Date: Sat, 6 Aug 2011 18:23:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: Dave Ledge <mikedave01@yahoo.com>
Subject: Older and Younger part 7

(From end of Part Six...)

"We all held each other again.  Jorge finally took me back to the hotel.
My plane was leaving the next morning.

I had so much to think about.  And, of course, I didn't tell them who the
mysterious donors were and that I couldÑpersonally (grin)Ñguarantee that
they would receive funding if they had an even half decent plan to present.

Absentmindedly I placed a room service order for dinner.  I was again lost
in thought when the door opened and I heard the cart cross the room.

I almost jumped when I suddenly felt strong hands knead my shoulders.

`Tsk.  Forgetting me so fast!'

Oh yeah!  I looked up to see the handsome young blond man.

`Do you want to eat first or play first?' he asked.  With that he leaned
over and began to ravage my mouth with his.  Guess he made the choice for
me!"

Sooner than I thought possible, he had stripped us both, he had gotten us
both hard, lubed me up, wrapped up in a condom, and then he straddled me!
He took my big cock like a man (sorry, grin).  And he started to ride me
like the young cowboy he was!  Fuck, he was a "power bottom" to beat all
other power bottoms!  It was clear that he was using me to give him the
pleasure he needed.  But he was damned handsome and, frankly, a brilliant
fuck!  He knew just how to use his ass to keep me from cumming too quickly.
He'd slow down, stop, and then start back up.  If there ever was a time
when a bottom controlled a top, this was it!  And what a mouth this kid
had, too!  He'd say stuff like, "Oh Daddy, fuck your boy.  Fuck your boy
with your fucking huge cock.  Breed me, Daddy.  Oh Daddy, fuck the cum out
of my big boy cock", etc.

At first the thought of anyone called me Daddy gave me pause.  But why not?
I was old enough to be this kid's dad after all.  And he did have a truly
fine cock that matched the rest of his body and was totally hard and hot
from getting fucked.  If I weren't fucking this young guy I'd have
swallowed his cock happily.  However, he had made it abundantly clear what
he wanted and he was just going to have it, got it?  LOL.  And who was I to
deny him what I wanted almost as much as he did?

After he finally came all over me!  I pulled out of him then and jacked off
all over him, too!

We were both a mess.  Literally.  We looked at each other's cum soaked body
and started to laugh.

When we finally stopped, he looked at me and said, "I'm sorry.  I normally
introduce myself before fucking!  I'm Edward, call me Ted, or if you repeat
your performance later on, you may call me Teddy, or whatever you damn well
please!"  I laughed again.

We cleaned up in the shower then.  And damn he was attractive!  I finally
had to say that out loud.  He laughed again and said, "You're not so bad
yourself.  I so go for super in-shape dark haired men old enough to make me
think my Daddy is fucking me!"  Well, that was a little odd, but his
megawatt smile disarmed me again. "And did Daddy like fucking his boy?"
Well, yeah!  Hmm...if that was his fetish, guess it was ok.  And it was
sort of hot, now that I thought about it.  However, he was way hotter than
any fetish.  Just the thought of a repeat bout was making me hard!  He saw
my reaction to him and laughed again.

We finally did eat dinner, naked.  He kept insisting on feeding me with his
hands, letting me suck on his fingers to clean them after I accepted his
"offering".  I returned the favor.  And damn, did he have a fine mouth,
too.  I could imagine what that would feel like around my cock! What he did
to my fingers made my cock totally hard!

He noticed immediately.  End of dinner!  I don't know how much or what we
ate.  I did NOT care!  He pulled me back to bed.  He got on his back and
said, "Daddy, fuck me.  Fuck me!  Fuck me hard!  Plow your boy, now!  He
lifted his legs in the air exposing his boy hole.

Um, who was going to refuse that kind of invitation?  Minutes, hours?
later, we finally both came again.  We both fell asleep, holding each
other...

I awoke alone.

