Date: Sun, 9 Jan 2011 13:24:59 +1100
From: Marcus McNally <marcusis32@live.com.au>
Subject: Love On The Rocks 9

This story contains sexual situations between two males. If material of
this nature offends you then you should not read this story.  If you are
under 18 years of age you are probably not legally allowed to read this
story.  This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to
persons living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no
duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the web
sites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author.

*************

By the time Ty had unburdened himself and dropped his bombshell, he was
exhausted.  Rather than have the lengthy discussion I knew we needed to
have, I suggested we hit the sack and take the next step in the morning.
We climbed into bed and Ty automatically slipped in to his favourite
position, my arm around his shoulder, his head resting on my chest.  There
was no need for sex tonight; I could tell that Ty just needed to be held,
and understood.

We woke late on Friday morning and over a quick breakfast, I assured Ty I
understood everything he'd told me, that I loved him, and that I would help
him face what he was clearly seeing as an uncertain future.

I told him that Vince needed to be brought into the picture as soon as
possible, and that to spare him the initial fallout, I'd make the first
call.  I gave my man a hug and headed for the office, leaving Ty to spend
the day relaxing in the apartment.  Or pacing the apartment.  He was hard
to read at the moment.

I was about to put in a call to Vince in Sydney when the receptionist
surprised me with her announcement that a "Mr Cometti" was on line two.

"Hey Vince," I said, barely disguising the surprise in my voice. "I was
just about to call you."

"Hey Mike," Vince replied, and I sensed concern in his voice.  "Just
thought I'd call you because I've had a couple of calls from Ty's engineer
down there, and from his guitarist as well.  There's been some shit going
down in the studio and everyone's a bit worried about him. I thought if
anyone would know what's up, it'd be you.  So what's the deal?"

"When are you next in Melbourne, mate?" I replied.

"Tomorrow, for the weekend.  Ty's ARIAs `date' is still hot to trot.  Why?"

"Can you make some time to come on over?  I think it's better for you and
Ty to talk about this in person."

"Why?  Is everything OK?  I mean, he's not sick is he?  Please tell me he's
OK??"

"He's as fit as a Mallee bull, mate," I laughed.  "He's just got some
genuine concerns about the way his career's going, and it's starting to get
to him."

"Shit!" Vince exclaimed.  "He just won four ARIA awards!  What the fuck
could be a `concern' for God's sake?  From an industry point of view, he's
as hot as curried shit right now!"

"He knows that, Vince.  But you need to hear what he's got to say.  Can
`Miss Can't Sing A Note' spare you for a few hours, say tomorrow
afternoon?"

"Yeah, yeah," Vince sighed.  "How about I come to your joint about two?"

"That'd be great, mate.  See you then."

**********

When I got home from work at the start of our weekend together, Ty
surprised me by having cleaned up the apartment and even having made an
effort to whip up `beef stroganoff'.  For someone who had never really
cooked a thing in his life, it was some leap of faith.  But his mood was up
and I wanted it to stay that way.

Ty lifted the lid on the pan and proudly showed me the result of his
labors.  It looked like ... well, not like beef stroganoff, that's for
sure.

"When did you buy the stuff?" I asked with a smile.

"Didn't need to mate," Ty enthused.  "You had all the ingredients here."

"Really?" I asked hesitantly.  "Like ...?"

"Well, there were onions in the cupboard."

"Right".

"And beef in the fridge."

"Actually, that wasn't beef mate, it was lamb."

"Oh.  Damn.  And the cream was in the fridge and so was the tomato stuff".

"Mate, I had thickened cream in the fridge and beef stroganoff needs sour
cream.  And the tomato stuff was ketchup, and the recipe calls for tomato
paste!"

"Oh," he sighed, his face falling.  "I knew I shouldn't have even tried."

A `save' was needed.  "Mate," I grinned.  "You mightn't have made
Stroganoff but I reckon you've made a killer pasta sauce.  All you need to
do is add some crushed garlic, a handful of basil leaves and a couple of
grinds of pepper and we're hot to trot.  You can boil up some pasta and
we'll call it `Tortellini a la Tyson'!  And I, for one, am looking forward
to it.  Why don't you add the other stuff and put some salted water on to
boil while I lose the `bag of fruit' and throw on some shorts?  Then I'll
help you."

Ty seemed pleased enough.  "`Tortellini a la Tyson', eh?" he mused.  "Yeah
mate, you go change.  I'll bring us a wine in the lounge in a few minutes.
We gourmet chefs don't like it when people distract us in the kitchen!"

