Date: Mon, 9 Feb 2004 10:56:56 -0800 (PST)
From: Tim Mead <timmead88@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dr. Tim and the Boys, ch. 41

The following fictional narrative involves sexually-explicit erotic events
between men.  If you shouldn't be reading this, don't.

In the world of this story, the characters don't always use condoms.  In
the real world, you should care enough about yourself and others always to
practice safe sex.

The author retains all rights.  No reproductions or links to other sites
are allowed without the author's consent.

Thanks as always to Tom W., my patient editor, and to Ash, Mickey, Evan,
and Patrick.

timmead88@yahoo.com

Chapter 41: The Candidate


TIM:

Gwen Fairchild had asked me to wait in my office for her to bring the
candidate, Richard Modarelli, to me.  Ced and I were going to take him to
dinner at Stefan's and then back to our place for dessert.  I felt sorry
for the guy.  Those interview days were exhausting.  He had arrived the
evening before, had been dined and grilled by some of the senior members of
the department.  He'd had a morning of meetings with various people, after
which he had to make a presentation on something having to do with one or
the other of the articles he'd published within the last year.  It was open
to anyone who wanted to sit in.  That had been right before lunch, and I'd
been there.

So, I'd seen the "victim" before he was delivered to me, and I was
impressed.  I'd be the first one to admit that I don't know much about
eighteenth-century British lit, but I'd read his articles, which were
obviously thoroughly researched.  More than that, however, here was a guy
of great intelligence who knew how to use his sources to say something
worthwhile, not just to present a compendium of the facts he'd unearthed.
Although he'd done his dissertation on members of Samuel Johnson's "Club,"
Richard had gone back to the earlier eighteenth century and was looking at
people who were writing biographies before Johnson's friend and biographer,
Boswell.  I confess he pulled me in, and I found his information and his
conclusions based on that information brilliant.  His discussion of his
research and his answers to questions revealed a man with a great deal of
poise.  He seemed to be a little reserved, though that was natural under
the circumstances.  He had a nice smile and what I took to be a quiet sense
of humor.

Did I mention that he was hot?  Except for Max, I've never thought short
guys were very sexy.  Maybe that's why I still have trouble understanding
why Cedric thinks I am.  But Richard Modarelli was a stud.  About my
height, 5'6" or 5'7", he was much more muscular.  Not fat, mind you!  He
was a soccer player in college, and he had the build to prove it.  He had
the black hair that went with his heritage, and eyes that could only be
described as black, also.  His facial features looked like something off of
a classical statue.  You know, Michelangelo's David, only shorter and
stockier and with a neatly trimmed mustache. The `stache was probably to
make him look older, but I thought it gave him just a touch of mystery
which I found very appealing.

Most guys at an interview would have worn a jacket and tie or a suit.  I
admired Richard for his independence.  He was wearing jeans, oilskin shoes
that had lugs part way up instead of eyelets, a blue button-down shirt, and
a tweed jacket.

I was becoming impatient for Gwen to bring him to me, but I knew that after
lunch he'd had to meet with the faculty personnel committee, the dean, and,
with Gwen, plus anyone else they might bump into.  I just hoped some of the
old farts hadn't taken the occasion to lecture him on their own research or
their theories of university teaching or whatever.

When Gwen brought him to my office about 5:30, he was carrying a backpack
in one hand and an overcoat in the other.

She introduced us, winked at me, and quickly left, no doubt wanting to get
home to the fireside, her lawyer husband, and a drink.

We shook hands.  "Dr. Modarelli, it's a pleasure to meet you.  I have read
your articles with interest, and I really enjoyed your discussion of them
this morning.  Now, is there anything you need to do before we leave?"

"First of all, it's Rick.  And, yeah, man, I gotta pee.!"

"We can stop by the men's room on our way out.  And I'm Tim."

I waited in the hallway for him.  When he came out, he grinned and said,
"Sorry to hold things up, but I haven't had a minute to catch my breath,
much less take a whiz, all day."

I grinned.  "Yeah, I went through all this three years ago.  I remember
what it's like.  Gruelling, isn't it?"

