Date: Sat, 23 Feb 2002 20:07:20 -0700 From: RJ Murrin Subject: SMALL TOWN GAY BOY -PART 5 STOP! Press on your back key. Return to Nifty Erotic Stories Index and read the Warning. The Nifty Warning applies to this story. SMALL TOWN GAY BOY - PART 5 Chapter 1 My first two months in Denver bordered on miserable. I should have arrived earlier to look for housing. I had to settle for a room in a practically unfinished basement and share a bathroom with two other rented rooms. No cooking was allowed so I had to eat out. There were no facilities to even make a cup of coffee in the morning. I was homesick. My first week at classes made me realize that I may have graduated at the head of a small town high school class but students from city schools were more than a match for me. I knew I was going to burn the midnight oil if I was going make it. This kept me from seriously hunting for better living accommodations until Clay appeared one evening to take me out to dinner. He hit the ceiling. I told him I had saved some money, anyway, and I would give it back to him. Oops! That made him even angrier. Then, to aggravate matters still further, my 18-year-old hormones went on a rampage. I was leery of going to gay bars; besides I didn't know where any were. I went home every other weekend. Clay always managed to work Saturday morning but Conrad was another story - we could hardly do it in the furniture story. So, on the alternate weekends I spent in Denver, I spent late night hours on Friday and Saturday in a gay bath on the west side of the I - 25 Freeway, just off Speer Boulevard. You could suck a lot of cock in the dark, encounter rooms or the cubicles with holes cut in the walls. The only trouble was that being a teen aged cocksucker, I could suck six or seven cocks on Saturday and six or seven more on Sunday and wake up Monday morning with an erection - hungry to pleasure another cock My one exception to bars was a bar at the leading downtown hotel. It was not a gay bar, but high-class and expensive. It was possible to meet an out of town guy or a local, who like myself, was on the discreet side of gay. The reason for telling this is I met a 23 year- old guy, Barry Rossini, a teacher at East High School one evening - he enters into my story later on. My luck either changed or I wised up. I finally realized that the "Denver Post" and "Rocky Mountain News" both included their Sunday's Classified Advertisements Section in their Saturday editions. This gave sort of a jump-start to people looking for an apartment, employment, etc. I focused on a listing that was just a little above my upper limit as far as cost, but sounded very attractive. It had two telephone numbers listed. I called the first without a response. I tried the second and a man answered "Antique and Contemporary". I told him I was calling about his classified advertisement for an apartment. He asked me quite a few questions including my name and finally said that they had several people scheduled to look at the apartment later Saturday or on Sunday. Then he said: Toby, my name is Frank. I am at my store in the area just north of Cherry Creek Shopping Center. He gave me the address and wanted to know if I could be there within an hour. I replied in the positive and drove the speed limit all the way. Luckily I had no problem finding the address, just a little trouble finding a parking space - typical for the area. The signage on the store (which was a furniture store) was clever: Top line read - Antiques + Contemporary. Bottom line, in smaller print read - Nothing in Between. A nice looking guy in his forties, balding, stocky, with a King Edward beard asked if he could help me. I asked if he was Frank. He said no, but to follow him. Before we even approached Frank he said: You must be Toby. Toby this is my partner Art Fay and my last name is Marostica. Art and I own the furniture store together. What is your last name? Mason. Nice name, Art should have been so lucky. Why? It is obvious his parents didn't know Pig Latin. (It took me a while to get that one, before I laughed.) Art asked me to excuse Frank, in much the same way Kim would ask me to excuse Clay when he first started joking around with me in front of her. So, if your parking is good for an hour, lets go out the back and I'll drive you to the apartment, it's not very far. Frank was a well-built guy with skin and hair color that testified to his Italian heritage. He was in his late thirties, or so I guessed. We pulled into the driveway of a brick, one-story house typical of Denver but not the neighborhood. The Cheesman Park area, for the most part, was composed of larger two story homes. I was totally amazed and genuinely impressed when we walked in the door to his and Art's upstairs' space. Frank, this is fantastic? That is what most people say when they see it for the first time, but no body can say why. Give me your analysis. Can I wander through the whole house before I do? Be my guest. Frank, I have never seen a contemporary interior before. In this house it is a total surprise the minute you enter the door, especially given the exterior. The off-white beige walls, light beige carpet, white woodwork and the simplicity of the furnishings, plus the total lack of clutter are great. The colors in small accessories and the light window treatments all contribute to making the small rooms look so bright and so large. I love the mix of contemporary furnishings mixed with a few antiques. Why do you like the mix? Frank, I know less about music than any other subject. But, I remember hearing once that classical music always had a major and a minor theme. I think that is what your antiques introduce - a minor theme. We went down the stairs into the basement. The stairs were covered with heavy, tan, safety tread rubber covering. The first room you entered had a washer and dryer, but the floor was vinyl tiled in a tan color and the walls