dancer. Waiters and dancers hurriedly rearranged
chairs and tables for the next show at 11:00.
John wished us a happy anniversary, again, and rose to leave. "We
don't even get an anniversary kiss?" Dave boldly asked. John blushed and
planted big, wet kisses on both of us.
"We're going home," Jerrod announced. "We can't watch this
disgusting display of public affection," he laughed. "The anniversary boys
don't need us to help them celebrate tonight." Before we could protest,
Darren and Jerrod had raced away.
I moved in for another kiss. "You have other plans?" I whispered
in his ear as Dave pressed in behind him and ground his hard crotch into
John's high, hard ass. "Are you dancing for the next show?" He shook his
head "no."
"We'll sure make it worth your while," Dave added. "You already
know we love to eat ass." John moaned knowingly and nodded. "And we're
both versatile."
"But, two against one," John protested. "How do I know you won't
take advantage of me?"
"You don't," Dave smiled menacingly.
"I love a challenge," John smiled back. "I hope you can keep up
with me."
"You are gonna be SO drained by morning. I hope we still have that
gross of condoms, Mike. We're gonna need them, I think," Dave teased.
"Only one gross?" John teased back.
John was insatiable. He was even more of a rimming butt pig than
we are. His ability to cum and get hard again was astonishing. He even
demonstrated his skills at self-sucking while I pounded his ass. Dave
mounted him, too, and John showed him once more how he could blow himself.
But, John's favorite activity was being the middle of a fuck sandwich. As
long as a big dick was up his ass and his monster 10" dick was in a tight
hole, he was happy.
Although John was quick on the trigger, cumming hard and plentiful,
he had recovery powers that would make any randy male envious. Within ten
minutes of a climax, he was hard and ready to fuck again. And his
versatility was very much appreciated. Dave and I loved riding his big
dick, but after two hours of nonstop fucking, rimming and sucking, our
buttholes were tender. But, John's batteries were still fully charged and
eager to get it on some more.
We pounded and ravaged his ass, taking turns on his eager butt.
I'd get into a 69 with John while Dave plowed his ass. After a good ride
and a body convulsing climax, Dave would switch with me, and I'd pump away
on John's hard buttcheeks. His skills as a bottom rivaled Captain Garvey's
legendary, hungry ass. Each time John got fucked, he'd pump out another
load of cum for one of us to swallow. Where he found all that cum to
squirt, I have no idea.
By 2:00 a.m., we finally called a halt to our fun, and slept. But,
the sun was up at 5:30 and so was John, wanting to play in any manner that
suited us. He fucked Dave again while I rode his brown ass. He did love
the middle of a fuck sandwich! Of course, I came too fast, so Dave and I
switched positions. He rode John for a good long time, forcing two loads
of cum from John's heavy nuts into the protective condom sliding in and out
of my butt.
After we showered, we fixed breakfast. Dave roused the sleepers
upstairs and they joined us. John took an immediate interest in the tall
German and his partner, setting up a coupling with them for this evening.
Jed and Preston got in on some male bonding with John by getting on his
"dance card" for Sunday.
"What AM I going to get you for your birthday, Mike?" Dave wondered
aloud as we cleaned up the breakfast dishes. "You're impossible to buy
for."
"I'm content with you. I don't need anything else."
"Nice as that is to hear, it's not very helpful."
"I can't help it, Dave. I really don't need anything. I'm happy
with just you and your love." He grimaced. I wasn't being helpful, but I
couldn't think of a thing I needed that we didn't already have. "How
about," I suggested after a pause, "you get me some brochures and books on
traveling? I'd love to go back to Germany and see my cousin Günter. And
another few rounds with Ziggy would be a lot of fun," I added.
"Wasn't he gonna come see us this spring or summer?" Dave recalled.
"He did mention it, but that was so tentative," I said.
"We should call him, just to see what he's up to; and your cousin,
Günter, too."
I made a mental note to call our German friend and my cousin, after
our houseguests were gone and I had some time to think about what I wanted
to say. I knew both of them would be asking when we'd be coming back and I
didn't have any kind of answer for that question.
