Date: Thu, 9 Dec 2004 14:09:15 -0500
From: Jaylovenj@comcast.net
Subject: FOUR BECOMES TWO CHAPS. 15-16

I want to thank all of you who have stood by me during the writing of
this story. It has been a long, difficult process, and I have to tip my
hat to the authors who have been able to pull this off chapter after
chapter.

It is difficult to go from chapter to chapter because you always have the
ending of the story just at the back of your mind. And it's the getting
there, without being too boring, that's the difficult part.

So, authors, I tip my hat to you. And I want to give a special thank you
to David, Malcolm, Kenny, Crystal, Sans, Donna, and Papa who gave me
incentive with their messages, and to the many other who have written
that they have enjoyed this story.

I also want to take this opportunity to remind you that even though the
characters are not practicing safe sex by no means should indicate that I
agree. SAFE SEX IS THE ONLY SEX! That should be your motto. Practice
this, please, because I CARE!

As always, this author craves feedback. Criticism only makes me a better
writer. Please respond to Jaylovenj@comcast.net. I look forward to
hearing from you.

Four Become Two: Chapter 15

I knew you weren't going to `out' me, or yourself. I was just
afraid--"

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid--to live. To be. To not be so-called `normal'. And to feel
great while being abnormal.

But, baby, I've changed," Greg says, taking my hand in his. "I don't
know what to do to make you believe me. But, I'm not going anywhere, not
until you trust me again. Once you do, if you want me to go, I will. Just
tell me what I have to do."

I look into his eyes again. I see the desperation, and the exasperation.
And I see the hope.

"Greg. Just..."

"Yeah, baby?"

"Just kiss me," I blurt out.

"Do you really mean it?"

"Just do it before I change my mind," I say softly, a smile on my face.

He puts his hands aside my face, pulling me into him. I can feel the heat
of his breath as he exhales, and every nerve begins to tingle. He wets
his luscious lips, and then gently places them against mine.

That first contact is just a feather, so light and airy, igniting a
craving for more.

I can feel the heat begin, just an ember as the glow of my skin
intensifies. I go from a simmer to a raging boil in a matter of seconds.
I suddenly have no air in my body, all of the available oxygen being
consumed in the burning furnace.

I break apart, and ingesting the oxygen my befuddled brain requires, I
launch hungrily at Greg's lips, this time making a seal that the space
program could use as a model for their air locks.

He parts his lips, and I accept the invitation to delve inside. The boy
is hungry as he vacuums my tongue to the back of his throat. I taste
every nook and cranny of his wonderful mouth, relishing in the flavors of
his lunch and the distant flavor of this morning's mouthwash.

A moan of satisfaction escapes from between us, and I finally coax him to
follow my tongue back into my mouth where a huge battle of dominance
occurs at which neither of us is the winner, or loser.

"I love you," Greg says to me, breaking the kiss. I want to make love
with you. Right now, I want to be your wife, and I want you to make love
me like a good husband knows how. Whatever you want, I want.

"It's been a long time. I don't know how long I'll last," I admit.

"You're talking like this is a one-shot thing. Tonight is made for
loving, and tonight we are going to love. There is so much time loss that
we have to recoup.

Now, lay back, and let your wife take care of his man." He pushes me
gently into a reclining position, and once again brings his lips to mine.
Again, I find myself hungering for his kiss.

Greg's hands begin to explore my body, his fingers brushing across my
nipples, exciting them, bringing them to hardness. He lightly kissed each
one, further teasing them. His warm breath is heating the flesh
underneath the hairs covering my chest as his lips move towards my left
nipple.

I have to suck in air as they find my nub, gently stroking it. His mouth
is so hot as he grips my nipple and tugs on it. There has to be a direct
link between my nipples and my cock because it is painfully hard, and
jumping as if it is being electrically shocked.

Creamy sauce is flowing from the head, making puddles upon my stomach.

I feel Greg's hand reach down and grasp my hard dick. "Greg, I'm going
to cum!" I exclaim.

"That's what I want you to do," he huskily moans as he begins to slide
his hand up and down. I hadn't even jerked off in the past few months.
Wet dreams were the only form of release that I'd had.

His lips leave a saliva trail across my chest as he traverses to the
other nipple, taking it in his mouth and chewing like it was taffy. Still
there is the steady pressure that he is creating in my groin.

