Date: Sat, 01 May 1999 21:38:22 PDT From: Buck Man <buckinbc@hotmail.com> Subject: "First Edition" (M/M) This story contains graphic scenes of sex between consenting adult males. If this is not to your taste, don't read any further. This is intended for mature adults, please don't read if you are under the age of 18. First Edition "Hi". I was leaning across the old wooden counter, my head propped in one hand. My fingers were idly circling my temple, easing away the remnants of a headache. It was almost the end of another long slow day. The air conditioning was on the fritz again. We were in the middle of a heat wave. Nine days so far with temperatures above ninety degrees. I had propped the door to the bookstore open. A vain attempt at air circulation. A big standing fan wheezed and coughed behind me. A little shock of grudging cool air passed over my sweat drenched back every few seconds. With the door open, the bell didn't ring. That was why I didn't hear you. I looked up and felt my bowel clench with a slow, hot, queasy sort of spasm. Wow! I think my heart actually did skip one beat. You looked like you stepped out of one of my fantasies. For a moment I wondered if maybe you had. The heat, the headache. Maybe I'm hallucinating. A dark angel straight out of some romantic gothic novel. Hair black as night and your eyes... Holy shit! Your eyes are violet. I have never in my life seen violet eyes. I stared into their depths and felt lost. You looked to be in your mid twenties. A little shorter than my own 6'2" your body sleek and toned. Long smooth definition nicely displayed in cutoffs and muscle shirt. Sleek, tanned and firm. The bulge in your shorts looked impressive, too. You smiled, sort of lopsided and questioning. "Hi?" "Uh, Hi." Great beginning. Good way to start, Buck. He'll think you're a moron. You held out your hand, looking at me with one raised eyebrow, waiting. Coming to my senses I extended my own hand, my palm sweating. I hoped you'd think it was the heat. We shook. Your hand was dry and firm. "Dash." I blinked, not understanding. "Well, Dashiell actually, but with a name like that..." Great. Buck and Dash. It would never work. "Buck. Can I help you with something?" Order a first edition, find you a rare tome - suck you off? "I hope so. A friend of mine suggested I come here. I'm looking for a book as a gift. Gary said you always provided him with great service, so..." "Gary Young?" I felt my face turning pink. The kind of service I provided to Gary didn't involve books. "Yes. I believe his exact words were 'He's remarkable at providing exactly what I need'. I'm hoping you can do the same for me." I felt my jeans tighten up in the crotch. Gary, you bastard, I'm gonna kill you. I pulled a pad of paper towards me. "What are you looking for?" "The Maltese Falcon." "Ah, Dashiell Hammet, of course. First edition?" "Yes. Do you think you can get it?" "I've had a lot of luck with my sources in the past. I'll do my best to get it for you. When do you need it?" "My Dad's 50th birthday is next month." I hesitated. "Not enough time?" "The shipping alone can take longer than that." Your face fell in disappointment. I rushed on, wanting to see that smile again. "But we can have it shipped express. It'll cost more, though." There it was. Soft white light in your tanned face. "That's Okay. I'd be happy to pay the extra shipping to get it here on time." I glanced at the clock. Too late to start calling today. My best suppliers were back East or overseas and it was five o'clock now. I took your phone number and promised a call as soon as I heard something. "Great!" Your face was beaming now. "Gary said you were a nice guy. I have to agree with him." "Thanks." I felt that pink glow again. I couldn't stop the vision of Gary spread-eagled on my bed as I bent over him, my head bobbing. "He said you never fail to satisfy him." If I had been drinking something I would have spewed it out in a big cloud the way they do in those comedies. My face flamed red this time. Gary, you fuck. I was very glad of the counter between us. The huge swell in my crotch would have been more than obvious. I mumbled some gibbering, inane remark. "Well, thanks." You extended your hand again. "Don't thank me yet." We shook and you turned away. My eyes dropped to the firmness of your ass, appreciating the bunch and flow as you walked away. You turned at the door with a final wave. I moved swiftly to the door and pulled the shade with the Closed sign on it and locked up. I hit the button that lowered the security blinds and made a bee line for the stairs leading up to my apartment. My hand was already pressed against my tight crotch. The look and the smell of you filled my vision. I took the stairs two at a time. The apartment