I smiled to myself as I changed my clothes.  So far, so good.  If only
tomorrow goes well, I thought, mentally crossing my fingers.  I tried to
focus on a positive outcome for Ty, but one that would keep everyone happy.
A tall order, I knew, but lately things had all seemed to find a way of
working out for the best, so my hope was that we were on a roll.

I sat on the balcony looking out across the park opposite for a few
minutes, before Ty joined me with a couple of glasses of wine.  He asked
about my day and I started to tell him about a new royalty dispute that had
been dropped in my lap at the office, but he excused himself to finish
dinner.

I found myself chuckling inwardly as I watched Ty set the table.  Wrong
pasta plates, wrong cutlery, and paper towel squares instead of napkins.
But it was almost joyful to watch him make the effort.

We sat down to the meal and it was ... it was ... well, it was pretty
fucking awful to be honest.  But outwardly I was devouring it like a
starving man.  It was Ty who actually criticized it.  "Not much chop, is
it?" he shrugged.

"Mate," I grinned, "For a first-timer, you did a great job. I'd have that
again!"

Ty's face lit up.  "Yeah?" he quizzed.  "Well fuckin' move over, Gordon
Ramsay!"

I refilled our wine glasses, took a deep breath and said, "I spoke to Vince
today."

Ty immediately tensed and look at me with some trepidation.  "And?  Did he
flip out?"

"No mate," I assured him.  "Far from it.  He actually rang me because he
heard from the studio that there'd been some hassles, and he was worried
about you."

"What did he say about all the stuff I told you?"

"I didn't touch on it, mate," I said.  "I just told him you had some
concerns about your career and that you needed to discuss them with him."

"So, what? I need to ring him and go through it on the phone?"

"He's in Melbourne for the weekend and he's coming over here around 2
tomorrow."

"He's coming to Melbourne just to talk to me?  Fuck, he's worried then ..."

"Actually mate, he was coming to Melbourne to give `Miss Can't Sing A Note'
a few more private singing lessons," I smirked.  "I just asked him to keep
his pants zipped for a couple of hours so you and he can talk.  It'll be
cool, Ty.  Just explain everything the way you explained it to me."

"I hope so," Ty replied.  "And Mike?  Thanks, mate!"

"Well, you'll have the chance to pay me back," I grinned.

"How's that?"

"While I was having lunch at the office today I flicked through a few of
this week's trashy glossy magazines.  They all had spreads on the ARIA
awards and you were plastered all over them.  There was one photo of you in
`People' that was shot from the back and I couldn't help thinking `what a
spectacular ass.  Wouldn't mind eating that ...!"

"You're not objectifying me and treating me as some sort of sex toy are
you?" he grinned back.

"You bet your big hairy ballbag I am, mate!"

I fixed us some ice-cream and we finished our wines, and as I started
clearing the plates and stacking the dishwasher, I could hear the shower
running in my en suite.  As I switched off the lights and killed the TV, I
heard Ty, his hand over his mouth to muffle his voice, call out, "Paging
Mr. Stewart!  Paging Mr Stewart!  Your order of one hot ass is ready to
go!"

I walked into the bedroom and sure enough, one hot naked ass was pointing
towards me from the centre of our bed, and it certainly looked ready to go
...

**********

"Now there's a cover photo `People' magazine would pay a million bucks
for!" I laughed, as I marveled at Ty's spectacular ass pointing invitingly
at me, his oversized spunk holders dangling loosely in the air.

"On legal advice, I have no comment to make," Ty shot back.

"This lawyer of yours?" I asked, as I stepped out of my shorts and stripped
off my tee, "he any good?"

"Yeah, he's the best," Ty replied.  "But my manager reckons he's a faggot!"

"He certainly is!" I grinned, as I crawled on to the bed behind Ty and
parted his ass cheeks with my hands.  Puckering my lips I blew air lightly
on his opening and was rewarded with a soft sigh, as Ty spread his legs
even wider to give me unhindered access to his most private parts.

He groaned as my tongue snaked out and flicked his puckered cavity.  I
repeated the action a few times before going in for the kill, slathering
his opening with broad licks of my tongue. In response, Ty whimpered and
wiggled his ass gently from side to side.  For several minutes I reveled in
the sensation of giving Ty's gorgeous ass a royal rimming, alternating
tongue work with finger fucking, until I felt he was properly relaxed. Each
time I pushed my tongue fully inside him, Ty moaned and whispered my name.

I added a second finger as my other hand massaged his swinging man bag
before taking hold of his iron- hard cock and stroking it slowly.  By the
time I'd inserted a third finger, Ty was pushing back for more and I knew
he was ready.