I can feel the juice in my nuts begin to churn as I begin to chant my
warning. "I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna cum," I warn.

Greg releases my nipple so he can watch the explosion. Suddenly, the most
searing pain shoots from my asshole as volley after volley of hot molten
lava erupts from my dick. It splatters everywhere, on me, on Greg, on the
bed, on the headboard, in my hair, and in Greg's as he continues to pump
me.

I don't have any oxygen, is the first thing I realize as I come out of
my euphoric high. I must have held my breath. Breathe, I say to myself.
Breathe.

"Come on," Greg says. It's time to get you washed up. You have made a
mess out of the both of us."

"But, you didn't..."

"I got so excited when you did that I did," Greg says, somewhat
embarrassed. "Now, come on." He pulls me from the bed, and we head into
the bathroom.

"I didn't think that we'd ever get back to this point," Greg
continues, as we step into the shower, a big smile upon his face.

"And just where are we Greg?" I ask. "It's been hard for me, but I am
at the point where I want to live my life, not the life that others see I
should lead. I love you. I have since the first moment I saw you. I never
in a million years dared to dream that you would even consider a
relationship with me. Hell! I didn't even consider that I would have a
relationship with you.

But lying in that bed for all those months gave me the opportunity to
search my soul. Even though I enjoy women, or at least I use to enjoy
women, that time spent with you at the lake made me realize that there
should be so much more depth to a relationship than what I had ever
experienced. And I don't want to...I can't go back.

I'm ready to tell the world how I feel--about you. Are you willing to do
the same? Are you ready to say damn the consequences, full speed ahead?"
I take the soap, and begin to wash his body. I work up lather on his
chest, the hairs holding onto the soap.

"It's really hard..for me...to concentrate...while your hands are on
me," Greg moans. "Oh, that feels good." I grasp both nipples between
my thumbs and forefingers and pinch. I can feel Greggie begin to swell
between our bodies as I lean in and give Greg a kiss.

"I really can't get enough of you," I moan, breaking the kiss. My own
dick has swollen once again, and is now pressing in the gap between
Greg' s legs, the head fitting perfectly underneath his low hanging
balls.

I rub the soap along his broad shoulders as our lips once again meet. I
can feel the power of them as my fingers caress him. I separate our lower
bodies, our lips still locked together, tongues fiercely battling,
allowing our hard cocks to slap against our bellies, before I once again
close the gap, sealing our sex between us.

We start a slow, passionate grind, as our cocks, fitting perfectly beside
each other, being aided by the slipperiness the suds has created.

Both of us groan with heighten pleasure as we increase the grinding of
our bodies. My hands slip down his back, cupping the magnificent cheeks
of his ass in my hands, pulling us tighter together. I can feel the
muscles contract and relax as the power of his thrusting increases.

Our pre-cum is mixing on our stomachs as we get closer and closer to
orgasm. Our moans are echoing off the tile walls as Greg gives one final
hard push against me, and begins to release his load. Feeling his dick
spasm and pulsate against me sends me over the edge, and I unload once
again, our cum uniting before the pounding water washes it down the
drain.

"Oh, man!" Greg says, leaning against the tile wall. "Jesus! Every
time gets better," he continues, somewhat breathless.

"You leave me weak in the knees, yourself," I counter.

"We'd better get out of here. The water is starting to get a little
cold, and you are beginning to look a little prune-like," he chuckles,
looking at my dick.

"Well, I definitely remember you being bigger myself."

"I was until you tried to drain the life out of me," he laughs.

"Ouch!" he chuckles, as I slap him on his arm, and we set about quickly
washing each other from head to toe.

We had just finished drying each other and putting on our robes when the
doorbell sounded. Slipping on a pair of shorts, Greg heads out to see
whom it might be.

"Hello. May I help you?" I hear Greg, as he answers the door.

"Mr. Welsh? I'm Detective Simms, and this is Detective Lane. We're
have a few questions regarding the assault if you have a few moments."

"No, I'm Greg Jefferson, Mr. Welsh's friend. Won't you come in
gentlemen, and I'll get Dave. You'll have to excuse my appearance. I
just came out of the shower. Make yourselves comfortable. I'll get
Dave."

Greg comes back into the bedroom as I am slipping on a pair of
sweatpants. He rubs his hand over my upturned ass as he says, "Dave,
there are two detectives..."