was blessedly cool. The air conditioner here was new. By the time I hit the couch, my jeans were already open, my hand sliding inside. My legs spread wide, one hooked over the back of the couch, one foot flat on the floor. I moaned loudly as I eased my thick cock and big balls out of their tight confines. Black hair and violet eyes hovered over me. Tight firm muscles. Smooth tanned skin. Beautiful soft mouth with those perfect white teeth gleaming. "Oh, Shit!" With just a few short strokes I was shooting onto my chest. The blasts hitting my chin and neck. As I lay there limp and replete I heard a voice from the bedroom. "You at it again?" I rolled my head toward the partially opened door. "Mind your own business, Samson." A huge, enraged squawk followed. "Alright, alright." I slipped off the couch and tucked my meat back into my jeans, tugging off my T-shirt and using it to clean off the last of the cum. One corner of the bedroom held a large shallow sandbox with a big wooden jungle gym in the centre. My sulfur-crested Cockatoo hung upside down from one of the upper rungs, staring at me balefully. "You at it again?" An eerie facsimile of my own voice. A phrase he had picked up from me when I kept catching him humping the end of his perch. "Hello, Samson." He swayed excitedly as I extended a hand, his strong claws gripping my fingers. I draped my T-shirt over one shoulder and he sat there happily as I kicked off my shoes and dropped my jeans to the floor. "Want to take a shower?" His head bobbed. He loved the shower. I had worked long, hard hours renovating the rooms above the store and now had a large, open apartment. Big, airy rooms and a bathroom my friends were envious of. I had installed a huge Jacuzzi tub. Big enough for fun and games. The shower was a large open enclosure with showerheads from two directions and a tiled bench wide enough to fuck on. Only a sleek curved glass block wall hid the occupant from view. A toilet and a urinal took up another enclosure. The wall behind the Jacuzzi was glass block as well. Ferns and flowering plants hung thick and lush from exposed beams. A huge skylight took up a big piece of ceiling. I placed Samson on the high edge of the glass wall where he paraded up and down while he serenaded me with Phil Collins tunes. I turned both jets on and soaped and soaked beneath their soothing spray. Heaven. The only thing missing was a violet-eyed angel to scrub my back. Samson fluttered down onto the bench and flopped around like a drowning duck under the warm water. His body spread out like a big limp feather duster. I felt the tingle of arousal again and moved my hand to slowly corkscrew up and down my shaft, feeling it thicken and lengthen under my palm. Leaning my shoulders back against the glass block, my feet spread wide, I jacked slowly. I moaned and Samson shouted, "You at it again?" "Shut up, Samson." "Shut up." "Fuck you, man." "Fuck you. Oooooooohhhh!" His strangely human voice imitating my moaning cries. I laughed and quickly finished myself off. Samson groomed himself while I made a light supper, love songs oozing out of the stereo speakers. The two of us shared a salad, but Samson preferred millet to my chicken. As I was finishing the dishes my intercom buzzed. Two short quick bursts. Gary. "What do you want?" "Is that any way to talk to your old Yente?" A reference to the matchmaker in Fiddler on the Roof. Yente, my ass. I hit the button to release the downstairs door and heard him running up the stairs a few seconds later. He burst into the apartment with his usual aplomb, dumping his backpack on the floor by the door and swinging his head around as though searching for something. "Where is he? You got him tied down to the bed already?" "Screw you." His smiled broadened as his eyebrows wiggled at me. I rolled my eyes. "Grow up. Where did you meet that guy, Gary?" "He roomed with my brother Graham in college. Pretty hot, huh?" I couldn't argue that. "Is he gay?" "Don't know. Graham said the girls were all over Dash at school. He never saw any action with him though." Graham and Gary were both happily bi-sexual. Graham was married now. Gary was still playing the field. "Why haven't you made a move on him?" Gary polished an apple out of the fruit basket on his shirtsleeve and rummaged in my fridge for a coke. "I hinted around enough. He never picked up on it. Or maybe he wasn't interested. Who knows?" We moved into the living room and Gary produced a video out of his pack. "The newest from Stud Studios 'Eat My Dick, Cocksucker'. Sounds good. Let's watch it." He waved the garish looking case around in front of me. "It's not called that." I snatched it away from him. "Hmmm. 