Positioning myself behind him, I rubbed the head of my cock teasingly
against his opening a couple of times before he groaned "do it, Mike ..."

And do it I did, sinking into the heat of his bowel in one long thrust,
both of exhaling in unison.

There are times when Ty and I need to make gentle, passionate love to each
other, taking our time and prolonging our mutual pleasure.  This was not
one of those times.  Ty needed to be fucked, hard.  And I needed to blow
off some seed.

I started to steadily plough him; he groaning, me moaning.  Fuck, his ass
was hot.  Inside, he felt like wet silk.

I was so turned on, having Ty squirm from the steady fucking his ass was
getting and repeatedly grunting my name. I knew this was not going to last
long, so I reached around and found Ty's raging, foaming prick, just
waiting to be jacked. I started pumping his dick in time with my fucking
and within a couple of minutes, his moaning got louder and longer and his
shaft thickened in my hand.  It bucked as it unleashed squirt after squirt
of 100% Grade A Rock Star jizz all over the sheets and sent it trickling
over my fingers.

I was tempted to suck my fingers and taste Ty's essence, but instead I
picked up the pace of my ploughing and stuck my fingers into his open, wet
mouth.  The sight of my beautiful guy sucking his own semen off my fingers
got me over the line in seconds, and it was my time for the long moan as I
buried myself in him to the hilt and let the `boys in the basement' take
over, expelling their temporary tenants in long, torturous spurts.

We stayed like that, me draped over his raised body, for quite a while, Ty
still fully impaled on me as we caught our breath.  Surprisingly, my cock
was not starting to shrink, which Ty realized at the same time as me.

"You're a horny fucker, mate!" he grinned, looking back at me.  "Your
audience is cheering, so if you're up for an encore ..."

"Can't say no to that," I panted back, "but I've got an idea ..."

I started reluctantly to extricate myself from the sanctuary of Ty's
insides, no easy feat when you're as hard as a rock.  It took a couple of
flinches from Ty before I was out and with my cock pointing the way, I
wandered into the dining room and returned with a chair.  Ty was still in
position on all fours, his ass still pointing skywards, my cum trickling
down his legs.

I placed the chair on the floor near the bed, sat and straddled the seat,
and beckoned to Ty.  He stood up, his own dick back to full must, and
walked towards me.  Our eyes locked as he placed his legs either side of my
own and then started to sit.  I felt his hand encircle my almost painfully
hard monster and he quickly guided it into position.  Still holding my
stare, he leaned in and kissed me as he sat in one fluid motion, completely
swallowing my erection.

Our mutual murmurings were drowned out as we explored each other's mouths,
while Ty lifted himself gently but steadily up and down the length of my
shaft.  We were positioned in such a way that the angle of my cock was on a
direct path to his prostate and as his excitement mounted, his kissing
became even more passionate.

Between us, I could feel Ty's cock throbbing as it slid up and down the
thin sheen of sweat that coated my stomach.  What remained of my earlier
load provided ample lube, making this a smooth ride as I pistoned in and
out of him.

We broke our breathless kiss when Ty pulled his head away, shook it and
panted, "God, I love this dick!"

"And God I love this ass!" I panted back, clamping my hands on each of his
ass cheeks, helping him speed up the fuck.

"Mate, fuck me ..." he trailed off, his head thrown back, his eyes closed.

I risked injuring my back as I lifted myself off the chair, bearing his
weight, and literally hammered his ass.  The look on his face as I emptied
my nuts and whitewashed his anal wall, was priceless.

We remained entwined for a few moments before Ty started to stand, my cock
slipping from his ass just ahead of what porn makers call the `creampie'.
Ty hadn't cum, and as he stood up straight in front of me, I lowered my
head over his boner and let my mouth give him the royal treatment while one
hand massaged his agitated knackers.

I knew him well enough now to know that this particular maneuver was a
shortcut to paradise for Ty and tonight was no exception.  His gentle
rocking gave way to his hand on the top of my head clutching my hair, his
ramrod sliding all the way into my mouth and throat.  Breathe, Mike,
breathe!

He tensed suddenly, standing on tiptoes before the onslaught started, and
my throat was treated to the familiar, welcome taste of Ty's fuck sauce.
His hands squeezed my head tight as he poured himself into me and only when
he was spent did he slip back on to flat feet, still holding my head as he
steadied himself.  As his softening cock slipped from my lips, he leaned in
and kissed me again.

He sat on the end of the bed and I remained seated on the chair as we
grinned at each other, silently acknowledging our shared intimacy.

Ty was the first to move, sliding backwards into bed, as I put the chair
back in the dining room before joining him under the covers.  Ty was on his
side and I snuggled into him so that he was spooning against my back, his
still puffy prick nestled against my naked butt cheek.

