Date: Wed, 1 Aug 2012 16:28:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Dj Montgomery <djmontgomery99@yahoo.com>
Subject: Afternoon at Jay's, Part 1

I would like to thank Devon for his continuing assistance in editing my
stories, as well as the encouragement provided by his own submissions.

This is a work of fiction although some scenes may have been modeled after
events that are real and possibly autobiographical.  Any resemblance to
real or actual events, and/or persons, living or deceased, is purely
coincidental and not intentional.

All legal disclaimers apply.  If you are under the age of 18 (21 in some
areas) and too young to be reading such material, or if you are in a locale
or country where it does not meet moral standards, then please leave
immediately and come back when it is legal for you to do so.

Comments and suggestions are appreciated at djmontgomery99@yahoo.com


			   "Afternoon at Jay's"
				  Part 1

     As I stepped outside of Canefield Airport on the island of Dominica,
the memories came flooding back.  I could feel the warmth and humidity
being carried on gentle breezes, while the faint scent of tropical flowers
wrapped around the sounds of laughter being shared by the locals.  But more
than anything, I could feel the relaxation.  Anyone could feel the
relaxation, but for me, it seemed to invade my senses, taking over my
being, and days and months of anxiety seemed to melt away.  I hadn't
realized just how much I had needed this.
     The taxi ride to the hotel just outside of Roseau seemed familiar, yet
different.  Sylvie and I had taken this very ride just 5 years ago, and
again for the next three years to celebrate our wedding anniversary.  But
last year we had missed the trip, on purpose.  It is hard to take a
"remembrance trip" when you're knee-deep in a nasty divorce.  I had thought
that getting married later in life would work to my advantage.  I had taken
a long time to find my soul mate, and when I met Sylvie, I thought I had.
I was 39, she was 37.  It was the first marriage for both of us, and we
both came into the union with money and success.  She was big in real
estate, and I had gotten my Ph.D. in Celtic literature, taught and lectured
at prestigious universities around the world, and was considered somewhat
of an expert in my area of study by just about everyone.
     Getting married later in life also had its downside.  When a woman
realizes that she has fewer years to nag you into submission, she
subconsciously ratchets up the intensity of the nagging to make up for lost
time.  Our courtship had been wonderful, almost magical.  On our honeymoon,
on this very island, we had been so boisterous in our love that the couples
occupying the rooms on either side of ours requested room changes during
our first night.  Something about the level of noise and "sexual frenzy"
that caused them to not be able to sleep.
     But on the way home from the honeymoon, something changed.  Sylvie got
off the plane as an angry woman, and things went downhill from there.  We
revisited the site of our honeymoon each of the next three years, and
returning from the trips, the relationship sunk lower each time.  Last
year, I spent my anniversary huddled with my lawyer, trying to save my
assets, to no avail.  When it was all over, even my lawyer felt like he'd
been castrated by her lawyers.  I got out of the marriage with my family
jewels, but just barely.  Even though Sylvie had never treated me as an
expert at anything, apparently being considered an expert by others can
translate into big dollar signs for the lawyers.
     When it came time to spend some "R and R," my friends said that this
was the last place I should go.  But this island was a place I knew, and I
came back to see if I could find a few shreds of my dignity to form a new
foundation, a new life.  So here I was, for some rest.
     I strode through the spacious lobby of the New Martinique Hotel to the
main counter for check in.  Not much had changed.  I even remembered
Enrico, the hotel manager, who checked me in.  I looked around and saw a
few new faces, and a few familiar ones.  A tall blonde man made eye contact
and nodded to me from across the lobby, then hurried on his way.  When I
turned back around, Enrico was sliding something back toward me along with
my Visa card.
     "What's this, advertising?" I joked as I returned my charge card to my
wallet.
     "No, Mr. Wolling.  It is a card, a coupon for a free massage.  Mr. Jay
has asked us to give them to our valued customers.  You just saw him there,
in the lobby.
     "The tall blonde?"
     "Yes.  Mr. Jay and his partners just opened up a health club right
here on the hotel grounds.  Maybe you have seen it being built last year
when you were here?  And where is Mrs. Wolling?
