Date: Sat, 8 Nov 2014 10:07:46 -0800
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sam Caldwell's Further Adventures 3

This story contains explicit sexual activity between men.  Please read no
further if you are offended by such or if you are a minor.  Any resemblance
to actual persons or activities depicted is purely coincidental, but actual
places and events are mentioned to add a sense of reality to the story.

Please also donate to nifty.org to keep stories like this one coming to you
free of charge.

And please let me know your reaction to the story.  It means a lot to hear
from readers.  Write me at macoutmann@yahoo.com.



                       SAM CALDWELL'S FURTHER ADVENTURES

                                by Macout Mann



                                  Chapter 3

                                   George


Sam's seatmate on the flight to Chicago is a hot, straight dude.  Only in
porno tales is everyone you meet gay.  This guy is an officer at the Harris
Bank and spends the whole flight complaining about being away from his wife
when he had to take long business trips.

As usual Sam's plane is stacked at O'Hare.  They are over an hour late
reaching the Delta arrival gate.  But he sees George....and George's
boyfriend....as soon as he steps out of the jetway.

Sam has kept up with George since they graduated.  George is one of those
people who does not age.  He still gets carded from time to time.  His
bright features and well-coiffed auburn hair make him look twenty-one
still.

George, except for the four years he was at Sparta, has always lived on the
North Shore.  He now has a small (for the area) house in Wilmette, not far
from the Baha'i Temple.  Not too far from his father's bank, still an
independent State Bank, where George is vice president.

George also has had at least ten boyfriends in the last ten years.  Sam
suspects George's father wants George to appear to be in a "stable
relationship."  George is incapable of that, and so partner after partner,
looking for "a lifelong companion," breaks up with him, while he looks for
bigger and bigger dicks on the side.

"Sam!  So wonderful to see you!" George cries.

"Good to see you too," Sam embraces George in a brotherly manner.  "And I'm
sorry you weren't me on the flight.  You would have loved my seatmate. He
was a banker too."

"Oh, really?" George says.

"Yeah," Sam replies.  "Only problem was he was straight."

George's companion laughs, and George remembers to introduce him.

"Oh!" he says.  "Sam, meet my boyfriend, Marc Jeansonne.  He's a
Frenchman."

"Good to meet you, Sam.  I hope we can get together.  George says you're
awesome in bed."

"I'm sure we can," Sam replies.  Marc may pass as French, but Sam
immediately recognizes the lilting accent of South Louisiana Cajun in his
greeting.  Still from Marc's openness, he thinks that maybe George has
found a kindred spirit that'll hang around a while.

As they walk down the concourse, George says that Marc is from Marseilles.

"Yeah, 'Southern' France," Sam says.  "I had a prof in college who said
that Marseilles was the most sinful city in Europe."

"We hope," Marc laughs.

Sam had intended to treat the others to dinner, but after the delay it is
too late to go to anyplace good, so George drives back to his place and
volunteers to fry up some burgers.  While he's in the kitchen, Sam asks,
"So where abouts in Southern Louisiana are you from?"

"What do you mean?" Marc replies, his accent becoming thicker.

"I illustrated a nature book about the Atchafalaya Basin.  Spent four
months down there up to my ass in mosquitoes.  I can recognize Cajunspeak
when I hear it," Sam tells him.

"O.K.," Marc says.  "When I first came up here, I pretended to be from
Montreal, but a lot of people could tell that wasn't true, so I decided to
try Marseilles, and you're the first person that has recognized that's not
true.  Please don't tell George."

"What George wants to believe is none of my business," Sam says.

Later they form a triangle of dick suckers, and one thing leads to another.
Marc gets his wish.  George is still commonly the bottom, but somebody has
fucked Marc often enough that Sam easily slips in with only spit moistening
his shaft.  But before morning comes all three of them have been plugged
more than once.



The ostensible reason for Sam's visit is to meet with Curt Abramson, a
popular novelist who can usually be found on the New York Times' Best
Seller List.  His stories usually feature plenty of sex and high adventure.
"Lady Chatterley" plus "Indiana Jones."  He is proposing a graphic novel
that will appeal to young adult non-readers, but with a difference.
Instead of being in comic book format, his novel would feature fully
developed illustrations every two pages or so.  Sort of like a child's
story book, with a picture that illustrates one of the sentences on the
facing page.  Who better to do the illustrations than the country's leading
illustrator of children's books and teen fiction.

Sam's agent, Janet Harrison, is not in favor of the project.  She thinks it
would demean Sam's reputation.  Sam is ambivalent.  So after George and
Marc have gone to work, Sam sets out for the CTA terminal and catches the
"L" to the Near North Side.

He still takes a cab from the station to the Ambassador East, where
Abramson lives.

Abramson turns out to be a mere wisp of a man, barely five-foot-seven,
balding at forty-five, and possessed of a mild stutter.