"Well, I have done several other interviews since the MLA meeting, and this
one has been more civilized than they were."

"Let's get out of here, and we can compare notes on interview procedures or
you can just take a few minutes to collect yourself while we pick up my
partner, and then we'll go to dinner.  And drinks first, if that's OK with
you."

"Sounds like a plan.  You're sure you don't mind if I call you Tim?"

"Look, we're nearly the same age.  Why wouldn't you?"

"Well, for one thing, you're one of the reasons why I applied here."

"Oh?"

"Yeah.  You've got quite a reputation as a comer, and I've read your
article.  I'm eager to see the book, too.  And with some of the other
people you have here, like Drs. Fairchild and Stein, I thought this looked
like a place where I might like to teach."

"Has anything happened to change your mind?  Or should I ask?"  I grinned

He grinned back.  "Not yet."

We got into my car, and I drove home.  On the way, he said, "You mentioned
we were picking up your partner?"

I knew what he was asking, since these days "partner" doesn't necessarily
imply anything about the sex of the individual.

I looked over at him, smiled, and said, "Yeah, Cedric."

He seemed a little surprised.  "You're gay?"

"Yeah.  Is that a problem?"

"Just the opposite.  So am I."

Score one for Gwen!  I thought she might have suspected Rick was gay and
that that was why she had asked Ced and me to take him to dinner.

He asked me to tell him a little about Ced, which I was happy to do as we
finished the short drive to our place.

"Rick, unless you're too tired, we thought we'd have drinks at the
restaurant and then come back here for dessert and whatever else we want
afterward."

"Sounds great, Tim."

I pulled up in front of our place and tapped lightly on the horn.  Ced came
out the door shrugging into his overcoat.  It was cold and beginning to
snow lightly.

Rick got out of the car and introduced himself to Cedric, who, instead of
shaking hands, grabbed him in a big hug.  I could see Rick's face.  He
looked surprised, and then he relaxed and smiled.  When he started to get
into the back seat of the car so Ced could sit with me, Ced refused,
insisting that Rick stay in the front seat.

After we had checked our topcoats at Stefan's, Maurice greeted Cedric and
me by name and led us to a table in a fairly secluded area of the
restaurant.

"Gentlemen, I'm sure it will be quiet enough here for you to talk without
being disturbed.  As you requested, Kent will be your server this evening,
and he will be with you momentarily."

Maurice strode away, looking very patrician and very French with his dark
hair and slim mustache.

"Wow!" Rick said, smiling.  "He's something else!"

Cedrick leaned forward and said, "He calls himself Maurice Dore."  Looking
at me, he continued, "Stan says he's really Morris Gold from New York
City."

That set us all to laughing. We were still laughing, in fact, when Kent
appeared.

"You gentlemen seem to be having a good time already."

"Rick, this is Kent Statten.  He, like Cedric, will be graduating this
spring, and, like Ced, will be going to law school.  Kent, this is
Dr. Richard Modarelli, who may be joining our faculty next year."

"I'm glad to meet you, Dr. Modarelli.  Are you by chance related to the
senator?"

"It's nice to meet you, too, Kent.  Yes, the senator is my dad."

"Wow!"

Rick chuckled.  "I get that reaction a lot."

"Well, we could use a lot more senators like your dad."

"Hey, Kent, where are you applying to law school?" Cedric asked.

"Well, I want to stay in Ohio, so I'm applying here and to OSU.  I've also
applied to Duke, though, just to see what happens.  How about you?"

"I've applied several places, but I'm really hoping I'll make it into
Michigan."

"Well, good luck.  Hey, could Mark's dad be of any help there?  Isn't that
where he went?"

"Yeah, but you know I wouldn't ask him for help."

"Yeah, I understand.  Well, gentlemen, I'd better take your drink orders
before Maurice gets his knickers in a twist."

Modarelli had a dry sherry, Cedric opted for cabernet sauvignon, and I had
my usual chardonnay.  I asked Kent to bring some baked brie and crackers
with the wine.  He said that would delay the order ever so slightly, so I
asked him to bring the wine now and the cheese when it was ready.  I also
told him we were on no hurry, knowing that he'd pace things accordingly.

