Date: Fri, 28 Jul 2000 13:09:45 -0700
From: Desert Guys <jg.ps@gte.net>
Subject: Jim and Jimmy Chapter Eight

Jim and Jimmy
A novel by Greg Bowden
Jg.ps@gte.net

CHAPTER EIGHT "I shall cherish this all my life..."

The Time Gods had shifted to that slow pace that drives young people up the
wall. Things happened but they never happened fast enough to satisfy
Jimmy. One Wednesday in November he burst into Douglas' office with an
armload of computer printouts and a calculator. The printouts were covered
with notations in red, blue and purple ink.

"Look at this, Doug. Just look at it. Where the hell does all this money
go?"

It turned out, when Douglas calmed him down and asked the appropriate
questions, that Jimmy had gotten hold of the general office sales record,
the one that shows all the commissions taken in along with what part of
those moneys the agent kept and what part the firm kept. It was obvious
that the firm kept quite a lot more than the agents did.

"You knew this," Doug said in his most soothing voice. "It's in your
Salesmen's Agreement, your Graduated Commission Guide, and your Bonus
Calculator Table."

"Aw, who reads that stuff. I mean, I guess I did when I started in sales
but that was a long time ago."

"Eleven months is a long time ago? Anyway, what's your beef? You do okay."

"My beef, Mr. Office Manager, is where the hell does all the money go? I
know it doesn't take that much to pay the rent on this place -- don't
forget, I know what rents are in this town -- and I know it doesn't take
that much money to pay the secretaries and clerks out there, and I know, I
know of my very own knowledge, that you aren't taking it home. So where
does it go?"

Doug laughed. "Do the names Jack Baggly and Oliver Norris ring any bells?"

"Yea. They started Twentieth Century. What about them?"

"Jimmy, they not only started Twentieth Century, they own it. They are your
bosses. Mine too, for that matter. So most of that money flows directly
through to them, at least that part that doesn't go for salaries and
attorneys and accountants and stuff."

Jimmy stood for a long moment, staring at the printouts. "God," he said
under his breath, "why do people think I'm bright?" He looked at Doug and
smiled. "I'm gone for the day. And don't wait dinner; I'll probably be
late."

Doug did wait dinner, of course, but gave up around nine and ate by
himself. Jimmy came in at ten -- thirty with several books in his arms,
ticked off because the library had had the nerve to close at ten. While
Jimmy ate Douglas looked at the books he'd brought home; they were all on
small businesses and partnerships.

A week later there was a letter from Jim confirming his visit over the
Christmas holidays. He was going to spend three days in Chicago before
coming to them, so he could get his home office meetings out of the way. He
would be with them only nine days this time because the project was at one
of what he considered to be its critical stages. But he was looking forward
to seeing them both. He managed, without being obvious about it, to
emphasize 'both'.

"So how do we handle this?" Doug asked when Jimmy had finished reading the
letter to him.

"Handle what?" Jimmy said with exaggerated innocence.

Doug sighed. "He gets in Christmas Eve morning. He won't stay here, he
wants to go directly to the lake. I certainly don't want to stay here by
myself over Christmas so -- -- how do we handle it?"

Jimmy went to him and put his arms around him, hugging him tightly. "We
give him his Christmas present, what else?" He stepped back and looked at
Doug. "We'll take him to bed together. You and me and him in that big ol'
bed. He'll think he's died and gone to heaven."

Doug smiled. "So will we."

"Really, you hadn't thought about this? About the three of us, in bed?"

Doug had. He'd thought quite a lot about it, especially when he was
masturbating by himself. But he hadn't really thought they'd do it. He told
Jimmy as much and Jimmy laughed.

"And just when are you doing all this solitary jacking off?"

Doug blushed. The masturbating part had just sort of slipped out.
"Sometimes on Saturday, if you're out with a client." He didn't mention
that he also held Jimmy's pillow to his face, breathing in Jimmy's scent,
pretending he was there. "And sometimes if you're out late."

Jimmy grinned at him, wishing he could wipe the blush away. "Well, I
suppose that makes two of us. Only I do it sometimes when I get home early,
especially if I've been with some sexy client who reminds me of you. Then I
can't wait to dig it out and whack it off, sometimes before I even get out
of my suit."

"That probably explains our cleaning bills." Their laughter cleared the air
and they began making plans for Christmas week.