"Yeah, I heard. I'll be right there," I say, "provided someone gets
their hand off my ass," I whisper with a smile.

"Save that for later, but remember, you're my wife tonight."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten," he answers, a twinkle in his eye.

I grab my cane, and follow him out the door. "Detectives, I David Welsh.
What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Welsh, I'm Detective Robert Simms, and this is Detective Bryan
Lane. We're from the Bias Crime Unit, 102nd Precinct. We have a few
questions for you...for the both of you."

"Please, gentlemen, have a seat."

"Can I get anyone anything?" Greg interjects.

"No thank you," Detective Simms responds.

"May I have a glass of water?" Detective Lane asks.

"Coming right up!" Greg turns, and heads the kitchen.

Greg hands the detective his water, and sits on the love seat next to me.

"Do either of you know a man by the name of Thomas Reynolds?"

"No, the name doesn't ring a bell," I answer.

"What about you, Mr. Jefferson?"

"No..." Greg answers, apparently in thought. "Why, is he the man who
attacked Dave?"

"We believe so. A witness came forth...finally...and was able to give us a
pretty accurate description of the suspect. She was even able to pick him
out of a photo array. She had just gotten into her car, which was parked
a few rows from yours, Mr. Welsh. She heard the assailant say to you, `I
can't believe you're a f-ing faggot too', before he began to strike
you with a lead pipe.

He tossed it in a corner as he fled, and we were able to recover it. It
had some blood, which matched yours, and more importantly, his
fingerprints."

"So, you've arrested him?" I inquire.

"No, not yet, but we've got an APB out on him. The charge is attempted
murder during the commission of a bias attack."

"Since he is still on the loose," Detective Lane interjects, "we
suggest a little precaution, now that you're back home."

"Do you think he is still stalking Dave?" Greg asks.

"We don't know, but we know he is still in the New York area. This
could have been a one-time attack, or..." he trails his sentence.
"Here's his mug shot. Do either of you recognize him?"

I take the picture, giving it a good look before passing it onto Greg.
"No, I don't ever recall seeing him. What about you, Greg?"

Greg looks at the picture again. "I've seen him somewhere before, but I
can't remember where," he says. "For the life of me, I can't remember
where, but I will. Just give me a little time."

We look to him, expectantly. "I can't remember right now. I'm sorry.
I'm sorry," he repeats, looking at me.

"It's alright, Greg. I'm sure it will come to you."

"It will, Mr. Jefferson," Detective Simms says. "Just don't try to
force it. Now, will you relate once again what you know of that
evening?"

Greg once again goes over what he knows about that evening while the
Detectives took notes and asked questions.

"I know I know that face," he says, after escorting the two detectives
to the door and returning to the room.

"Don't try to force it, as Detective Simms said. I'm sure it will come
to you. Alright, wife, don't you think it's time you fed your
husband?" I chuckle.

"Just like a man, always trying to define roles for us women," Greg
lisps.

"Oh, make no mistake," I say, reaching between his legs, "you are all
man, and you're mine."



Four Become Two: Chapter 16

"What do you say we get out of here for a while?" I ask.

"Huh?" Greg is bent over the computer, reviewing some law from the law
library for a case that he is working.

"I said why don't we go somewhere? It's such a beautiful spring day.
How about a walk? The movies? The park? Let's just get out of here for a
while."

"I really can't right now, babe. I have to get this done before
tomorrow."

"I just can't take these four walls any longer. I'm going out for a
walk."

"Uh-huh..." Greg says, concentrating on his work. "We can do it
tomorrow."

Seeing that he is all caught up in his work, I decide to head out on my
own for a while. "Greg, I'm just going to go down the block to the park
for a while. I won't be long."

"What?"

"I said I am going to go down to the park for a while. I won't be
long."

"Wait a while. I'll go with you."

"No. I can do it...I need to do it on my own. Just have dinner started
when I get back."

"I don't like this, babe. That man, Thomas Reynolds, is still out
there. Suppose he catches you alone. I can't endure anything happening
to you, again."

"Don't worry. I'm sure that Thomas Reynolds is light years away from
here now. And I will be careful!"

"Look, it'll take me about another half hour. I have a conference call
at..."

"I'll be okay," I say emphatically. "Stop worrying about me." Greg
looks at me with exasperation evident in his eyes. I give him a quick
peck on the lips, and walk out the door.

