Date: Sun, 9 Jun 2002 10:13:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: smithers1066@yahoo.com
Subject: The Bartender and the Bass Player

The following story contains explicit descriptions of sexual
situations between two consenting adult homosexual men.  If such
content offends you or is illegal for you to view due to age or
laws in your state or country, please do not continue.  All
persons and events in the following story are fictional. Any
similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

I'm fairly new at this, so comments and criticisms are welcome.
Enjoy.



The Bartender and the Bass Player



The club was packed that night, full of hipster frat boys and the
women they don't call the next day.  I was busy filling drink
orders with sexually suggestive names and trying to keep Jenny,
the other bartender, from devolving into a mewling infant over
her most recent fight with her boyfriend.  This one seemed to be
about her cat, Snuffles, so she was in a particularly tenuous
mental state.  I hadn't heard of the band that was playing, but
judging by the size of the crowd, they were either really good or
really famous.  Experience had told me that one did not
necessarily mean the other.

I had been tending bar here for nearly two years and had seen
many a band come and go.  I had heard so much white boy angst
backed by three chords and a drum line that I had stopped
listening to the bands altogether, focusing instead on the
cleanliness of the taps or the number of clean glasses.  As a
young woman wearing hoop earrings with a wall of bangs that could
stop bullets stood quizzing me on the ingredients in a Blow Job,
I figured tonight would be just like any other Saturday.

"Gin and Tonic," a male voice said to my right.

"Finally, a normal drink," I said, turning to greet the customer.

"A classic," he said.  As I looked up at him I decided he could
order a blow job from me anytime.  He was my height, about 5'10",
with shaggy dark brown hair and stubble on his cheeks.  The dark
hair contrasted beautifully with his fair complexion and his
firm, pink lips.  He wore thick, black-rimmed Buddy Holly glasses
and the green eyes behind them were bright and piercing.  From
what I could see of his body, he was sinewy and strong.   A
sandwich wouldn't have killed him, but I wasn't complaining.

"Coming right up," I said, trying to maintain my professional
decorum as lust drifted through my nostrils and threatened to
buckle my knees.  I grabbed the bottles and poured the drink as
he kept his gaze on me.  Experience had taught me that this club
was not a good place for me to meet men, the clientele was almost
fascistically straight.  But something in the intensity of his
look told me this guy might actually be interested.

I slapped a napkin down on the counter and set the drink on top
of it.  He laid five bucks on the table and took a sip.

"Nice," he said.  I reached for the till. "Keep the change".  He
downed the rest of his gin.

"You want another?" I asked, a little startled by the speed with
which he had finished.

"Nope, have to get backstage," he said. "See ya later."  He bowed
his head a bit, then turned and walked to the back of the club
toward the stage door.  Of course, he was with the band.  The few
cool guys we got were usually with the band.

I continued taking orders.  Jenny was unable to pour anything
with Apple Schnapps in it since it reminded her of her boyfriend.
This complicated matters when a gaggle of women, each one
fancying herself the Carrie of the group, ordered three rounds of
"Tartinis".  I swear, two of them had necklaces spelling their
name and another had a giant flower pinned to her chest.  Posers.
I watched the band set up.  My guy seemed to be the bassist.  A
pert young woman was setting up the drums.  And two guys, one of
them wearing a Che Guevara shirt, were arguing over the set list
on the side of the stage.  White boy college rockers, oh goody.

The owner introduced the band then went back to his office to
snort coke or whatever it was he did back there in his feeble
attempt to be the straight Steve Rubell. They began to play.  It
became clear pretty quickly that the drummer was chosen simply
because "chick drummers are cool" as one of the hipsters huddling
around the bar commented.  She had no discernible talent.  The
lead guitarist was decent and seemed to know at least five
chords.  The singer had abandoned singing in favor of a sort of
rhythmic wail.  But the bassist was damn good.  Or damn hot.  It
was hard to tell anymore.

As they broke into a plaintive power ballad about some selfish ex-
girlfriend, named Deborah who had refused to return the singer's
vinyl records I caught the bassist looking at me.  There was an
intensity in his eyes as he strummed his guitar forcefully.  His
forearms were well-developed and I could see the sinew and muscle
tense and release as he played.  He made me instantaneously
develop a fetish for forearms.  I returned his gaze and he gave
me a tiny smile, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Oi! Can we get some service here?"  I shook myself out of the
stare and starting filling orders again. Every song seemed to be
about the same bitch from Hell (the singer's phrase) named
Deborah.  In fact, half the choruses consisted of variations on
either "Fuck you, Deborah" or "Come back, Deborah."  I didn't
know the guy, but his neediness combined with his desperate,
failed attempt at bed-head made me think Deborah and I would get
along well.