'Eat My Dick, Cocksucker'. You're right." Gary was always digging up some awful cheesy gay porn. I'd asked him where he managed to find such a plethora of erotic crap, but he refused to reveal his sources. I popped the tape into the machine and turned off the stereo. The videos Gary provided were often more amusing than arousing. This one was especially so. An amateur effort if ever I saw one, the sound quality so bad it needed subtitles. The 'star' was obviously picked on the merits of his horse cock and not for any acting ability. Pieces of the set kept falling over; crewmembers were caught sneaking around in the background trying to make spot repairs. During a 'passionate love scene' someone could be heard shouting "Who wants what for lunch?" over the moans of the principles. We laughed until I thought I was going to pee myself. When the video ended, to our resounding applause, Gary leaned over and whispered lovingly in my ear. "Eat my dick, cocksucker." I turned my head so that our mouths met. We kissed, long and slow and with the ease of familiarity. He stood up and pulled me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me. Our lips stayed locked together as he walked me slowly backward toward the bedroom. Sex with Gary was sort of like having a sleep over with your best buddy. He could make me laugh as hard as he could make me cum. We had no great passion for each other. We were convenient sexual partners. Our friendship was augmented by our sex life. He was the best friend I'd ever had. I was always thrilled for Gary when he found a new partner, male or female, as he was for me. We would break off our sexual relations and see each other only as friends. It didn't usually take long after a break up for us to wind up back in bed together. I lay sprawled in bed the next morning listening to Gary singing lustily in the shower. We had made love vigorously the night before. Gary loved to 69, but wasn't too hot on fucking. Consequently, we have raised cocksucking to an art form. Both of us are very passionate and vocal in bed. Samson had yelped and squealed along with us until we turned the light off and he finally fell to sleep on his perch. Gary walked naked out of the bathroom and knelt on the bed beside me, throwing off the thin sheet and swallowing my half-hard cock in one swift move. My back arched up off the mattress at the sudden contact. "Jesus!" He pulled his mouth off as suddenly as he had advanced and jumped up. "Time to get up!" I looked down at my cock, now risen to full attention. "I am up". "Better go take care of that, man. It's obscene." I grumbled as I rolled out of bed, my hand, nursing my pulsing dick. "Gary, you can be such a bastard." "I know." He slapped me sharply on the ass as I passed him on the way to the bathroom. When I got out of the shower, Gary was downing the last of his coffee, dressed and ready to leave. He kissed me quickly. The taste of coffee and toothpaste mingled strongly. "Call me in a few days and let me know what's going on with young Dash." I spent the next three days sweltering in the bookstore, making phone calls and waiting for customers who obviously had better things to do. The air conditioning repairman showed up finally and worked on the tired system. I had one day of blissful coolness before it conked out again. By mid-afternoon on the third day I had found a copy of the book you wanted at a specialty shop on Long Island. I worked out the details of the transaction over the phone and then found the number you had given me. Feeling as nervous as a virgin I dialed. Disappointment was huge. I got your voice mail; an anonymous female advising me you weren't available, to please leave a message. I gave you a brief synopsis of the situation, price, availability, etc. "If you're interested, I'll need a deposit in order to get the ball rolling." I left my number and my hours and hung up, feeling let down. I had just rolled down the Closed sign at five o'clock when a knock on the glass door startled me. I peeked around the blind and saw your face. That hot queasy feeling hit my stomach again. I opened the door and you hung tentatively in the entrance. "Hi again. I know you're closing up, but I just got off work and I was hoping to leave that deposit you asked for." "Sure." I stepped back to let you enter, leaving the Closed sign down and the door unlocked. I would have let you in if you had shown up with two huge bruisers and announced they were a couple of Mafia goons here to shake me down for protection money. You were euphoric and didn't even raise an eyebrow at the price. I assured you that I was informed the book was in excellent condition and would be arriving within the week. "Thanks a lot for your help. This is great. I only have one problem." Terrific. Here it comes. The I'm a starving student/artist/research