Jim's plane was ten minutes early and he was the first one off, having been
upgraded to first class by an understanding and very affectionate counter
agent in Chicago. Jimmy and Douglas hugged and kissed him in turn and then
escorted him to baggage claim where they retrieved his luggage and wouldn't
let him carry any of it.

Jimmy drove because it was raining and he thought Douglas drove far too
fast, even when it was dry. They chattered all the way to the lake, hardly
stopping to take a breath. Jim marveled at how relaxed they seemed and
decided everything had, indeed, been worked out; he just didn't know how it
had been worked out.

It was cold at the lake and the wind was blowing hard, making the pine
trees sing. They'd outrun the weather front but knew the rain would catch
up with them by nightfall. Jimmy ran upstairs and lit the fire in Jim's
room while Douglas did the same in the living room and Jim went into the
kitchen to make hot chocolate. Then they stood around in their coats and
scarves, warming their hands on mugs of chocolate, waiting for the house to
warm up.

Jimmy and Douglas had come down the two previous weekends to decorate the
house and lay in supplies; they had enough, they thought, so they wouldn't
need to leave the house for the whole week. A good thing too, as it turned
out.

"The place really looks great," Jim said. "You've put in a lot of time and
effort decorating it."

"You have Doug to thank for that, dad. He's in charge of all decorative
efforts around here. At home, too."

"Well, thank you Doug." He made a courtly bow and kissed Doug's hand.

Doug attempted a curtsy. "But this," he held out his hand, "isn't exactly
what I had in mind for a kiss." He went up and kissed Jim on the lips,
stroking the back of Jim's neck and making it last a long time. Due to
their heavy overcoats neither was aware that the other had blossomed into
full erection.

"Is it my turn now?" Jimmy asked when they finally broke apart. He didn't
wait for an answer; he put his arms around his dad and kissed him
hungrily. The moment his lips touched Jim's he knew Doug had given him a
hard -- on. How he didn't know, but he knew with certainty. He felt his own
dick begin to rise.

Jim, for his part, wondered if his favorite fantasy was about to
materialize. He hoped so but wouldn't let himself believe it.

As soon as the house was warm they shed their coats and scarves and went
upstairs to help Jim unpack. Jim decided to shower so they left him -- --
slightly disappointed -- -- and went down to the kitchen to see about
Christmas Eve dinner.

Jimmy had decided that no one should have to cook much, at least over
Christmas, so he had had a caterer put together the meals; all they had to
do was follow some heating instructions. When Jim came down he found the
table set, cocktails and hot hors 'oeuvres set out in the living room and a
honey crusted ham warming in the oven, making the house smell wonderful.

Later they sat in the living room, sipping more of the champagne they'd had
with dessert and catching up on the news of the past six months. Around ten
Doug said he thought he'd go up, have a shower and go to bed. Fifteen
minutes later Jimmy said the same thing. He kissed his dad good night and
suggested he finish his wine and then go up too; he looked a bit tired.

Jim refilled his glass and sat on the couch, watching the last of the fire
die down in the fireplace. He was a little disappointed that he was going
to sleep alone but thought it might be for the better, the first night. He
put the glasses in the sink, started the dishwasher and went upstairs to
bed.

It was quite warm, almost hot, in his room and the lights were on. The
first thing he saw was an enormous Christmas box on his bed, wrapped in red
and green foil paper and tied with a huge red ribbon. The card simply said
"Merry Christmas, dad," and was signed by Jimmy and Doug.

When he went to lift the box he found it wasn't a box at all, just a
lid. Underneath he found Jimmy and Doug grinning up at him, their bodies
covered in red and green cellophane. Through the cellophane he could see
that they had big velvet bows tied around their dicks. By the time he'd
pulled the cellophane away their dicks were hard.

He looked down at them for a moment, drinking in their combined
beauty. He'd never seen them naked together and he realized what a perfect
pair they made.

"Are you going to join us," Jimmy said, trying to untie the bow around his
dick.

Jim stayed his hand. "No. Leave it on. I've always liked bows." He took his
clothes off, facing the boys so they could see how they excited him; then
he climbed into the bed, pushing their hips apart so he could sit between
them, facing them. He took their balls in his hands, Jimmy's in his right,
Doug's in his left, and hefted them, running his thumbs over the sacks that
held them. They were very different. Jimmy's was smooth, almost hairless,
and the orbs inside felt heavy and loose in his hand. Doug's, in the other
hand, was covered with a course down and felt thick. The balls inside were
very large, almost as large as bandy eggs, and they felt light, as if they
were made of balsa.