I looked up after every order and each time the bass player's
eyes were still on mine.  It had been so long since I had felt an
attraction like this I wasn't sure exactly what to do.  And it's
pretty hard to look seductive when you're running a blender.

As the set drew to a close, we were crushed with orders.  Jenny
had run in the back to call her boyfriend, so I didn't have a
chance to catch the bassist's eye before he left the stage.  By
the time Jenny returned, the club was emptying out and the band
was nowhere to be seen.

"Everything's okay," Jenny said with a girlish lilt. "Jerod says
I can keep Snuffles as long as she stops crapping in his shoes."
She seemed to think this was the most romantic statement any man
had ever said to any woman.

"I need to take the trash out. You okay out here?" I asked.

"Fine.  The crowd's almost gone," she said. I gathered up the
trash bags and headed out the side door into the alley.

As I threw the bags into the dumpster, I heard a match scratch
against a matchbook.  I looked down the alley.  There he stood,
Sexy McForearms, lighting up a cigarette.  He seemed to be alone.
I should go talk to him, I thought.  But that would be the brave
thing to do and I never did the brave thing.

"Hey, can I bum one of those," I asked, approaching him.  This
guy was too cute to chicken out.

"Hey," he answered, pulling a cigarette out and handing it to me.

"Nice set," I told him.  It was vague enough that I didn't have
to be talking about the band's performance.

"Dude, we suck." He answered, laughing.

"No, it was great."

"Please."  He slanted his eyes a bit and grinned at me
sardonically.

"Okay," I acquiesced.  "But you're damn good.  Much better than
the rest of them."

"Thanks. I know how awful we are, but it pays.  The lead singer's
Dad is loaded.  His girlfriend dumped him and he decided to get
revenge on her through rock and roll."

"Oh," I said. "From his lyrics, I would have never known.  What
was her name? Deborah?"  He laughed.

"You gonna smoke that thing?"

I looked at the cigarette, the whole pretense of this
conversation.

"Oh, yeah," I said, putting the cig to my lips.

"You don't have to, just to look cool."

"You mind if I don't?"

"Not at all.  I'm Jonas, by the way," he said, extending his
hand.

"Sam," I said, meeting his firm grip with my own.  We held the
shake for a millisecond longer than usual.  His hands were
incredibly strong.  They set my mind dancing.

"I fucking hate cigarettes, but I'm addicted.  I only allow
myself one after a show and one after sex now." I hoped his pack
was full.

"Pack a day smoker, then?" Was I being playful?  What the fuck
was going on?

"Yeah, carton on a good day," he smirked. We chatted for a while.
He was from a town about an hour down the road.  He asked me
about bartending and I explained that it was paying the bills
while I worked at becoming a paid author.  He hoped to someday
sign up with a band that didn't suck.  We both wanted to get the
Hell out of this state.

"So, how long have you guys been touring?" I asked.

"A couple months.  We're heading home in a couple days before we
begin our World Tour." There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"World Tour?  Really?"

"Yeah, Corey's dad booked us a gig in Moosejaw.  The big time."

"Congratulations, you've made it."  He smiled and his eyes
sparkled behind his glasses.  He raised one eyebrow and looked
into me intensely.  There was an awkward pause and I couldn't for
the life of me figure out how to fill it, so I just returned his
look.  Suddenly he threw the cigarette down, stamped it out and
moved in to me, forcing my back against the wall.  He put one
hand on the brick wall behind me, then took my chin in his other
hand and pulled me in for a kiss.

My mouth was closed at first, still in a little shock at the
speed and force of his move.  I opened it and felt his long, warm
tongue extend into my mouth.  I sucked on it before closing my
mouth around his perfect lower lip.  He let out a little moan.
We continued to kiss, then he released my mouth and moved his
head so his mouth was right next to my ear, his hot breath
sending shivers throughout my body.

"I want you to fuck me," he whispered, his deep voice stirring
something in my stomach.  Goddamn he moved fast.  I could feel
the hard cock in his cargo pants rubbing against my own. I was
lost for exactly how to respond.  I had kinda wanted him to fuck
me, but who was I to argue?

"Oh yeah, I would love that." I answered, my voice betraying my
nervousness.

"When do you get off?" He asked, his voice still breathy and low.

"Half an hour."

"I'm staying at the Regency down the street.  Room 134. Come by
when you're done here."

"Okay."  He kissed me again, softly, then turned and walked down
the alley toward the street.  I stood thunderstruck for a moment.
He turned his head back at me and smiled lasciviously.  I had no
idea my dick could get that hard.