     "There is no Mrs. Wolling anymore, just me.  I'm here to lick my
wounds from a nasty divorce."
     "Begging your pardon, Mr. Wolling..."
     "Enrico, its Max.  Just Max.  It was Mrs. Wolling that wanted all that
recognition, all that fanciness.  I just want to be Max.  So I guess I'll
take my coupon and get a little release from all the stiff muscles and
tension.  Have you got someone to take my bags to my room?"
     "Yes, Mr. Wolling...I mean, Mr. Max...if that is okay?"
     "Yes, Enrico, Mr. Max is okay."  I laughed as I headed out the door
toward the back balcony, to look out over Roseau and the beautiful
Caribbean Sea.  Or was it the Atlantic Ocean here?  I never could remember.
     There, over to my right, was a new building that hadn't been here two
years before.  That must be the health club.  I walked down the steps
toward the gardens separating the buildings, admiring the beautiful and
fragrant native flowers planted there.  A gardener, stripped to the waist
with his back to me, was working hard enough to raise a sheen of sweat over
what appeared to be a very buff body.  As I passed, I looked down and he
looked up.  I did a double take.  He looked a lot like the blonde Mr. Jay I
had just seen, but this guy was a bit smaller, with a shaved head.  He also
had a beautiful tattoo of a panther across his left pectoral, and a sleeve
of geometric designs, tastefully done, cascading down his right arm.  He
seemed to notice that my look at him turned into a stare, lasting a bit too
long, and a sly smile spread across his face.  In embarrassment, I turned
back around and continued to the health club.
     It seems that everything here had two speeds, slow and slower.  Not
that slow was bad; as a matter of fact, slow was what I was looking for as
I attempted to unwind from what had been a whirlwind, train-wreck type of
year.  Even though the health club appeared to be empty, I had to wait for
over an hour for my appointment, so I decided to go unpack, and maybe go
the bar for a quick drink.  Waiting an hour would have driven Sylvie up a
wall, so I felt ready to savor and enjoy every minute of the wait.
     When I got to my room, the bellhop had just arrived at the door with
my bags.  While the other two men I had encountered, Mr. Jay and the
gardener, were fair skinned, this guy could have passed for a Nubian god.
His skin seemed darker than the average islander that I remembered, but he
probably was local.  If he had been from anywhere else, he probably never
would have ended up on this little island.  His facial features were
flawless; he carried himself with great dignity, and he filled out his
uniform in ways that were almost pornographic.  His thighs, his bubble
butt, his crotch all seemed to have the seams of his pants stretched to the
limits.  His crisp cotton shirt was open almost to the waist, and two
beautiful pecs were peeping through the opening as they bounced above
washboard abs that probably made an eight pack.  A small vest covered the
shirt, but for all it covered, he might as well have not worn it.
     "Everything okay, Mr. Max?"  Apparently Enrico had already put out the
word.
     "Yes everything seems to be fine, ...I'm sorry, I don't know your
name."
     "Jayson.  Jayson Truitt, Mr. Max.  You need anything, ANYTHING, you
get on the phone and ask for Jayson Truitt.  You'll have it in a flash!"
And he smiled a smile that nearly blinded me.  I could feel my cock
plumping up, something that hadn't happened much in the past two years.  I
think I needed to change clothes, and go to the bar for that drink.
     I asked Jayson to get me some fresh towels, and a menu from the
restaurant down the street.  I didn't remember the name, but they had
seafood paella that was out of this world.  I walked into the bathroom, and
decided to take a quick shower.  I was just getting out as Jayson walked in
with the towels and the menu.
     "Here, Mr. Max, let me help with that."  And without waiting for an
answer, Jayson began to rub down my back, my legs, my butt, everything.  He
seemed to slow down and spend a lot of time drying my ass and my crotch,
going slow over my cock and balls.  My man tool was well beyond stiff, and
I wanted it to go down so that I could get dressed, but he wasn't helping
it.  He looked up into my eyes, and I could see lust.  At least I think it
was lust.  I hadn't seen that look in a guy's eyes since I had been in
college.