He was gone.

However, I did find a note next to my pillow.  It read, "Daddy, you can
call me Teddy!  I want you again already.  Please tell me you're coming
back here.  My email is TeddySon@X.X My cell is 512 555 1212. SWAK."

Did anyone still use that expression (Sealed With A Kiss)?  Maybe here.

A bit sore after that vigorous all day (and previous evening!) work out, I
got the shuttle to the airport.  Still dazed, I changed planes at DFW again
and was back "home" sooner than I expected.

I stepped off the plane to a thunderstorm that had just arrived.  Fit my
mood.  It was so different from the almost desert heat in West Texas.  And
I do hope they get rain there soon since they're now in a severe drought
situation.

I got back to the house, let myself in, and totally lost it.

I looked around.  This was not my house.  Never had been, never would be.
This was Marc's house.  I had loved him more than life itself.  After he
died I had not changed a single thing in the house.  I still had all of his
clothes in his closet, ready for him to put on, if he came back from the
dead.  I had kept trying to smell him in the pillows we had shared.  I had
never washed the pillowcases.

I walked the entire house.  I walked it and walked it and walked it.
Despite myself, the tears flowed out.  I finally sat down on the couch.

I finally accepted that he was dead and would never come back to love me,
be naked with me in bed, and want me to make love to him.  I don't know how
long it took, but I finally stopped crying.  I think I had cried for him
after he died.  Now I was crying for myself and for what I had
lost--although maybe I had cried for myself both times...  I don't know.

I looked around the living room.  I saw the beautiful Victorian room and
period decorating.  I realized I could never live here again.  I had to
move on somehow, somewhere...  Did I just say that?

I called into the library when it opened, pleading jet lag and said I'd be
in tomorrow.  I'd had an uncomfortable night on the couch.  However, I
would never sleep in the big king sized bed in the master bedroom ever
again.

I called a few realtors I had met with Marc over the years, targeting gay
realtors.  When they realized I was serious about getting rid of this
house, they were incredulous.  They said that it was such a gem.  It was a
one of kind property in this part of town.  I finally had to say that it
was two years since Marc's death and it was now time for me to move on.  A
couple of the realtors sounded like they were salivating.  I'm not sure if
that was about the property or me.  Grin. Sad grin though.

I finally got an MLS (Multiple Listing Service) ad.  I allowed the
competition among realtors.

Worn out emotionally, I fell asleep early.

I went into work early.  Soon the head librarian called me to her office.
She looked at me carefully, studying me.  I didn't speak. Finally she said,
"You're leaving, aren't you?"

I looked at her in surprise.

"Some of my friends are realtors and they do love to gossip.  I know your
house is up for sale."

I nodded.

"So", she said, "What happened in Texas has made you want to sell your
house?  Are you hoping to move to Texas?  I apologize for asking but the
library really needs the donation of the collection deeded to us to survive
budget cuts."

I looked at her directly, finally.  I hoped I didn't look like hell.

"I'm not sure what I'm doing with my life yet.  However, after being away,
I realized I was still carrying a torch for Marc and hoping he'd come back.
I just can't live in that house with those memories any more.  That's why
it's on the market."

She nodded as if I was finally coming into my senses.  Maybe I was.

"However, whatever I decide to do, I'll be sure the library gets that
collection.  I promise that."

She nodded again.  I was dismissed.

I went to my desk.  I pulled up the emails and the work I had missed being
gone even a short time.  I answered all the emails and the user requests.
And then I stopped, full stop.  I looked around the library.  It was
beautiful.  It was a great place.  And it was not mine, it was Marc's, just
like the house.

It was suddenly super clear. I couldn't work here any more, just like I
couldn't stay in his house.

I needed to be myself without him.  It was that simple and that fucking
hard.  No tears!

I managed the day.  I checked into the local motel.  I slept badly but ok
enough.

I went to the library director's office first thing in the morning.