I hurried Jenny through the closing routine, my heart racing.  I
wanted to get over there as soon as possible, but my stomach
seemed to be putting on a community theater production of
Twister: The Musical.  I was not the type to meet a stranger in
his hotel room.  My experience up to this point had all been with
guys I had dated.  The sex had never been casual.  I wasn't sure
how I felt about having an anonymous encounter, but I banished
any fantasies in my head about this turning in to anything more.
I just met the guy.  But he was so fucking cute.  I took a look
at myself in the mirror.

My blond hair, which hung straight to just above my shoulders
seemed to be behaving.  I had shaved before work, so my face was
still pretty smooth.  I wasn't exactly wearing my sexiest outfit,
but my light blue ribbed t-shirt was at least clean as it clung
to my slightly defined body.  I debated asking Jenny if my ass
looked okay in my jeans, but decided against it.

"What's with you tonight?" she asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
"You got a date or something?"

"No," I lied.  "Going straight home."  We finished cleaning up
and I grabbed a six pack of beer and followed Jenny out the door.
The hotel was a couple blocks down the street, so I decided to
leave my car at the club.  I pretended to fumble with my keys
until Jenny had pulled out, then checking to make sure she was
gone, I headed off down the street to the hotel, my heart
threatening to crack my ribs with its beating.

"I want you to fuck me."  The words banged around in my head.  I
could feel his mouth next to me ear, the sweet hot breath. I
tried to shake it off so I could keep walking without falling on
my face.

It was a nice hotel.  Not luxury, but not a fleabag either.  I
found room 134, took a deep breath and knocked.  The door opened
almost immediately.

Jonas stood before me, his shaggy brown hair wet from what I
assumed was a shower. He wore an orange t-shirt which clung to
his pecs and abs.  His baggy cargo pants did me no such favors.
But he still had his glasses on.  Mmmmm.

"Hey," he said.  "I was afraid you weren't going to come."

"Well, that remains to be seen," was what my gutter mind wanted
to say.  But I settled instead on, "I said I would."  He stepped
back and opened the door, letting me in.  I think he took a
moment to appraise my ass.

"I brought some beer.  You want one?" I asked, setting the six
pack on a small round table on the side of the room.

"Um, no thanks.  I kinda want to be sober for this.  Don't want
anything impairing my memory.  Plus, you make a damn strong Gin
and Tonic."  He smiled at me.  I left the beer alone.  Staying
sober sounded great.

"Um," I said, "I've never done anything like this. I mean, gone
to some guy's motel room."

"Neither have I," he said.

"Yeah right. You're with the band." I smiled at him.

"I'm not saying I haven't had opportunities, but." He looked deep
in my eyes.  "You want to listen to some music?" He seemed a
little bit nervous, not quite as in command as he was in the
alley.  It was endearing.

"Sure."  I sat down in a chair as he walked over to a small
portable stereo.  His ass? Firm and beautiful. "Can I take my
shoes off?"

"Please," he said, smiling. "You like Lou Reed?" I told him I
did.  As "Sweet Jane" began, he walked to the center of the room.

"Come here," he said softly.  I rose and walked toward him.  We
stood, six inches from each other, our eyes locked on each other.
I felt his hand brush up my bare arm and under my short sleeve.
I reached my hand up and ran my fingers through his slightly damp
hair, then pulled his mouth to mine.

Our open mouths touched softly and I could feel his stubble
tickle around my lips.  It wasn't coarse, but soft and sensual.
His mouth was warm, enveloping my tongue like a soft stick of
butter.  He sucked on my tongue as our hands and arms began
stroking and caressing each others' upper bodies.  His back
muscles were firm and defined.  And his hands were strong and
determined.  As our kiss grew deeper and deeper he grabbed my ass
and smashed our bodies together.

"You are so fucking hot," he said as my hands moved under his
shirt and touched his bare skin.  He lifted his arms so I could
take his shirt off.  His pale white skin offset dark, hard
nipples on firm, slightly defined pecs.  There was a tiny bit of
soft dark hair between them.  His body was perfect.  I
immediately put my mouth on his shoulder and tasted him.  He was
clean, but there was no hiding the salty, sweaty musk.  I lapped
at him as my mouth closed over his skin.

"Lift your arms," he said.  I complied.  I felt his hands graze
the bare skin as he grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it
over my head.  We stood there, shirtless and locked in an intense
stare.  His hand came up and he ran his fingers through the hair
covering my chest.

"I love chest hair," he cooed as he used both hands to massage my
pecs.  I smiled. "And these dimples."  He took his index finger
and traced the smile lines in my face.  His finger traced over my
lips, pulling the lower one down a bit.  Then it made it's way
down my neck as I threw my head back.  His finger continued its
way down my body, making detours to gently flick each nipple,
then down over my stomach, into my navel and through my trail to
the button fly of my jeans.  He fumbled with it a bit, then
closed his mouth around my Adam's apple.