On Wednesday (my birthday), Dave surprised me with more than just
brochures and books. He'd booked reservations for us to go to Europe
again. We'd essentially be doing the same trip as before, but now, we knew
of other places to go and where not to go, too. Some sights were worth
seeing again, others were good for once, but not twice. We'd be leaving
early in September (after the Europeans had generally finished their
vacations in August) and would be gone for two weeks. This was the push
I'd needed to make a decision about going back to Europe. I thanked Dave
in my "special" way later that night. He was as happy about the European
trip as I was. With Max and Conrad occupied by the libidinous John, and
Preston and Jed working the neighbors behind us, Dave and I had all evening
to thank each other for our birthday presents. I rimmed and fucked his ass
more times that I could recall. Dave flipped me as many times, pumping
gallons of his sweet ball honey up my butt. Not once did we blow each
other. For us, fucking was the deepest form of lovemaking.
Max, Conrad, Jed, and Preston returned home safely. In July,
Captain Poindexter Garvey was discharged from the Marines at the end of his
enlistment. Christian had gotten to him in a big way, offering him love
and a place to live while the ex-Marine found a job. In this economy
though, that was difficult. But, with the professional football player
salary that Christian was drawing, they weren't hurting for cash. Oddly
enough, they became monogamous, at least for the first year of their lives
together. I found it hard to believe that Christian could do that, or Dex
for that matter, but they somehow managed. I think the lure of barebacking
kept them in each other's arm, and all others far away.
We did have a good time in Europe, again. My cousin, Günter and
our friend Ziggy met us at the Frankfurt airport. We dragged our tired,
jetlagged butts down to Mannheim for breakfast, a fast fuck, and sleep.
Ziggy had a new boyfriend as did Günter. We spent considerable time with
both couples as both had insisted that we cancel out of the hotel
reservations and spend time with them. Günter had moved to Heidelberg to
be with his student boyfriend; but Ziggy had remained in Mannheim, saying
that was where Johann's business was. Besides, Ziggy had pointed out, he
still worked at the gay bar downtown and loved being close enough to walk
to work. Hans, as Ziggy called his boyfriend, was a near clone of Ziggy's
dead boyfriend Albrecht.
To our delight, both boyfriends enjoyed playing around with us.
Hans was a big man (in all categories). But, he loved Dave. He'd never
been with a black man before and loved being fucked by Dave's horse dick as
well as sucking him off as often as Dave took his pants off. Of course,
that left me with the delicious Ziggy. His hairy, hungry ass and thick,
uncut dick occupied my every thought while Dave and Hans fucked like
rabbits.
Johann's English was superb, being an international business
executive. Günter's boyfriend's English was school learned, but hadn't
seen much application with native English speakers. Even though Heidelberg
was the headquarters for American troops stationed there, he'd had little
reason to interact with them. Only a few American and British tourists had
been interesting enough for him to practice his language skills. Günter
laughed at his fractured syntax, but we thought it charming, only
correcting him when he was way off the mark on what he was trying to say.
We did manage a few day trips and one three day journey back to
Rotenberg on the Tauber River, accompanied by Ziggy and Johann. We stopped
in a restaurant there for lunch and found the most delightful waiter. Not
only was he very good looking, but his English was superb, even better than
Johann's. He'd spent three years in England with a former boyfriend (we
found out later), so his English accent was British, rather than American.
After we'd ordered, but before the hearty German food arrived, I
asked the waiter (Reinhardt) where the men's room was. He directed me
there (down the hallway, downstairs and straight ahead), bustling off to
the kitchen with our order. I'd finished "draining my lizard" when
Reinhardt pushed through the door and stood at the other urinal. He hauled
out a big, unclipped hose and pissed. I couldn't help but look at it.
He smiled. "You like what you see?" I nodded hungrily. "Want to
taste it?" Again, I nodded. I fell to my knees, as he flipped off the
last dribbles. It was in my mouth and down my throat before he took
another breath. But, the one he did take was a gasp. "Ach, JA!" he
blustered. "You had to learn how to do this to satisfy your very hot
boyfriend, yes?" I nodded, not taking his swelling dick from my mouth. I
tongued under his foreskin and licked the extra skin back behind the crown.