"So, Dr. Modarelli," Cedric asked, "are you frazzled from all the grilling
you've been getting today?"

Rick grinned.  "Cedric, it's Rick, please.  While I wouldn't say I was
frazzled, it's been a somewhat tense day, and I'm happy to be here with you
guys and anticipating getting my sherry."

As well as I know him, Cedric can still surprise me.  Since he was going to
law school, I expected that he might want to start by asking Rick about his
father.  Instead, he mentioned that he had read Rick's two articles, and
that he had taken a course in eighteenth century Brit lit the previous
year.

"I had the impression that biography in England started with Boswell.  Yet
from reading your articles, it seems there was a lot of biography before
Bozzy."

"First of all, Cedric, what were you doing reading my articles?  Do you
spend a lot of time in the library reading recent scholarship?"

Ced grinned his megawatt smile.  "Tell the truth and shame the devil,
Angel, that is, my mother, always says.  No, I don't do all that much.  But
I knew we were going to be together this evening, so I made a point of
reading them."

"Well," Rick said, "If you really want to know . . . ," and he began to
answer Cedric's question in some detail.  Get a scholar started on his
hobby horse, and he'll go on at tedious lengths sometimes.

Kent showed up about then with the wine, and we paused.  Then Rick brought
his longish answer to a close.

"Anyway, the short answer is yes, there's a lot of it.  Some of it is very
interesting.  And for 100 years before Boswell, there were biographies
using the `letter method' that most people think Boswell invented."

I took the occasion to ask Rick about some of his professors at Brown who
had national reputations, and we found we knew someone in common, a woman
who had left Stanford and gone to Brown while I was working on my degree in
California.

The brie came, and we suspended the conversation to sample it and have some
more wine.  Kent also recited the list of specials.  I didn't want Rick to
feel he was still being interrogated, so we just made small talk.

Rick set his sherry down and looked at me.  "I have a question for you,
professor."

"Can it, Rick.  I'm only an assistant professor at the moment.  And you
know I'm Tim."

He laughed.  "Well, OK.  I have a question for you, Tim."

I grinned.  "Fire away."

"How typical is Cedric here of your English majors?"

"Ced is one of a kind.  There is no one else like him."

"Oh, I understand that.  But still . . . ."

"To answer your question properly, Cedric is one of our best majors.  But
we have others who are equally bright, dedicated, hard working and
delightful.  Except in a sexual, personal way, where, of course Ced stands
alone."

Rick chuckled.  "I take that to mean that I might find some interesting
students in my classes if I came here."

"Yes, I think you could assume that."

The conversation moved on.

I was not, of course, allowed to show Cedric Rick's vita with its
supporting letters and other documentation, but I had told him a few things
about Rick.  He mentioned that he knew Rick had played soccer in college.
When Rick responded in the affirmative, they compared notes on playing
soccer and baseball as varsity sports.  Rick was impressed with how big a
deal intercollegiate athletics were here at the university compared to the
small college he'd gone to.

"What about you, Tim, did you do any sports at college?"

"Yeah, if you want to call cross-country running a sport."

"Of course it is. Takes lots of stamina.  Where did you go to college?'

"Kenyon.  Ever heard of it?"

"Indeed!  We always had trouble with their soccer team."

"That's right. You went to college in Ohio, didn't you?"

"Sure did."

"But you're from Chicago, aren't you?" Cedric asked.

"Yeah," Rick said, after he had swallowed a bite of brie and pita.

"What made you decide to come to Ohio?"

Rick explained that he had gone to Philips in the east, and wanted to get
back to the Midwest, so he had wound up at Cranmer.

Kent returned to take our orders.  Once he had ascertained that the
University, rather than yours truly, was paying for the meal, Rick ordered
filet mignon.  Cedric asked for Veal Oscar, and I chose salmon.

I can't remember everything we talked about.  I do recall that Rick asked
Ced about his family, and I loved the animation with which Cedric told him
about Angel, Jake, and Keesha.  I watched with pride and love as he
described how "cool" his parents were and how well his little sis was doing
in school.  Rick questioned him a bit more about his family, wanting also
to know about the kind of law Jake practiced, where the firm was located,
etc.