The sun is shining brightly as I step out the door. I had forgotten how
beautiful the neighborhood is as I strolled down the sidewalk. I had a
little trouble navigating through the traffic that New York pedestrians
have to offer, and it wasn't even rush hour, and this isn't even a
heavily trafficked neighborhood (cars or people).

I stopped by the fruit stand, and picked myself a nice, shiny red apple,
and made my way across the street to the local park. It was full of
neighborhood children, some with nannies, some with their moms, enjoying
the greenery of the city.

I made my way over to the water's edge, and sat on one of the benches
that overlooked the East River and onto the shores of Brooklyn/Queens on
the other side. I could even see the northern shores of Roosevelt Island
from where I was seated.

It had always been a dream of mine to live on the Upper East Side of New
York, ever since I had visited here with my mother so long ago. Now, this
very upscale neighborhood is my home.

I'm sitting there thinking about my life, the events of the last few
months, Greg, and the changes that this relationship is going to bring
when this young teen approaches me on his bike. I had noticed him ride by
a couple of times.

This time he stops as he nears me. I tense up, clutching my cane a little
tighter, preparing to defend myself. Unfortunately, one could not be too
careful these days.

"Excuse me, mister. I was told to give this note to you by your friend.
He's sitting over there," he says, pointing to a now empty bench about
500 feet away. "Well, he was there a few minutes ago," the kid says
before getting on his bike and riding away.

I open the note and read:

Well, looks like you survived the pipe party. Next time, I'll have to
use something with a little more lead.

I read the note over and over, looking over my shoulder several times. He
was here. He had been following me.

I quickly stood and made my way from the park. I was even more wary of my
surroundings as I made my way back to my loft.

The mailboxes in my building are as they are in many buildings in the
city. They are located in a vestibule, mounted against one side. We had
twenty apartments in this building,

As I entered the apartment building, something caught my eye. A little
slip of yellow paper was sticking out of the box that was mine. I
carefully lifted the flap, and pulled out the paper.

Bang! Bang! You're Dead! it read. I quickly open the inner door, and
hasten my way to the elevator. I meet the doorman on the way.

"Oh, Mr. Welsh, I just dropped a package off at your apartment for you.
Something from your office. You just missed the guy."

"Stan, what did this delivery person look like?"

"I don't know...some guy in a suit."

"Thanks Stan. Oh, did you see who dropped this note in my box?" I ask,
holding up the yellow piece of paper.

"Yeah, it was the same guy. Said it was too personal to leave with me,
`fraid I'd read it, I guess. So, he just stuck it in your box."

"Oh, okay." I'm trying to keep the panic from my voice as I turn to
wait for the elevator.

"Stan," I yell, as the doors open. "Don't let anyone in to see me
unless they have proper ID or I give you the heads-up that they're
coming. Okay!"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Welsh."

I hurry upstairs, as fast as the elevator will carry me. Opening the
door, I call out for Greg.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"The park. Reynolds was in the park."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, he sent me a note. And the package. Where is the package?"

"I took it to the off..." Just then there is a terrible explosion as the
bomb detonates. Plaster and glass fly everywhere. Being in the hallway,
we see, more than are affected by the small blast as dust and debris come
spilling out into the hall from the closed door, which was blown off its
hinges.

Instinctively, we both fall to the floor, with Greg throwing himself over
me. Just then, the sprinkler system goes off, and the emergency sirens in
the building activate. We can hear the panic in the hallway as our only
neighbors flee their apartment.

"Are you alright?" I ask of Greg.

"Yeah, you?"

"It was Reynolds. He was here. He sent the package. I saw Stan, the
doorman, when I was coming in. He said the man who left me this note left
the package.

"I'll read it outside. Let's get out of here."

We make our way outside just as the firemen are entering the building.
"Apartment 1502," Greg yells to them.

Someone grabs my arm. In my panic, I swing my cane. "Whoa! Whoa there!"

I look up to see it's Detective Lane. "Come with me," he says. We are
ushered to a waiting car, and driven off.



"We should have warned you that this guy is somewhat of a lunatic,
judging by his file," Detective Simms says, as we are seated at the
102nd Police Precinct. "He was convicted eight years ago of manslaughter
in the death of his best friend, but was found not responsible because of
mental defect, and was sentenced to time in a mental institution. He was
released two years ago, and up until now, had seemed to live an exemplary
life. He's been regularly reporting to is P.O., up until three months
ago. Before you ask, we checked his residence on file, and he wasn't
there. Seems he lives in a parking lot on West 52nd Street. Fucking
POs!" he says. "Give them any fucking address, and it becomes gospel.
Think they would get off their lazy asses and check things out!"