We lay in silence for a time before Ty asked quietly, "Do you really love
me Mike?"

I was surprised by the question.  "Of course I do, Ty," I assured him.
"Why do you ask?"

"Will you still love me love me if everything goes pear-shaped?"

"I'll love you no matter what happens," I said, kissing the arm that was
languidly running up and down my chest.  "And things won't go pear-shaped.
Everything will turn out OK."

"Thanks mate," he sighed.  "I just feel like things are up in the air right
now and you're the only thing that keeps me grounded.  I don't know what
I'd do if you weren't here."

"I'll always be here, mate," I replied, before adding with a laugh, "It's
my apartment!"

Ty disengaged himself from me and rolled onto his back.  I briefly wondered
if he hadn't appreciated the joke, but quickly realised he was wanting me
to lie on my back as well, so he could settle in his favourite position,
his head on my chest and my arm around his shoulder.

I stroked his head gently and before long, he'd nodded off.  I listened to
his breathing as I mulled over the possible outcomes of Vince's visit
tomorrow, before I too fell asleep.

***********

After taking a piss together and having a coffee the next morning, Ty and I
hit the park opposite my apartment for a long run.  Typical of a Saturday
at this time of morning, there were few people around, mostly a small group
of dog walkers who met in the middle of the park, so Ty and I pounded the
path around the perimeter for almost an hour before I started to tire.

Back in the apartment we shaved, showered and got dressed and Ty suggested
we wander out for an early lunch somewhere near the water.  We drove to a
nearby bayside shopping strip popular with the weekend brunch crowd and I
realized pretty quickly it wasn't such a good idea.  As we strolled along
the footpath looking for an uncrowded eatery, Ty was constantly recognised.
Some people stared, others said hello and a few asked for autographs.

Ty was his usual polite self but I could tell he'd tensed up.  Turning and
handing him my car keys, I said, "You go sit in the car mate, I'll get us
some takeout."

Relieved, Ty returned to the car and I flicked through the morning papers
as I waited for my order of two chicken and avocado wraps, two Danish
pastries and two long blacks to go.  I paid and returned to the car and
within 10 minutes we were home again.

"Sorry Mike," Ty said.  "Just wasn't really in the mood for playing `rock
star' today."

"It's all good, mate," I replied.  "This way, I get you all to myself!"

We ate lunch and later, while Ty cleared things away, I ducked out to the
small supermarket nearby and grabbed a few groceries.  When I got back and
started unpacking the bags, Ty was lying on the couch, plucking at his
guitar.  Every now and again, he'd sing a line or two of some long-ago hit
and as always, I marveled at the exquisite melancholy in his voice.

It was good to hear him enjoying his music, so rather than break his
concentration, I busied myself by throwing on a load of our laundry and
making bruscetta – a clever ruse, I thought, to put a good Italian boy
like Vince in a receptive mood.  Couldn't guarantee it would be as good as
his Mum's though ...

I was about to clean up the bedroom when the apartment buzzer rang.  It was
Vince, 20 minutes early.  I buzzed him in and let Ty know he was on his
way.

Ty opened the door and he and Vince hugged, and I joined them as they
walked into the lounge.  The double doors to the bedroom were open and the
bed looked like a fantasy wrestling ring.  Vince gave me a quick hug,
sniffed the air and said, "Geez, this place smells like a teenage boy's cum
rag!" he groaned.  "Don't you guys ever give it a rest?"

"Sorry about that.  I'd have sprayed room freshener, but you're early," I
grinned.  "Come on, sit down.  I'll pour some coffee."

Vince and Ty were just sitting down on separate couches when I walked in
with three coffees.  There was an award silence as we all poured milk and
stirred sugar, before Vince said, "So mate, something's not right, that's
pretty obvious.  You're not having a meltdown on me are you?"

"I'm not having a meltdown," Ty replied, a little angrily.  "You don't have
to over-react.  I'm just not happy with how everything's going at the
moment.  This is not exactly how I wanted things to be."

"What the fuck DO you want?" Vince shot back, equally annoyed.

"If you're gonna start with the attitude there's probably no point talking
about it," Ty shrugged, slumping back into the sofa.

It was time for me to once again smooth the waters.  "Hey guys, there
doesn't need to be confrontation.  Vince, you need to sit down and listen
to what Ty has to say without being judgmental.  And Ty, you need to make
your thoughts clear, just like you did with me the other night. If Vince
starts getting antsy, I'll distract him with bruscetta."

"You made bruscetta?" Vince asked.  "Where is it?"