We talked about the advantages of living near Cleveland.  I learned that
Rick loved classical music and had heard most of the major symphonies of
the world while he was growing up in Chicago.  So we talked about some of
them for a while, along with favorite pieces and composers.

Ced asked if Rick had ever been to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in
Cleveland.  Rick said he had always meant to visit there while he was in
Ohio and had never managed a visit.  He pointed out that in northwestern
Ohio people are more oriented toward Detroit as the nearest big city rather
than Cleveland.

After Kent came back with our meals, we spent a few minutes sampling our
food.  Cedric and I exchanged bites from our dishes, as we often did in a
restaurant.  We noticed Rick was grinning at us.

"What?" Cedric asked, returning the grin.

"You two are cute, like an old married couple."

"Honey," Cedric answered, "we've not been together a year yet, and let me
tell you, the sex is hot.  Nothing old about us!"

"Hey, Cedric, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't, man, you didn't.  Tim and I are as close as any married couple
could be, but don't ever think we take each other for granted."

"I'm sure Rick didn't mean to suggest that," I commented.

"Damn!  I'm sorry.  I've gone and shot off my mouth."

"No problem, Cedric.  As I said, it's so great just watching you two
together.  Now, I haven't mentioned it yet, but this dinner is
fan-fuckin-tastic.  I could get used to a place like this."

"Rick," I said, "unless they offer you a great deal more than they're
paying me, you won't be able to afford to come here very often."

"Yeah," he said, "I saw the prices.  I'm surprised the university would
spring for a place like this."

"Well, they seem to want to impress candidates for faculty positions.  I
was treated to a meal here when I interviewed."

The conversation drifted around for a while, and then we were done.

Kent, who managed to know always what we needed without seeming to hover,
showed up to ask if we wanted dessert.

"Rick, if you aren't too wiped," Cedric said, "we'd like you to come back
and have dessert and maybe another drink or some coffee at our place."

Rick smiled.  "I don't particularly want to spend the time between now and
bedtime in a hotel room, Cedric, and I've enjoyed being with you guys so
much, I'd like to take you up on that offer."


Back at our place, we served up raspberry cheesecake drizzled with fudge
sauce and, at Rick's request, decaf.  He said he didn't sleep well anyway,
and couldn't drink caffeinated coffee in the evening.  Seemed strange for a
guy as young as he is (my age), but we had some decaf on hand, so that's
what we fixed.

It was a cold, snowy night out, and we didn't have a fireplace.  I
suggested cognac might warm us up, and Rick said that sounded nice.  We
took our drinks into the living room and sat.

After an appreciative sip, Rick said, "We haven't talked about being gay
yet.  What kind of place is the university for gay people?"

Cedric looked at me, and I looked at him.  He shrugged and nodded slightly
to me to field that question.

"I'm not sure how to answer that, Rick.  This is Ohio, not the East, so
it's probably less gay-friendly than you're accustomed to.  Certainly
things at Stanford were more open and accepting."

"Yeah, well, one would expect that in California."

"On the other hand," Cedric commented, "Kenyon and Oberlin are on a lot of
lists of the most gay-friendly campuses, and so's Antioch."

"Okay, gentlemen, but you're not answering my question, are you?  Is there
something you don't want to tell me?"

"We're not hiding anything, but I admit we're not sure how to answer the
question.  You see, Cedric and I just came out before Christmas.  At a
department party, to be specific."

"Has there been any negative reaction?"

"Not from my colleagues.  Not so far, anyway.  Nor from my students.  I'm
not sure how many of them know.  Oh, I suppose the word has gotten around
to the English majors, but I'm teaching mostly service courses this term,
and I'm sure the rank and file undergrads have no idea I'm gay and living
with Ced."

"Well, unless their gaydar is exceptional, they wouldn't think you were
gay."

Cedric grinned.  "Believe me, he is."

I frowned at him.

"How about your teammates, Cedric?"

I was glad Rick asked that question because I'd been meaning to ask Ced the
same thing.