He moved his hands up and grasped their dicks. Again they were very
different. Doug's was rigid as an iron bar, an iron bar covered in loose
velvet. It was thick as a boy's wrist and it fit perfectly in his hand, the
ridge of the dark head flaring above his thumb and forefinger. The slit in
its end was dark and quite large; it had a tiny bridge of skin growing
across it which, as Jim knew, divided the urine stream and sometimes made
it splash. Jimmy's cock was longer, though not quite as thick, and more
yielding to his touch. The skin slid smoothly along it; he pulled it gently
down the shaft and the golden head came into view, looking velvety and
slightly damp. The pale slit arched across the head, big enough for a man
to get the tip of his tongue in. He leaned over and sucked them into his
mouth, one after the other, savoring the difference in taste. Jimmy's was
salty with a slightly bitter overtone; Doug's curiously sweet, as though
the honey that welled from its slit was just that.

He touched them for a long time, getting to know every curve, every hollow
and every vein on them. Then he jacked them off, one in each hand, with
identical strokes. They pushed their pillows up and watched, each focused
on the other's dick, each trying to imagine what the other was feeling.

It didn't take long. Doug went first, groaning and arching his back so his
cum shot straight into the air and rained back down on all three of
them. Then Jimmy, spreading his legs and humping into his father's hand,
his cum alternately trapped in his foreskin and then released to run down
over his cock and his father's fingers.

And then, surprising all three of them, Jim came, his cock jerking wildly
and shooting hot cum into the air, mixing its scent with the already heady
smell of sex in the room.

Afterward they cleaned each other with warm towels but had to do it around
the bows; Jim still wouldn't let them take the bows off. They laid in the
bed, Jim in the middle, and talked and touched and watched the flames in
the wood stove. After a while Jimmy began to toy with one of his father's
nipples, rolling it between his fingers and gently squeezing it. Seeing
what Jimmy was doing, Doug found the other nipple and began brushing it
lightly with his fingertips. Jim's dick raised itself away from his balls
where it had been resting and Jim reached down to take hold of it. Jimmy
moved the hand away. "No. We're not going to get cheated out of it again."

Doug and Jimmy turned on the bed so they could get at Jim's crotch. Doug
began by licking the shaft of Jim's dick, never touching the head or that
special bundle of nerves under it. Jimmy went for the scrotum, kissing the
soft sack and then taking the balls into his mouth, one at a time and
rolling them around with his tongue. He met Doug down there and they each
took a testicle into their mouths, kissing each other around them.

Jim took their cocks again, one in each hand and gave himself up to their
ministrations.

They moved up the shaft of Jim's dick, one on each side, their lips just
touching each other. They went all the way, allowing the cockhead to slip
between them; they kissed and then slipped back down, pushing over the
cockhead and down the shaft. Jim groaned and trembled with the pleasure of
it.

Jimmy took his dad's dick into his mouth and then Doug kissed him, adding
his tongue to the one already playing with Jim's dick. When they thought
they'd pushed him far enough they split up, Doug nipping around Jim's
scrotum and Jimmy moving up to take his nipples in his mouth. Tiring of
that, they rolled him up on his side and Doug took his dick in his mouth
again while Jimmy probed between his buns with his tongue.

They switched again and just when Jim thought he'd had all he could take,
he felt Doug's iron bar of a dick being pushed into him. Jimmy flipped
around, took Jim's dick in his mouth and laid his own up against Jim's
mouth. Jim sucked it in and went into sensory overload. He couldn't tell
who's dick was who's and he lost track of exactly where his dick was. Then
it all blended together and there was only one dick and one man and that
man was all of them and that dick was that man and then everything blew up
and there wasn't anything but the pleasure and that went on forever.

They slept, the lovers on either side, curled against their lover.

Around five Jimmy carefully got up and put some more wood in the stove. He
looked out the window and saw that the storm had finally caught up with
them, its heavy rains turned to heavier snow. It was a white Christmas.

The wind kicked up just after six, waking all three of them with its sudden
fury. Jim went into the bathroom to check the glass roof of the shower and
found it clear; the heat tapes that David, the architect, had insisted on
worked exactly as planned. Jimmy made a tour of the house and found
everything okay although he made a mental note to secure one of the
downstairs shutters more firmly come spring. Doug made coffee and stoked
the fire in the living room to a blaze which quickly heated the room.

