The Island Apocalypse
By Red Cullions

	The key events in this fantasy are extrapolated (extravagantly)
from a real experience: a very handsome insurance salesman (very recently a
star football player -- I was his first insurance customer) brought his
company mentor and a youngish doctor friend to a conference meeting to sell
me insurance.  (I was afflicted with ulcers and high blood pressure even
then, and anxious about passing a physical.) The insurance guys made their
pitch and then the doctor opened his black bag and gave me a physical exam
right there in front of the salesmen at the conference table, including the
complete "drop your pants" routine.  I managed to control myself (only a
slight semi-hard-on) but the situation titillated me, and judging by the
blush on the older insurance guy's face, it turned him on too.  The very
handsome football player looked bored, but to jolly me along he and the
doctor made several crude but genial "locker room" jokes.  In retrospect, I
think the subliminal sex stimulation clouded my judgment -- I bought a
policy I really couldn't afford, and had to let it go a few years later.
But the "first sale" was fortuitous for Angelo, the football player, whose
meteoric rise in the company followed right on; for years he sent me a card
every Christmas, calling me his lucky charm.
	What was missing from this real life scenario, of course, was any
sense of privacy (and thus the possibility of developments, the promise of
future things).  An outsider might have entered the room at any time,
though oddly enough none did.  The small group audience was essential to
the titillation, but the situation had to be otherwise private enough for
serious flirtations within the small group.
	So in my dream I made the circumstances as exotic and compelling as
possible: a Caribbean island, a fantastically wealthy customer with an
isolated estate, a Hurricane in progress, a lavishly appointed cave as the
basic setting.  In this scenario I am the young hunk selling insurance, and
the customer is an aging Greek god.  My friends are the older company guy,
a wiry little Jewish wise-acre, and the doctor, a college buddy who owes me
a favor.  We fly into the island to make our pitch, having paid no
attention to the weather reports, but when we check into the local hotel, a
call to the prospect elicits the distressing information that a killer
hurricane is only hours away. The prospect urges us to hurry out to his
estate, prepared to camp there.  The local hotel, he says, is too flimsy to
withstand hurricane winds, but he is equipped with an impregnable storm
shelter.
	We have trouble finding a cabbie who is willing to take us out
there, though.  By the time we arrive, high winds and torrential rains have
begun.  At the gatehouse, some two miles from the mansion, Alexis Count
Syracuse is waiting in his jeep, a World War II surplus item judging by its
looks.  Alexis is sixty-three, according to company records, but he looks
twenty years younger: dark blonde hair thoroughly wind-touseled and shot
through with grey, a sun-bronzed, somewhat craggy face with blue eyes, a
wide, sensuous mouth, prominent cheekbones. He is impatient.
	"Hurry, gentlemen! We shall be drenched and worse before long."
	We pile our bags in back and crowd into the rugged but cramped
little vehicle.  It has a canvas top, which soon blows away.  The road is
narrow and winding, and at one point we ford an already swollen creek that
fills the opensided jeep butt-high before we climb up the other bank. The
wind roars, the rain blinds as well as soaks. I get the shivers.
	The Count's mansion is anchored to a mound of rock mere yards from
the shoreline.  We approach from the landside, of course, heading for a
cavern below the house which serves, apparently, as a garage.  Just as we
arrive lightning flashes and an explosive report cuts through the windroar;
a large tree slams across the ramp at the garage entrance.
	"Abandon ship," Alexis cries, in a strangely gleeful shriek.  "Hold
hands, gentlemen, and follow me single file."
	We thread our way through the fallen pine and into the cavern.
Inside, it's pitch black, but there is at least some relief from the wind.
Alexis holds my right hand behind him, Danny Stein follows behind me
grasping my left, which also clutches my brief case.  Dr. Jim brings up
the rear, lugging, it turns out, his heavy black doctor bag behind him.
Except for the briefcase, Danny and I have abandoned our luggage.
	In the dark, Alexis finds a cabinet in the wall, and soon a glow
from a flashlight interrupts the gloom. "Pass these back," Alexis says, and
more flashlights flick on as we each possess one.  Now we can see our feet
as we climb a crude circular iron staircase along the cave wall.