I lashed at his sensitive dickhead and sucked hard. He pulled way. "I'll
climax if you keep doing that. I wish this to last more."
Reinhardt pushed his pants down to the floor and offered me his
heavy nuts. But, I'd noticed his round butt in the restaurant and wanted
some of that first. Turning him around, I licked up and down his hairy ass
trench. Instantly, he bent over, offering his tight pucker for my
inspection and tonguing. Of course, I couldn't turn down a request as
simple and delicious as that.
But, before I could spend any "quality" time on his winker, he
stood up, turned around and sank to his knees. "Now, I must service you,"
he said matter-of-factly. He popped open my 501's and slipped them over my
ass to the floor. The waiter nuzzled my steaming nuts and hard, dripping
dick through my shorts, then, pulled them down, too. "Yes! A prize!" he
grinned. Inhaling deeply, he plunged his mouth over my thick 9" dick and
guzzled me deeply into his throat, munching on my pubic hair. Reinhardt
was not a beginner!
The bathroom door opened. "I wondered what was taking you so
long," Dave smiled. "I see you've started without me. But, I can catch
up." He wiggled between us, sucking down the waiter's dick expertly.
Reinhardt pulled away from the blowjob he was delivering and cried,
"I'm too hot. I'll cum soon." Dave pulled away temporarily, wanting this
session to last at least a few minutes longer. "Let me suck you,
Schwartze!" Reinhardt declared. Dave unbuttoned his Levi's and whipped out
his rapidly expanding black adder. "Mein Gott!" he exclaimed. "Bigger
than I'd been told." By whom, I had no idea; but perhaps it was the myth
about black men's big dicks which had reached his ears, too. Conversation,
such as it was, ended. Reinhardt had found what he needed.
Not wanting to be left out, I moved around to the waiter's ass and
resumed eating him out. Only seconds later, he handed me a condom,
pantomiming what he wanted me to do with it. I didn't need the one act
play to give me the directions I needed. Swiftly rolling it on, I plugged
in easily, descending slowly into his depths. He moaned and sucked Dave
harder. Reinhardt also used his talented ass muscles to pull cum from my
nut sack within another minute. One moment I was casually fucking him; the
next moment I was climaxing hard. Yes, Reinhardt was NOT a beginner!
I pulled out fast. His eager butt tunnel was eating my sensitive
dick far too well after my climax. Seizing on the "opening," Dave pulled a
Magnum condom from his 501's and rolled it on his wet dick. Reinhardt
smiled broadly and turned around. "I'm gonna be the toast of Rotenberg,"
he bragged, "when I tell my friends I got fucked at work by excellently
endowed Americans."
Dave pulled him into a bear hug from behind, slithering his black
anaconda up the willing German's ass. I hobbled around to the front and
resumed where I'd been in the first place; giving Reinhardt a blowjob.
Although he'd warned me earlier that he was close to a climax when I blew
him, I knew that Dave's monster up his ass would cause Reinhardt to blast
away whether I sucked on his uncut dick or not. Trying to prolong the fun
for a little while, I flicked my tongue out at the precum dribbling head.
Each time Dave plowed in, another drop of clear fluid oozed from the gaping
piss slit.
"Take it slowly, Dave," I cautioned. "He's really close!"
"JA!" Reinhardt agreed.
"So am I, Mike," Dave warned. "This is one hungry ass."
For another minute we teetered on the edge of double climaxes.
Reinhardt lost. With a howl, his hips shot forward, burying his dick
between my lips. I sucked hard, but provided no other friction. It wasn't
needed. Dave was savaging the German's prostate with the big black horse
dickhead. Reinhardt's body shook and fired, as Dave plowed harder and
faster, riding Reinhardt's climax waves like a champion surfer. At his
final shudder, Reinhardt collapsed over my back. But, Dave held him up by
his hips, pounding his ass with one final, deep thrust and blasted his own,
creamy load.
We cleaned up as best we could and returned to the restaurant.
Ziggy sniffed the air. "Someone's been fucking," he whispered. "You two
can't stay off each other, can you?"