"Until pre-season practice starts in another month, I won't really see any
of them, unless we just bump into each other on campus or around town
someplace.  So far, there's been no reaction at all.  But I imagine when
practice begins, I'll hear from some of them."

Rick took a sip of his brandy.  "Do you guys know other gays on campus?"

"Yes, we know several.  And there's a Straight/Gay Alliance here which is
growing.  The president of the group is very effective.  He also writes a
weekly column in the university newspaper on things of interest to the GLBT
community."

"Have there been any ugly incidents that you know of?"

"Not that I can think of in the three years I've been here."

"Well, Tim," Cedric corrected me, "there was the thing with Steve."

"Yeah, but that involved high schoolers."

Rick asked us to explain, and we did.

When we were finished, he said, "That's ironic.  The guy was attacked
because they thought he was a gay pedophile, and he's neither?"

"Yep."

"So, Tim, tell me this.  Are you happy here?  Planning to stay, make a
career here?"

I thought about that.  "Yeah, I think so.  I have no complaints.  But what
I do in the future may have something to do with what Cedric does.  I don't
know whether I can stand to let him go very far away to law school.  I
don't want to be any sort of drag on his career.  I just wouldn't want us
to have to be apart for a long time."

Ced put his glass down, reached over, took my hand, and squeezed.  "Timmy,
YOU have to do what is best for your career.  I can go to law school here
if that's the way for us to stay together."

I glanced at Rick, who seemed fascinated.  "Ced, we can talk about this
later, babe, OK?"

"Sure.  So answer the man's question."

"Oh, yeah, right.  Well, Rick, yes, so far, the department has been very
supportive of me.  I like the students and most of my colleagues.  If you
can stand these damned winters, it's not a bad place to be.  And it's easy
to get into Cleveland for music and theater, in addition to what the
University has to offer in those areas, of course.  And sports, if you
think Cleveland has any professional sports teams worth going to see."

"Watch it, now!" Cedric growled.

Changing the subject, I said, "Rick, I'm sure you've already been asked
this today, but tell me what your goals are.  What do you see yourself
doing ten years from now?"

He grinned.  "This isn't what you meant, but I'd love to see myself having
what you and Cedric have.  I want more than anything else to find myself a
guy. One guy.  Someone to love and take care of who'll love and take care
of me.  It's been such a treat watching you two together.  I can see how
much you love and trust each other."

"I hope you find your guy, Rick."

"Yeah," Ced chimed in.

After that, I didn't have the heart to press him on my original question,
so I let it slide.

Ced stepped in and got Rick talking about the eighteenth century again, and
somehow the topic drifted to recent movies, and we chatted comfortably
until almost midnight.

"Well, gentlemen, it's getting late.  I'd better be going on my way so you
two can get to bed.  But one of you has to take me, I'm afraid."

"Let me do that," Cedric offered.

"No, babe, I can do it.  It's my job."

"Well, all right.  Rick, it's been really great getting to know you.  I'm
not supposed to say this, but, what the fuck, I hope you get the job.  I
think you'd be a great addition to the English Department faculty!"

Rick stood up, went over to Cedric, and hugged him.  "Thanks, Cedric.  I'm
not supposed to say this, either, but if I'm offered the job, I think I'll
take it."

That was wonderful.  I had planned to ask Cedric his opinion of Rick, but I
couldn't ask Rick if he would take the job if offered.  That's not
according to the protocols.  It was helpful to me to know he had found the
University acceptable.

Rick and I bundled into our coats and went to the car, which I had left out
front.  I drove him back to his motel.

"Tim, I've been so impressed by what I've read.  By what you've written,
and by what I've read about you.  Even though I don't know a hell of a lot
about the Lost Generation and Dos Passos, I'm really looking forward to
reading your book.  It's been a real treat to get to know you.  And Cedric.
You're a lucky man."

"Yeah."

"To have Cedric, I mean."

"Yes, Rick.  I knew what you meant."

"Would it be inappropriate to ask for a hug?"

"Probably," I replied.  Then I leaned over gave him a hug.

When I got home, I put the car in the garage and went inside.

Ced had turned off all the downstairs lights except for the nightlight in
the hallway, so I went upstairs.