	"Without electricity, the lift dies," Alexis shouts above the
windroar.  "This is the emergency exit.  But we do not go to the house this
time." About twenty feet up the wall, we step off the stair into a narrow
passage cut from the rock.  At its end is another circular iron stair,
topped by a trap door in the ceiling.
	"The door is very heavy; give me a hand," Alexis commands.  As we
stand close and strain to heave up the circular iron trap at the top of the
narrow stair I feel his powerful thighs pressed against mine. Then the door
gives, and slides aside, and we mount the final steps.
	We find ourselves in what appears to be a marble-floored foyer.
There is a drain opening in the center, and ornate elevator doors along one
wall.  Alexis lights a pair of kerosene torches mounted on either side of
the doors.  "We shall be safe here, gentlemen.  I apologize for the rude
welcome.  Our immediate problem is to restore warmth and comfort.  Please
take off your wet clothes." Alexis has wheeled from a wall niche an ancient
coat rack, bearing assorted hangers.  "Hang them here to dry.  I will bring
towels."
	As he speaks, he hurriedly strips, removing soggy cordovan loafers,
slacks, knit shirt, underwear.  Then he slips through a side door and
emerges with a tall stack of oversize white towels, which he places on a
small table beside a bronze mirror.  As he turns to face us, smiling
broadly, an involuntary gasp escapes our throats.  Alexis is an incredible
hunk, especially for a man allegedly more than sixty years old.  He is
exquisitely muscled, uniformly bronzed, wasp-waisted with a broad chest and
meaty thighs. His pubic hair is dark gold and curly, and it tops a large
but beautifully proportioned uncut cock.
	"Perhaps now," the Count says, "we have time for introductions? I
am Alexis Patrocles, of course.  And you," he says extending a hand to me,
"must be Angelo, the football player turned insurance agent." At 6' 2" and
220 pounds of lean beef I am an obvious match for that description.
	"Right, and this," I say indicating Danny, "is Daniel Stein, my
boss at Mutual Benefit."  Danny is nude by now, but still dripping wet.  I
notice for the first time that though he is short and wiry, he's extremely
well-hung for his diminutive stature, a fact that is amply evident despite
the chill factor.  He blushes as he takes the Count's hand.
	"I'm Dr. James Santini," says my old frat brother, stepping up to
offer his hand. Dr. Jim, whom I have long known and admired, having at one
time plugged his butt with some regularity, is a slender Latin with a long
face, creamy white skin and curly, jet black body hair, densely matted
across his chest and again above his crotch.  He has grabbed a towel to
cover himself, but he lets it drop as the Count claps him on the shoulder,
saying jocularly, "Welcome doctor. You will be the first medical examiner I
have ever met in the nude."
	Somewhat redfaced, we each finish toweling the water from our
bodies as Alexis ushers us into a large room with a fireplace, a red
oriental carpet, and two high-backed couches facing the fire.  "Warm
yourselves," he urges.  "I will look for loungewear." As we move toward the
fire, we drop our wallets and pocket change onto a mahogany table standing
behind the nearest couch.  In a few minutes Alexis returns with what appear
to be "one size fits all" Terry bathrobes. They fit him, of course.
Danny's is more than ample, and Dr. Jim's quite adequate, but mine is
pretty skimpy for my outsize frame.  No matter how tightly I wrap it, it
won't really hide my crotch when I sit down, but I decide not to sweat this
-- we've already established a locker-room atmosphere here.
	Now a bottle of Courvoisier and brandy glasses appear on a tray
table before the fire, with a basket of apples beside them.  Each of us
takes a good snort, chugging it down.  Then we lean back to admire the
flames.
	"Gentlemen, we are stuck here for at least six hours," Alexis is
saying.  "The center of the storm should pass over the island in
approximately 90 minutes, but the following half of the hurricane is the
wider half.  My wind-instruments are located on top of the house, and may
not survive much longer, but we are currently registering gusts up to 150
miles per hour."