     "You know what, Jayson?  I've got an appointment for a massage in
about fourty-five minutes, and I wanted to stop in the bar right before
that, so can we continue...could I take a rain check...  for whatever?"  I
sat on the bed, trying to regain my composure.
     "Oh yes, Mr. Max.  Later is good.  I'll find you later."
     After he hung up the towel, he walked over to my suitcase, popped it
open, and took out a pair of slim leg black jeans and a short sleeved gauze
shirt.  "These will look nice tonight," he stated, and proceeded to slide
the jeans over my feet, and up my legs.  He pulled me to my feet, and
pulled the jeans up the rest of the way, buttoning them closed as he went.
He ran his hands all over the front and back of the jeans as though trying
to smooth out the wrinkles from being packed, or maybe he was just trying
to get in as much touching as he could.  He even jammed a few fingers into
my ass crack, pushing the fabric right up against my puckered hole, and I
thought I was going to lose it right there.
     "Yes, these will look nice tonight.  Can you get the shirt on okay, by
yourself?"  He ran one hand up my chest, to my right nipple and rubbed the
back of his hand across it a few times.  I involuntarily moaned.  "Yes,
nice," he stated quietly.
     It was a good thing he left right then, I thought, because I was about
to throw him on the bed and fuck his brains out.  For me, that seemed to be
a strange thought, since I had not been intimate with a man for almost
twenty years, and then it had only been with Rey, my college roommate.  Rey
had been dead now for nearly eighteen years.  I had graduated and went on
for my Masters degree, moving more than a thousand miles away, and he
hadn't taken our breakup well.  Alcohol had been his undoing.  Now, with
the damage Sylvie had done to my sex drive, and the fact that I had sworn
off women, maybe it was time to revisit the other side of the fence.
Funny, but I didn't remember this hotel being so gay-friendly in my
previous visits.
     I stopped in a small, crowded bar off the lobby for that drink, then
moved on for the massage appointment.  I was ushered into a beautiful room,
and was asked to undress, then crawl under the sheet on the table.  Three
walls were painted in pastels and local artwork was tastefully presented on
each wall.  The fourth wall was entirely glass.  French doors swung open
from a metal door frame to allow access to a small balcony, and the rest of
the wall was ceiling to floor windows, giving the client and the masseuse a
breathtaking view of the ocean, the beach, and the native flora.  The
building was perched on a small rise, so no one from below could really see
in to the room, and the sense of privacy seemed to make the natural beauty
almost intoxicating.  I was captivated with the sight, and was startled by
the masseuse knocking on the door, asking for permission to enter.
     "Sorry, not ready!  I was admiring the view."  I hurried to disrobe,
and then slid beneath the sheet.  "Okay, come on in."
     I was facing the view, so I didn't see who it was, but large, soft
hands began to rub the stress out of my neck.  "Headphones?"  he asked.
Yes, the voice told me it was a man, not a large woman with big hands.  I
began to giggle to myself at the joke, and then the headphones slipped over
my ears, and all I could hear was the sound of soft, smooth jazz.  Guitars.
Soft, smooth jazz, heavy on the guitars.  This place was getting better by
the minute.
     The oils that the masseuse used must have included some essential oils
like peppermint.  I could feel my skin reacting to them.  But the deep
tissue massage made my body react even more.  There was some pain as the
masseuse worked deep into the muscles.  The massage continued up my arms,
across my shoulders and back, and down to my waist.  Then my feet were the
center of attention, followed by my calves and my thighs.  The deep tissue
pressure and discomfort was joined by a tingling as the built-up pressure
from years of verbal abuse began to melt away.  I raised my head slightly
to take in the view of the ocean, then settled back onto the face pillow,
just as the masseuse began to massage my glutes.  He seemed to be a master
at this, even better than Jayson had been just an hour before.  Just the
thought of Jayson caused a stirring, and I knew that a massive hard-on
could be on its way.  The magical hands worked their way up my back again,
and then I could feel the masseuse change positions, walking to the head of
the table, then resuming the massage of my shoulders.
     He leaned over, took the head phones from my right ear, and softly
said, "Turn over," then replaced the headphones.  I began to turn over,
with my eyes still closed, luxuriating in the massage, but thought I might
be getting too close to the edge of the table, so I opened my eyes to check
my location.  There, hanging over my face, as at least nine inches of cock.