My hands were sliding all over his bare back.  He turned me so my
back was to the bed, then walked me back.  His strong arms
supported me as my knees bent and we fell onto the bed. I was on
my back and he laid to one side, his leg entwined with my own.
He propped his head up and stared into my eyes and his hand
continued stroking my chest hair.

"You're beautiful, Sam."  Hearing my name in that Jack Daniels
voice of his spread a warmth throughout my body.

"Oh, God, so are you, Jonas." I whispered.  He closed his mouth
over mine again and kissed me with a new force.  He hoisted his
body up and now lay directly in top of me, our tethered cocks
rubbing together slowly.  He kissed my cheek and ear, then gently
bit into my earlobe.  I let out a sigh.  He was the least selfish
lover I had ever had.  He kissed down my jawline, then positioned
himself.  His hot breath caused my nipple to stand straight up.
He closed his mouth around it and gently sucked, his tongue
slathering back and forth.  He turned his attention to the other
nipple until both were wet, hot and hard.  I felt his nimble
fingers undoing the buttons on my jeans. He was playing me like a
bass guitar, but then what did I expect? I lifted myself up as he
pulled my jeans down leaving me only in my white cotton briefs.

"I see someone's been a little excited," he smirked, eyeing the
wet spot where my cock had leaked.  His leaned down and licked
it.  My cock jumped.  "Mmmm, you taste good."  He closed his
mouth around my bulge.

"Take `em off.  Please, take `em off," I begged.  He closed his
teeth around the waistband and pulled them down, my cock
springing free.  I lifted myself up again and I was soon naked.
He raised himself up a bit and surveyed me.

"Fuck, you're hot."  He dove down and took all of my 6 and a half
inch cock into his mouth in one move.  I threw my head back and
cried out.  His throat muscles strummed all over my head as his
tongue bathed my shaft.  He started slowly moving up and down,
each time sending me deeper inside him and deeper into ecstasy.

"Stop," I said breathlessly. "I'm having all the fun."

"I wouldn't say that," he said as my cock slid out of his mouth.

"Lay down," I said, turning on my side.  He obliged.  I leaned in
and kissed him. "You want me to work your nipples a bit?"

"No, please take my pants off."  He was practically begging.  I
slid down and placed both my hands on his fabric belt,
unfastening it with a lot less flair than he had done mine.  As I
unzipped his pants I was surprised to find that he wasn't wearing
underwear.  I looked up and his eyes glinted.  Bushy brown hair
was poking up everywhere.  He raised his ass and I pulled his
pants down and off.  His cock, about the same length as mine,
stared right up at me.  It was thin, veiny with a large mushroom
head.  And the slight curve to it made me immediately think of my
hard to reach places.

I kneeled down on the floor between his legs and looked up, past
balls and gorgeous cock, through his thick bush to his sparkling
green eyes, still hiding behind those adorable glasses.  I smiled
and snaked out my tongue to tease his balls.  He closed his eyes
and bit his lip and sighed.  I opened my mouth and took his large
right ball in my mouth, feeling the coarse hair and smooth skin
moving all over my tongue.  When it was sufficiently wet, I
turned my attention to the other one.

"I love that," he cooed.  I sucked harder.  His cock had a thick
undershaft which drove me wild.  I barely touched it with the tip
of my tongue and he moaned again.  I traced my way up to the
head, slowly.  Then I closed my lips around the head and
slathered it with my tongue.  I opened my throat and millimeter
by millimeter took his deep in my mouth.

"Holy shit," he moaned.  I held him in as long as I could, using
every part of my mouth to caress him. "Sam, I want you to fuck
me.  Please."

I wordlessly released his cock and licked his balls again, then,
spreading his cheeks, made my way down his perineum.  His pink
rosebud stared at me, challenging all of my love-making skill.  I
pointed my tongue and got it, bull's-eye, right in the center.
He let out a huge, baritone scream.  This boy had one sensitive
ass.  I licked back and forth, soft, then hard.  He continued to
pant and moan.  I rolled my tongue and started pushing inside
him.  His hole at first was having none of it, but then suddenly
opened and let me in.  I slowly pushed back and forth.

"Here," he said gutturally, throwing me a condom and some lube.
I put some lube on my finger and spread it around his hole,
gently spreading it inside his slowly relaxing hole.  I tore open
the condom and prepared to unfurl it on my pulsing cock.

"No, let me," he pleaded.  I stood up and walked over to the side
of the bed. He took the condom and then with both hands slowly
spread it down my cock.  His strong fingers touching every nerve
ending I had.

"You want it fast or slow?" I asked.