	The windroar is faint here in the bowels of the Count's
rock-castle.  After the tension of escaping the storm, drowsiness beckons,
aided by the booze.  Sprawled before the fire, legs apart, I feel my cock
stir. "What a beautiful set-up for a fucking orgy!" I think.
	Then I remember why I am here: a million dollar life insurance
policy, my first sale if I can make it happen! The count wants a whole life
policy made out to his youngest son.  Naturally the company is cautious --
we have already collected reams of the count's medical records -- but the
underwriters insist on an in-house physical examination, and since the
Count refuses to leave the island, we've brought the examiner to him. And
fortunately, despite the storm, Doc's still got his tool kit, and I've
saved my brief case. What's to stop us from making our pitch, doing the
physical, and wrapping up the paperwork, just as I'd hoped to do?
	"Hey Count," Danny says.  "What happened to your staff? You don't
take care of this castle alone?"
	"No, of course not," Alexis responds. "I dismissed the staff this
morning, after the storm shutters went up.  They need to be with their
families. Fortunately, perhaps, my own `family' is in Switzerland. We are
estranged at the moment. The cook left us enough food in the kitchen here
for several days.  Without refrigeration, it will soon spoil, so we had
better eat it.  Let me show you around our cave, gentlemen, then we'll have
supper, and perhaps afterward we can do business?"
	At the end of the room opposite the fire is an ornate dining table
with places for six, flanked by a matching sideboard with elaborate
candelabra. Through a door at one end of this dining area is a small
kitchen, with a bottled-gas stove and oven, a large refrigerator, now
silent but still cold, a sink, a pantry and a china cabinet. Off the other
side of the dining area an archway leads into an alcove with two double
beds and a mirrored dressing table.  A locker room style lavatory opens off
this area, with two showerheads along one wall, two toilets and wash basins
along the opposite one.
	"I think the builder intended this cave as a fairly basic fallout
shelter," Alexis tells us.  "There is a gasoline powered generator, but no
one has remembered to refill its fuel tanks.  We have enough fuel, perhaps,
to run for a few hours in an emergency.  But we have oil lamps for
illumination, and the fire for warmth.  The water supply is fed by gravity
from a cistern overhead.  The place can entertain half a dozen persons for
quite a while, but only if they're intimate." He smiles again broadly.
	"Excuse me, Count," Dr. Jim intervenes, "but I may need that
auxiliary power for a few minutes.  Most of my medical testing equipment is
battery powered, but the EKG machine requires 110 volts for the printer."
	"All right.  When it is time for the testing, I will start the
generator.  The starter is battery-powered, easy to operate."
	Under the circumstances, no one feels a need to shower, and since
there is no question of dressing for dinner, despite the elegance of the
setting, we return to the fire and more shots of brandy. Sprawled
companionably along the divans facing the flames, none of us bothers to
check the closure of his robe.  My crotch is completely exposed, and I soon
notice Alexis studying it from time to time. Suddenly, he asks whether
anyone would care to assist him in the kitchen.
	"My culinary experience is limited to TV dinners," I reply, "but
I'll be glad to follow your orders."
	"Excellent.  The food is already prepared.  We have only to warm
and serve it."
	We busy ourselves with setting the table and warming dishes, some,
like the frozen Lobster Newburgh, in the oven, others in pots on the stove.
The Count contrives to brush against me frequently, and I make it as easy
for him as I can, showing my body openly available as much as I dare.
Finally, as I stretch to reach a cabinet above the oven with my robe wide
open, Alexis puts his hand in my crotch.  I smile down at him.
	"No problem," I say. "Anything you like, any time. Let me know when
and where."
	"Your buddies -- are they also open to me?"
	"Dr. Santini is my former lover.  He'll probably be easy, but I
don't know Stein very well.  You'll have to go slow there, really seduce
him."
	"I salute you for your frankness."  Alexis kneels and takes my nine
inches deep into his throat. "Careful," I say sharply, catching a glimpse
of Danny approaching the doorway out of the corner of my eye.
