Date: Fri, 30 Apr 1999 15:04:10 EDT
From: Wilson583@aol.com
Subject: NO SECRETS 

			 NO SECRETS  (m/m)  (w/s)
			       by joe wilson

This story contains gay sex between two adult males.  If this
offends you please go away.  Though it contains a brief episode
of water sports, it is romantic and fanciful, and although it is
fiction, it HAS happened, hopefully more frequently that one would
guess.  I know it has happened to me, one way or another, and I
hope it has happened to you, and recently, too!

Any comments, either favorable or 'UN' would be welcome and helpful
in writing more stories.  My e-mail address is Wilson583@aol.com

                       -------------------------


Even though I was a little afraid of him, I liked being with Al Potts.
He was my boss, and a pretty demanding one too.  As district sales
manager he had a lot of power;  the kind that could take my job
away without notice.  I had seen it happen to other salesmen.

I was in the bar at the Burbank Airport waiting for his plane to set
down, having a couple belts, digging up courage to face those piercing
black eyes and blunt questions, when I spotted his overbearing
presence at the door.

"Fuck!"  I knew you'd be in here, you asshole," he shouted across the
room.  "Shit man,  you drinking again, or is it still?"

He was dressed in his usual dark blue suit and white shirt and tie,
but the tie was untied and hanging around his neck, the coat was off
and carried, dragging on the floor.  The shirt was open, unbuttoned
to the navel.  Thick black hair curled over his broad chest and flat
stomach.  The leering smile put me at ease.  He was in a good mood.

"Christ, am I glad to be in L.A.  A double scotch --- rocks," he said
to the bartender,  and he scratched his chest and reached into his
pants to change position.  "Just came from Gallup --- two fucking
weeks in Gallop gets your whomper hard and crying."

He sat back on the stool with a broad smile on his handsome face.
He was a tall man.  Lean and graceful in the way that he carried
himself.  He walked as though he owned the world, as though every-
one was looking at him and he knew it and was pleased by it.  His
self-confidence was intimidating, and implied an arrogance and
conceit that made all of us around him inferior.  Yet I reveled in
his self-imposed surperioriy.

The first time I'd met him, I guess it was when he interviewed me
for the job, he looked at me with that blank expression in those
sharp black eyes, and told me to go across the street and get him
a cup of coffee.  A sudden storm from out of nowhere had kicked up,
and the rain was pelting against the window.  Yet, without a rain-
coat, and in my brand new never-before-worn suit, I walked across
the street in the downpour to get his coffee, and I was glad and
flattered to do it.  That's how he affected people.

Yet he was a taciturn man, not always inclined to make his needs and
wants known, he expected you to anticipate them, and to do what was
necessary to accomplish them without the usual verbal persuasion.

The foundation of our friendship began the first week we worked
together.  He was teaching me my job.  By some sixth sense I knew
he was in need of release, and being a stranger to the city, did
not know where to go to accomplish it.  I had become a special
friend of the girl who lived across the hall from me.  At the time,
I was hustling part-time, more for the excitement of it than for
the money.  Seeing a parade of men visiting me at all hours, she
knew I was gay, and I guess she realized she was safe with me,
'that I wouldn't come on to her,' as she later explained.  Then
she added that she was 'available too, but only after work hours'
for she had a great job in the entertainment industry.  She knew,
and made it with a lot of important people.

"I love it kinky," she confessed one saturday afternoon, "Wild and
strange.  But if those bastards won't pay a couple a hundred
plus tip, then so long Charlie."

We laughed about it then.  Once in a while I introduced her to one
of my Bi's.

And so it was that in the first week with Al Potts, I told him
about Linda, and in fact paid her fee and buried it in my expense
sheet.  From then on, he called me his L.A. pimp.  Yet all the
while I lusted for him.

I looked at him as he sat back on the stool.  My gaze passed down
his bare chest, seeking nipples buried in the black hair, passed
the flat and rippled stomach, to his crotch.  The bulge in his
pants suggested a basket of goodies.  I forced my gaze away from
that riveting treasure to look directly at him.  His piercing
eyes were cocky and knowing.  A flush of embarrassment passed over
me and, in an attempt to cover it, I began talking nervously.