volunteer with a sickly/elderly/slightly deranged younger sister/maternal grandmother/old family friend who desperately requires an abortion/surgery/long-term care story, which ends with 'I can't pay you right away'. "I usually work until five and there's no way I can drive across town and back on my lunch hour. Would it be a great inconvenience to pick the book up after hours when it arrives?" I felt almost palpable relief. "No, no problem at all. I live right above the store. You can ring the intercom and I'll buzz you up." "Great! I really appreciate it. Thanks again." And with that you were gone. The weekend was torture. On Monday morning I immediately got on the horn to the store in Long Island giving them the go ahead for the sale. Three days. Three days and I could see you again. The oppressive heat began to ease up by Tuesday. The tourist season was in full swing and the shop was doing a brisk business again. All was right with the world. On Thursday the familiar courier van pulled up out front and my heart hammered a little harder in my chest. The book was in excellent condition as promised. I left an eager message on your voice mail and waited with anticipation. You didn't come. Of course I had assumed you would come the same day the book arrived. Maybe you didn't receive the message. I toyed with the idea of calling again. No. That would look rather unprofessional and besides how long could it be? A day. One whole long, slow, torturous, aggravating day. Why do Friday's always bring the wackos out of the woodwork? I spent an hour trying to convince an elderly gentleman that there was no way I could get my hands on an original manuscript of the Bible. A woman wanted to order the entire collection of Trixie Belden mysteries for her granddaughter. Trixie Belden? Christ! By the time the day was finally over I had actually forgotten that you might be stopping in. I threw on a pair of old sweat pants with a hole torn in one knee and ordered a pizza. When the buzzer rang, I pressed the button without even answering. I left the door at the top of the stairs open while I went into the bedroom to retrieve my wallet. Samson, disturbed by my presence and peeved by my inattention, started flapping his wings and squawking. When I stepped through the bedroom doorway you were standing there in the big open room, looking around. White T-shirt and faded jeans painted onto your body. I was thankful for the loose fit of the sweat pants. I think it took me about a millisecond to pop a boner. "Hi. Wow! This place is great! Uh, sorry, the door was open, so I..." "No problem. I was just waiting for pizza." The squeal of the intercom made us both jump. I moved past you and pressed the button for the door again. The delivery boy bounded up the stairs. I paid him and laid the pizza on the table next to your book. "Here it is. Excellent condition. First edition." The book was beautiful. The way they used to print them. Leather bound with gold leaf on the edges, watered silk on the inside cover. You were thrilled. "Worth every penny." You reached for your chequebook. "Mmmmmmmm." A low moan sounded from the bedroom. Husky and masculine, a slight inflection at the end. Almost like a question. We both froze. "Mmmmmmmm. Ooooooohhhhh!" It sounded remarkably like someone having passionate sex. In my voice. Samson, I'll wring your scrawny little bird neck. I tried to smile, my face feeling hot and pinched. "Excuse me." I hurried into the bedroom. Samson stared at me with wide-eyed innocence. Not making a sound. I poured some sunflower seeds into his food dish. He always went nuts for those. I closed the bedroom door firmly behind me. "Sorry." You didn't ask and I wasn't about to volunteer. "What was the balance owing?" We both tried to get back on track. I picked up the receipt I had written up and left with the book. "Let's see. You gave me 10% on deposit..." "Oooooooohhhh!" Much louder now accompanied by a few short, grunting noises. "Suck me!" My face flamed. "I'm so sorry. It's my cockatoo." Your eyes went wide in what looked like panic, before my words soaked in. "Oh! I see. Okay." We stood awkwardly as we listened to the symphony of passion coming from behind the closed bedroom door. So far, there had been nothing incriminating, just my voice moaning in pleasure as I struggled manfully toward climax. I knew there wasn't much point in trying to shut Samson up. Once he got started, he'd keep going till he grew tired of it. "Well, this is beyond embarrassing. Let's finish this up so you can depart this den of iniquity." You laughed and we settled our business while Samson faithfully duplicated my moans and ecstatic cries at the top of his lungs. You examined the book and I accepted your cheque. I had been