Date: Mon, 25 Jul 2011 18:46:58 -0700 (PDT)
From: Dave Ledge <mikedave01@yahoo.com>
Subject: New chapter Older and Younger three

FYI.  This story is tough.

(End of Older and Younger, A Love Story, Part Two...)

"Marc finally looked up at me.  Our eyes met and locked.  He said to me,
"The sex with you today has been the hottest sex I have ever had." I nodded
my agreement.  "You are the hottest fucker I've ever been with." Again I
nodded my agreement, concerning him.  "You know, I think I may love you,"
he said to me, noting my rapt gaze of adoration.

This time I answered out loud, "Yeah, I think you do."

It took him a second to figure out how smart assed that comment was and he
yelped and then attacked me.  I grinned and laughed out loud and started to
fight back.  Damn, this was fun. I think we'll be fighting and loving for
years to cum/come..."

And we did!

I never got tired of him and his body.  I made him stay in top-notch shape,
through our shared workouts, in the gym, on the track, and in bed!  Grin.

We did progress from pure frottage into pretty much everything two guys can
do together.  I guess I was pretty much the aggressor normally though.  I
could never get enough of him.  Sometimes he'd laugh at me and say "it's
hard for an old man to keep up with the `young'uns!" Well, that always
earned him a tickle fight.  I had found out pretty early how amazingly
ticklish he was.  And when you get your lover helpless and at your mercy...
Needless to say I used that weapon often!  LOL.  And he didn't mind too
much either!

And while we both learned how to please each other orally and eventually
learned how to cum simultaneously after a very long session of 69, it was
when we made love that our love was at its deepest.  I was always happy to
have him in me, once I got used to it and learned how to take him.  But
normally, it was the other way around.  He had been used to having his
former lover, Chris, who died young, take him and loved it.  Even though I
was so much younger, we just gravitated to this way of expressing our love
as a result.  And did I mind that?  No siree!  Marc had the most talented
butt you could imagine.  The way that man could suck my hard cock up him
was unbelievable!  And the way that man could flex his butt muscles and
sphincter was truly outstanding, too.  He must have sucked hundreds of cum
loads out of me doing that.  I loved every single oneŅof course! Grin.

I'm not sure how this started, but we both got into tantric sex.  Maybe
some friend or some lecture at the library we went to?  Our experiments got
more and more fascinating.  We often practiced very, very, slow
love-making, with me in him, hard for what seemed like hours, fucking very,
very, slowly, centimeters at a time, while I rubbed his prostate, while
inside him, in a way that kept him hard and edging as well.  When we both
finally decided it was time to cum, it was fucking titanic!

I loved his smooth body and loved rubbing my hairy chest and nipples
against his totally smooth chest.  I loved kissing his so soft mouth and
rubbing every inch of my body against his.  Yeah, I still loved frotting
this man and remember every second of our first encounter.

And yes, damn it, I loved every single fucking thing about this man.  I
took him home to my parents who were bewildered by him and me but tried to
understand.  Marc's parents had moved to a retirement community in Arizona
but we talked to them on the phone from time to time and they seemed happy
that he had found me.  Eventually we also visited Chris' parents (again,
Marc's former lover) who lived in town and who adopted me immediately as
Chris' long lost "son"!  Wow!!!!

Marc had said that I reminded him of Chris and thought we might have some
shared "ancestry" somewhere.  Well, I guess the resemblance between Chris
and me was even stronger than Marc had said!  It was sort of weird and sort
of cool at the same time to be so immediately claimed and loved in a way
that my own, very distant and awkward, family never had!  I have to admit
that I really liked Chris' parents, began to love them, and was surprised
to find that they filled a hole I never knew was there in me. I eventually
started to act as if they were my real grandparents.  To say that they
doted on me would be a lie.  They fuckin' loved me and I loved them right
back.  There's nothing we wouldn't do for each other.  Maybe we really were
blood family.  Doesn't matter.  They were my family, period.  Thank you,
Marc, so much for them!  When they both finally died, my heart broke.  But
they had had such long and happy lives and had loved each other so much
that I had to let them go and knew, somehow, I had made them happy and
fulfilled their lives.  And they left me all they had.  And damn, that made
me cry even harder.  I miss them and their unconditional love so much every
day.

Trying not to cry now.

During the next twenty years after Marc and I finally realized that we were
in love, we were in love.  If you've never been in love, you don't know
what I'm talking about.  To see my man still asleep with his fucking
beautiful body, naked, and know that he was mine to make happy...to see his
quirky smile and the flash of his eyes when I had scored on him with verbal
repartee...to see his nipples harden when he saw me naked coming out of the
shower...to hear his terrible Spanish when we finally got to Costa Rica, his
worse French in France, and execrable Japanese in Kyoto...to see him chair a
meeting of the Library Council, so masculine and in control, so fuckin'
gorgeous...to run with him and see his tight ass in his very tight shorts...to
shower with him, knowing what would take place later on...

I'm sorry, but my tears are making it hard to see.

He was 62 and still absolutely gorgeous.  Some white hair at the temples.
Not an inch of fat on his body.  We had pledged to live until he was 102
and I was 86.  We knew we'd make that.  We had everything.  But most of all
we had each other.  Nothing else mattered.

He left work at the library early that day.  Yeah, we both still worked
together at the University library in town.  Why should we not work there?
We both loved libraries and had always worked in them.  And, yeah, after
all I had earned and put aside as well as inherited I guess I didn't need
to work anymore.  But what would I do if I didn't work?  And, not going to
"my" library?  Unthinkable.