"What are we going to do, detectives? All of our things...we can't go
back there now."

"Oh," Greg says, turning to me, "give them the notes you got
earlier."

"Oh, yeah," I respond, fumbling in my pockets for the notes. I hand
them to Detective Simms who reads them before passing them to Detective
Lane.

"This is getting very serious," Detective Simms says.

"Ya fucking think so?" Greg asks. "What was your first clue,
detective? Could it be the fucking bomb going off in our apartment?"

"Calm down, Mr. Jefferson. I understand that you're upset. Rightly so.
But we are doing everything we can to catch this nut."

"Mr. Welsh," Detective Lane begins, "you obviously can't go back to
your place, and we really don't want you too. Is there some place else
you can go until we catch this man? I think it might be best if you
accompany him, Mr. Jefferson. You, too, might be a target."

"Me?" Greg asks.

"Yeah, you. He might be upset that you survived the bombing. It's
better safe, than sorry."

"He's right, Greg. This fool probably sees you and me as one, right
now. If he was willing to take the chance to bring a bomb to the
apartment..."

"Yeah, I see your point."

"Is there some place else you can go?," Detective Simms asks.

"Yeah, I know of a place. It's off the beaten path. I don't think
he'd look for us there. I'll have to call a friend of mine..."

"Sure, use our phone," he says, offering me the telephone.

"If you don't mind, I'll use the payphone I saw outside, seeing as
neither of us brought our cells. We'll have to get another one
tomorrow." I go out to the phone and place my call.

"It's all set," I say, entering the room once again.

"How will you get there?"

"Hadn't thought of that," I admit.

"We'll take you, if you like. This way, we'll be the only ones who
know your location. Do you have money?"

"We'll have to stop by the bank. Citibank, on 86th."

I just managed to catch my banker, Chris, before he left the branch. As a
favor, he said he'd wait for my arrival.

Detective Lane escorted me inside, and after a few minutes, Chris
returned with an envelope containing two hundred $100 bills, and a
cashier's check for $10k.

"I just thought of something," Greg says as I sit back beside him in
the car. "We don't have any clothes."

"I thought of that. Don't worry. I got enough so that we'd have
plenty."

"Which way do we go."

"The 59th Street Bridge to the BQE South." We ride in silence. Traffic
is a bitch! After all, it is still rush hour. Finally, I direct them
towards the Verrazano Narrows Bridge to Staten Island.

"We're going to Staten Island?" Detective Simms asks.

"No. We're going to take the Gothals Bridge onto the New Jersey
Turnpike north, and then into Fort Lee. I have a friend who is letting us
use his home on Henry Hudson Drive. It's a quiet neighborhood. New
development. He just moved in about a month ago. His family is away in
Europe for the next six months, so the timing is perfect. We'll be
perfectly safe since no one knows the family."

We cross over into New Jersey, and come off the bridge. "This is a quiet
little hamlet. You just might have something there. Don't think Reynolds
will think to look for you here," Simms says.

I disable the alarm and we walk inside. "Wow!" Greg exclaims, as we
step into the million-dollar home of my friend. What greets us from the
front door is a bank of windows overlooking the Upper Hudson Valley.
"This is beautiful!"

"I think you two will be comfortable here," Lane says.

"Can you give me the telephone number here so we can get in touch with
you if we have some news?" Simms asks.

"We're going to buy a new cell phone tomorrow. I'll call you with the
numbers," I tell him.

"Okay. Well, can we do anything for you before we head back?" Detective
Lane asks.

"No...thank you," Greg answers. "We'll be fine. Just catch this
person, okay?"

"We will." They turn to the door, and leave.

"Who owns this place? And what are we going to do for money?" Greg
asks, concern in his voice.

"There's got to be a bar. Let me fix us a drink and I'll explain
all." I saw in a corner of this great expanse of a room, a wooden bar
made of blonde oak, hand polished and glistening. I walked behind, and
helped myself to the Belvedere Vodka and some cranberry juice from the
mini-frig. I pour hefty amounts into two tumblers, and give one to Greg.

