Date: Thu, 5 Oct 2006 16:06:11 EDT
From: JSmith1480@aol.com
Subject: Manolo- Part 3 (ws, scat)

After I chewed and swallowed the last of Manolo's dump I washed it down
lapping at the yellow water in the toilet bowl. I put my hand to my face to
wipe off some of the wet. It came back brown. I stood up. I didn't want to
ruin a towel so I swiped my hand on my leg. In the mirror I saw that the
residue of Manolo's shit was caked in a sloppy circle around my mouth.

Shoulders drooping I slouched back to the living room. Manolo's eyes were
on the game but his mind was on me. He looked over at me sternly. His
thinking was loud enough for me to hear. Yes, I was a real piece of work.

But then he looked down. His expression softened.

"It was my fault," he said. "I sent Diego to you. I should have told you
where to draw the line."

"I should have known where to draw the line," I said.

"Now you do know, don't you, Jimmy?"

I sat down next to him, tears starting down my messy face. "Yes, I know
now, Manolo. It's wherever you say."

He stared at the floor. "I know I haven't been in the best mood. Things are
not good between me and Cielita. Did I say to you she is pregnant again"

"Congrats," I said.

"We are doing even less in the bedroom now. And it never was enough even
before.Cielita loves me but she doesn't want me enough in the ways I want
her to want me."

I knew.

"I want to fuck you again," he said. "Go take a shower very well. Wash out
your mouth really good. Use the disinfectant, too."

"Sure, Manolo," I said. Obediently I went to the shower.

When I came back that gorgeous man was sitting naked on the couch in the
dimmed light. He radiated power. Six foot plus. Large, beefy, not buff, not
prettied up by any gym. Manolo was big because he simply was built that
way.  Kept in shape playing baseball with his buddies in Central Park and
down in Ponce.

But all of him was magnificent, including the slab of meat that hung
between those massive legs.

As usual I started get on all fours with my ass sticking up.

"No, Jimmy," he said standing up. "Lay on your back." This was a surprise.
A pleasant one.  I lay back on the rug.

Manolo crouched over my face so I could suckle him. His dick was at
attention very quickly.  He put my legs over his shoulders and lined his
big boner at my puckering asshole. He thrust and we both gasped. Then the
piledriving began. Manolo always fucked me hard. But in this position I
loved it even more. Not that I hadn' t enjoyed the delicious debasement of
having my ass in the air for use as his cumdump. But this new way
was...romantic. He put his face to mine and I opened my mouth. His tongue
explored my mouth. He had never kissed me before.  Now it was like I was
his woman.

"Manolo...," I started to tell him I loved him but stopped myself. He never
responded when I said that. His thrusts got faster. He was getting close to
exploding now. "Manolo..." I moaned again.

"Say it!  Say it" he shouted.

"I love you." And then he blew off in me.

And it was over. Manolo collapsed on top of me. We both were out of breath.
He put his lips close to my ear. It was heaven.

"I don't know where this is going," he whispered.

"When you know how far you want us to go, that's where we'll go," I said
softly. I meant I'd take Manolo any way he wanted to give himself.

He kissed me deeply again. He got off me and sat back on the couch. I
stayed on the floor and licked at his toes a little.

Manolo stood. "I'm going to take a shower," he said like a man who is
sobering up to a headache.

We watched some TV later. When he was ready to call it a night, he lay on
my bed on his belly and let me lick and gently suck on his asshole until I
lulled him to sleep.

In the morning Manolo was his usual upbeat self again. Friendly but
matter-of-fact. He squatted on my open mouth and gave me his dump for my
breakfast.  Unlike other straight guys who occasionally let down their
guard, he wasn't defensively cold or rude the next morning. He wasn't
afraid that he had given away too much of himself last night nor worried
that his passionate kisses made him seem weak.  He had no need to retrieve
his superior position. He hadn't lost it. Manolo was not just straight, he
was a natural man and would never concern himself about such things.

But though there was no more soft talk, there was an easiness in the place.
Even intimacy, I guess. Something had changed between us. For the better.

