Date: Tue, 7 Aug 2012 07:25:27 -0700 (PDT)
From: Dj Montgomery <djmontgomery99@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Blind Date"

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

Please remember that Nifty needs your donations to provide these stories
and keep the site going.  Donate at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html


"Blind Date"


     	"So, are you willing to go out with her, or not?"
     	Bobby was pressing me for an answer.  He and his wife, Roz, were
trying to fix me up with another of Roz's college friends, which usually
ended with a `crash and burn' scenario.  I didn't want to commit right now.
I still had time to think about it.  Was turning them down and losing
Bobby's friendship worth it?
     	Before you think I'm jumping to conclusions, let me tell you about
Bobby and Roz's relationship.  They have been married for almost four years
now, and it has been the happiest eleven and a half weeks of Bobby's life.
Roz wears the pants in their family, unless she tells Bobby that he can
have a turn.  As a pharmaceutical researcher, she makes more money than
Bobby's pitiful commission as an insurance salesman, so she feels she has
the right to call the shots.  If she needs a date for a college friend
coming to town, Bobby damn well better line one up, or no sex.  Oh, by the
way, Roz is 4'11, 97 lbs., and a double D.  So Bobby takes her threats
seriously.  If I don't go out with Roz's friend, no more "Bobby
friendship."
     	"Do I have to decide right now?  I mean, we're not going out until
tomorrow evening, right?  That gives us what, about 27 hours."
     	"Rick, buddy, I need to know now.  When I get home, Roz will want
an answer."
     	"Are the two of you going out with "Ms. X" and I?"  At least I'd
get a chance to scan Roz's chest for entertainment.
     	"If you want."
     	"I want, and tell Roz to wear that peach blouse; you know, the one
with the low neckline."
     	"If that's what you want, buddy."
     	"And I get to pick the restaurant, not that dive you made
reservations at last time."
     	"Money was tight last month.  And "Paul's Steak-o-rama" is not a
dive."
     	I turned away, shuffled some papers on my desk, and responded under
my breath, "Only things that are tight at your house are your wife's
pocketbook and her grip on your balls."
    	 I turned back around, and asked again, "Do I get to pick the
restaurant, or not?"
     	With a pained look on his face, anticipating the worst, Bobby
replied a quiet, "Yes."
     	"Good.  Seven thirty at "Chez Mark" on Fifth St."  I hadn't been
there in almost a year, and at least I'd get a good dinner out of the date.
And seven thirty was early enough that if we had to pull the plug on the
date, there would still be time to go out.  Don't want to waste a perfectly
good Saturday evening.
     	"Fuck!  Chez Mark is the most expensive restaurant in town.  What
am I going to tell Roz?"
     	"That her friend from Gary, Indiana, has a date for Saturday."  And
I turned back to my desk, not really caring what Bobby needed to tell that
bitch he was married to.
     	"Hey, Bobby," I shouted in his direction.  "What do they call a
cute girl in Gary?"
     	"I don't know," he deadpanned, knowing a punch line was coming.
    	 "A tourist!"  Then I laughed, gave him a thumbs up, and returned
to my paperwork.
     	I really didn't have anything against women from Gary, or Indiana,
or anywhere else.  It was just that Roz and her "college friend dates" were
beginning to wear on my nerves.  It was no longer about doing a favor for
Bobby; now it was becoming an imposition.  They were "okay" people usually,
with an occasional bad date thrown in.  But all of these dates lacked the
two most important features that I look for when I want to go out----facial
hair and a hard cock!
     	Actually, there was that one girl last year.  She was into sex toys
and had a few dildoes handy, but unfortunately, she also had the
"man-stache" over her lip, and I excused myself early.  And that's as close
as they've ever come to providing me with a night's entertainment.  So I
was not looking forward to tomorrow.  I'm a reasonably good-looking guy
with a toned body, six-pack abs, and a ten inch thick cock.  Six foot six
inches tall, and not hard on the eyes.  I didn't need help getting dates if
I wanted them.
     	Bobby called about five on Saturday to tell me that he and Roz
would be picking me up.  That made me nervous!  No car?  No escape?  But
they were going to buy me the "Chateaubriand for two" so I'd have my
revenge for being trapped!
     	Actually, Bobby said that Rita, the mysterious Ms. X, was driving
up from Gary, and would meet us at the restaurant; something about working
late.  On Saturday, really?  Great!  A workaholic ugly research assistant!