"I just want it inside me."  I moved back down between his legs.
I grabbed him at the ankles and lifted his legs over my
shoulders, taking the time run my fingers up and down his hairy
shins and calves.  I positioned my cock right in front of his
hole, then leaned forward and he took the head in.  I hoped the
rooms next door were empty because he was screaming at the top of
his lungs.  I felt the warmth of his tight hole envelope me as I
slid into him, moving at the speed of molasses.  His muscles
tensed and relaxed all over my shaft as our bodies melted
together.  Finally I felt my bush pushed against my skin by his
body.  I looked down at his white skin.  The firm hints of ab
muscles, the tiny patch of hair on his chest, the dark, hard
nipples.  Then I looked into his eyes and saw them staring back
at me.  I could see deep inside him.  I leaned down and he pushed
himself up until our mouths met in a soft, wet kiss.  He lay back
down and I slowly pulled myself out of him until just my head was
in.  Then I pushed myself back in, then out again.  In, out, in
out.  Slowly gaining momentum.

"Oh God, that is so good," he moaned.

"Your ass is so wonderful," I breathed back, my own breath
becoming ragged.  I thrust in and out of him faster and faster.
His moans gave way back to screams.  I couldn't keep myself quiet
either, letting out deep moans and nasal squeaks and he started
pushing himself into my cock.

The force of our fucking was causing our bodies to slap together
loudly.  We were screaming and grunting.  Each in our own
ecstatic worlds, yet feeling like we had become one body at the
same time.  As I thrust deeper and harder, his own moans became
higher and more ragged.

"I'm gonna come!" he squeaked, his voice full of need.  I
immediately enveloped his cock with my lubed hand and started
stroking him fast.  As his voice gave way to the unmistakable
sounds of orgasm, my own cock unleashed a torrent of warm cum
inside him.  Ropes of cum shot out of him and all over his chest.
I kept thrusting and stroking, both of us crying out.  As the
waves of cum gave way to gentle ripples, our breathing relaxed
and I collapsed on top of him.  I moved myself to pull out.

"No, leave it in, Sam," he whispered into my ear, kissing the
lobe gently.  I obliged, just laying there feeling his warm
sweaty body against mine.  My cock took a while to soften as I
listened to his breathing.  Finally it fell out with a gentle
plop.  He turned his head and looked at me.  A wide, contented
smile spreading across his pink lips.  I smiled back.

"You don't have to go home tonight, do you?" he asked.

"No," I answered, a little surprised.  I didn't ever want to go
home.  He wriggled out from under me and stood up.

"Why don't you get in bed."  He walked over and turned out the
light.  Seeing his lithe naked body in the light of the
streetlight outside made blood run back to my dick.  I undid the
covers from the bed and slid inside. They felt warm and soft on
my naked body.  He flicked off the stereo and walked to the bed,
pulling the covers up.

As I felt him slide over to me and drape his arm and leg over my
body all the tension in my muscles seemed to float up and out of
the room.

"That was amazing," he sighed.

"Yeah, you're wonderful, Jonas."  He took his glasses off and set
them on the nightstand.  He turned back and looked into my eyes.

"I want to know you, Sam."  Suddenly my heart lurched a bit into
my throat. "Maybe this doesn't have to be a one-time thing."
There was a tenderness in his voice, and a little fear and
nervousness too.  I barely knew this guy.  I knew more about the
inside of his ass than I did his childhood but something in my
chest told me that would change.  I was suddenly thinking about
fate.

"I want to know you, too."  He smiled and kissed me tenderly.  We
melted into it, like it was our first kiss.  He laid his head on
my chest and I stroked his hair.

We lay there talking for a couple more hours, trying to learn as
much about each other.  He was smart and we laughed quite a bit.
We found out we were the same age, 23.  We both had arts degrees
which meant menial labor until we hit it big.  And the thing we
both wanted more than anything was to fall in love.  As his
breathing on my chest faded into sleep, I had a strange feeling
we would both get out wish.



The Bartender and the Bass Player, part 2


I awoke the next morning from a deep, dreamless sleep.  I lay on
my back and I felt Jonas's head still nestled on my chest and his
legs braided with mine.  I looked down at him, smelling his hair.
I didn't have much expertise in these situations, but I didn't
think it was usual for the morning after a casual encounter to
feel so safe.

Jonas stirred and lifted his head up to look at me.  Our eyes met
and he ducked down to softly kiss my collarbone.

"Morning," he said, his voice deep.  "You sleep okay?"

"I slept great.  You?"

"Oh, yeah.  Didn't crowd you or anything?"

"Not at all," I said, pulling him closer to me to drive home the
point.  He laid his head back down and stroked my chest hair.  We
lay there a moment in comfortable silence.

"Um," he said with a sheepish lilt. "You have anywhere to be
today?"  Last night's confidence was replaced by an adorable
shyness.

"Nope. It's my day off.  You?"