planning to offer you a drink or perhaps invite you to stay and share the pizza, but the activity going on in the room behind us squelched that. "This is a really great apartment. I'd love to see the rest of it." We both looked toward the bedroom door. "Uh, maybe some other time." The sounds ceased abruptly. And then came the kicker. "Eat my dick, cocksucker." I cringed. A different male voice this time. Your forehead wrinkled in confusion. I could almost see your mind working. Sounds familiar. Whose voice is that? Gary had thrown that one out repeatedly during our lovemaking. A string of phrases followed, rapidly delivered in Gary's baritone. "Oh God, Buck you're good. Suck my cock, babe. Oh yes, lick me. Eat my dick, cocksucker." If there had been any question before, it was more than obvious now that the sex being mimicked was between two men. I saw the realization in your eyes and then the recognition. "Is that Gary?" If there had been a hole in the floor I would have gladly crawled into it. My face felt like it was sunburned. I was completely and totally mortified. I wondered what roast cockatoo tasted like. "I've known Gary was bi for a long time." I looked at you, startled. You returned my gaze, your violet eyes sparkling and filled with speculation. "Does this mean I might stand a chance with you, or are you spoken for?" My erection, long since wilted sprang back into action. I delivered my most memorable line. "Huh?" You took a step toward me and I felt my knees shake. Is what I think is about to happen, really about to happen? You placed one hand on my chest and leaned toward me, keeping those extraordinary eyes locked on mine. I wet my lips just before I felt the brush of your mouth against mine. We both shivered. My mouth opened for you, letting you inside. My eyes fluttered closed. I felt your body move in close to mine. You tasted tangy and rich, your breath blowing soft against my cheek from your flaring nostrils. We swayed closer together, your hard chest pressing against me. Our tongues mated, chasing each other from my mouth to yours. "Buck?" You spoke my name softly, inquiringly. I pulled slowly away and took your hands in mine. Tugging gently I led us to the bedroom. Your violet eyes flared like amethysts. We stood close together in the cool dimness of the bedroom. I filled my nostrils with your scent. Musky and male. Irresistible. You're hands moved slowly up and down my sides. They felt warm and firm on my bare skin. Mine kneaded the tight, full muscles of your chest through your shirt. Our mouths played together, heads tilting and angling, learning each other. When your thumbs found my nipples I gasped, the shock of it slamming directly into my groin. "Let me light some candles. I want to see you." You let me go and I stepped away, my whole body shaking with need. My hands were clumsy as I fumbled with the lighter, finally lighting the three wicks in the big round candle that stood on the night table. Soft light flared up and when I turned toward you, it seemed to gleam on your golden skin. We met in the middle of the room again, your mouth pressing against my shoulder. My head fell back as you licked a trail from my throat to my aching nipple. I moaned when I felt the wet heat of your tongue. Fire sparked in my groin. Your mouth tugged and teased the little bud until I thought I'd go crazy with need. My hands worked your shirt from the waistband of your jeans, trying to burrow up inside it. You straightened and pulled the shirt quickly over your head, letting it drop to the floor. My hands were on you instantly, sliding up your taut abs to the swell of your pecs, brushing your hard little teats. We stepped together again, our flesh rubbing hard and hot against each other. Your nipples teased the sparse hair on my chest. I moaned again. You slipped your hand into the waistband of my sweatpants. My naked cock met your palm, pulsing with arousal, dripping with the evidence of my lust for you. You slid the other hand under the soft material and rhythmically squeezed the firm flesh of my ass. I shuddered and shook under your hands, clutching at your shoulders, helpless to do anything but hang on to you. Your mouth lowered to my nipples again and my back arched, offering the sensitive little morsels to your tongue. You raised your head and we kissed again, both of your hands cupping my ass as you pulled my cheeks gently apart. "Dash, I need you naked. Right now." I dropped to my knees in front of you and opened your jeans. As I slid down the zipper, a soft line of hair appeared arrowing down from your navel towards your groin. I licked it with my tongue and you inhaled deeply. Your white briefs looked stark again your tanned skin. I eased your tight jeans slowly over your