When I got to the bedroom, he was lying naked in the bed, cock erect and
tenting the covers.

I pissed, brushed my teeth, got out of my clothes, and crawled into bed
with him.

After a long kiss, which I've always thought Ced was a master at, we came
up for air.

"So, babe.  Shall I recommend to Gwen that we hire Dr. Modarelli?"

"Since you asked, yes.  Let's get this over with, so we can get back to the
important stuff.  You tell me his credentials are impeccable.  For what
it's worth, I think his articles are both great.  I didn't mention it
before, but he writes without all the scholarly jargon that many so-called
scholarly articles are full of.  And I really liked the guy."

"Anything else?"

"Well, not at the moment.  What did you think of him?"

"Pretty much the same as you.  You were wonderful, you know.  I was so
proud of you as you talked with him.

"I need for you to be proud of me, sweetheart."  He paused.  "So are you
going to recommend him to Doc Gwen?"

"Yes.  I'd like to have Rick as a colleague."

Cedric grabbed me and pulled me onto him.  "Ya sure it's not because he's
such a hot little stud?"

"Stupid!  I don't even notice whether guys are hot or not.  I've got you,
and that's plenty for me."

He chuckled, and I could feel the rumble in his chest.  "Yeah, right.  So
who's going to do what to who?  Whom?"

"Whatever you want, sweetheart."

"You know, Tim, this is getting to be a problem.  Both of us want so much
to please each other, we can't make decisions anymore."

CEDRIC:

"Bullshit," Tim said.  "Shut up and fuck me!"

I laughed.  "Okay, hon, decision made."  He was still on my chest, so I
kissed him again.  Our tongues fought with each other, probing, exploring.
He sucked on mine.  After a while, I began to chew lightly on his lower
lip.  Sneaky, as per usual, was throbbing and leaking.  I felt Tim's cute
cock dripping onto my belly.

I grabbed each of his butt cheeks and began to knead them.  Then, with the
middle finger of my right hand, I began to tickle his taint.  Without
pulling away from our kiss, he groaned and began humping my stomach.

I chuckled.  "You are one horny little fucker tonight, aren't you, babe?"

He broke the kiss long enough to growl, "No, dolt. You're the fucker
tonight!  Whenever you're ready, that is."

Sheesh!  Having an English professor for a lover can be a trial, at times.
I pushed him away from the kiss and stuck that middle finger in his mouth.
He sucked on it as if it were a nipple.  When he had it good and slobbery,
I took it out of his mouth and inserted it carefully into his chute.  He
wiggled his ass around a little and went back to kissing and humping.

I've accused Tim of wanting to analyze things to death, even our sex, but
at that moment I understood just how lucky I was. I understood why Rick
envied us.  And I sincerely hoped he'd find somebody sometime.

"I've heard of aggressive bottoms, babe, but you take the cake!"

"Yeah, wait until tomorrow, and I'll show you what an aggressive top can
do."

"Promises, promises!"

I rolled over a little, spilling him off of me.  He landed face down in the
pillow.  I got behind him and pulled his butt up.  Then I began to lick
that sweet, firm, little white ass.  I lapped at each cheek, not, at first,
venturing into his crack.  As I did, I wondered if enough time had passed
that I could suggest that we shave his balls and crevice.  I knew he had
been shaved the previous spring as part of a very traumatic experience, and
I didn't want to bring back unpleasant memories.  But I'd been shaving my
balls and crack for him for some time, and I'm not sure he even noticed.

As my hungry tongue ventured nearer and nearer to his cleft, he began to
encourage me.

"Oh, yeah, baby.  You have such a talented tongue.  Use it on me!  Lick me!
Lick my hole.  Eat me, Ced, please!"

I chuckled. "Professor Mead.  What a slut I've turned you into in less than
a year!  Perhaps I should repent and swear off."

"You just try it, and I'll see that you never graduate from this
institution!  Now, shut the fuck up and eat me!"

"Oooh, professor, what a nasty mouth you have.  And you're so bossy.  I
think I'll have to consider some retraining for you."

"Yeah, well, whatever. You can't just get me to this state and then start a
dialogue.  Are you going to do something back there, or should I go read?"