"You're not supposed to be here 'til next month.  Hell, I would've
been in Frisco this weekend except a little trouble at Miller
Company kept me in town.  Fact is, I was heading up there tonight,
and then your call came about you arriving here.  It was even
tough getting in touch with Linda.  She's on a picture --- great
career chance.  I had to talk her into sneaking off work early
tonight.  Filming a night scene, I guess.  Fact is, she's busy
'til after eleven......"	

He showed off his white even teeth with a quick grin.  "Shit,
Danny....this is unofficial.  For the record I'm still in Gallup,
I'm here for tonight and Saturday night, then I'm off again.
Got to be in El Paso Monday morning.  I just need to get my rocks
off.  Man, I'm tensed up.  All I could think of was Linda and her
tight little shit-shoot, after a slow blowjob....." and he paused
squeezing the bulge in his crotch.

I started to signal the waiter for another scotch, but he stopped
me.  "If she's busy till eleven, you and I might as well have 	
dinner together."

It was characteristic of him not to consider the fact that I might
have something else to do.  He glanced at his watch.  His wrist
was thick and hairy.  God, he was a hairy man!

"Let's check into the hotel and then get something to eat.  I'd
like to clean up a bit.  We can get a drink there."

"Sure boss.  Anyway you want to do it is fine with me."  I was
hoping that he would invite me to dinner.  I liked being around
him, even though I knew nothing would come of it.  Being in his
presence was exciting and a real pleasure.  I guess he really turned
me on, more than anyone I knew.

He had a room at the Towers in the Century Plaza, on the top floor,
which surprised me.  While it was rumored around the office that
Al Potts was a wealthy man, he usually stayed in a motel when he
came to L.A.  As we rode the elevator he explained that being
unofficial business he was footing the tab himself.

When the bellboy opened the door to the room, I saw that it was
beautiful with white carpeting, and lush drapes of many pastel colors,
like a rainbow, and when he opened them, Century City spread out
before us with all its' twinkling lights.  It was clearly a feminine
room, soft luscious colors of satin and silk.  Quite a contrast to
the macho hairy Al Potts.  But he moved about it with ease.  He was
used to this quiet elegance.

"That's the bar over there, Danny," he said, pointing to a credenza,
sparkling in its' antique white finish of bleached mahogany.  "There
should be ice in the bucket," and he went into the bathroom.  As I
made our drinks, I could hear the pressure of the water as it struck
the glass shower door.

"Bring it in, Danny," he called out, his voice loud and demanding with
a somewhat hollow sound.

There was a steamy film on the glass door to the shower, but I could
see the general outline of his body, so strong and stocky.  Then he
thrust the door open, and stood there facing me.  He was naked!  All
the millions of black hairs that covered him were plastered to his
skin,  his huge nipples were visible now,  no longer hidden in the
dense hirsute forest.

In the single moment that I stared at him, his glorious maleness
washed over me like a giant wave.  I had not seen him nude before and
was not prepared for the perfection of his athletic body.  He was
long waisted, with broad shoulders, and his slender hips had just a
trace of thickness, a silent comment on his approaching maturity.  His
feet were solidly planted on the tile floor, and though his legs were
heavy with sinewy muscles that seemed to quiver with each movement,
they narrowed to trim ankles, that gave him a definite youthful grace.

My eyes feasted on his crotch.  The wet pubic hair was pasted to his
loins and exposed a huge cock and low-hanging testicles.  The cock was
reaching out from his torso, erect and hard, and I watched with
fascination as the foreskin slowly eased back, revealing the piss slit.

The moment of pause was pregnant with unthinkable possibilities.

"The scotch, Danny," he said gently, and he reached a soapy hand toward
me.  He took a swallow or two and, handing the glass back to me, he
pulled the door to the shower closed and said, "Leave it on the sink,
Danny."

I turned away to the window in an attempt to control myself for I was
deeply affected by the sight of him.  He was still naked when he came
out of the bathroom.  His huge cock was half hard and bounced from
leg to leg as he went to his suitcase.  He donned his silk briefs, but
they did little to cover him.  My own cock, confined by shorts and
pants, was erect, and I did nothing to conceal the tent that it made.
That familiar wise half-smile flashed over his face, but he said
nothing as he continued to dress.