"You can have it when you and Ty have talked," I smiled.  "Ty, start
talking!"

Ty sighed, sat forward with his head resting on his hands and started an
outpouring, just as he'd done with me earlier in the week.

He explained to Vince that he felt that fame had swept him away from what
he set out to do, which was to write music, play his guitar and sing his
songs for people.  He never wanted to be a "celebrity" or a "rock star", it
had all happened so quickly around him and his album had been such an
unexpected instant hit that he felt he was now dog-paddling in quicksand.

To his credit, Vince only tried to interject once or twice, but I cut him
off each time with a warning glance.  When Ty finished sharing his first
thought bubble, I gave Vince a nod.

"Mate, you are writing and playing and singing," he said, "only you're
doing it on a level most guys like you would only ever dream about.  You're
a star.  People love you.  Don't you hear how they scream for you?"

"That's just it, Vince," Ty responded.  "They scream, all the way through
my shows.  They're not listening to me, they're just swept up in the whole
`rock God' thing.  And Vince, I'm just not a `rock God'.  I'm not that
person."

"They're screaming because you're singing the songs they love so much on
your album, Ty.  They were quiet when you sang those acoustic ballads."

"Again, that's the point," Ty persisted.  "When I'm not the `rock God',
surrounded by the generic `rock band', they actually listen to me and they
let me touch them with lyrics and my voice.  The rest of the time, they're
just going ape shit and I'm just going through the motions of being
something I'm not."

Vince shook his head.  "Mate, what you've got is something 10,000 young
guys out there would give their right nut for.  Fame, more money than you
know what to do with.  And you're not ... happy?"

Again, Ty sighed.  "Remember that time you were travelling through
Queensland and happened to stop for a bite to eat at that little pub in
Stanthorpe, and you heard me sing for the first time?"

Vince nodded, and Ty continued, "Remember how quiet it was in that room and
how I was communicating with those people through my songs?  When you came
up and introduced yourself afterwards, you actually mentioned my ability to
`communicate'.  You said you wanted a tape of my stuff because you thought
you might be able to get me some gigs, maybe some interest from a record
company?  You didn't say, I'm gonna make you a fucking `rock star'.  I
probably wouldn't have given you a tape."

Vince rolled his eyes.  "So now, after making you the biggest male singer
in the country, all this is my fault?" he snapped.

Ty showed signs of firing up again, and snapped back, "If you remember, all
I said to you that night was it would be great if I could get a record deal
and have CDs available for people, because quite often they liked my songs
and wanted to buy a CD.  I don't recall saying `I wanna ponce down a red
carpet and be voted Rock's Sexiest Man within a year or so'."

They glared at each other and then looked at me.  "The bruscetta's going in
the bin any minute now," I said, trying to sound annoyed.

Vince chuckled and Ty relaxed again and said, "I'm a musician Vince.  I'm
not a rock star.  I love those guys in the band, but I don't really want or
need electric backing.  I'm happiest sitting on my stool in my jeans and a
tee shirt.  Fuck mate, I watched some of those ARIA highlights and there I
am, in clichéd `rock star black'. And fucking leather pants, for God's
sake.  That's not me, Vince.  I used to make fun of those guys."

As if to make his point, Ty picked up his guitar, strummed a chord and sang
a verse from James Reyne's "Any Day Above Ground".

"We were sittin' and a'chewin' Marlboros/Smokin' on the red brick
flats/Calling all the cars on Davey Street/Laughing at the boys in black
..."

Again, they both looked at me.  "Great song," I enthused.  "You oughta
perform it."

"I got my first guitar the year `Electric Digger Dandy' came out," Ty
sighed.  "`Any Day Above Ground' was one of the first songs I learned to
play all the way through."

We both looked at Vince.  "Where's the bruscetta?" he shrugged.

"It's coming," I smirked.  "It's `settling'.  Ty, tell Vince about what's
happened in the studio."

Ty took a deep breath and told Vince that while he was overjoyed that his
album had been so successful, had reached Number One, made so much money
and won an ARIA Award, he'd always had a few misgivings about the way the
songs on the album had been turned into power ballads when in fact, he'd
written them as intimate acoustics.

He'd sucked it up at the time, because everyone was so happy with its
success, but now that the follow-up was underway, the record company had
been strongly pushing him to come up with another album of songs "just like
Love On The Rocks'.

"They keep telling me they want more anthems," Ty said.  "If I hear the
word `anthem' again I'll fuckin' punch someone.  I've done the anthem
thing.  I want to make the album I wanted to make when I first left
Stanthorpe."

Again, Vince rolled his eyes.  "Now you tell me."