They took their coffee into the shower and stood under the steaming water,
watching the wind drive the snow into drifts outside. "Doesn't all this
seem just a little surreal to you?" Doug asked, stepping out from under his
shower to take a sip of coffee. "I mean, the snow is snowing and the wind
is blowing and here we are, weathering the storm in a glass room, drinking
coffee and splashing about in hundred degree water." He stepped back into
the shower and soaped up his dick again.

"I suppose it is," Jimmy said, watching Doug's cock react to the slick
soap. "But if we weren't here you wouldn't be able to do that and drive my
poor dad wild with lust." Jim had been watching too and his dick was
standing straight out, the way Doug's would if he didn't stop what he was
doing.

They let the moment pass, mostly because they were all three still sated
from the night before but also because they were hungry and it was, after
all, Christmas breakfast. Twenty minutes later, a new pot of coffee brewing
and various tins and baking sheets in the oven, they sat around the
Christmas tree and made guesses as to the contents of the packages strewn
under it.

When they sat down to their breakfast of spicy sausages, glazed orange
segments and cheese soufflés which the oven had magically puffed out to
be tender and airy, they each found a small wrapped box at their place with
a tag which said it was from Santa. Inside the packages were round enameled
boxes lettered "Dad&Doug&Jimmy&" around the top so that the names ran
together. The lids opened to reveal exquisite paintings of three naked men
holding hands and dancing in a circle. If you looked with a magnifying
glass you'd see that two of the men were circumcised, one wasn't.

The one that wasn't turned out to be Santa.

"I shall cherish this all my life," Jim said, getting up and going around
the table to kiss Jimmy. "It, and last night, are the best gifts I have
ever received other than you. Thank you." He kissed him again.

"Where did you ever find them?" Doug asked after he, too, had kissed Jimmy.

"Shop down on Harlow Street. The guys will do special things sometimes if
you beg. I begged like I was working on an Academy Award." He laughed,
remembering. "Not only did I beg, I had to model for it. I'm the one on the
right."

After the breakfast things were cleared up they went into the living room
and opened the packages they'd spent so much time speculating about. There
was art work from Brazil, erotic tapes, music, the beginnings of a silver
flatware service, plaid condoms, clothes and more. When they finished the
living room looked like the Returns Department at Macy's.

As the day wore on the wind died down but the sky seemed to get
darker. They put on storm gear and went outside to see what was happening.

They couldn't get out through the screened porch because the snow had
drifted half way up the doors, effectively sealing them shut. The went
through the house to the kitchen door and found it openable. Obviously the
wind had been blowing off the lake and the lake had a curious sheen to it,
as though its surface was covered with ice.

They went around the house and dug some of the snow away from the porch so
the screen panels wouldn't buckle. Then they decided to clear a path to the
lake to see if it really was frozen over. They didn't get far; the digging
degenerated into a snowball throwing contest. By the time they went back
inside they were cold, wet and pleasantly tired.

"Well," Jimmy said after they'd wriggled out of their storm gear and warmed
their hands and faces at the fire, "I suggest martinis. At least we won't
have to send out for ice."

Doug fixed the drinks, chilling the gin in a bucket of snow, while Jimmy
arranged a plate of little catered sandwiches and Jim selected something
from the video collection. Thus it was that three responsible and
intelligent gentlemen settled down in front of the fire to drink gin, eat
caviar and endive sandwiches and watch an obscure Edna Mae Oliver film
titled Murder in the Penguin Pool.

They were, all three, very content.

The rest of their time together was taken at a leisurely pace. They read,
they ate, they slept and they made love. One afternoon late in the week
they put on an erotic video and then sat on the floor together, watching
each other jack off.

By the time their stay was over and Doug and Jimmy took Jim to the airport
they were so comfortable with each other they simply kissed one another and
said "see you later".

When they got home, even though it was only four in the afternoon, Doug and
Jimmy shaved, showered - separately -- -- and climbed into bed. They poured
champagne and sat close together, touching from shoulder to toe, the bed
clothes gathered carelessly at their waists. For a long time they just sat,
sipping their wine and looking at the towers scattered across their view,
enjoying the closeness.

Doug started to say something but stopped, unable to find the words he
needed. Jimmy turned and kissed him. "I know, Dougie, I know."