"P-please bear with me," Abramson says, when his speech defect first
appears.

"No problem, my friend," Sam answers.  "I had a gross lisp.  Fortunately
they were able to correct it when I was at Sparta.  But, man, I know what
you've gone through.  Just hang loose."  Now he knows why Curt Abramson
never gives radio or tv interviews.

Abramson smiles.  "Th-thank you," he says.  "Th-that's g-good to know."

In short order the two of them bond.  "The sort of writing I d-do," Curt
says, "is b-based on c-careful market research," he explains.  "M-my novels
for women always do well.  Gals love to fantasize about being f-fucked by a
hero.

"I-I've done a couple of successful macho novels.  M-men who read generally
read the "Wall Street Journal" or "Forbes" when they come home.  Or p-porn
after they go to bed.  Sometimes they want something with "redeeming social
value" to read, and "Sampson's Night" and "Down Under" appealed to them.
N-never sold as well as "Maggie's Son" or any of the other hot pussy
stories."

He admits that he has even tried his hand at porn.  "I've even written some
porn under the r-ridiculous pseudonym of `Make Out Man.' That's spelled
`m-a-c-o-u-t-m-a-n-n.'"

Sam laughs.  "I've drawn some erotic shit," he admits, "under the name,
`Dick Hardson.'"

After they both have had their laugh, Curt Abramson becomes more serious.
"I hear you're gay," he says.

"No big secret," Sam replies.  "I don't advertise it, but I don't deny it."

"I'm b-bisexual," his companion admits.  "Of course, there are more g-gals
that are willing to fuck a puny but famous novelist, than there are guys
I'd like to be with or that would like to b-be with me."

"Back when I was a poor kid hustling back in Columbus, I used to say, `All
models come comparably equipped,' like he old automobile ads used to say,"
Sam laughs.

"Well, n-now that we understand each other b-better," Curt says, "l-let's
get down to business.

"T-there's a huge market out there.  G-guys....and gals, who've never read
a fucking thing since they finished school, if they even did that.

"I want to p-penetrate that market.  Research shows that they want stories
that relate to t-their lives.  And they don't want it to be like the
b-books they d-didn't like to read back in school.

"I don't want to write a f-fucking comic book.  And research shows a
f-format like the books you've done would work."

As he describes his idea he speaks faster and his stutter seems to
disappear.  "W-we decided," he continued, "that a construction worker was a
subject they all could relate to.  Macho man that'll fuck any gal that
smiles at him.  But a guy that just builds houses wouldn't work.  Too hard
for him to get into serious action.

"A high steel dude! That was the answer.  He could discover a plot to
destroy the building under construction.  And the illustrations could
feature him shirtless up on a beam, maybe with the top of his ass crack
showing."

"That's precisely the reason my agent is against this whole thing," Sam
interrupts.  "She thinks suggestive illustrations would demean my
reputation."

"Hear me out," the author replies.  "We've already thought of that.  We're
willing to give you complete control over what scenes from the book would
be illustrated.  And, goddammit man, we don't want any naked women on top
of the sheets!  Under the sheets?  That would be your decision."

"Well, I came fully prepared to thank you for your interest and say
`Sorry.' But I gotta say that I'm intrigued," Sam says.

"Let me send you a couple of chapters of the draft," Curt responds, "If
you're interested, you might send us a picture or two.  If not, it was a
p-pleasure to meet you.

"Are you a b-baseball fan?" he asks, changing the subject.  "Fucking
afternoon Cubs games almost n-never happen these days, except on Sundays.
B-but there is one today.  We can g-grab some lunch here t-then head to
Wrigley Field, if you'd care to join me."

Sam doesn't have anything planned, so he agrees.  They watch the Cubs lose
to the Cardinals, then Sam returns to Wilmette looking forward to more sex.
George's Cajun friend has a nice dick and a nice ass.

First, Sam makes good on his last night's invitation.  They dine at one of
Evanston's best restaurants.  Sam thought it was o.k., but not worth all
the fuss.

On the drive back Sam and Marc sit in the back seat and Marc loses no time
in getting Sam up.

"You can taste it if you want to," Sam says, as he frees the monster from
its prison.

"With all this traffic passing by?"  Marc seems incredulous.

"Why not?  They're not staring at us.  Happens all the time in Marseilles,
doesn't it?"

Marc feels he has no choice but to gobble Sam up.

"George, your boyfriend is sucking my dick.  Do you mind?" Sam teases.

"Fuck no," George laughs.  "Maybe you can teach him how."

The fun continues when they return to George's place.  Sam doesn't even
bother to zip up when he gets out of the car.  In three minutes, they are
all naked.  There is no pretense, just raw sex.  Marc finds himself on the
spit more than once.  And the next day Sam's dick feels sore for the whole
flight back to Atlanta.