"Uh, we had a little help," Dave confessed.
"Oh?" Johann's eyebrows shot up. "You fucked with the waiter?"
"I saw him disappear downstairs, but I thought he was going after
supplies for the kitchen," Ziggy added.
"He found supplies, but not for the kitchen," I remarked with a
huge grin.
Reinhardt returned to the table, bearing our lunches on an
oversized tray. In his other hand was a scissor stand to place the tray
while he served. He reached across the table to place my plate. Ziggy
whispered something in German into his ear. Reinhardt blushed deeply and
smiled, but didn't answer.
"What did you say to him?" I asked when Reinhardt had left.
"I told him that American dicks are remarkable, especially the
black ones," he smirked. "From his smile and change in color, I know what
you did with him."
"Just checking out his smile would have told you that," I laughed.
"So, how was he?" Ziggy pried.
"Experienced," Dave deadpanned.
"After lunch, we should check out the WC also?" Hans smiled at his
boyfriend. Ziggy smiled and nodded. Considering how we'd molested
Reinhardt, I wasn't sure that he'd be up for another round of sexual
gymnastics. But, he was. Reinhardt blew both of them, and squealed like a
pig when Hans plowed his ass.
After lunch, Reinhardt suggested we try their "fresh wine," a local
wine that had been fermenting in barrels only a few days, but hadn't been
through the last fermentation or bottling. It tasted like a grape cider,
sweet and fruity, but with an alcohol kick that was surprising. One glass
was enough. We didn't want to be totally blasted before we got back on the
autobahn. The waiter further recommended several shops to peruse for
souvenirs (run by other gays) in Rotenberg. I picked up a book about the
history of Rotenberg and Dave walked out with three t-shirts for his
nephews.
We missed Oktoberfest by a week, but that was okay with me. I'm
not a beer drinker. Besides, we were ready to go home. The trip home,
like the trip over was long and boring. The in-flight movies were ones
we'd already seen. But, we chatted with the gay stewards (when they
weren't busy), and found out that Lufthansa would be opening up direct
flights from home to Frankfurt next year. That would cut our travel time
down by at least three hours. A non-stop, direct flight readily convinced
us to fly again next year. Something else we found out from our stewards
was that most Business Class and First Class passengers were upgrades or
frequent flyer miles tickets. With the economy as bad as it is, few
businessmen could justify the added expense, he'd explained.
Being in Business Class was certainly more comfortable than "cattle
class", but more expensive, too. The food was better, the amenities were
nice (but hardly used), but the leg room was a godsend and worth every
penny! I don't know how any tall person can fly in coach for that
distance. However, we had the money (although I couldn't justify the
extravagance of First Class), so Dave had booked us in Business.
We nearly missed our connecting plane in Chicago to fly home.
Business and First Class were already loading and "steerage" was about to
board. We arrived with 20 minutes to spare (the minimum time before they
gave away our seats). But, we settled in and the plane left on time.
We dragged our tired asses off the plane at 9:45 p.m., eager to get
to bed and sleep. We'd been up for 22 hours. Catnapping on the plane
between Chicago and home hadn't given us the rest we needed. Gratefully,
Kurt and Gene had volunteered to pick us up. We hit the highlights of our
trip, including Rotenberg, promising a fuller description tomorrow. They
tucked us in and went home. I'm sure I was asleep before the back door
closed behind them.
Again this year, we volunteered at the food kitchens downtown for
Thanksgiving. Dave's mom had filled us up with a noontime feast, then,
sent us on our mission of mercy. Jerrod and Darren were already there, as
were John Gabriel and Tony Blodgett from last year. It was good to see
John and Tony again. We caught up on news, gossip, and other trashy
verbiage about their lives. Tony and John had formed their own
construction company, specializing in luxury homes. Of course, that caught
Dave's immediate and undivided attention.
"We build only two a year. That keeps our crews busy and the
quality high," Tony had said.
"Do you have orders for this year?" Dave asked.
"This year and next," John revealed.
"How are you able to keep them interested when you can't deliver
for another year?" I wondered.