I was losing ground fast!
     	"Okay, I'll be ready at seven."  I hung up, not giving him a chance
to deliver any more bad news.  Really, I could be ready by six-thirty, but
that gave me a chance to have a few double whisky cokes.  You know, a
little preventive anesthesia.
     	Bobby drove up to my apartment building at five minutes after
seven, and Roz greeted me with a big kiss when I climbed in the front seat.
She was sitting in the back, giving me a chance to stretch my legs in the
passenger seat, something that a guy who is my height really appreciates.
Either that, or she liked to imagine that Bobby was chauffeuring her
around.  I chose to believe the former.  She was wearing the peach blouse.
Good.
     	Chez Mark was the best restaurant Milwaukee had to offer, located
just off of the lobby at the five star Clairmont Towers Hotel.  Coat and
tie were necessary just to get past the door, and I'm sure that to get a
good table, Bobby would have to grease the palm of the maitre'd at least to
the tune of fifty dollars, maybe a hundred.  Good.
     	We were ushered to our table, with Bobby taking up the rear.  He
had a pained look on his face.  A hundred!  Getting better all the time.  I
ordered two double whiskey and cokes.  Bobby shot me a quick frown.  I just
smiled in return.
     	After the first was gone, I asked Roz, "Hey.  Do you know what they
call a pretty girl in Gary, Indiana?"
     	Bobby kicked me, hard, under the table, and I responded with,
"Fuck!"
	Roz looked at me quizzically, not knowing what to say.
     	To cover my outburst, I told her, "I'm lactose intolerant, and I
had cottage cheese for lunch.  Damn, I've got bad gas.  Will you excuse
me?"  Without waiting for an answer, I got up and headed for the restroom.
As I passed Bobby, I told him, "Order for me, and don't make a mistake!"
Then off I headed, drink in hand.
     	I gave myself twenty minutes in the restroom to make the story seem
plausible.  When I returned, there was another double whiskey and coke
sitting at my place at the table, and Rita had joined the group.  She was,
well, plain.  That assessment was being gracious, without being too
generous.  She had her platinum blonde hair pulled back away from her face
into a bun at the back.  She had a serious lack of makeup going on.  Yep,
plain just about does it.  Bobby and Roz had actually made a better choice
than most of the blind dates that they've set up for me.
     	Dinner dragged on through five courses, with Roz and Rita droning
on and on and on about pharmaceutical research.  As interesting as watching
paint dry.  They interspersed those comments with vignettes of their time
together in college, where they both participated in the science
pentathlon, and collected signatures to have the science classroom building
renamed after their favorite professor who was retiring.  Good thing that
some nameless, faceless server kept putting those double whiskey and cokes
down in front of me.  I was also thinking that it was good that Bobby was
driving me home.  The only way to save this evening was to finish getting
shit-faced drunk!
    	"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry.  Let me help you with that," the waiter
squealed.  It took a moment, but then it finally registered---he had
dropped a cup of coffee into my lap!  I jumped up, called him a few choice
obscenities as I patted at my right pants leg with my napkin.  A beautiful
pair of white linen pants, destroyed.
     	I looked up at him to scream again, but stopped mid breath.  I was
staring at a walking wet dream.  He looked to be no more than twenty, with
short jet black hair framing the alabaster skin covering his face.  A thin
line of black facial hair framed his cheeks and chin, meeting up with a
pencil-thin Fu Manchu mustache.  His broad chest and pert pecs where
covered by a too small crisp white cotton shirt, and his black dress pants
bulged in all the right places.  I could feel my manhood waking up!
     	"I'm so, so sorry sir.  Let me take you to the restroom so that we
can get you out of those slacks and see if you have gotten burned.  I can
call 911 if we need to."  He grabbed me by the hand, not waiting for an
answer.  He made a short stop to return the coffee carafe to its warmer,
and hurried me to the staff restroom.  When we got there, I pushed him in
between the sink and the urinal, and looked him directly in the eyes.
     	"Since when does a five star restaurant serve cold coffee?" I
asked.
  	"When they need to rescue a patron from "death by boredom," he
responded with a twinkle in his eyes.  "Each time I brought you a drink, I
could see that you were sinking deeper and deeper into despair.  Somebody
needed to do something to save you."
    	I looked at him with a thankful nod.