The masseuse was naked.
     I reached up to remove the headphones.  "Is this part of the massage?"
I asked hesitantly.
     "What?"
     "You know.  Is this a `full body massage,' or whatever they call it
down here?"
     "All out massages are for the complete pleasure of the hotel guests.
Whatever they want.  Or don't want.  So what will it be?  Anything you want
to avoid?" He began to laugh.  I looked up, past the large sausage doing
the hula, and realized that my masseuse was the man I had been informed was
Mr. Jay.
     "Are you the owner?"
     "Hey, good help is hard to find."  Realizing his choice of words, he
began to chuckle.  He walked around so that I could see him, and stated,
"Yes, one of the owners.  I am Mr. Jay.  Jamie Hock, Chicago, Illinois.  We
saw an opportunity to start up a business in a place where there wasn't any
snow, so we took it.
     "But how do I rate so highly, getting the boss to do my massage?  Is
business so bad that you haven't hired anyone else, or so good that you
sometimes have to handle it yourself?"
     His chuckle rose into a belly laugh.  "When I saw you a little while
ago, I knew I wanted to be the one to work on you.  I don't do this for
just anyone.  You looked like you needed a little stress relief, or maybe a
friend.  And yes, business has been bad, or maybe slow is a better way to
say it.  Been working on getting this baby up for eighteen months."
     "Take my word for it, you're up," I said.  He began to laugh again.
     "If you keep me laughing, I won't be able to finish in time for my
next appointment.  Now, is there anything you want to avoid?"
     "No, go ahead.  Give me your best shot."
     He began to laugh again, and I blushed, finally realizing what I had
just said.
     "Honestly, if you keep that up, I won't be able to finish.  Now let's
get down to some serious business."  He bent down, looked into my face, and
lightly brushed his lips over mine.  His tongue traced across my lips, then
made the return trip.  His lips pushed harder, and his tongue demanded
entrance.  I opened my mouth, and eagerly pressed back against his lips.
     We kissed for long enough that my cock became rock hard, curving up
over my navel and dripping cock honey onto my abs.  We broke the kiss, and
he resumed his massage of my shoulders and pecs.  Then he licked all over
my pecs, abs and cock, then went back to the end of the table.
     "Let's have you back on your stomach, please, Mr. Max, if you can get
that beast to lie down," he said with playfulness in his voice.  "I think I
felt a few knots in your muscles back here that I need to work on."
     "I think we're way past the `mister' part.  It's just Max.
     He smiled a million dollar smile at me, and I wondered how it was that
he didn't have all the business he could handle.  It didn't take much time
for him to get down to business, working on those "knots," as he worked the
muscles of my glutes with his skillful fingers.  His deep pressure massage
earlier had nothing on this, and he moved ever closer to the valley between
my mounds.  He dug into the edges of my ass mounds, first gently and then
more forcibly pulling them apart.  He must have had some lube hidden there
somewhere, because soon he was tracing circles around my pucker, leaving a
cool wet feeling behind.  He continued to do this until it was driving me
so wild that I was pushing up to meet his fingers, trying to force them
into some place special.
     When that first finger breached my sphincter, I thought I was going to
pass out.  It felt like I had been hit in the gut, forcing all my air out
of my lungs.  I groaned loudly, almost a scream, then sucked air back into
my lungs.
     "Sorry," Jay offered.  "Maybe I shouldn't have tried two fingers."
     "Two!  Two!  My god..."
     "Well, you weren't acting like a virgin.  But I guess I should have
started a bit slower."
     "I'm not a virgin, unless nineteen years of inactivity makes it grow
shut.  But my god, it felt like you were shoving your whole hand up there!
     "Is that something you'd like, or will that be going on the `please
avoid' list?"
      I turned my head around, and looked down the table at him, to where
he was crouched right by my ass, as a sly, broad grin spread across his
face.  I tried to scowl.
     "Get back to work and earn your money, bitch!"  I tried to say that
with that scowling face, but couldn't.