Ty pushed on.  "I didn't realize the record company would have so much say
in my records, Vince," he said, exasperated.  "Especially the second album.
The first one went triple-platinum for them.  All I want to do with this
one is to have some of the tracks more stripped back, but when I've done my
bit I leave the studio and the next time I hear the tracks, electric guitar
and drums have been added and suddenly it's just another rock song.  It's
like I have no say."

Vince glanced at his watch and then stroked his chin a few times, gazing
into space. "Sum it up in a few words for me Ty."

"OK Vince.  Don't think I'm not grateful for everything you've done and
yeah, sure, it's great being well known.  But I'm not expressing myself
musically the way I started out to do.  I can stand back and look at `Tyson
Hill' and yeah, he can pull off the `Rock God' act. But it's like I'm
looking at someone else.  It's not me. If I keep up the act, everyone is
happy except me."

Vince thought about it for a moment and said, "I've gotta go.  It's getting
late and I've got a hot date.  I'll tell you what.  Let me sleep on it and
we'll have another chat tomorrow.  I want you to be happy, Ty.  I just wish
I'd known before we started down this path that it wasn't really what you
wanted."

Both men looked at each other, smiled, and then looked at me.

"I do have time for bruscetta before I go," Vince pleaded, making Ty laugh.

"Coming right up," I said on my way to the kitchen.  I returned with a
platter and put it on the coffee table between the boys, and watched as
they pounced.

"Hey, this is good," said Vince, olive oil running down his chin.

"Thanks mate," I grinned.  "As good as your Mum's?"

Vince feigned shock.  "Wash you dirty mouth out!  Of course it's not as
good as Ma's.  But for a non-wog boy, you did OK!"

As the boys polished off the last of it, I asked Vince where he and his
date were going for the evening?

"My hotel room, of course!" he laughed.  "We'll be dining in."

"Do you really think you can do anything for her?"

"You mean her career?  Of course not.  She can't sing for shit, but it
turns out I can make her squeal!"

The plate empty, Vince was on his feet, shaking his car keys.  "Gotta go,
boys.  I'll call you tomorrow Ty, and meantime Mike, you need to burn those
sheets," he smirked, nodding to the bedroom.

He and Ty embraced and shook hands, and I saw Vince to the door.

"Thanks Mike," he said, squeezing my shoulder.

"You're not freaked?" I asked, surprised.

"Man, I need this like I need a hole in the head," he sighed.  "But there's
gotta be some way to come up with a compromise that keeps everyone happy."

"That's exactly what I told Ty," I smiled.

"Mike, seriously, thanks," Vince said sincerely.  "I don't know how you do
it, but you manage to keep him calm and on track."

"Yeah Vince," I grinned.  "I can keep him calm when calm is called for, but
other times I can make him squeal too!"

Vince laughed, looked me in the eye and together we said "Faggots!"

I closed the door and returned to the couch where Ty was sitting forward on
the couch again, his chin resting in his hands as I flopped down opposite
him.  "Mike, I've really gotta thank you.  I feel good that I got that off
my chest.  And I'm sorry for being moody and no fun to be around lately."

"Hey mate," I said, dismissively.  "It's all cool.  I'm glad to have the
old Ty back.  You wanna go out and grab some dinner?"

Ty thought for a moment and said, "Nah, how about we phone out for pizza
and then we can play with each other's stiffies?"

"I'll order the Express Pizza then," I smirked, reaching for my mobile.
"Delivered within 30 minutes or it's free!"

***********

It was still dark when I woke, exhausted but completely sated from the
previous evening's sexual exertions, and as my head cleared, I smiled to
myself at the fun I'd had with the handsome guy who was fast asleep by my
side.

Confronting Vince with his concerns at where his career was headed had
filled Ty with trepidation, but the meeting had gone better than either of
us expected and by the time Vince had left, Ty was back to his usual
playful self.

Over our pizza dinner, conversation turned to Ty's guitar playing and I
made a comment about how fortunate Ty was to have taken to a musical
instrument so early and to have stuck with it for so long.  My own musical
odyssey had been a disaster.  My parents waited until I was 12 to decide
perhaps learning piano would be a good discipline for me, but I'd
discovered masturbation by then and preferred those five finger exercises
to the ones that would enable my hand to stretch an octave!

They finally gave up on piano and bought me a folk guitar for my 13th
birthday, but the strings hurt my fingers so after three or four lessons,
the guitar was retired to a corner of my bedroom where it gathered dust.