Directing him to one of the white Italian leather sofas near the window,
we sit. "Isn't the Valley beautiful?"

"Will you talk to me?" Greg insists.

I look into his eyes, seeing his need to know; seeing his fear. It's
been many months since I've seen that. Of course, it was there when the
detectives first came to see us, but over the days that followed, it
dissipated. Now, since today's bombing, it's back again.

I take a deep sigh. "Okay, here goes. This house belongs to a very dear
friend of mine, a man by the name of Wil, Wilbur Herman. Wilbur and I
attended school together, and he is a Professor at NYU. He is currently
in Asia on a dig, and will be there for the next six months. We are his
housesitters, that's our cover.

We don't have to worry about money. In my pocket, I have $20k in $100
bills, and a cashier's check for another ten. And there's plenty more
if needed."

"What? Where'd you get that kind of money?"

"Greg, have you ever heard of PCL?"

"PCL? What's that?"

"Paradise Cruise Lines."

"Yeah. So?"

"My family owns the line."

"Say what? Why didn't you ever say...? Does Shelia know? She never said
anything to Annette, or she would have told me."

"No. Shelia doesn't know. I don't advertise, simply because I didn't
want to bring attention to my wealth, and I wanted people to like me for
me. How would I really know if people hung around me because of who I am,
or were they there because of what they thought I could offer them?
Understand?"

"Yeah, I can understand that."

"Does it change anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just found out your boyfriend is worth approximately $230 million,
and some lunatic is trying to kill him, and probably you too, now. Do
those facts change anything between you and I?"

"So, you're my boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I'm your boyfriend...and if I remember correctly, you're suppose
to be my wife tonight. And, judging by the clock on the wall," I say,
looking at the clock above the fireplace mantel, "there are a few hours
left in `tonight'."

"Well, you're making me hard. Which way to the bedroom?"

"I don't know. Look in that drawer over there. The code to the alarm is
in there. Then we can explore upstairs." Greg gets the code from the
drawer. "It's your birthday," he says with a chuckle.

"Oh, that's right. Wil did say that." Just as we're approaching the
keypad, there is a knock on the door.

"Who--who is it?" Greg asks.

"Sir, my name is Gene Kokowski. I'm a police officer with the Fort Lee
PD. I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself." Greg opens the door
after peeping through the side panel of the door.

"Good evening, Officer," Greg says. "Won't you come in?"

"Sorry for stopping by so late," the young officer says. "But I wanted
to introduce myself. Two New York detectives stopped by the station a
short while ago, and apprised us of the situation. Since you are staying
on my beat, I thought I should introduce myself."

"Thank you officer," I say. "I'm Dave Welsh and this is my friend,
Greg Jefferson. I'm pleased to meet you."

"So it's you who's the subject of the attack?" It is more of a
statement than a question.

"Unfortunately, but since Greg has been my caregiver since I've been
home, and this nut knows where I live, I fear that now he might be caught
up in all of this as well."

"That's a possibility since a bomb was delivered to your home. Well,
I'm going to leave now, have to get back on patrol. I just wanted to
introduce myself. You'll probably be meeting a few other officers over
the course of the next couple of days. We all have this area as part of
our beat."

"Well, thank you for stopping by. I feel much better knowing that you
guys are around."

"Well, here's my card," he says, giving us a business card. "Please
call if you need anything, or remember anything more regarding the
suspect. We are working with the NYPD on this, and any information that
you give to us will be shared."

"Thanks again, Officer Kokowski." He turns and heads back to his patrol
car parked in the drive.

"He seemed like a pretty nice young man," Greg says as we set the
alarm. "I'm glad to know that he's helping to protect us."

"Now," I say, "where were we before that hunky officer arrived?"

"Oh, you think he's hunky, huh? And you fancy his muscles, cute face,
and tight ass?" Greg teases, running his fingers along the inside of my
thigh.

"You have to admit, he did look...appetizing. But, you know you have the
only muscles, cute face, and tight ass that I want. Now...weren't we
looking for the bedroom? Something about you being my bitch for the
night."

"I don't know about the bitch part, but I do have something for you to
play with."

We find that there are four bedrooms upstairs in addition to the master
bedroom. We move into the master bedroom, which is located at the end of
the hall.

It is a spacious room, complete with ceiling to floor windows, also
overlooking the Valley. It has a fireplace, and a huge king-sized bed,
which holds our interest.