"They aren't in that much of a rush," Tony answered. "Mortgage
rates are at historically low levels and will probably stay that way for
another couple of years. And they like the quality of our work. Further,
it gives them more time to deal with the details of decorating, room
arrangements, and landscaping. We encourage them to hit as many new homes
or homes for sale in their price range to get ideas of what they want and
what they don't want. We've had more than one couple decide NOT to do
something after seeing how it worked out when built by someone else."
"We're in the market," Dave finally said. "But, we just haven't
been able to find what we want. Nearly all the new construction is way out
in the hinterlands. We're not interested in moving that far from town."
"Then, you're stuck with existing homes," John agreed. "But, some
of those older places are high quality. Some remodeling and updating may
be needed, but you won't have to gut and stuff the entire structure."
"But, there are some that we've been asked to look at for
remodeling possibilities that were in very sad shape. They were asking far
too much money for the place, considering all the repairs and updates that
had to occur," Tony remembered. "We told the prospective buyers to keep
looking, despite the desirable location."
"Was it really that bad?" I pressed.
"I would have recommended bulldozing it," Tony replied. "The cost
to renovate was higher than new construction."
"What was wrong with it?" Dave asked.
"Damned near everything," John laughed. "The roof leaked, the
woodwork was nearly destroyed, the electrical system was so old that it had
to be torn out, the plumbing was ancient, the stucco was missing in several
places, the yard was overgrown and unkempt, and the flooring was buckled
and warped in several rooms. Need I go on?"
"I get the picture," Dave smiled.
"If you knew what you were doing and had lots of money, you could
do most of it yourself. I think a contractor will buy the place and put
some of his money into it, then, put it back on the market," Tony sighed.
"I just wish I had the time and money to do it."
"Don't even look at us," I laughed. "I can barely change a light
bulb without instructions and tutoring."
Christmas was a blur. We bought plane tickets for the family (my
parents and sisters and their husbands) to fly to Europe in late May. The
weather should be good by then, we hoped. Not knowing how long they'd want
to stay, we left the return dates open. Learning our lesson about flying
that distance, the tickets were all Business Class. Out of Salt Lake City,
they'd have to change planes once. At least, they wouldn't be dead on
their feet as they would have, if they were flying coach class. They
thanked us profusely. My sisters loved the idea of being away from their
kids for a couple of weeks. My parents were pleased to get away and
finally see Europe. They'd been planning on the trip when Dad retired, but
this allowed them to do it much sooner.
We spent most of Christmas week in Utah with my parents and siblings,
but took out three days to be with Preston and Jed. We needed the break
from the family and a couple of tight asses to fuck. The Talmadge boys
were as eager for the change as we were. Both of them had work to do, but
on semi-staggered shifts. So we ganged up on the remaining brother and
pounded his ass into the mattress several times before his sibling rescued
him (took his place!). Preston always went into the office early to see
what chauffeuring he'd been scheduled for, leaving Jed to our tender
mercies. By afternoon when Preston generally returned, Jed had a modeling
job or an executive meeting at Smith's Foods to attend. But, the evenings
were nearly always free for a heavy-duty four-way.
Preston chauffeured us to the airport for our flight to Las Vegas and
New Year's Eve with Uncle Clay and "Aunt" Linc. We never called him that
to his face, but Clay did. My cousin Josh and his boyfriend of last year
joined us for dinner on two nights. They had their own plans for New
Year's Eve. Of course, John Wells and his wife Cynthia insisted that we
attend their traditional celebration. We accepted.
"And bring that delicious Marine with you, too," Cynthia gushed.
"Uh, he's out of the Marines now and has a boyfriend," I said.
"Sorry that he can't attend."
"Are you sure? He was such a hit at the last party, I must have
him again. Could you call him and ask him to join us again this year?
I'll gladly pay the airfare and hotel charges for him and his boyfriend,"
she insisted.
"I don't know. They might have other plans, Cynthia," I began.
"Well, at least ask them!" she rebutted.
"Okay, I'll call them and call you back," I promised. I went
searching for Dave in Uncle Clay's huge house. "I need Dex and Christian's
phone number. Cynthia Wells insists that they attend her New Year's Eve
party. She's even offered to pay the freight to get them here."