"Guitar's not the only instrument I can play," Ty said proudly.  "I started
with guitar, but once I learnt to read music it was easy to play other
instruments.  Mum and Dad couldn't afford a piano, but my mate Chris had
one and I used to go to his place after school and practice on it.  And at
school, I was part of the orchestra and I learned brass and woodwind
instruments."

I mentioned that I'd love to see him play sometime and he'd grinned and
said "No time like the present.  Why don't you get ready for bed and I'll
be there in a minute to `conduct'."

I stripped for bed, and Ty joined me, naked and clearly `up' for the
performance.  Over the course of the next 25 minutes he indeed showed me
the full range of his musical skills.  With my upturned bare ass as his
`skins', he used his hands to play most of the drum part of "Smoke On The
Water" on my butt.  While still in the doggy position, he switched to
trumpet, simultaneously clamping his lips on and blowing air against my
exposed asshole, while using his right hand on my very hard cock to mimic
the action of the piston valve.

He stopped just short of my own crescendo and turned me over, telling me
with a cute grin that he'd also learned a woodwind instrument!  For a
couple of minutes he used my rigid `skin flute' to demonstrate his
considerable skills, blowing gently on the head of my cock while his
fingers danced up and down the shaft.  But horniness got the better of me
and I told him with a smirk that there'd been a bomb scare in the
auditorium and it was time to ejaculate.

"Don't you mean `evacuate'?" he laughed.

I laughed back. "No, I said it was time to `ejaculate'," as I pushed the
back of his head and shivered as his hot mouth consumed me.  If cocksucking
was a VCE Music subject, Ty would certainly have received honours!  Within
a minute, he'd caused a huge eruption from my `orchestra stalls' and like
the tidy guy he was slowly becoming, Ty cleaned up all the mess.

And then, with me still splayed on my back, he moved a pillow under my
hips, gently folded back my legs, and fucked me slowly and gently until he
too reached his finale, and filled my ass with his pent-up man gravy.  We
kissed for a long time before disengaging and falling asleep in each
other's arms.

Again I smiled to myself and silently gave thanks for having this perfect
guy find his way into my life.  How long I lay on my side watching him
sleep, I don't know, but as light started to seep from behind the closed
curtains, I saw his eyelids flutter a couple of times before opening and
closing.  He opened them again and looked at me, looking at him.

"Morning sleepy," I grinned.

"Hey mate," he groggily replied.  "Whatcha lookin' at?"

"I woke up and found some gorgeous guy in my bed. I was going to phone the
Lost Gorgeous Guy's Home and have them collect him, but I've decided to
keep him because he's so cute!"

"That's good of you, mate," Ty smiled as he stretched his arms and yawned.
"Don't you think you'd better feed him though?  He's probably starving ..."

I threw back the covers, got out of bed and opened the curtains, flooding
the bedroom with morning sun.  I turned back to face Ty and he laughed as
his eyes fell to my morning wood.

"I'd be careful if I were you, mate," he chuckled.  "Your new pet likes to
chase sticks and chew them, so you'd better take that away before things
get nasty!"

"OK, OK, I'm going," I said, throwing on a pair of boxers.  "Bacon and eggs
OK?"

"Sounds good to me.  And some coffee too."

I set about making us breakfast which we ate in bed before throwing on
shorts and tees and hitting the park for an arduous but exhilarating run.
We stopped to catch our breath when my mobile rang and I answered it in a
pant.

"Fuck," said Vince in my ear.  "You two perverts aren't at it again are
you?"

"No mate," I laughed.  "We're running in the park. But we're heading home
now and we're going to have a shower. Together."

"Spare me the details," he groaned.  "I'll give you an hour and I'll drop
in.  I think I've got a solution."

Back at my apartment, Ty and I did hit the shower together and languished
under the spray as the warm jets washed away the sweat from our run, and
the saliva and semen from the previous evening's lovemaking.

We were clean, dressed and smelling nice by the time Vince buzzed the
apartment, and I had freshly brewed coffee and croissants ready to go when
he walked through the door.

This time, there was no apprehension on Ty's part.  As he shook hands with
his manager he said, "When you said yesterday you were going to `sleep on
it', did you mean my problem, or the hot date?"

"Hey, I didn't sleep on her!" Vince quipped back happily.  "I was wide
awake when I was on her.  But after I'd left her a screaming, quivering
mess, I lay awake for a couple of hours and thought through all your
stuff."

Over coffee and croissants, Vince explained that he needed more time to put
a strategy in place, but meantime, Ty needed to finish the second album and
that in order to have a full commitment from the record company, he'd have
to toe the line and give them basically what they wanted.