"Not till 9 o'clock.  We have another show.  You wanna hang out?"

"I'd love to," I said, stroking his shaggy brown hair and
tickling his ears a bit.  "What do you wanna do?"

Suddenly he pounced up and landed on top of me, straddling my
naked body with his own.  The bed bounced up and down and I let
out a giggle.

"This," he said, leaning in to give me a sweet kiss.  I opened my
mouth and let his tongue explore, then gently pushed my own
tongue into his mouth.  He sucked playfully at my lower lip then
raised up and looked deep into my eyes.  "You're beautiful," he
said.

"So are you, babe," I rasped, a little choked up.

"Ooh!" he said, jumping off of me and throwing the covers back.
He put his glasses on and ran over to the wall opposite the bed.
I looked at his milky white ass.  It was firm and hairless, with
dimples like ice cream scoops on either side.  He bent over and
grabbed his acoustic guitar.  Slinging it over his shoulder, he
turned around.  There he stood, naked, with only the shiny brown
guitar and his Buddy Holly glasses to hide behind.  I think I
fell in love with him right there.   He tensed his body, raised
his left hand above his head, then swooshed it down and strummed
fiercely across the strings.  He repeated the motion a few times
then broke in to a familiar riff I couldn't quite place.  I
laughed and sat up in the bed as he began to dance around, his
face screwing up into a visage of pure concentration.  His knees
bent as he tensed up for a particularly tricky lick. It was the
sexiest mother-fucking thing I had ever seen.  As he finished the
song he looked up at me and smiled.

"You are so sexy, dude," I said, shaking my head at him in
disbelief.  A twinkle crossed his eye and he settled himself and
started playing an intro to a song I recognized.  Then his voice
began.  It was soft and sweet, with just a hint of nasal twang.
I felt it pour into my ears like some sweet, intoxicating liquor.

"Look at the stars.look how they shine for you," he sang, his
eyes never leaving my own. "And everything you do.yeah, they were
all yellow."  The words and the song were familiar but they had
never made me feel like this.  It was as if we were the only two
people in the universe, locked and spinning around each other in
a perfect moment.  I wanted to leap up and make love to him right
then, but didn't want to moment to end.

"I drew a line.I drew a line for you."  His voice was beautiful.
He was wasting his time as a bass player, he deserved his own
band.  As he moved in to the instrumental bridge, he started
slowly walking toward me.  It was an oddly theatrical move. One
which, if I had seen in a movie, would have seemed cheesy.  But
it didn't. It was wonderful.

As he finished the lyrics he leaned in and kissed me.  He stood
straight and took the guitar off, then laid back down next to me
on the bed.  I lay on my side and looked into his eyes.

"You're won-" I started, but he put a finger to my lips.  Then he
leaned down and kissed me on the forehead.

"Why don't you go take a shower, then we'll go get something to
eat."  His fingers filtered through my hair.

"I'd rather if you came with me," I said, my lust overpowering
me.

"Don't ruin the surprise," he said playfully, tousling my hair.
I smiled and got up, walking toward the bathroom.

"Goddamn, that's a cute butt," he said as I walked away.  I shot
him a smiling glance over my shoulder as I stepped into the
bathroom.



I stood under the warm water, feeling it wash down my body.  I
ducked my head under the shower and wet my hair.  The shower was
a large rectangular tub, bigger than average.  Sliding glass
doors sat to one side.  I saw Jonas's silhouette through the
frosted glass.  The door slid open and he stepped in, setting a
large bar of soap on a small ledge.

He stepped toward me and took my face in his hands.  As our
mouths met I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him in.  The
water now ran off both our bodies.  He broke the kiss and ducked
his head under the shower, opening his mouth so some of the water
pooled and ran down his chin.  He swallowed and drew me into a
firm, wet kiss.

"Turn around, baby." He said and I obliged. We positioned
ourselves so his back was to the shower head and mine was to him.
I felt his open mouth on the nape of my neck. As I closed my
eyes, he made his way over my shoulder, his tongue lapping all
the way.

"Fuck me. Please, dude." I whispered hoarsely.

I felt his mouth right next to my ear as he hissed sexily into
it. "You're gonna have to be patient."  He gave my earlobe and
gentle kiss.

I felt the bar of soap on the opposite shoulder.  Applying a bit
of pressure, he started swirling it around on my back.  I could
feel the lather develop and spread.  Some of it started trickling
down the small of my back.  He caressed me with the soap, moving
in larger and larger circles all over my back.  Then I felt his
hands move up and start washing down my right arm, then my left.
He took time to massage my shoulders a bit and I felt the tension
flow out of me and, carried by the water cascading down our
bodies, spin down the drain.