	Alexis recovers quickly, spooning dishes from the pots into serving
bowls.  He hands these to Danny, saying "take these to the table if you
will, old man."  I give Dr. Jim a conspiratorial wink as he appears behind
Stein. Then as the Count follows Danny to the table, I tell Jim:
	"Make the physical exam as sexy as you possibly can, old buddy. The
Count will love it, and we need to psych Danny out.  If he'll go along,
this could be a weekend to remember."
	"You're a fast worker," Jim replies.  "I'll do the best I can.  But
remember, I've gotta have a report I can sign my name to.  If I miss some
vital flaw in this dude's life expectancy, the company will have my ass in
a sling forever."
	"Mine, too," I say.  "If he passes, though, the sack would be a
great place to celebrate for all of us."
		
The Island Apocalypse, Part II

	The dining area is now warmly lit by the elaborate candelabra on
the sideboard.  The table has been reset for four, with Alexis at one end,
myself at the other.  Dr.  Jim is on the Count's left, and Danny on his
right.  The dinner is lavish: oyster stew, Lobster Newburgh, scalloped
potatoes, asparagus, green salad, fruit and nuts, cheese, champagne. We dig
in, with growing hilarity fed by the wine.  Soon beads of sweat, prompted
by the food, the spirits, the increasing warmth of the room's atmosphere,
or all of these, roll down our faces.  Alexis is the first to shrug out of
his robe. Dr. Jim and I follow immediately.  Of course, our crotches are
still hidden by the table.  Finally Danny says "What the hell" and joins
us.  A glance in the mirror over the sideboard now suggests a scene that
might have graced a Roman bacchanale.
	By the time we've reached the coffee and cigars stage, nudity has
been implicitly accepted, as has a general low-key giddiness.  No one makes
a move to cover himself as we all rise to carry our dishes to the sink, and
rearrange the table for our insurance presentation.  Alexis asks the doctor
to help him start the generator, and as they bend together over the
machine, which is located in a closet off the foyer, I see the Count slip a
finger between Dr. Jim's buttocks.  "My turn is coming," Jim says,
grinning.
	An overhead fixture in the foyer begins to glow, indicating that
generator power is being produced. We all return to the table. Jim plugs in
his machines on the sideboard; Alexis turns off other lights and
appliances, all except the refrigerator, to be sure Jim has enough wattage
for the test equipment.
	And then it's my turn: I explain the deal the company will offer,
if Alexis passes the physical.  Basically the company will bet that the
Count lives another 15 years, to age 78, by which time he will have paid
the face amount in premiums, and the interest on the million becomes pure
company profit.  That schedule requires a down payment of a
quarter-million, plus annual premiums of $50,000 for 15 years.  At that
point, the policy is paid up, and becomes an endowment for the beneficiary.
Alexis, meanwhile, is guaranteed a legacy of a million dollars for his
youngest son in case he should die before the endowment is fully funded.
	This is not news to the Count, since the company and his lawyers
have chewed the details over many times.  He agrees to these terms, and
produces a certified check for $250,000 made out to the company.  I have
the contracts ready, but Danny and I cannot sign them until Dr. Jim
certifies the Count's physical fitness. And so the medical exam begins.
	"I understand some of this gets pretty personal," Danny says to the
Count.  "Would you prefer that Angelo and I leave the table?"
	"Not at all," Alexis smiles.  "I am neither shy nor modest, as you
may have noticed.  In fact, I should think you owe it to your company to
watch this exam closely."
	Danny nods, and gets a little red in the chops. Jim already has
most of the Count's medical history recorded, but he goes over it again
now, asking the essential questions. Operations: appendicitis, perforated
ulcer, now healed. Benign prostate enlargement, controlled by diet and
medication.  History of high blood pressure, controlled by diet and
medication.  Youthful diseases: measles, chicken pox, gonorrhea.  No
syphilus, no HIV.
	"Lie down on the table," Jim says.  "I need a heart rate and an EKG
in a resting state; then I'm going to ask you to run in place for five
minutes and check you again."