Ty's face fell, but Vince was quick to jump in.  "I'll use your compliance
as a bargaining tool, Ty.  I reckon I can convince them to let you include
three or four stripped back acoustic tracks.  Then, when it's time for
album number 3, they can market you in such a way that you'll be doing an
`Unplugged' kind of album for a change, and an `unplugged' tour could be
put in place to support it.  A kind of `Up Close And Personal' evening with
Tyson Hill.  And you can do all the `Love On The Rocks' tracks on stage the
way you wanted them to be in the first place.  It worked for Bryan Adams
and Rod Stewart."

Ty's elation was obvious.  "You're a fuckin' genius, Vince," he said
gratefully, his face lighting up.

"Yeah, yeah," Vince grinned.  "That's why I make the big bucks.  Now sorry
about this fellas, I know you'd like to sit around all day thanking me, but
I gotta get to the airport."

As we headed for the door, Ty said he would return to the studio in the
morning and work for a couple of days on finishing the tracks and then fly
to Sydney to record his master vocals, and for the mastering of the album.

"When that's finished, Vince," he said hopefully, "would it be pushing
things too much to be able to take some time off to think about my third
album, and maybe finish a couple of songs I've half written?  I'd like a
break and it would be good if Mike and I could get away."

"I guess so," Vince replied cautiously.  "No commitment though until I hear
the final mix of this album."

"You know what, Vince?" Ty grinned.  "If I didn't have Mike, I think I
could fall for you in a big way!"  With that he grabbed Vince and planted a
wet kiss on his cheek.

Vince reacted with mock horror; "Hey, don't start that faggot shit with
me," he laughed.  "And especially not with your boyfriend in the room ..."

Goodbyes said, I closed the door and immediately high-fived Ty.  "Told you
things would work out fine!"

"And as always, you were right," Ty grinned.  "I'm glad you let me follow
you home.  You up for a game of `give the dog a bone'?"

Within three minutes we were naked, and I was burying my bone in my
favourite spot ...

**********

The next few days passed quickly and mostly uneventfully.  Ty went back to
the studio with a renewed enthusiasm, and excitedly played me rough mixes
of his tracks each night on his return.  He was particularly proud of the
acoustic tracks he'd recorded, including one he'd only written days earlier
in the studio, a beautiful plaintive ballad called "Until You Came Along".

He played the CD mix to me one evening after we'd eaten a meal and were
sitting on the balcony enjoying a glass of wine.  Before pushing the `play'
button, he kissed me gently on the lips and said, "I wrote this one for
you. Because I love you."

My eyes filled with tears as I listened to the track, Ty's breathtaking
voice bouncing off the glass balcony doors, his tender words beating a path
to my heart.

"My world was so empty/Everything felt so wrong/I was losing my way/Until
you came along" ...  "Then you gifted me hope/The will to be strong/My
world was so empty/Until you came along ..."

"It's beautiful," was all I could croak, followed by an embarrassed laugh
as a single tear rolled down my cheek.

"Mate, normally I'd never want to see you cry," Ty said softly.  "But I'm
taking the tears to mean you like the song.  You know I'll be thinking of
you every time I sing it."

**********

While Ty finished his tracks in Melbourne and prepared to leave for Sydney
to complete his vocals and the final mix, I set about planning our break.
At first, I was concerned about taking more time off work, especially since
I'd so recently been on holidays in Queensland, but I figured I had so much
accrued annual and long service leave that it shouldn't be a problem.

I met with one of the firm's senior partners who assured me that six weeks
off wouldn't be a problem, especially since there were no legal cases
anywhere near final negotiation stage.  All he asked is that I spent a
fortnight bringing all my cases up to speed before heading off.

The night before Ty returned to Sydney, I told him my leave had been
approved and that I would organize somewhere special for us to hide away
for a while.  Ty was elated, and the fact that I still had a fortnight in
the office didn't faze him at all.

"It'll take me a week to finish the album in Sydney," he said excitedly,
"and then I'll drive from Sydney to Stanthorpe and spend a week or so on
the farm with Mum, Dad and Scotty.  And you can just call me and tell me
which airport to meet you at!"

We knew, as we made love that night, that we'd be apart for two weeks but
neither of us let it wreck our perfect evening.

As I lay in the darkness the next morning, trying to delay getting up and
having to temporarily say goodbye, I focused my thoughts on the fun we'd
have together, hopefully somewhere sunny, totally unaware that Ty's return
home to the farm would present him with yet another unexpected challenge
...

**********

Please feel free to email me your comments.  marcusis32@live.com.au

FOOTNOTE:
You can hear the hit versions of songs referenced in this chapter via the following links:

Any Day Above Ground (James Reyne):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aM1tdIulIMo