hips and ass, my hands enjoying the feel of your firm rounded flesh. Your briefs bulged hugely out at me. I pressed my mouth, open and hot against you, sucking your hardness through the soft cotton. You swayed toward me, one hand on the back of my head. I stood again and we swiftly removed the remainder of our clothing. Your body was tanned all over and very smooth. Your cock was amazing. Longer than my own and slender, the ripe full head wept little milky tears. Our knees hit the edge of the mattress and we sank together onto it's firm surface. Shifting, sliding; we began to learn each other. I lay on my back and let you eat your way down my body, chewing and licking at muscle and flesh. My moans, which Samson had so accurately reproduced, filled the room. Your mouth played with my balls, shifting their fullness with your nose and tongue. Your face rubbed across my drooling cock. We shifted again. I needed to taste you. We rolled together, you on the bottom now and my mouth began its own slow exploration. I learned that your nipples are extremely sensitive and that my tongue flicking against them can make you beg for more. I discovered the musky heat of your armpits and the dark hidden depths of your navel. Your legs moved restlessly and spread wide for me. You offered yourself to my touch. My mouth and tongue learned the taste and texture of your balls and cock, the slightly sour flavour of your ass. "Fuck me. Please fuck me." My heart surged in my chest at your husky plea. I ached to be inside you, to feel you clutch me with your slick muscles. My hands were shaking as I fished around in the bedside table for condoms and lube. You helped me roll the condom over my straining cock and then you lay back, legs drawn toward your chest as I fit myself between your thighs. My hand prepared you and you watched me with those violet eyes, your lids drowsy with desire. Your back arched as my fingers drove slowly in and out, stretching you to receive my thick pole. You told me you were ready and I shifted closer, one hand guiding my meat the other running over your belly and abs. The feeling. The hot, wild, indescribable feeling of entering you. I watched the muscle stretch and finally give way, accepting my thick head. I held still as your rectum clenched and spasmed around me and then I felt you relax. The first long, slow slide into your tight heat made my whole body tremble and then you were wrapping your legs around me and urging me on. I fucked you with gentle force. Deep and smooth. We each had one hand wrapped around your cock, stroking in rhythm with my thrusts. I bent my head and licked the precum drooling from your slit. Your body jerked and shuddered under me, your mouth open, keening cries of pleasure straining your throat. I had never been so turned on. You came suddenly with an explosion of cum. Thick jets of your cream hitting your face and neck and chest. I rode you hard for several deep strokes and then I joined you, my hips driving wildly before I stiffened with the force of my orgasm, a scream of pure animal pleasure passing my lips. Every moment of that night has been chiseled faithfully into stone in my memory. The look and feel of you. The taste. The smell. The incredible, joyous sounds. We wrote a new symphony together and performed it beautifully, each encore better than the one before. The weekend was spent in blissful lust. We used the bathroom for its true purpose, making long slow love in the Jacuzzi by candlelight and fucking hard on the bench in the shower. On Sunday morning I made breakfast while you made a condom run. When you returned you insisted I had to try one on to make certain you had bought the right size. Breakfast grew cold as we enjoyed a sensuous feast on the kitchen table. You left late on Sunday evening for your own apartment and announced you would be moving in on Monday after work. You got no objection from me. I called Gary after you left. "I have something to tell you." As soon as he heard the sound of my voice he wouldn't let me go on. "Don't say another word. I'll be there in ten minutes." True to his word, Gary's customary ring sounded ten minutes later and I buzzed him in. His footsteps pounded up the stairs and then he was in the apartment. The look on my face told him all he needed to know. "Shit, man. Have you got it bad! What happened? WHAT HAPPENED!?" "Well...." Before I could continue a keening moan sounded through the open bedroom door. "Aaahhh! AAAAHHH! Fuck me!" Your voice breathless with need, followed by a loud resounding SQUAWK! I smiled and shrugged. I guess that pretty much said it all. You moved in the next day and we have been together ever since. You have become a priceless and rare addition to my life. My very own first edition.