We went to Harrys' Bar for dinner.  It was in the Entertainment Center
across the street.  We talked quietly and seriously, but with unusual
good humor, about the west-end of L.A. and of all the exciting things
there were to do.  His attitude toward me had always been business-
like, but this night he pried with personal questions, into what I
might know about the hidden pleasure places.

"You know Danny, this is good for you and me....what we're doing
tonight......"

"Yeah....?"

"I know you better now," he said in a low husky voice.  And then, he
dropped the bomb,  "You're a queer, aren't you Danny?"  I had been
staring at his hairy chest revealed by his open shirt, still seeking
nipples buried in the black hair.  His bluntness somehow gave me
courage to look at him.  The deep-set eyes burned with a brilliant
spark.  There was no humor or softness or gentleness, only the
surgical knife piercing my soul.

His handsome face, chisled angles of straight planes, was capped by
a shock of coal black curly hair.  His full lips were firmly set
hiding the white teeth.  Though he rarely smiled, I wished he were
smiling now.

I looked at him in straight-forward manner,  "Yes, I'm queer," I said
honestly and in a matter of fact tone.

He continued his stare for several long minutes, as though digesting
what I had just said, then he sipped his wine and chewed slowly and
deliberately on his steak.  I continued to stare at him realizing
that that was the end of my job, of my relationship with him.  The
die was cast now, and there was nothing I could do to call it back.

"I'm glad we have no secrets now, Danny," was all he said, and he
lowered his gaze and continued eating.  He led the conversation back
to the levels of pleasure lying beneath the surface of the great city.

"Sure," I said, "We got live sex shows, toilet clubs, whips and chains,
slave auctions, anything you want.....and I know where it all is, Al,
I can take you to any of it, if that's what you want."

Finally he stood up.  "Well, Danny, time for me to pick up Linda for
some first class head and a great fuck up the ass," and we parted
company as he got a cab and sped away.  I went back to my apartment
to be alone and to think about him, wondering if our relationship
would change now that he knew the real me.  I undressed and got into
bed, naked and hurting, and wanting him.  Placing a pillow between
my legs, I began to masturbate.  Then the phone rang.

"Shit, Danny!  That fucking Linda stood me up......."

"Where are you?"

"Christ! I'm back at the hotel bar.  It's not even midnight yet.
How about you taking me to one of those sex clubs we talked about?"

We drove down Santa Monica Boulevard in Weho.  It's called Boystown,
full of street hustlers, travestites and gay bars.

"Look at that," he cried, "Basic Plumbing.  Now that sounds
interesting.  How about there?"

I knew this bar and I was known there.  It was one of my hangouts.
This was not the kind of place to take Al Potts to.  But at that
moment, a car pulled away from the curb leaving a parking place
right in front of us.  Amazed at our good fortune, I pulled in.

It was a few minutes past midnight.  The bar was coming alive with
the vermin that crawl out in the dark.  Most bared their chest,
wearing unbuttoned shirts or open sweaters or leather vests, which
by design had no buttons.

Bottled beer was all that they served.  I don't think the place owned
a glass, or if they did, would admit it.  The two bartenders wore
only jock straps that seemed to be made of cellophane, but the room
was so dark it was hard to tell if they wore anything at all.  There
had to be fifty or sixty men of all sizes, ages and descriptions;
loners, couples and groups, talking animatedly to each other with
gestures, hugs, and holding of hands or groping bulging baskets.

I glanced at Al wondering what his virgin reaction would be to this
raw display of sexual camaraderie.  He grinned his acceptance of
the raunchy atmosphere.  His awareness of the attention he caused,
with his handsome face and beautiful body, was clearly an exciting
addition to an already stimulating experience.  I watched him as he
unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails of it from his slacks.
His hairy chest fit in with the rest of the macho displays around
us.

We managed to get to the bar for a couple of bottles of Bud each,
and then fell back into the shadows against the far wall where we
watched the grotesque, display their wares.  The smell of grass,
sweat and cheap cologne misted over us.

We had lit a couple of high quality joints that I just happened to
have, and cooled our raw throats with the beer as we leaned against
the wall and surveyed the room.  After a while, we became accustomed
to the juke and the sounding of the patrons, and our eyes adjusted.
The dark, smoky atmosphere seemed to lighten so that we could watch
the parade.