Our lips meet, as our bodies meld together. I can feel Greg's hands as
they begin to explore my body. "Make love to me," he whispers in my
ear.

We move over to the bed, as I lay him back. I begin to unbutton his
shirt, slowly revealing his hairy chest. I kiss my way down his neck,
stopping to nibble at his Adam's apple and that very sensitive area I
found on the side below his right ear.

I spread his shirt open further, and make my way down his shoulders. I
can feel the heat begin to spread under my lips as Greg begins to moan.
His hand reaches up, fingers entwining themselves in my hair, encouraging
me to continue.

I pinch the hairs of his chest with my lips as they move towards its
target, his perky left nipple. My tongue reaches out and swipes at it,
causing Greg to moan. I pull the shirt from the rest of his body, rubbing
my hands over the muscles of his arm. He lies back on the bed, pulling me
along with him.

My lips and tongue begin to work overtime on his nipple, causing it to
wrinkle and pucker with excitement. Greg's moans increase in volume as
the sensitive nub inflames his passion. "Oh, yes Dave," he moans.

I kiss my way across his massive chest to the other nipple as Greg's
hand reaches between my legs, massaging my hardened dick, causing me to
moan. I can feel the pre-cum soaking my shorts as he continues to squeeze
and stroke me.

I release the nipple, heading down the center of his chest, over the
rippling muscles of his hairy abdomen. "I love the hair on your body.
Don't ever shave it."

I move my lips over the denim-covered area of his crotch. Greg's hips
begin to roll, offering himself to me. I open his belt and unbutton his
jeans. With my teeth I grab the pull of the zipper, and slide it down. My
nose inhales the fragrance of his pubes as I see that he is not wearing
any underwear.

The base of his thick column of flesh comes into view, and I begin to
bathe it with my tongue. "Please, get me naked," Greg begs. I hook my
fingers into the waist of his jeans, and pull them down his legs. Greg's
dick plops back against his stomach, strings of pre-cum trailing its way
from the hair trail.

I remove his shoes and pull the pant off. Greg shifts on the bed and
grabs his cock in this hand, stroking it. I look at his shaft, so big, so
hard, so blood red with excitement.

I pull my shirt over my head as I kick my shoes off. Opening my pants, I
slide both of them and my shorts over my hips. Greg groans as I step out
of my pants. "Hurry!" he encourages.

"A little impatient, aren't we?" I tease.

"Yeah. I've waited for this a long time."

I bend over, and slurp him down my throat. "Oh shit!" Greg hollers. We
both moan, him from the sensation of being in my mouth; me from just
consuming his juicy stick once again. I have missed the taste of him.
Greg is flowing freely as I devour his dick, taking him deep into my
throat.

I begin to massage his balls, laden with cum, rolling them along my
fingers. I suck on Greg, swallowing more and more of his offering as it
slides along my tongue. Greg's hips begin to pump towards my face as his
fingers once again lace through my hair as he fucks my face.

"Oh, yes! Yes," he moans. I can feel him getting close. "I'm almost
there," he yells, as he continues to swell in my throat. He plunges one
final time as the volcano erupts, spewing forth is frothy, white lava.

I pull up on his dick, resting the head on my tongue, as I swallow his
baby pudding. "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" Greg says, as he continues to spurt.
Four, five, six healthy offerings before he begins to dribble on my
tongue. I suck every drop, until he pulls my lips away as his dick gets
too sensitive.

I move myself up so that I am now lying next to Greg as he comes down
from his orgasmic high. I bend over and kiss him, sharing with him the
flavors of his own offering as our tongues once again re-ignite the
flames of our libido, although my dick has never lost its hardness.

"Make love to me, babe," Greg asks, desire and pleading evident in his
eyes. "But be gentle. It's been a while."

I crawl over to the night table and open the draw hoping against hope
that Wil...YES! A tube of lube! Thank God for there being a tube of lube.

I move back between Greg's outstretched legs, and gently lifting them
up, I stare at his asshole, his love box, that has been revealed when his
asscheeks separated.

The little, puckered ring of pink flesh is staring at me, winking its
eye. Greg looks at me and gasps! I must have the look of hunger in my
eye; it has been so long since I have seen it, smelled it, tasted it,
felt it engulfing me that I'm sure that I had to have a look that
resembled a starving wolf who suddenly found himself surrounded by plump,
tender chickens. I could even feel the drool falling from my fangs.