	The Count's crotch is now right on Danny's dinner plate, or would
be if we hadn't cleared the dishes away.  Jim takes a standard blood
pressure, then attaches the electrodes for the EKG.  While he does this, he
explores Alexis's skin, noting moles and potential pre-cancerous spots; he
fingers the Count's appendix scar, palpates his testicles, pulls back his
foreskin and pinches open the urethra, inserts a swab and takes a culture
of the mucus lining.  Danny can't take his eyes away, and can't control his
blushes.
	On cue, Alexis gets up and begins to jog.  He has a semi-hard-on,
which bobs up and down as he runs. Jim brackets the Count's belly with his
hands, one in front, one against the small of his back.  "Breathe from the
diaphragm," he commands.  The Count's cock bobs against Jim's hand as he
tries to expand his lower abdomen, and Jim cups it and presses it against
the diaphragm. When the timer goes off, Alexis has a serious hard-on.
Danny begins to squirm, as Jim takes a pressure reading, then attaches the
electrodes once more for the EKG. The Count's massive erection is now
inches from Danny's nose.
	"Am I offending you, Daniel my friend," Alexis says.
	"No, sir, but I am embarrassed for you," Danny replies. "You are
the most elegant man I have ever met, and I hate to see you handled so
grossly.  You should be treated with dignity."
	"I thank you for the compliment, but I do not feel ill-treated,
friend Daniel.  Dignity is within.  My body has always been open to my
friends.  Beauty, too, is in the eye of the beholder. Your body is for me a
pleasure to behold."
	"Mine?" Danny huffs.  "I'm nothing.  Too short, too skinny, no
chest, no thighs.  Locker rooms always make me nervous. I feel outclassed
by all the men I meet."
	"I would say you are young, slender and powerful, potency in a
compressed package. You need bow to no one in the genital department.  I
would trade you this body for yours."
	"No kidding?"
	"No kidding.  But I will say one thing: I think that doctors might
be a little more human if they had to play turnabout with their patients.
I am tempted to try it."
	"Later," Jim says, pulling on a rubber glove.  "I won't deny you
that chance.  But right now, I have to check your prostate.  So stand up,
turn around, and bend over."
	Jim's chair is right across from Danny's, and Alexis backs up and
thrusts his butt into Jim's face.  Jim dips his digits in a jar of lube and
inserts his forefinger.  He palpates the Count's prostate for a long time,
then inserts a second finger.  Again Danny is mesmerized.
	"I can't really be positive of your condition with this primitive
tactile examination, Count," Jim finally announces. "I have brought with me
a sonograph machine with a rectal transducer, and I'm going to take some
sound pictures of your prostate."
	Alexis groans, stagily, and Danny looks sympathetic. "Isn't this
carrying a routine physical a bit far," he erupts.  "We may lose a customer
if you continue these indignities."
	"We may lose a cool million if I don't," Jim retorts. "As the
doctor on the spot, I mean to cover my ass with pictures for the review
board.  If you don't like it, you can take your revenge. Shove it up my ass
if you dare!"
	"I'll do that."
	"Calm yourself, friend Daniel.  Besides, I get first crack at his
ass," Alexis says.  "You heard him promise a minute ago."
	"What's the matter with you Angelo?  Why aren't you defending your
prospective client?" Danny interrupts.
	I smile sleepily.  "Don't think Alexis needs any defending," I say.
"Can bloody well take care of himself. But he's right about one thing.
Been meaning to tell you. You're hung like a Howitzer."
	Danny groans histrionically and claps his hands to his head.
"Thanks, but I think you've all lost your minds."
	Meanwhile Jim has hooked up the sonar machine.  It has a long
phallic attachment at the end of a hose.  He gets Alexis down on his hands
and knees on the table, dips the phallic transducer in lube, and inserts
it, moving it in and out and from side to side (definitely a fucking
motion) while a small screen registers an image, and from time to time the
machine freezes a frame and prints it for the record.
	"Am I hurting you," Jim says.
	"No, love.  I'm just thinking about what I'm going to do to you in
a minute." Pre-cum is now dripping from the Count's cock, which is rigid
against his underbelly.  "Would it offend you if I fucked the doctor's ass,
friend Daniel?"
	"Hell no!"  A pause.  "I can't answer for the doctor."