Dave laughed. "Yeah, she's got the hots for him. But, she's gonna
be disappointed to find out he has a boyfriend."
"I already told her that and she's willing to bring him along,
too," I responded.
"I'd better check the NFL schedule to see if teams are playing on
New Year's Day. I think the last game of the season was yesterday, the
Sunday before New Year's. Christian may not be able to make it."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot all about that."
Dave checked the schedule. They had played the last game of the
season yesterday. Their record wasn't good enough to go on to the
Conference Playoffs. New Year's Eve was tomorrow, so I needed to make the
call now.
Dex hurriedly explained to Christian about Cynthia's invitation and
the fun that he'd had down here last year. As their other plans had been
tentative, they agreed to fly down today. They asked me to thank Cynthia
for offering to pay for it, but Christian had lots of money, so they
declined that part of her offer. "Is this costume, again?" Dex asked.
"Yeah, it is," I answered.
"I can't do the Marine thing, again," Dex mused. "You got any
idea?"
"None, but, I'm sure Uncle Clay's friend at the casino can fix us
all up," I suggested.
"Christian could come as a football player," Dex laughed. He
paused. "Oh, I guess he can't. Chris says that the uniforms belong to the
team. He can't take them out."
"But, they probably have uniforms down here," I proposed.
"We'll check them out when we get there." He paused again. I
heard keyboard clicking in the background. "Done! There's a Southwest
nonstop leaving at 10:30 and will arrive in Las Vegas at 1:00. We gotta
jet if we're gonna make that one."
"We'll pick you up at the airport. Look for a black Lexus LS430.
We'll pick you up at the Southwest terminal," I suggested. They agreed and
hung up. I asked Uncle Clay if he had the space for a couple more queers.
He smiled and said that he did. He also lined up Maureen at the casino for
tomorrow morning for costume fittings.
"DAMN! Is everyone in the Northwest tall timber?" Maureen gasped.
"I hope I have something that'll fit so many tall men! But, as I told
Clay, you're very late to get the best costumes. However, I had an idea
for you two boys," she smiled indicating Dave and me. "And I think it'll
work for all four of you, if you're willing to chance it," she smiled
benignly. But, I could see a nefarious twinkle in her eye that presaged
something brazen. I wasn't wrong. Her clever idea was gladiator and
centurion costumes, worn by some of the greeters and security personnel at
Caesar's Palace. "Now, I'm not going to suggest that you wear these
leather aprons that look like a collection of downward pointing spears
without a white skirt underneath. But, I am going to suggest that you wear
something more underneath that," she giggled. "Just like men who wear
kilts, people always wanna look under them."
"I'd like to see what I look like in one before I agree," Christian
said warily. Dave nodded agreement.
"If you prefer Egyptian, I know where I can lay my hands on some
costumes from the Luxor Casino," Maureen offered.
"Let's try Roman first," I decided for all of us. "We can always
check out the Egyptian stuff next."
The Roman gladiator and centurion costumes were perfect. As they
were already made for big, burly security guards, fitting us was simple.
Maureen pronounced us a triumph when she checked on last minute details and
adjustments. The helmets fit well after two tries and one adjustment of
the leather chin straps. Christian, at 6'7" tall, was the most striking.
His big linebacker build showed off beautifully in the scanty costume. Dex
patted his round ass and said, "You look wonderful, Chris. You'll have
heads turning all night."
Christian moved in closer to him, putting his big hands on Dex's
hairy chest. "And you look delicious. I'm gonna have to wear a cast iron
jock to keep from embarrassing myself with a woodie all night long." He
blushed when he remembered Maureen was in the room. "Uh, sorry, Ma'am," he
blustered.
"I've heard worse," she grinned. "But, I've never seen better,"
she almost swooned. Dave and I agreed. They were a stunning couple. But,
I thought we looked pretty good, too, although we'd never be able to
compete with them in the same costumes. Perhaps, it would be better if we
tried out the Egyptian look before deciding.