Al seemed entranced by the open display of uninhibited deviate sex;
men disporting themselves publicly, kissing mouths and nipples and
belly buttons, fondling crotches and firm rounded buttocks, laughing
their pleasures and shouting obscene demands to each other.  As it
got later, all restraint seemed to fade away and the shouts of
laughter became more shrill and the actions of the turned-on men
more explicit.  Several of them stripped to their shorts, pumping
their hips back and forth, offering their bodies to anyone and
everyone.

We watched one man who was in the shadows next to us, urinate into
an empty beer bottle.  He then lifted it to his lips for a long
swallow and passed it to the man next to him, who did the same, who
then gave it to another and then another, passing the bottle around
the room and they drank the piss without knowing whose it was.

"Jesus Christ!" was all Al said as he refused the bottle.

When he whispered to me that he had to hit the head, I went with him.
From experience I knew that a lot of raunchy things happened there.
It was a large room dominated by a urinal that was at least twelve
feet long.  It was crowded with men pissing into it.  Al found a
spot and moved in.  He showed no sign of shock, which he surely must
have felt, for there was a young man lying in the center of it.
He was naked.  Hot steamy piss was cascading all over him, even into
his open mouth.  You could see the throat muscles rotate as he
swallowed.  The smell of ammonia was strong.  And his hands moved
rapidly on his swollen cock as he masturbated.

I looked at Al who was staring at those around him, and then at the
sacrificial lamb caught in a baptism of piss.  There was an incredible
expression on his face.  I could see that he was caught up in the
whole charade, for the absolute lewdness of the scene seemed to have
sent great gusts of passion over him.  There was no disgust or shame
as I had expected.  He made no move to turn away.  I watched him zip
down his fly and reach for his cock.  The swollen hardness of it had
forced the foreskin back over the ridge exposing the glans.  He stood
there a long time, urinating on the naked man.  One of the pissers,
now finished, moved toward Al, and put his hand on Al's balls
squeezing them carefully as though they were very fragile.

"Christ Almighty!" Al said and he stuffed his cock back into his pants
and zipped them up.  "Let's get out of here, Danny.  Shit!"


No Secrets cont.

In the car, he sat back on the seat and closed his eyes.  He was
panting.  His breath came in deep gulps.  Clearly he had been
enormously affected by what he had seen.  Of course I shouldn't have
taken him there.  It's the kind of place you grow up to, gradually.
not the sort of thing a macho like Al Potts should see on his first
trip into the gay world.  But his startled reaction was obvious.  He
was shaken, and I think his disturbed state was due to the definite
fascination he felt, and to the realization that he too, like the
other perverts, pissed on the naked man.

We drove around awhile, aimlessly, neither had anything to say.  I
was sorry that our evening together was ending this way, full of
confusion and misdirection.  All that I had hoped for was impossible
now.  To save face and conscience, he had to fire me.

"Is that what you do, Danny?  Is that how you get off?"

"Well," I hesitated, "Sometimes, I guess, when you get built up to
a pretty way out pitch.  But you got to build up to it.  It's an
s/m trip.  When you get hot for it, it can be fun, but no, It's not
the way gays do their thing.  Gays are romantic.  They like love
with their sex.  Maybe not love necessarily, but caring.  I like to
know the guy I make out with.  There's a sweetness that goes with
gay sex.  A sense of sharing intimacies with someone.  Another guy
that is.  It gets rid of some of the loneliness.  As is said, two
males together make one unit, they make a whole,  Jesus! Forget
all that.  What the hell is the matter with me?"

I looked over at him, sitting back against the locked door.  His
eyes shrouded by long lashes.  Was he looking at me, or were they
closed, blocking out the ugliness of the night?  His open shirt
had fallen away again, and each of his hands played with a nipple.
A great tightness lodged in the back of my throat, and a shock of
electric current zigzagged down my spine.  I wanted him so much,
and my great need led to the inevitable.  I reached over the
console and placed my hand on his thigh, and traced it up to his
crotch.

"Careful, Danny."  Was all that he said.

But I continued probing and massaging his erection,  He settled
back into the seat exhaling a great sigh.  It was like the wind
had been knocked out of him.

"This is what I do."  I bent forward to bury my face in the thin
slacks inhaling the smell of his heat.

"Shit, Danny!  Let's go back to the hotel.  Shit!  Shit! Shit!"
and he squirmed in the seat.  But he did not pull away.