When I got home and heard no sound I didn't think anything of it.  I
figured Marc had gone out to do some errands.

I cleaned up the kitchen, started the dishwasher, straightened up the
house, too.  (Yeah, I had moved into Marc's historic house downtown.)  I
finally ran down.  I had done everything to put the house to rights.  I
didn't want to start on supper in case Marc was bringing something special
home from the "market" for us work together on.

We often cooked together as we did so many things together.  And this yet
another game and challenge between us.  We'd research odd ethnic recipes
and then fight on which one was the most authentic.  Sometimes the dish
never got made when we'd fight each other so hard we'd wind up in bed in
incredible sex.  Takeout then!

6 PM and no Marc... I finally dialed his cell.  No answer.  Well, that was
strange.  I waited for a text.  No text.  Well, again, this was a first.
He always answered or wrote me a text, especially after working hours.

I waited another hour.  I was now really hungry but also super not hungry
with worry. My stomach was very uneasy.

I finally decided to change my clothes and went upstairs to our bedroom.

Marc was lying on our bed.  I smiled.  I didn't even notice he was still
fully clothed.  I just jumped on top of him and started to nuzzle him.

He didn't wake up and didn't react.  First time ever!

I finally realized he still was asleep.  I then was going to so wake him up
and give him a hard time.  I tickled him.  No reaction.  I punched him.  No
reaction.  All firsts. What the fuck was wrong with him?  I finally slapped
him.  No reaction.

I started to have a totally bad feeling.  I really looked at him.  He was
totally white.  No color in his face.  I kissed him and tongued him deeply.
No reaction.  I stopped.  I put my hand up against his nose.  No movement
of the hairs on the back of my palm from his breathing.  I leaned against
his chest.  No heartbeat.  I felt his pulse.  No pulse.

I went into shock.

I finally called the head librarian at the University library.  Thank God
she was tough and cool.  Marc and I had never come out to the Univ. and
admitted we were lovers.  Not the thing to do where we were.  So, the fact
that Marc was in his house and I had somehow discovered him here would be
ok.  I was checking on him since he left early and unexpectedly from work,
as a colleague.

I gave her the basic facts and shriveled up.  When the ambulances and EMTs
came, they took him away.  I gave them what info I could.  I was just
barely coherent enough.  And then I wasn't.

Days/hours? Later, I woke up from a nightmare.  I had dreamed Marc had died
and had been taken away in an ambulance.  I laughed and went to our bedroom
to find it empty.  My nightmare had suddenly become true.  Then I really
cracked.  I fainted and was lost.

36 hours later (as I now know) I came back to life, just barely.  The head
librarian finally thought to check up on me and finally realized where I'd
be.  The EMTs took me to the hospital, too, where I finally woke up for
real two days later, much against my wishes.

I was in total shock and denial.  Finally the head librarian had had enough
of me.  She knew I was actually physically ok by now, if not mentally and
emotionally.  She almost hissed at me, saying, "Snap out of it Mark!
Here's the autopsy report.  Marc died of a massive heart attack
immediately.  Marc had a huge congenital heart defect.  He should have died
twenty years ago from what the doctors say.  From what I've noticed, you
and he have worked out so much that you may have helped him have 20 more
years of life.  You probably helped give him life.  Give yourself credit."

OMG.  He and Chris should have died at the same time?  That was it.  I was
going to will myself to die.  I had fucked up everything.

However, my reason and logic intervened, finally.  Damn, being a
librarian. And damn God for being God.

Marc and I had had 20 of the most amazing years anyone could have had.
Marc died happy (and I'm crying saying that).  Marc loved Chris and may
have loved me more, although we're not going to get into that kind of
competition!  From my parents' will, Marc's, Chris's parents and my own
savings, I'm a fucking more than a millionaire.  I'm 46.

If I believe in God, and yes I do, then I have a huge amount of money that
I have to do something good with as God expects of someone who has this
money.  If I die now, the money vanishes.

Due to pushing Marc I'm in super good shape.  I'll go do the whole
cardiologist thing now to look for birth defects, though!

...Two years later.  I've pushed myself beyond anything I've ever done before
at work.  I have no life outside of work and don't want one.  I exercise
ferociously.  I wake up in emotional pain every morning and go to sleep in
emotional pain every evening.

God expects me to work hard and help others.  I'm now going to church for
the first time ever.  I'm even singing in the choir and developing a voice.
But please don't make me teach Sunday School!

Then the call comes.

The head librarian calls me into her office.

She tries not to grimace at me.  I know she cares about me.  She saved my
life, even if I still wish she hadn't.

"Mark", she says.  "I hope you'll accept a temporary assignment. The
University has received an incredible donation for our library that we can
use and even exhibit to make money for the library.  However the person who
deeded us the collection has died and his will is in litigation from both
his father and son.  The collection is in your area of expertise.  And, I
hate to say this, but if we get this collection this library might be able
to thrive despite no government funding through showing parts of the
collection, well advertised."

Oh holy crap.  While I don't need my job I do love this library.  And it
reminds me so much of Marc.  Oh crap again.  I'm trying to learn how to be
religious.  After God deprived me of Marc, though...

Look, I'll fuck this up, I know. I hate rich people.  I hate how they feel
so entitled.  But I owe a try to the head librarian.

I glanced at her with a true smile, which she saw.  "I'll try my hardest",
I said.

"I'm sure you will," she replied.