     Jay responded, continuing his broad smile.  "No fucking way.  This is
free, not costing you a thing.  This is on-the-house..."  He paused, as
though he was thinking.  "Actually, this isn't on the house, but we could
take it up there.  We could give a great show to the clients in the
ocean-side rooms.  What do you think?
     "Shut up and get back to work, fuckhead."  I couldn't believe how
comfortable I felt in Jay's company.  He was good.  Very good.
     "Put the headphones back on.  The music will increase the feeling."
Yeah, he already knew I loved soft jazz.  He was really, really good.
     Jay went back to massaging the door to my inner sanctum, as though he
was asking for permission to enter.  My body pushed back against his
fingers, first one, then two, finally three or maybe more, indicating to
him that he was welcomed to enter.  With my eyes closed, ears flooded by
the music, and body overloaded by the sensual feelings emanating from my
ass, I began to drift off.  Not to sleep, just to some wonderful place.
But I felt the firmness of his cock head as he began to push in, keeping up
the pressure until I pushed down, helping him to enter.  I had expected
pain, having seen the not thick, but not thin, girth of his cock, but I
only felt pressure, followed by the electric feeling of having my shit
chute filled to bursting by his long cock.  I felt him bottom out, his
pubes pressed against my ass, and I realized for the first time that he had
been completely hairless except for his mop of blonde hair on his head, and
the trimmed bush of blonde hair surrounding the base of his cock.  A nice,
smooth, blonde god, just exactly what I had always dreamed of.
     I think I was on my way to heaven, but he poked me in the thigh, and I
opened my eyes, and looked back at him.  He motioned for me to turn over,
and he withdrew so I could.  I felt empty, but didn't have to wait long to
have the feeling eliminated.  Even before I settled in on my back, Jay
plunged in and buried his rod full into my ass.  Again, I felt like I had
been gut-punched, but it was followed by the very best feeling.  He set up
a rhythm of long-dicking me, almost pulling out, then plunging back in.  I
couldn't hear anything other than the jazz, but my eyes were telling me all
I needed to know.  His eyes zeroed in on mine like a laser, and my body was
on overload.  His speed began to pick up, until he was jack hammering my
back door, raising my groaning to a fever pitch.  We were out of sync with
the jazz now, so I ripped off the headphones.
     "Fuck me!  Fuck me HARD!"  I surprised myself by mouthing those words,
but apparently, I didn't surprise Jay at all.
     "Yes sir, Mr. Max.  We aim to please!"  And right then, he aimed right
for my prostate, my love nut, and at the same time, reached up for my
nipples and gave each one a hard twist.  My body jumped up off the table,
taking Jay with me.  As I landed back on the table, I was treated to a face
full of cum, my own.  I was cumming harder than I could ever remember, and
I could feel Jay's huge man tool throbbing within me.  My cum pooled on my
abs.
     As I felt it there, a terrifying thought entered my mind.  Oh no!  Had
he used a condom?  Had we been unprotected?  A worried look must have
flashed across my face, and he broke into a smile as he withdrew.  He moved
along the side of the table to stand next to my head, and he skinned off
the rubber.
     "Yes, sir, we were protected!"  He seemed to be able to read my mind,
or maybe he could just read my face like a book.
     "Wanna taste?" he said, waving the full condom in my direction.
     "No thanks.  I'll have dessert later, after my meal."  Jay began to
laugh so hard, I thought he was going to fall on the floor.  "I meant I'd
eat some real dessert, not have more sex.  You know, like ice cream, or
cake, or..."  It seemed like the more I tried to explain, the harder he
laughed.
     Jay finally composed himself, walked over, and kissed me passionately,
for a long time, taking possession of my mouth, my tongue, my body.
     "Jeezz, you almost ate my face!  Are you that hungry?" I said as I
smiled when he finally broke the kiss and stood tall.
     "Actually, I was going to ask if I could munch a little on that
delectable, edible butt I just fucked.  It looks good enough to eat."
     I couldn't believe how carefree I felt as I groaned in as sexy a voice
as I could muster, "Have at it, big boy."  Jay looked like I had just given
him the keys to the candy store.  Maybe I had.


...to be continued...