The attendant took the car to park it, and we rode the swift
elevator to the top floor.  The drapes were open, and the lights
of Century City sparkled in a hazy mist.  The maid had turned down
the bed.  I lit a joint and gave it to him.  If something was to
come of all this, it was imperative that I keep the mood alive.
As he dragged on the joint, I opened a beer, and when he released
the smoke in a fit of coughing, I handed it to him.  He moved to
a chair by the giant picture window, and sat down with an audible
whisper, "Jesus Christ!"

I turned off the lamp so the only light in the room came from
outside, shrouded by drops of rain that hugged the window.  I knelt
down, removed his shoes and socks, and kissed his naked feet, his
high arch, and narrow heel. I took his toes into my mouth and
separated them with my tongue.  I was silently telling him of my
submission, of the love I felt for him that was growing beyond all
bounds.

He didn't move, nor did he say anything.  I pulled away to look at
him.  To recharge myself with his beauty, and a surge of lust
began.  He lay back on the chair, resting on his haunches.  He had
pulled his shirt from his slacks, and it had fallen away exposing
his broad chest covered with black swirly hair.  His hands were on
his nipples, tweaking them with anxious fingers;  a nervous habit
that seemed to give him pleasure.  The stream of black hair trickled
down a flat rippled stomach that quivered in anticipation.  His eyes
were shrouded by dark lashes, not closed yet, but not looking at
anything either.  He was living a fantasy that was all his own,
bearing no smile, though his lips were parted.  I could see the bulge
of his erection making a tent of the clothes he still wore.

I returned caressing his feet with my tongue, again sucking on his
toes one by one.  I am yours, Al Potts.  I will do anything for you.
My cry was silent, spoken only by my actions.  That we had come this
far in our relationship was incredible, beyond anything I had dared
dream.  I licked the soles of his feet, tasting the mixture of soap
and sweat.  I washed my tongue over the sharp nails.  he exhaled
his breath with a low moan, and I realized that whatever his fantasy
was, it included me and the pleasures to come.  Perhaps he was
thinking of me as his slave.

I slid my hand under the pant leg to his calves, bristling with hair,
firm with solid muscle, and very lightly, I traced my fingers over
the warm skin.  I told myself, hold it, go slow, there is no need
to rush, make it last, let pleasure take over and build of itself.
And his quiet moan was lost in the thunder of the storm outside.
My worship at this altar was illuminated by sudden flashes of
lightning that could only add to the growing excitement, and the
sound of the rain, pounding on the window, as if trying to come
in and join us, rivaled the pounding in each of our hearts.

We played this way for many long minutes.  Time expanded as the
effect of the marijuana took over.  And my rising passions directed
me to draw away, to reach to his zipper, to secure the swollen
cock trapped inside his clothing.  Without my suggesting it, he
raised his hips off the chair so that I could pull his slacks down
and off.  Then I eased his penis out of the confinement of his shorts
and pulled them off too.  He was naked!   Oh my God, Al Potts was
naked!

To contain myself, to prolong this delicious moment, I lit more grass
and opened another bottle of beer.  And afterwards, after we had each
taken a draw of smoke and a gulp of the cool liquid, I slipped out
of my clothes, so that I was naked too.  I looked again
at this beautiful naked male animal.  At the angular flat lines of
his lean and hairy body.  How strong he was, how firm the slender
muscles were that stretched from his shoulders down his chest and arms
to his legs.  His hands had left his expanded and agitated nipples,
and had found the great mass of pubic hair, and there they cupped
the lowhanging testicles and massaged his cock between his wrist
and his flat stomach.  I bent down and pulled them away from the
precious jewel.  In a brief flash of lightning I saw his cock,
reaching to me, as I reached to it.  Jutting out from his loins
like a conquerors spear, and bending forward I kissed it.