	"He'll get his chance, but not until I finish my examination," Jim
retorts. "Okay, that's enough, I guess." Jim withdraws the transducer,
wiping the shit off it with Kleenex, then wiping the Count's ass.  "Nice
rings," he comments.  "Tight, but well-stretched.  I'd pay a lot for a
chance to plug you."
	"Sell me some insurance, and it's a deal," Alexis says. "For all
three of you.  My pleasure.  But I get my revenge first."
	Dr. Jim is bending over the sideboard, securing the sonograph.
Alexis grabs his hips from behind and thrusts his dripping cock deep into
the doctor's asshole.
	"Awwwwwwww-right," Jim groans. "I deserve it.  Fuck the shit out of
me."
	Again Danny is mesmerized.  When Jim and Alexis stumble toward his
chair in the heat of passion, he leaps up, displaying a truly enormous
erection.
	"Come on, Danny boy," Alexis croons.  "Get on the bandwagon.  Shove
it up my butt."
	"Fuck him, Danny," I say.  "He wants it.  So do you."
	"I don't know.  I've never done that."
	"Let me help you."  Coming up close behind him, I grab a handful of
lube and grease his cock. Then I walk him toward Alexis' ass and guide his
cock into that well-oiled hole.
	When I'm sure Danny's well into the fuck, I step back."Which end of
the daisy chain wants me," I ask.  "I want in."
	"Mine, for old times sake," Jim says.  So I lube Jim's creamy white
cock with its candy apple helmet, and back into it.  It's all Jim needs to
start spewing gobs of jism up my ass.  He starts a chain reaction, with
Alexis spurting next, and finally Danny.  But I still haven't come yet, and
I complain.
	"Give it to me, Angelo," Alexis says as Danny drops off. And so I
do.  Then, with silent accord, we all head for the showers.


The Island Apocalypse, Part III

	Just outside the head Jim takes me aside. "Angelo, get Alex to fuck
you.  I don't know how to describe this, but I've never felt anything like
him before."
	"Gee thanks, buddy," I say with some sarcasm. Jim shakes his
head. "I don't mean it that way -- you're the greatest, but you just gotta
take my word.  Trust me."
	With four guys and two showerheads, we naturally pair off in the
shower room; Alexis is already sharing with Danny, soaping his wiry body
tenderly, with lots of attention to the crotch.  Then he hands the soap to
Danny.  Somewhat hesitantly Danny begins to soap and then to caress the
Count's magnificent physique.  When he reaches the crotch he kneels and
pulls back the Count's foreskin.  He soaps the helmet, rinses it, and then
takes it experimentally into his mouth.  The Count's cock stiffens.
	"Head back, friend Daniel.  Straighten the throat like a sword
swallower.  Take me as deep as you can."
	Danny gags, but comes back for more.  Jim and I gather around to
offer encouragement. I massage Danny's neck and shoulders, Jim rubs his
butt and massages his cock.  In a few minutes my old company boss is giving
creditable head to a prime client, and getting close to creaming himself.
	"Can you swallow my come, friend Daniel?" Alexis says."I would
prefer to come inside you, if you cannot."
	Danny pulls back a little.  "I've never done any of this before.  I
don't know."
	"Take his butt-cherry first, Alex," I suggest. "Let's dry off and
hit the sack for a while.  I want you to fuck me next."
	"I am looking forward to that, Angelo.  Will you join us in bed,
Danny?"
	"Whatever you guys say," Danny responds.
	I lift the little guy in my arms, and carry him off to the bedroom
like a bride across the threshhold. "We're going to take your cherry, Danny
boy, but don't worry, do as I say and it won't hurt much."
	I put him on the bed, turn him on his side, and pull his knees up
into the fetal position.  Then I take a gob of lube and start working on
his anus, stretching the rings with my fingers.  Alex lies beside him, and
Jim sucks him up hard and wet.  Then Alex cuddles up to Danny from behind,
saying "Will you take me, friend Daniel?"
	"I'm scared shitless, Count, but yes, I'll take you."