Another thing happened that really didn't surprise me. After all the
trouble between us because I ate Diego's shit, Manolo suggested that maybe
I could be nice to another of his buddies. As long as I accepted the limits
he set on my service, he was comfortable with sharing me.  And, as I was to
find out, his limits were modest. What really mattered to him was that I
bowed to his control. It was a matter of respect as he saw it, a matterof
my accepting him as my man.

One Sunday he agreed to help his old pal Jorge paint his apartment in
Washington Heights. He took me along because we only had the two days a
week together and I didn't want to miss any time to be with him. And I
could help out.  Go for beer, make sandwiches, clean brushes. That sort of
thing.

Jorge was okay. About as big as Manolo but older. Manolo wasn't even 25.
This guy was late `30's. And Manolo's physique was dense with
strength. When you touched his back or his upper arms or his massive thighs
you could feel how solid, how deep went his muscularity.  Jorge was getting
a little stocky. It wouldn't be long before he should join a gym or start
watching the calories. I flounced around the men, kind of femming it up as
a way of showing friendliness to Manolo's buddy. After all, Manolo had told
me to wear the jeans that accented my ass. The ones with the seam that went
down the crack of my ass and separeted the cheeks.

One time when I went in the kitchen for a soda, Jorge was showing Manolo a
picture of some other guy's girl. Jorge grabbed his crotch and made
grunting sounds. "Si?" Manolo said,"Si, whoa!" I stuck my head between the
men for a look. The gal in the pic was beautuful. Skin like silk, tight
body, nipples like Chocolate Kisses. "Very nice," I said, meaning it. "If
she only had a dick," I said heading to the fridge. The talk stopped and
meaningful glances passed between them. I heard Jorge mutter "maricon?" and
then there were more silent signs between them. On my way back to the
living room Manolo said in a low voice: "Ciertamente."

Shortly, Jorge was on the bed naked from the waist down with his knees up
to give me full access and I was sucking on his dick. With Manolo's
blessing. At his suggestion. While he, Manolo, kept on painting in the
kitchen. But he did look in to see how things were proceeding. He said
something in Spanish to Jorge. I looked up at him with Jorge's cock still
in my mouth.

"Show Jorge how good you can make his asshole feel," he said putting his
huge hand gently to the back of my head. I let Jorge's dick slip from my
lips as Manolo guided me into his buddy's crack.  It wasn't clean but
neither was Manolo's usually. But I loved Manolo. This guy: well, ass crud
is ass crud.  But what could I expect. I'm an ass sucker. Among other
things. And Jorge was groaning from pleasure. What greater compliment could
I get?

Jorge finished himself off whacking, while I sucked and licked on his hole.
When I came upfrom his crack I had his shit streaks on my face.

"Look at you!" Jorge said. " And phew, you stink!"

"You smelly cabron ," Manolo called from the kitchen."It's your stink.

Jorge laughed. "Not anymore!"

"It was a pleasure," I said archly and went off to the shower. When I was
washed I discovered there was no towel in the house except the one Jorge
had under him on the bed.

Both guys were back to painting when I came out of the bathroom.
Unintentionally (maybe intentionally) I must have been shaking my smooth
white ass as I brushed past Jorge because he gave my cheeks a playful but
sharp slap. I started. But Manolo's reaction was amazing. In a second he
had dropped the brush and was on Jorge pinning against the wall by the
throat. A cute afternoon of play had, in an instant, turned deadly serious.

"You are never to hit him." Manolo was murderous. "You understand Jorge?"

Stunned, Jorge nodded, trying to breathe. But Manolo held him in place for
long seconds. Finally he dropped his hand.

"I was just fooling around," Jorge said.  "What's the matter with you?"

"Never hit him," Manolo said again, low and evil.

"What is he to you?" Jorge gestured toward me. "Your boy? You didn't have a
 boy in jail."

Manolo shook his head "yes" without breaking his stare on Jorge. "He's
mine," he said.



To be continued.

Comments welcome.  _Arablover100@hotmail.com_
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