He told me to turn around and I stood, facing him.  Our eyes
locked as he started lathering up my right pec.  He leaned in a
sucked my left nipple.  I let out a sigh.  As he had done on my
back, he swirled the bar around and around, the thick lather
getting caught up in my chest hair.  Then he took my hand and
raised my arm above my head.  Our fingers locked  as he gently
stroked my armpit, then slid the bar down my soft under-arm.  He
repeated this on the other arm, but this time leaned in to suck a
bit on my neck.  When my entire upper body was covered in suds,
he kneeled before me.

"Hold on to something," he commanded.  I grabbed the top of the
shower door.  I prepared myself for his mouth, but was surprised
when he knelt down and took my right foot in his hands.  I wasn't
prepared for the sensations as he soaped it up, then moved in
swirls up my leg to my inner thighs.  He grazed my balls and I
let out a little moan.  He set my leg down, then went for the
other one, repeating the process. But, this time when he reached
my balls, he took them into his hands and started fondling them.

I felt his hands flit through my bush as he moved the soap all
around.  Finally, all but my dick was covered in foam.  He rubbed
the bar in his hands, building a strong, creamy lather.  Then he
wrapped both of his hands around my cock.  I bit my lip and
sighed loudly through my teeth.

He moved his lubricated hands back and forth on my cock, trying
to keep the whole thing covered, like the grip of a baseball
hitter.  As his hands moved faster and faster and he fumbled with
my balls with his thumbs, my groans of pleasure became louder and
louder.  My body was spasming and my hips were involuntarily
thrusting back and forth.

"Dude, stop, I'm gonna come." I begged.  But he just picked up
his pace.  Waves of joy ripped through my body as every nerve I
had seemed to start at my cock.  He continued to stroke.
"Please."

I let out a choked gulp as I felt the orgasm reach critical mass.
Streams of cum shot out of my cock, hitting his chest and face.
Some of it landed in his open, waiting mouth.  He kept stroking
to the point where my eyes rolled back and I almost passed out.
When I was spent, he gently released my softening cock.  He
looked at me with all the smarm he could muster and licked his
lips.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, ashamed at my lack of stamina.

"For what?" he asked, incredulous. "For that?  Don't ever
apologize for that.  I just wanted you good and relaxed for phase
two."

"Phase two?" I raised an eyebrow at him.  He stood up gently
grabbed my lower lip in his mouth.

"Turn around and lean over," he told me.  I didn't need to be
told twice.  I felt the water hit the back of my neck and run
down my back.  He got on his knees behind me.  Holding the soap
in his hand, he began soaping up my right cheek as he kissed the
left.  I felt him spread the lather all around one side, then the
other.  He took the bar and soaped the beginning of my crack.

Then, placing his other hand on my back, he pushed me down so
that my hole was exposed to him.  The bar stroked slowly down my
crack, but did not touch my hole.  He repeated, moving the bar
back and forth, each time getting closer and closer to my hole.
Finally, I felt it graze my rosebud and I let out a grunt.

"Relax," he said in a claming tone.  "Just relax."  It was hard
with the attention he was paying to me, but I tried to oblige.
Finally I heard him set the bar of soap down and I felt one soapy
finger peek into my hole.  He pistoned it in and out at a glacial
pace as I heard a condom wrapper open.

He stood slowly and lined himself up. "Now, I want you to breathe
deep.  Stay as relaxed as you can.  I wanna slow-fuck you as long
as we can."

"Okay."  I was so turned on, and my voice was so breathy, I'm not
even sure if he heard me.  I felt his head lightly tease my hole.
I took a deep breath, trying to relax every muscle in my body,
and especially that one.  My hole opened up as he slowly pushed
the head in.  I let out a noise consisting entirely of "n"s,
building in volume and intensity as he moved in.

Then, like a film moving a frame at a time, I felt his shaft push
further and further into me.  His pace was constant, rhythmic.
One more perk of having a musician inside me.  His bush gently
pushed up against my ass and then I felt his body contact mine.
He pushed a millimeter further and my body erupted in what felt
like cool, blue sparks.  He had touched something, found a hidden
panel, and unleashed what felt like cool blue fireworks in every
part of my body.  I tensed and let out a loud, ecstatic scream.

"Relax, baby," he said, his hands caressing my back muscles
gingerly. My lungs filled with air again and I slowly exhaled.
Then, just as slowly and perfectly as his cock had slid in, he
slid it out.  His pace was constant and I could feel his hot
breath on my back.  It was taking all the concentration either of
us had not to just start fucking like rabbits.

I felt his cock slide methodically back in.  He reached an arm
around and pulled me into his chest.  Like a Swiss clock, he
would push in, then pull out, resting each time for a precise
measure of time.  I wondered if a song was running through his
head.  Each time he was in to the hilt, the same wave of sparks
flicked through my body.