She looked at me and knew what I would say.  I said it out loud, because it
had to be said out loud.

"I'm going to have to resign.  I can't stay here anymore in the library
Marc helped to create.  However, I love this library enormously.  I'll go
back to Texas and be sure the deeded collection gets here, even after my
resignation.  And no, the library won't have to pay for that. I actually
have a fair amount of personal funds that have been invested well, despite
the economic crisis.  This will be my "treat/charitable donation" for the
library."

"And you'll make money from the sale of your house, too", she said.
"Marc's house", I replied. She shook her head. "I'm happy to acknowledge
your charitable contribution for your taxes--of course", she said.

I could tell she disagreed but understood that I thought the house wasn't
mine.  Yeah, as his inheritor, it was my house.  But never really mine.  It
was the house he and his previous partner had put together.  Period.

Ok.  I've done it.  I've broken all my bridges.  I had money enough if I
needed it. I'm used to living on nothing with nothing so knew I'd be ok.

I've promised to go back to Texas.  I've promised to get the collection for
the library.  I have to do that.

And I'm getting cold feet.  What the fuck had happened in Texas?  I had
only been with one person, sexually, in my entire life before this trip.
And suddenly I was a slut.  I'm sorry, that's how I saw myself.  After
being a virgin with no sex life at all I had found Marc and Marc found me.
We had an incredible sex life.  But now in my late 40s I had had sex with
four different guys within the span of 48 hours after having sex with only
one person in my entire life before?  Isn't that being a slut?  I'm
actually sort of afraid of going back to Texas.  If I'm that kind of guy
there, what does that mean?

I was stewing in my own juices.  Sigh.  I knew I was dithering.  I knew I
had to go back to Texas.  I had promised the family there as well as my
library here.  I had had such an incredible time there that I was afraid to
go back in case I had over-imagined my time there as well as afraid that
being there would erase my memory of Marc.  And was I a slut for having sex
with four guys in less than 24 hours?  I was so fucked up.

My resignation was accepted, reluctantly, it seemed.  I knew I had a job to
go back to if there were any openings.  And even though I knew I didn't
have to work, not going to work was going to be very stressful.

All of the realtors assured me the house would be sold in days. I had
emails from Texas from the family with their plan to make the ranch
successful. I couldn't open the attachments. I sent the family a note to
say that all was going well here and I would be contacting the donors about
their plans.

One of my favorite realtors soon said he had a buyer (a gay couple, of
course?).  We closed immediately.

I actually didn't have many things that belonged to me in that house. All
of the furniture and decorations were Marc's. What I had I gave to the
library and to charities.  I realized I never had had many things of my own
ever.  Sort of the story of my life, I guess.

I admired the gay couple who bought the house.  They were so happy.  Didn't
mean they didn't look me over, too. Did I look that bad? Damn, I super hope
I don't look like a kind of Heathcliff from Wandering Heights.  I think
I'll shave my head.  Long dark hair and melancholic unhappiness, do they go
together?

Sigh.

Finally the realtor friend took pity on me.  Thank the Lord!  Marc and I
had had lots of gay "friends" over the years but now that I thought about
it I realized that none of us had ever talked about anything substantial.

"What's wrong with you", he asked. "Look, selling this house will make me
real money.  I can afford to take some time off. You look like shit.  Talk
to me..." I decided to be totally honest and explained everything that had
happened over the last three years. I even told him a bit about my trip to
Texas.  I just couldn't give him all the details about that trip since I
was still a bit ashamed about my behavior there.  I had started to chalk it
up to a reaction to finally getting over Marc's death.

"Oh my God", he said. "You are just that innocent?