	Alex enters him with a slow, steady pressure.  Danny cries out
sharply once, and then a remarkable transformation occurs.  His whole body
relaxes and a beatific smile spreads over his face.  "Is that what you were
talking about?" I whisper to Jim.
	"Must be," Jim says.
	"Tell me about it."
	"You won't believe me.  It's like telepathy, the voice of love
inside your head, or something.  You have to be there."
	Alexis soon wraps his arms around the little guy's slender body and
rolls over onto his back.  Slowly he begins to stroke Danny's enormous
boner, keeping time with the thrusts of his hips against his ass.  Danny's
eyes are closed, and an expression of ecstasy wreathes his face.  Clearly
the Count's ravishing embrace is the peak experience of his life.
	It isn't long before Danny erupts with volcanic force, spraying us
all, and Alex withdraws gently, saying "I think he will want to sleep now."
When Alex rises and starts toward the sitting room, Jim and I follow.  We
each refill our brandy glasses and crouch on the rug before the fire.
	"Your stamina is remarkable, Count," Jim says.
	"It has been a long time," the Count replies, staring into the
flames.  "This is my first sexual encounter in more than two years."
	"You are separated from the Countess?"
	"Six months ago.  But she forbid me her bed long before that."
	"That's hard to understand.  You must be an all-around fantastic
lover, if my experience with you is any guide."
	"Thank you, Jim.  Now I must have Angelo's opinion," Alex says,
rubbing the inside of my thigh. His touch is silky and hot.  I turn toward
him and we embrace, rubbing our bodies together as we lie back on the rug.
Jim moves aside to give us room.
	I'm solid beef, but Alexis is marble-hard, like a living example of
Praxiteles' art.  His tongue is like fire, flickering over my skin, into my
mouth, then my ear, down to my armpit.  He sears my nipples with tongue and
teeth, dips into my navel, then engulfs my throbbing cock with blazing
heat.  I swing around to get my face in his fantastic crotch, nibbling his
alabaster balls. But he's insistent, bathing my perineum, then slipping his
tongue up my ass.  A slow charge travels up my spine, and into the base of
my skull.  As he flips me on my back, lifts my legs, and enters me, I feel
an alien presence fill my consciousness, yearning and hungry.  I want to be
ravished, totally.  I can't get enough of his cock in me, his body in my
arms.
	Then the visions begin: I'm in the arms of a bearded satyr, rank
and hairy, pumping me full of burning seed.  But no, it's a woman, crazed
with lust, straddling my body and humping me with urgent bumps and grinds.
Then a boy's ass, milk white and tender, sliding up and down on my
throbbing cock.  As the images pass I sense that these are bits of Alex's
memory, activated by his present lust.  But how?  And why are they in my
head?
	The visions clear, and a voice fills my consciousness, breathy and
deep: "My angel! I must have you, all of you, always.  Take me, let me fill
you with bliss.  Be mine."  A fire builds in my body, threatens to melt my
flesh, consume my soul. I dimly sense my orgasm beginning, but it seems a
mere leit motif to the passionate conflagration in my mind. When it
becomes, at last, more than I can bear, I black out.
	When I revive, Alexis is bending over me, his face filled with
concern.
	"Forgive me, Angelo.  I have such needs!  But I should not lose
control like that.  I hope I have not injured you."
	"I don't understand, Count.  I have never been psychic.  How do you
reach my mind?"
	"It is a gift, a curse!  I cannot explain it.  You arouse such a
passion in me! And then I lose control. I apologize, my friend. Now you
know why I am such a solitary outcast."
	"The telepathy is that why the Countess left you?"
	"Of course.  I am bisexual.  I cannot edit my memories in the heat
of passion."
	"I see.  Dr. Jim told me he felt a 'voice of love' in his mind.  So
did I.  But I saw other things a satyr, a boy, a lusty woman.  I thought
your climax was going to burn me to ashes.  Nothing even close to your
passion has ever reached me before."
	"I am sorry to gross you out."
	"Don't be sorry, Count.  I feel privileged to have shared both your
mind and your body.  But it was a shock.  I don't think I could handle it
very often."
	"I understand."

(To Be Continued)