"Nice and slow, baby.  I want you to feel everything."  I was
melting.  It felt like the only part of my body not liquefied was
my hard, throbbing cock.  The steady rhythm of his cock was
sending my brain into a reverie.  It was as if thick, cloudy
tendrils were lifting us up as one body, letting us float freely
in space.  I'm not sure how long we spent slow-fucking. It could
have been seconds, it could have been hours.  Time meant nothing.
The details of my life up to this point meant nothing.  All that
mattered was this beautiful man inside me.

"I'm getting close," he whispered, but his pace never wavered.  I
felt a soapy hand engulf my cock and stroke, in lock step with
his cock.  Our breaths became short and each one carried a soft
grunt with it.  With monkish control, Jonas slid in and out and
stroked back and forth.  He was fully collapsed against my body
now.  I was afraid any moment we would both turn to jelly and
fall on the shower floor.

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss," he hissed
and I felt warmth emanate from the head of his cock.  This set me
off in turn.  Focusing only on staving off any tension in my
body, I felt hot pulses of pleasure shoot up my shaft and
throughout my body.  I was coming, but it was unlike any orgasm I
had ever had.  The cum didn't shoot out, it just sort of
dribbled.  It was soft and intense. And, I decided, it was the
purest joy I had ever experienced.

Jonas kept himself inside me as he lay on my back, breathing
slowly. "That was amazing," he said, his voice dripping like
honey.

"Yeah," was all my exhausted brain could come up with.  We stayed
there, letting the water pound against us, for a few minutes
until his soft cock slid from my hole.  My hole ached at the
loss.  Slowly we rose up.  I turned around and met his deep gaze
with my own.  We leaned into each other, but we did not kiss.
Instead, we wrapped each other in a warm, exhausted hug. It took
us awhile to finally catch our breath.

After a few moments, we stepped out of the shower and softly
wrapped towels around each other until we were dry.  We walked
out and collapsed on top of each other in bed.

"We seem to be going in circles," I said after a moment, smirking
at him as my hands wrapped around his back.

"Yeah," he said.  "You hungry?"

"Little bit," I said as my stomach, with perfect comic timing
growled fiercely.  He rubbed my belly and lay his head on my
chest.

"Sam," he said a slight quaver in his voice.  "Am I crazy." He
trailed off, not finishing the thought.

"No," I said.  "I don't either of us is crazy."

We lay there for a few more minutes, then dressed and walked to
the hotel restaurant to get lunch.  We were each still buzzing
around in a cloud as we talked, getting to know each other
better, parroting back each other's life story to make sure we
had the details right.  His dream was to move to New York and
start his own band.  New York sounded fine to me.

As we stood at the podium paying for our meals, he reached over
and took my hand, squeezing it. We spent the rest of the day
laying in bed, talking and listening to music.  Naturally, he had
very good taste in music and he began testing me on bands and
songs. I passed with fairly high marks which impressed him.  The
evening we undressed each other and climaxed, just rubbing or
bodies together.

"When are you coming back to town," I asked as his 9 o'clock
appointment approached.

"Two months," he answered, sadly.

"Shit," I said.

"I take it you'd like to see me when I get back?" he asked,
smiling.

"Hell, yeah." I said.

When it was time, he walked me back to my car.  We stood beside
it facing each other.  He leaned in and gave me a tender kiss as
the van containing his bandmates pulled in to the parking lot.
It didn't phase him as he placed his hands on my head and drew me
into a deeper kiss.

I did see him again in two months.  And we wrote or talked nearly
every day in between.  We spent as much time together as we could
when he was in town.  Sometimes, if his tour dates were close
enough I would drive out and see him.

In fact, the first time he told me he loved me was as we lay
together, wrapped in blankets, on a bare stage in a club across
state.  The words hit me with such force that I lost my breath.
They immediately filled me with a contented warmth.  But my skin
suddenly became gooseflesh.

"Okay, don't answer," he said as I lay in silence.

I lifted my head up, looked him in the eyes and smiled. "Sorry,"
I said. "I was just processing how good it feels to hear that.
The fact that I love you?  I've known that for a long time."  He
pulled me in a little tighter and smiled broadly.

We did end up moving to New York and he started his own band.
Our apartment was a dump, but the bed was nice and that was
really all that mattered.  Sure, we had our fights.  He has a
strange obsession with the location of the TV Guide.  But they
were tiny and faded quickly.  Sometimes I would just stare at him
and think, "Is this Him?  Is this the one?"  I was amazed at my
incredible luck.

And tonight, as I felt him inside me, a feeling which is now
familiar but feels, each time, powerfully new, I asked myself the
question again.

And as he leaned down to kiss me, as I felt his soft pink lips on
mine, I knew.  I just knew.



The End.