  	"What was a good looking guy like you doing out with that other
couple and their aunt?"  he asked innocently.  I broke into laughter.  Then
a horrified look shot across his face.  "You mean that older woman was your
date?"
	"Your gesture was more humanitarian that you could imagine.  I may
nominate you for a Nobel Peace Prize."
	`You're not going back to that table, are you?"  His voice betrayed
his level of disgust.
	"Have to.  No other pants, and no other ride home."
     	"Wait right here," and he took off without telling me what he was
up to.  In about ten minutes, he returned, black dress pants in hand, and
he told me to take off my coffee-stained linen slacks.
	"First, tell me what you are up to.  I don't like being in the
dark, well, except when I'm with a stud like you."  I looked at his name
badge.  "Jonnie."
	"Thank you, sir!"  He blushed, turning crimson.  "Well, I went back
to your table and offered regrets, saying that I felt responsible for the
accident, and that I was giving you a ride back to your apartment to change
clothes, and that you would text them later to let them know if you would
be joining them elsewhere."
	"So let's go!  I'd like to get out of these wet slacks."
  	"I don't have a car."
	"Well, how the fuck is that going to work?"
	"My brother, Jack, tends bar here, and I told him that we had an
emergency at home.  He's getting someone to cover him behind the bar, then
going to give me, us, a ride home.  In the meantime, let's get you out of
those wet things and into these pants."
   	"If those are yours, I won't fit.  I'm taller and heavier,
obviously, than you."
	"These are Jack's.  He's about your height and weight, six foot
four and two hundred and fifteen pounds.  I'm not done growing yet, and
maybe I'll get taller and a little bigger.  I'm only eighteen."
	Fuck.  Young stuff!
	Jonnie helped me remove my slacks, then grabbed his server's towel
and dried off my leg, rubbing close to my crotch several times.  When he
went to make another pass, I shifted my weight slightly so his hand ran
into my package, tightly held in my white briefs.  He gasped, and looked up
at me.  I nodded.  He pulled them down quickly, and began to circle his
tongue around the engorged head, then up and down the stiff shaft.  I think
I could drive nails with it right now, and he was driving, too----driving
me insane.
	He fondled my balls, then dove down over my stiff cock and took it
about half way down.  That means he got about five inches in, and I
wondered if given the time, if he could do better.  He pulled off, stood up
and licked his lips while looking into my eyes.
	"Gotta go check on Jack, see if he's ready to go.  He said he'd
punch out and take the rest of the evening off."  With that, he was out the
door in a flash.  I pulled my briefs back up, and put on the snug fitting
black pants.  I even had time to take a piss, wash my hands, and comb my
hair.  Then Jonnie returned.
      	"Jack off yet? I asked.
      	"Only once, when you were first seated in my section," Jonnie
responded, straight-faced.  It took a minute for me to realize what he had
said, and I began to laugh again.  This time, Jonnie laughed along with me.
      	"I meant...," I began, but Jonnie interrupted.
      	"I know what you meant.  Just wanted to let you know my motivation
for destroying your slacks.  Sorry about that.  I'll pay for them."
       	"I'm sure you will."  I winked.
      	The twinkle in his eye was back.  Jonnie's brother Jack met us in
the parking lot.  My god, two walking wet dreams in one family!  We got in
the car, and hurried to their house, an apartment that the two young men
shared.  They didn't even ask if I wanted to stop by my apartment to pick
up clothes.
      We spent the rest of Saturday evening, and almost to dawn on Sunday,
fucking each other's brains out.  It was hottest for me as Jack fucked his
brother with his eight inch fat dick while Jonnie sucked down my ten inches
to the root.  Yeah, he could do it.  And he also knew how to fuck with his
seven and one half inch fat slab or meat.  I came at least four times, once
in Jack, once in Jonnie, and twice down Jonnie's hot throat.  Jack came
four times, too, breeding me twice.  But Jonnie beat us all, breeding both
his brother and I twice, and delivering his first load of the evening down
his brother's throat as he let me watch close up.
      The shower after was almost as hot as the sex.  Then we crawled into
Jonnie's bed, and had a three-way spoon, with me in the middle.  As I
drifted off to sleep, I decided to come clean with Bobby and tell him I was
gay.  Maybe Roz would leave me alone then.  I didn't need any more blind
dates.  My social calendar had filled up, quickly.  And so did my ass!