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He took my head in his hands and held it.  "Mark, my man, you and Marc were
the poster men for hot gay men in this town.  No one in this town touched
either one of you when you were partnered because we all respected that
even if we were all jealous.  And you went so far to pieces after Marc's
death that no gay man in this town would touch you then, too, out of
respect.  However, if you've finally come back to life, you can expect your
"dance card" to fill up in minutes!  There are guys in this town who have
lusted after you for years, both older and younger than you are.  There are
guys here who would just want a one-night stand with you.  There are other
guys who want to replace your Marc and make you their partner, if you're
available.  Even the couple who bought your house would take you in in a
nanosecond for a threesome."

I said, "I thought they thought I was some sort of crazy person the way
they were looking at me."

"No", he said. "They thought you were hot."

"Why?" I said. "I'm just normal looking."

He shocked the hell of me then by slapping me on the face.  Damn that hurt!

"Don't the fuck deny who you are and what you are!" he said.  "Dude, you
are really, really, hot.  Please, no false modesty.  Frankly, that kind of
false modesty, asking for compliments, just pisses the hell out me. And
those guys in Texas were not doing you a favor and they didn't think you
were a sex professional so that they wanted you to have sex with them.
They saw you for your face, your body, your attractiveness, your
personality, your radiance, whatever the fuck you want to call it.  They
the fuck saw you for you and wanted you.  And they loved it, I bet.  And
they want you again, I bet."

I nodded.

"Dude, I so want to slap you again.  Get the fuck over yourself.  I am so
pissed at you.  I'm leaving now.  I'll be back to talk to you when I calm
down."

And he left.

I went back to my motel room and feel asleep and slept dreamlessly.  I woke
up the next morning and went through the motions of eating, etc.  I went
for a long run late morning.  I got caught in a rainstorm and was soaked to
the skin.  I took off my shirt and ran back in my shorts.  I think I ate
lunch but don't remember.  I guess I was just numb.  I think I had been
numb here, in this town, for three years.  When I was in Texas was I me,
not numbed, or was I not me?

I just sat in the room and waited for my realtor friend to call.

He eventually did.

He came to my room.

"Do you know that a lot of gay guys saw you running shirtless in the rain
today with your shorts plastered to your crotch and ass and talked about
it?"

I was shocked.  "No."

He took pity on me again.  "What do you know about gay men and gay sex?"

"Only what I know from Marc."

"I hate to bring you down to reality, but many, many, gay men are looking
for sex all the time.  Even if they only talk about it, they are looking to
hump or be humped by every single man they see.  A lot of gay men are never
going to settle down.  They just want the hot man they see to "do" them and
want the rush that comes with that.  And that's all they want, ever.
They'll never get married.  They'll never have partners.  And they'll try
to "snake" gay guys in partnerships if they think they have a chance.  They
love the thrill of the conquest more than the actual sex itself.  If they
get a guy in a marriage or a partnership to forego that for them, they get
a huge thrill."

I think I looked sick and turned white then.  I was such a rube. I could
tell he was telling me the truth but it was not a truth I wanted to hear.

"Tell me more about the guys in Texas."

It was not a request, but a demand.

I did.

"OK, none of them is like what I was talking about.  The older guy might
become a partner but you're not used to being the bottom. Still there are
real feelings there. The two Mexican and half-Mexican guys are partners and
want you to join them when you can and already have feelings for you.  The
young Texan guy might actually want you as a partner if he grows up.  I'm
guessing he sensed a lot about you that you've not even realized until
yesterday...

I know you said you have to go back there for library work.  You should.
But maybe you should come back here after that and give local guys a chance
with you, too, now that we know you've come back to life.  Don't buy a
house anywhere until you figure yourself out."

With that he gave a full kiss on the mouth and left.

Oh fuck.

Now I was totally screwed up.  I had quit my job, sold the place I lived.
I had to go back to the place, which had changed my life and see the people
who had done that.  Then I was supposed to come back to my hometown and
say, `hey guys, I'm here and up for grabs?'

I'm sorry, but I think God has a very interesting sense of humor.

OK. I'll book my flight for Midland tomorrow and look at the plans for the
ranch tomorrow, too.

Night all.