Once more into the changing room we went. Maureen tossed garments
and accessories over the top of the door, telling us how to put everything
on. The broad, colorful neck and shoulder bands looked great on Dave. I
wore a gold one of the same general description and size. Both of us wore
gold circlets around our heads with a raised cobra in the front. Gold arm
and legs bands completed the look. The white "skirts" looked and felt like
silk. The royal purple robes that completed the Roman costumes looked
wrong with our outfits. Maureen took them away before we could comment on
them. She didn't like the look, either.
But, the white cloaks with gold thread in them completed our
Egyptian costumes perfectly. "Now, you're gonna need makeup to get you to
look authentically Egyptian. The eyes are particularly important. I don't
have the time to do it later tonight, and I don't think you wanna go around
looking like Egyptians today. So, I'm going to send the right stuff home
with you, plus a couple of pictures you can take cues from. So, pay close
attention and I'll show you how to put it on." She showed us using me as
the model, having Dave work from the picture and only interrupting when he
used the wrong brush or paint to apply my make up. Then, I tried on him.
I did pretty well, but I wasn't sure he looked quite right. She showed me
how to even it up and make it look good.
Maureen gave us written, step by step instructions before we left.
She'd done this before, we decided. "And it comes off easily with cold
cream," she added, showing us how to remove our heavy eyeliner. She gave
us golden skull caps to hide our hair. Egyptians shaved their heads, but
we weren't going to take that drastic a step for the party. After bundling
the costumes into boxes (including all the accessories), we left for Uncle
Clay's and an early dinner before we went over to the Wells' household for
the celebration.
Clay and Lincoln had decided on their costume months earlier. They
were going as Gandolf the Grey and the Balrog. I had to admit, Lincoln
looked completely believable in his demon costume. With the long, grey
wig, beard, and flowing robes, Uncle Clay bore a striking resemblance to
Gandolf the Grey. We all looked so good that I didn't know how they'd
decide who won the prize for best costume.
But, we made a show-stopping entrance when we arrived at the Wells'
sprawling home. Clay and Lincoln entered first. Applause greeted them.
Then, Dave and I walked in. More applause and some whistles swept over us.
But, it was Dex and Christian who stole the show. Stunning examples of
muscular, handsome men always brings a crowd to its feet. They showed
enough skin to elicit an instant fan club. Dave and I weren't ignored, but
it was obvious who the partygoers liked best. We were greeted by several
couples that we'd met in previous years, but their eyes always strayed to
Dex and Christian. We repeatedly made introductions for them. Other
guests arrived before midnight, but none of them garnered the response that
the ex-Marine and football player did.
After the midnight toasts, winners were announced. Most amazing
costumed couple went to Dex and Christian (to no one's surprise). Lincoln
won for most original and complex costume. Dave and I won for the most
scandalous, but legal togs. Our Egyptian "skirts" didn't cover much and
our brief jocks barely kept us legal. The abbreviated jockstraps were last
minute changes in a bold attempt to overcome the sensation that we knew Dex
and Christian would cause. But, it was to no avail, except for the
"scandalous" prize.
Cynthia gushed over all the guests, thanking them for coming and
taking the time and effort to wear such wonderful costumes. She also
thanked them for their generous contributions to her favorite charities.
We had donated again, but this time to her hunger charity. Once more, she
didn't know who had made such a huge contribution. But, she thanked
everyone like anyone of them could have written the big check.
Once more, we'd done well in the market. I figured we had
$4,747,003 of charitable contributions to make this year. Besides a
million to Cynthia's hunger fund, we contributed another million to cancer
research, a million to Alzheimer's research, a million to AIDS projects;
and we contributed the remaining $747, 003 to various charities at home
serving the homeless, battered wives, children at risk, and breast cancer
screening. Again, all gifts were anonymous. Taxes would be due in April,
but we only needed to pay taxes on the amount of stock we sold to make the
contributions, plus living expenses. The rest of the stock, I let ride.
The market hadn't turned around yet, and the economy was still sour.