"Well, if you put it that way . . . , " I said.  And I began to lick his
opening.  He shivered and twitched and thrust has butt toward me.  I
tickled his rosebud with the tip of my tongue.

"Oh, god, Ced, eat me, please."

"How far you've come in less than a year, professor."

"Dammit, Cedric, you sadist.  What do you want from me?  Please, baby, do
something!"

Well, not really a sadist, I began to rim him in earnest, moving quickly to
tongue fucking him.  He moaned his appreciation.

I reached around his leg and grabbed his throbbing, dripping cock.

"Oh, don't DO that!"

"Don't use my tongue?"

"NO, oh god, no!  Don't jack me.  I'm about to come, and I don't want to
yet."

"Oh, why didn't you say so?"

"Cedric, you are a bastard!  When are you going to fuck me?  I've got this
itch in my ass that only Sneaky can soothe.  Please cut the fun and games
and do me, babe."

My playful mood vanished as I heard my sweet little guy plead with me, so I
grabbed the lube from the bedside table and put some of it on my cock. I
slathered a lot on his opening, and then pushed it up into his chute with
my finger.

"Ah, yes, sweetheart.  That's where it itches, burns, hurts, needs Sneaky!"

I finger fucked him for a while as he groaned his appreciation, and then
withdrew the finger to lube up Sneaky.  He wiggled his adorable little
alabaster ass at me while I did.

"Roll over, babe.  I want to see your face while we do this."

"Okay," he groused, "but if you keep me waiting much longer, I'm going to
go to Rick's motel!"

"You wouldn't," I pouted, sticking my lower lip out.

"Jones, if you don't soon stick that thing in me, you may very well find
out.  Fuck meeee!"

He pulled his knees back against his shoulders.  I grabbed both his ankles
in one hand and put the tip of my cock against his winking pucker.

Before I knew what was happening, I was inside him, as if he had inhaled
Sneaky.

I've made it sound as if Tim were a total bottom, but he isn't.  I love it
when he's the top, and he's masterful when he does me.  He's just eager.
And who wouldn't love him for that?"

Getting him ready and then teasing him with the delay had made him pretty
hot, and, not surprisingly, he came first.  But his shooting all over his
belly and chest triggered my orgasm, so I came almost immediately after he
did.

I collapsed onto him for a moment.  We both lay there, coming down from the
high, moaning a little.  Post-coital euphoria, I think it's called.

Then I pushed away and began to lick up his cum. Keeping his eyes shut, he
smiled and groaned his appreciation.

He grabbed me by the neck and pulled me down for a kiss.

"Mmm, I taste my cum.  You are SO . . .  ."

"Sexy?  Masterful?  Wonderful?  Overwhelming?" I asked, grinning.

"All of the above, babe.  Thank you.  I love you so much."

I rolled off him onto my right side, scooping him into my arms, and as I
did so Sneaky came out of his ass with a soft `plop.'  We kissed again, for
a long time.

I was beginning to drift off to sleep, when Tim asked, "How did things go
this evening?"

"Great! I thought we'd been through all that."

"Don't you think there's an underlying sadness about Rick? As if perhaps
there's something in his past that he never mentioned?"

"Well, maybe.  But we've all got things in our past we don't talk about.
Anyway, I really liked him."

"Now you have me curious.  Tomorrow I'll want to know what deep secrets you
have in your past you haven't told me about."

I chuckled.  "Lover, I was speaking generally.  I haven't hidden anything
from you."

"I hope not.  But, as for Rick, I think he's not really a happy guy.
Besides that, I have this nagging feeling that there's something about him
that I've overlooked, a connection that I should have made, somehow."

"Timmy, does that mean you're not going to recommend that Gwen hire him?"

"No way!  I think Rick would make a great colleague."

"You sure you don't think that just because the dude's sexy?"

"Oh, you think he's sexy, do you?"

"Yeah.  Another hot, short little fucker."

He grabbed my left nipple and squeezed hard enough to make my eyes water.

"Well, I've got about all the sex I can handle with you, stud."  Then he
rolled back on top of me and we kissed some more.

[To be continued.]