When Jim landed in Rio he found a new man sitting in the plane that waited
to take him to the construction site. Julio, as the man introduced himself,
was big; Jim estimated him at six -- three or -- four and well over two
hundred pounds, not one ounce of it fat. The man was probably in his mid
forties but his round Brazilian face, his infectious grin and his smooth,
flawless skin make him look years younger. He wore soft, Italian trousers
that had so many pleats at the waist that they looked baggy, a skin tight
silk shirt opened almost to the waist and brightly shined loafers, about a
size fourteen. He was also wearing a small gun.

 "Oh, this. Please, do not be alarmed," Julio said as he caught Jim's
gaze. "There has been some trouble, nothing much but the company is
concerned." He ushered Jim into one of the deep, comfortable leather chairs
some decorator had decided were appropriate to men of his stature. "Also,
Manual has quit and I have been appointed to his place." Manual had been
Jim's houseman, a sort of major -- domo in charge of seeing to the smooth
operation of the household. Jim wasn't unhappy that he was gone; Manual had
been a snob and Jim suspected he bullied the other staff.

Julio stepped to the bar, poured a glass of white wine and served it to Jim
on a silver tray. Then he settled himself into the chair opposite,
spreading his legs and giving Jim something else to try and keep his eyes
away from.

The flight took just under two hours and Jim spent much of the time
reviewing reports Julio had brought for him. The reports were neatly
stacked and Julio presented them to him in order of importance. While Jim
worked, Julio stared out the window at the jungle below. After an hour or
so, curiosity got the best of Jim.

"What sort of trouble has there been?"

Julio looked up and smiled at him. "Jungle men. They are not happy with us,
with what we build." He shrugged.

"So unhappy I need an armed bodyguard? That's pretty unhappy in my book."

"Please do not concern yourself. It is your job to see to the constructing,
my job to see to you." He smiled again, dismissing any thought of
danger. "If we both do our job, the project will be successful."

When they arrived at the company air strip Julio carried Jim's bags to a
car and drove him home. "You have no appointments today. You need good food
and rest." He quickly unpacked Jim's clothes, carefully leaving anything
else untouched, while Jim showered. When Jim came out of the bath he found
boxer shorts and a tee shirt laid out for him. Thus dressed he went to find
Julio.

Julio smiled when Jim asked why there were no trousers laid out. "No need,
sir. There are no women in the house anymore and as you will sleep after
your meal I thought none to be required." It turned out that the cook and
the young girl who cleaned had been dispatched by Julio, the cook, a sharp
tongued old woman, to the General Services Manager who had hired her, and
thus deserved her, and sent the cleaning girl to the administrative offices
where she was greatly needed and where she would also have the opportunity
to learn. Julio, it seemed, now carried out their duties himself.

As a cook Julio proved his mettle right then and there, serving Jim a
savory but light casserole of rice, meat and vegetables followed by fresh
berries and a glass of medium dry champagne. When he finished Jim went
happily off to bed and slept for fourteen hours.

The trouble Julio had referred to on the plane was more real than he'd let
on, as Jim found out the next morning when his car was fired upon by
snipers. Julio, who was driving, threw Jim to the floor of the car,
downshifted, hit the horn and stomped on the accelerator, all at the same
time. The car, a new Mercedes Jim hadn't seen before, responded flawlessly
and surged ahead, its horn, not original equipment, Jim was sure, sounding
like the air horn of a big diesel truck.

Altogether it lasted no more than a minute or two and then Julio slowed the
car and put his hand on Jim's back. "It is safe now. I am sorry to push
you."

Jim got back up on the seat and gave himself a quick check. Nothing was
even bruised although his freshly ironed white shirt was torn at the cuff
and smudged with dirt. "What the hell happened?"

Julio smiled at him. "Someone wished to engage us and I never accept
other's engagements. That is all. Shall I go back, so you may change your
shirt?"

Jim shook his head. "Don't bother. It'll look far worse by the time the
day's over, of that you may be sure."

He was right. The day started badly and quickly got worse. It also went on
for more than a week.

The snipers, and Jim was by no means their only target so he really
couldn't take it personally, were from the tribe which had claimed part of
the land on which building was taking place. They had sold the land,
actually traded it for land fifty miles through the jungle to the south. At
least that's what the company and the Brazilian government thought. The
elders of the tribe thought otherwise and now wanted to return.

Jim spent hours on the telephone both to Brasilia -- -- which sounded like
it was located on another planet -- -- and Chicago -- -- which sounded like
it was in the next room. He spent more hours with his managers and their
foremen setting up safety procedures and trying to convince everyone to
keep a cool head and for God's sake not to shoot back.