But, I'd be watching it closely. The Fed, plus the fiscal stimulus package
from the President and Congress, would eventually push a recovery. How far
and how long that recovery would last was a big unknown. I checked in with
Gino in Chicago, the stock trader. He agreed with my direction and said
he'd not move anything yet, either. But, about March or April, things
should pick up; and he warned me not to be on the back end of a rising wave
of prosperity. John Wells agreed, too.
We returned the costumes the next morning and flew home. Christian
and Dex were on our flight, so we chatted with them most of the way home.
I saw a look of longing in both their eyes. A roll in the hay would have
been nice, but they were still monogamous, so I didn't even bring the
subject up.
Spring did bring a renewal in the economy, albeit spotty and slow.
Mortgage rates were still at 40-year lows as were the Federal Reserve
rates. This was the time to buy, if we wanted that special house. Rates
couldn't get any lower, I thought. But, the next week, the newspaper
reported another slide of an eighth of a point. Could they really get
below 5%?
A house two doors up the street from Jerrod and Darren was to be
listed. Jerrod breathlessly called me with the news in mid-May. "It
hasn't been listed yet, but the owners are moving to Palm Springs to
retire. I thought you should be the first to know."
"What's the house like, other than it's near my favorite fuck buddy?"
I laughed. "Have you been inside it?"
"Yes, several times at neighborhood meetings, poker nights, and a
couple of parties."
"Poker night?"
"Yeah, a bunch of us guys on the street get together once a month
and play poker. It's really just for socializing. The games we play don't
require a great deal of skill and the buy-in is only $10."
"Sounds like it could be fun."
"It was really in revenge of the wives getting together for their
bridge and `hen' parties. But, the men had such a good time that they've
made it a permanent event. There is a group of nine of us now, but the
game is usually seven guys. We always have two or more who can't make the
Friday night the host selects. So, we get someone's friend, co-worker, or
relative to play. It'd be great to include you guys!"
"Meaning, you need a couple of pigeons."
"Well, YEAH!" he laughed. "But, this isn't cutthroat. We play for
nickels, dimes, and quarters, three raise limit, two Jokers, but they are
only good as aces, in straights and in flushes; none of that crazy, wild
shit like baseball and spit in the ocean. You should sit in on the next
game we have at the house and get to meet the guys. The food and company
are great!"
"Do you think they'd sell directly," I asked getting back on topic,
"just going through an attorney and the title company to close? It'd save
them a bundle."
"It doesn't hurt to ask," Jerrod replied. He called me back ten
minutes later with an appointment time to look at the house with the owners
for tomorrow morning. It was a beautiful May morning when we walked
through the house. The home was immaculately decorated. The architecture
was Tudor in style, but contained all the latest gadgets and appliances.
The owners had remodeled three years ago, but after two more grey, rainy
Northwest winters, they decided that on or shortly after July 1 (when he
retired), they were moving to Palm Springs. It's a great place to live in
the winter, but the summers are brutal there, I thought. But, their
decision was our gain.
We negotiated a price which both parties considered fair. On June
8th, the 30- year, fixed mortgage rate hit 4.75%. We locked in that rate
just before it headed up again. Using their attorney, we'd drawn up the
legal bill of sale and closed through a title company only a mile away.
The deed was registered at the county and a Cashier's check for the full
amount was handed to the "former" owners on June 30th. We celebrated with
dinner out, just the two of us. The previous owners moved out as agreed on
July 15th. We had professional cleaners go over the house completely
(including cleaning all the carpets) before we moved in on the 18th
(Friday).
Jerrod and Darren were a great help with furniture placement and
keeping us out of the way of the movers. We used the same hunky moving
company as we had before. Most of the men were new, but all of them were
interested. However, Jerrod and Darren moved them along before we could
sample anything. Our "new" neighbors provided the movers with sandwiches
and cold drinks to keep them motivated and in motion. We were all moved in
by 2 p.m.
Now, the hard work of getting everything out of boxes and into
closets and cupboards stared at us. With a deep sigh, we began. Jerrod
and Darren tackled the bedrooms while we worked in the kitchen. Dave
reassembled the racks for my orchids in the sunny Great Room, and I
arranged the plants in a haphazard order on the shelves. I'd move them
later if they didn't like it.
A new adventure had begun.
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