I plunge face-first at that delectable morsel, my tongue leading the way.
A moan escapes from Greg as I make contact. I kiss my way around the
ring, circling my prey. My teeth grab and lightly pull at the hairs there
as my tongue parts them, further revealing my prize.

"Yeah, oh God, yeah!" Greg exclaims, as I swath my tongue across his
rose. "I'd forgotten what a talented tongue you have."

"I guess it's all that practice time I got eating Shelia," I respond.

"Eat! Don't stop. Please don't stop. It feels so good!"

I get back to the task at hand as Greg grabs his legs behind the ankles
and pulls them further back, opening himself even more. I can feel him
relax even more as my tongue breeches the opening, giving me a taste of
Greg's insides.

He is now a gapping hole, as I plunge my tongue in and out of him,
developing a rhythm with him as he jerks his dick. I scrape my tongue
against my finger as I insert my index finger into the opening. Soon I
replace my tongue with a second one, applying lube to the ring and along
the inside sheath of Greg's asshole.

Once he is comfortable with the two fingers, I add a third. "Fuck me!
Fuck me, now!" he commands.

I remove my fingers and apply lube to my hard shaft. I tease the opening
by rubbing my swollen head across it. Greg seems to be opening more as I
pass across it, trying to capture it. I lay the head there, and Greg just
vacuums it in.

"Oh, God," we both exclaim. He is so warm, so moist, his asshole
opening more as I sink further inside. I add just the slightest pressure
as I penetrate, stopping only when I have about six inches buried, before
I reverse the move, each drive slipping a little more inside until I can
feel my pubes caress his outstretched ass. His ass ring is clamped
tightly around my dick, as if it's afraid that I'm going to escape.

I give Greg a moment to adjust to the fullness and girth of the
intrusion. He signals his readiness by locking his legs around my waist,
the hairs on them stimulating me even more.

"Oh yeah, this feels so good," he moans. "Welcome home, baby. Now,
take what is yours," he commands.

I begin to withdraw, fighting Greg all the way as he clamps down on me.
Immediately, he begins to thrust on the return, and soon we have set up a
rhythm that only two lovers can do, each of us giving and receiving the
pleasure that we both crave.

Greg starts to move his hips from side to side, rotating them on my dick,
trying to get me deeper inside. His cock is leaking a river of cum as I
strike his prostate on each thrust.

He encircles my neck with his massive arms, drawing me closer. I am so
tightly bound with him that I can only manage short, swift thrusts. Our
lips meet, tongues battling as we try to get closer.

I pry his legs apart and pull out, much to Greg's disappointment.
Encouraging him to turn over, I re-enter from the rear, pulling him onto
all fours. I grab his hips, holding his ass tight against me.

"Fuck me! Fuck me!" he screams. I pound his ass, my balls slapping
against his. The sounds of his suctioning hole spurs us on to greater
heights.

"I'm going to cum," Greg shouts.

"Me, too!" I respond, as I feel my dick swell to proportions that I
didn't think it could. I grab Greg's dick as he begins to spurt,
shooting globs of creamy liquid from his body.

His cumming causes his ass-ring to clamp tightly around my invading
spear, and it sets me off. I begin to pour my life fluid deep into his
body. I had never cum so hard, and for so long. The shock causes me to
pull from his body, and I cover his back with three or four good spurts.

Greg collapses against the bed, his outstretched arms no longer able to
support his body. I fall against him, still grinding against his hard
globes, milking the final drops of fluid from my spent dick.

"Oh, you are remarkable," I say to him, as I turn his sweaty face
towards mine for a long, lingering kiss. We maneuver our bodies so that
we are facing each other.

"We have some laundry to do," Greg says, as we feel the sticky mess
under us. "Probably need to buy your friend a new comforter, too."

"Yeah, we should have pulled it back," I say, chuckling. "Some people
are so messy," I tease.

"And about whom are you referring?" he says, eyebrows raised.

"I'll give you a clue. The guilty person is someone who just fucked the
living daylights out of me, a superb lover, and lying in my arms right
now."

"You can't possibly be referring to me?" he teases.

"No, I'm talking about that other guy over there."

"Then I think that you and he should go take a shower. You stink!" He
grabs his nose as a gesture."I love you," Greg says.

"I love you, too," I respond. "Now, let's go find the shower."