Ah!  How sweet the first touch of a tongue upon the smooth surface
of the tip, and I opened my mouth so that my tongue could wash
over the whole of it.  I held his balls in my hands, and buried my
face in his crotch, inhaling the smell of him.  It was then I
swallowed his cock into my mouth and began the bobbing motion,
licking the tender underside, and the suck began.  The sweet and all-
powerful connection of one male to another.  He moaned his acceptance
of pleasure, as I sucked taking the whole of his cock deep inside
me until he could no longer stand the intensity of it, and with a
sudden lurch, raising his hips off the chair, and shoving his cock
deeper into my throat, his cry was shrill and piercing,  and he shot
great gobs of cum into my throat.  I swallowed each spurt, tasting
him with each one, until he had no more to give.  I lay my head in
hollow  of his lap with a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

Exhausted, we found our way to the bed with the pink silk sheets.
We lay together in a lovers' embrace.  He accepted my kisses,
returned them, and we fell into a quiet sleep.


No Secrets cont.

Somewhere in the earliest of the dawn, I awoke.  The subtle gray
light from the east found its' way into the room.  The rain had
stopped and the only sound was his gentle breathing.  We had been
lying together, our arms and legs entwind, my face buried in the
crook of his head and shoulders.  I pulled away as carefully as
I could so as not to disturb him.

"Don't go," he whispered.

I leaned forward inhaling the scent of him, mingled with remnant
smells of exploded sex, and I rubbed my face in the thick mass
of hair that covered his chest.  I separated the strands with my
tongue, seeking a nipple, and when I found it I nibbled at it,
biting and sucking.

"So this is what you do."  His voice was steady, making a statement
not asking a question.

I continued sucking an tittillating the erect nipple, loving its'
hardness nestled in the hair.  My hand found his cock.  I had
forgotton how huge it was.  I wanted to look at him once more.
I wanted to taste his cum again, to feel the fountain shoot to the
back of my throat, to give him the pleasure of coming.  But
suddenly, I lost my aggressiveness.  Whatever was to happen to us
was now dependant on him.  I needed him to tell me what to do, to
demand, to order, to take charge.  So I fell away from our embrace
and left the bed.  I walked across the room knowing that he was
looking at me, at my naked body.  My cock was hard and wanted
fulfillment.  I wanted him to want me.  And then there was a jolt
of pleasure when I realized his eyes were centered on my surging
cock, his smile was wise and knowing with no hint of embarrassment.

His tongue rolled over full lips, wetting them with his saliva,
"You're a cocksucking queer," he said, but the smile belied criticism.
He was only stating a known and accepted fact.  His love partner was
male.  Not a nelly queen or frustrated travestite, but a red-blooded
hairy male, just as he was.  I thrust my hips forward lasciviously.
My cock jutted out of its hairy island and waved back and forth,
teasing him.

"You dawg, you," he laughed, and jumping from the bed grabbed me
and held me to him, his cock meeting mine in a hairy embrace.
Laughing, he pulled me away shoving me back on the silk sheets.
In a lithe movement, he climbed up and sat on my chest facing me.
His eyes twinkled with merriment and pleasure, "This time I want
to watch," he said with a wicked grin.

He moved forward setting his lowhanging balls on my open mouth.
I kissed them, sucked on them while he rubbed his hard cock over my
face.  "Yeah man,  I've wanted this for a long time,"  He slid back and
his cock slid down my throat and he fucked it in and out with a set
rhythm, and while he fucked, I sucked, and he talked.

"Yeah, ever since we worked together at the beginning I've wanted you.
But you had to be so damn secretive.  Shit!  Then you had to go and
palm Linda off on me.  The only reason Linda and me hung together
was I could close my eyes and pretend it was you taking my cock up
your ass,  It wasn't 'til last night when I took a shower and you
handed me my scotch that I figured you for gay.  Well you'll keep no
secrets from me now."

He slid his body off mine and bending over, kissed me tenderly with
his open mouth.  And then he walked his tongue lower, through the
belly hair, to my swollen cock.  And he swallowed it into his wet
throat.  There was a mirror on the wall and I watched him.  I
watched Al Potts, naked and hairy, macho and gorgeous, giving of
himself to me, and I exploded my cum into his mouth, and I watched
his throat muscles tighten as he swallowed by cum and swallowed
again and again.

His brown eyes were warm and gentle as they looked into mine where
he saw my love for him,   and he whispered into my ear,  "Well Danny,
at last there really are no secrets," and his fingers touched my
buttocks and separated the cheeks and found their way into my hole
and he began the ritual probe.  He was getting ready to fuck me....


joe wilson

I hope you liked my story.  If you did,
please send me an e-mail and tell me so

wilson583@aol.com