On the afternoon of the fourth day one of the workmen, a bulldozer
operator, was killed. Another operator saw which tree the fire came from
and knocked it down with his own dozer. Then he tried to run over the man
who fell out; he would have, too, if a foreman hadn't jumped on the machine
and stopped it.

The man in the tree turned out to be the grandson of the tribal leader and
Jim immediately saw that he could become the key to the whole situation. He
fought for two days with his own people and the officials in Brasilia but
eventually they agreed to allow Jim to return the man to the tribe. The man
was a sorry sight when he was released into the jungle, one arm in a cast
and an ugly, two foot long bandage along the inside of his thigh where a
tree branch had ripped him open fifty -- seven stitches worth but
regardless, his grandfather was most impressed by the return. The old man
had figured his grandson would be killed for what he did, possibly after
being tortured, and in thanks he agreed to negotiations.

When told of this, Brasilia sent a small army of people but Jim represented
the company by himself -- -- well, except for Julio and his gun, now
fashionably covered by an ash gray linen jacket.

The negotiations went on almost non -- stop for two days before the tribe
got what it wanted (more land where they now were and schools for their
young people) and the government got what it wanted (no more delays on the
project) and the company got what it wanted (for once it wanted the same
thing the government wanted). After eight straight days in his office,
Julio took Jim home.

When they got there, Julio decided that the best thing for Jim was a
massage to get the tension and evil influences out of his muscles. He said
this -- evil influences -- with a perfectly straight face; Jim let it
ride. Julio ran a very hot bath and while Jim soaked he turned the shower
on full hot, filling the room with clouds of steam. He left the room for a
moment and returned naked except for a small towel knotted at his waist and
pushing a massage table.

"I hope you don't mind," Julio said, indicating the towel at his waist,
"but the wet..." He helped Jim out of the tub saying Jim might be a little
weak after his ordeal. Jim wasn't sure which ordeal he was referring to,
the negotiations or the nearly boiling water he'd been lying in, but he
acquiesced and, in the process, managed to dislodge the towel from around
Julio's waist. Julio merely kicked it out of the way and helped Jim get up
on the table.

He began with Jim's back, first toweling him, then kneading him with his
powerful hands and then spreading oil on him and working it in, driving out
the last of the tension and -- what the hell -- the evil influences. The
oil smelled faintly of coconut and reminded Jim of the time on the beach in
Rio with the twins. The memory caused his dick to expand and become
uncomfortable under him.

Julio moved to Jim's buttocks and legs and followed the same routine,
toweling, kneading and finally the oil. He poured the hot oil at the base
of Jim's spine, letting it run slowly down the valley between Jim's
buttocks and finally spread over the backside of his scrotum. Then he ran
his thumbs upward through the valley, pulling the oil up and over the twin
mounds of Jim's buttocks. When his thumbs grazed the little brown pucker
hidden in the valley Jim sucked in his breath and squirmed, pushing back.

"You are uncomfortable. Here..." Julio lifted Jim's hips and reached under,
straightening Jim's erection with his oily hand. "There." The oil tingled
and seemed to spread heat in his crotch.

Julio massaged the buttocks and legs, raking his nails very lightly across
Jim's scrotum each time he moved from one to the other. Then it was time to
turn over.

"Ah, you like my touch," Julio said, openly admiring Jim's hard dick. "I am
glad." He began to work on Jim's chest, paying special attention to his
nipples, sending little bolts of electricity down to his dick and making it
flex. Jim let his arm fall off the table and slowly brushed his hand over
Julio's crotch. He was very big and beginning to rise. Julio gently laid
his arm back on the table. "Another time," he said quietly, "you are too
tired now and need only relief." He moved his attention to Jim's legs and
feet.

When Jim was totally relaxed, floating in that limbo between sleep and
wakefulness, Julio poured some of the hot oil directly on his dick and then
slowly spread it until the entire organ slipped easily through his loosely
closed fist. There was no subtlety to it, no build up, no pausing at the
brink; Julio simply brought him to orgasm, one that nearly shattered
him. Then Julio cleaned him and put him in bed where he slept for a day and
a half. He didn't even remember getting up to go to the bathroom.

-------------

To be continued.
Comments, suggestions, ideas gratefully received.
Greg
jg.ps@gte.net