were painted the same as those upstairs. Then he opened the door to the apartment, I experienced the same sensation that I had when we entered the front door - exact same colors and contemporary furniture with an occasional antique piece for an accent. The big exception was that the ceiling was exposed floor joists and heating ducts, which had both been spray, pained a nice brown. The apartment was exactly one half as big as the upstairs and located under their Living Dining Room and Kitchen. The antique accents were a chest-on-chest in the Bedroom and an ornate marble topped coffee table between two leather sofas in the Living Area. The floors were vinyl that looked like wood planking and there were oriental rugs in the bedroom and sitting area (Areas is the right description. The rooms just flowed together with hardly any separating walls.) The bed was exactly the same as in, what I assumed was, Frank and Art's bedroom. A queen-sized mattress (no box springs) rested on and was surrounded by a foot wide apron of polished wood that projected a foot out at each side of the mattress but widened at the head into space for bed lamp, alarm clock, etc. It just seemed to float above the floor. I asked Frank where the bathroom was. He explained that it had to be located above the bathroom upstairs. A door from the bedroom led into a well-lit storage room and the large, tiled bathroom was on the other side of the room. The intervening storage room was finished and had walls of cabinets plus a single bed with a nightstand. Frank explained that some of the cabinets were designed for hanging clothes. If I had off- season stuff, there was plenty of room. The bed was to accommodate a guest, if required. All of basement rooms had 36 x 48 inch windows in large window wells. The windows were new, white vinyl with double pane glass - obviously a part of the remodeling - and made the basement rooms light and airy. Finally we sat down, me on one sofa and Frank on the other, facing each other. What do you think Toby? I have only seen two apartments in my life, but I realize this is a one of a kind gem. Can you give me a couple of hours to decide? It is just a little over the high end of what I can afford. Toby, don't hit me on my Italian jaw, but can I ask you a question? Sure. Are you gay? Yes. (I thought this might be one of the times where an admission was to my advantage.) OK, Toby. Forget the $500.00 price in the paper. Is $350.00 satisfactory? Before you answer let me explain that we have only one electrical and one water meter. So, utilities are included. I walked over and gave him a kiss on his cheek as a sign of acceptance. Oh, Toby. I forgot one thing - utilities include phone service. I will give you the phone bill each month and you can identify your long distance calls. If we had put in separate meters and phone lines we would have needed to get a building permit. The apartment was slipped in illegally. On the way back to the store, Frank explained that the former tenant, of two year's duration, was a sour bitch that never spoke to them. She would tape her rent check to their door to the basement stairs and that was all the communication they had with her. Besides that, it took both he and Art three Sundays to clean the place. Both he and Art wanted someone compatible and someone that wouldn't mind looking after the place during their vacations and that sort of thing. When do you want to move in Toby? This evening if that would be convenient - oh shit, I don't have bedding, dishes, anything else. Don't worry come after 5:30, we will give you keys and, you can sleep in the bed in the storage area and you can go on a shopping spree tomorrow. Art met me at the door and invited me in. They had me stay for cocktails and dinner before I went downstairs. Frank was a great cook - simple but filling Italian food with salad, bread and wine. We became friends within minutes. After dinner, while Art was loading the dishwasher, Frank told me go out in the back yard with him. Art said - Toby, slap his face if he tries anything. Frank said - We like to embarrass each other, Toby, but Art started it. He had forgotten to show me that there were two parking spaces at the side of their garage, behind the fence. It was exactly like Carpenters set up except one garage door faced the driveway at the front and the other stall was entered from the alley. I felt really comfortable in the apartment and felt as if it was my new, Denver home. Clay liked it too, especially the first night he stayed over and we initiated it with hot, lusty sex. He also thought Art and Frank were terrific. Chapter 2 In about two months Frank knocked at my door. I had company. They had rang the door bell on the front door, so Frank just walked him through the house instead of making him go around the outside. It was Barry Rossini. Besides conversations in the downtown hotel bar, he took me home one night to an attic apartment much like Brad Kinny's room. You entered from an exterior, wooden stairs at the back of the house. Before we entered he said - Toby, it's just for sex. No talking. Just whisper. That night I discovered that Barry liked men's attention, but he had a hang-up on returning it. The only thing he was comfortable with was jacking a guy off, but he did it slowly, tenderly and left you feeling very satisfied. (Who doesn't like to get jacked off.) Toby, I shouldn't have come without calling you. Hey Barry, that's what friends are for. He told me that yesterday night (Sunday) he had taken a guy from the bar home. He was a young guy from Kansas and his wife had just kicked him out. The guy had been drinking but Barry hadn't realized that he was slightly buzzed. Anyway, the guy starts calling Barry a fag and demands a blowjob, he shoves Barry onto the floor, stomps down the stairs and pisses on the lawn at the foot of the stairs. When Barry left for school today (Monday) the landlady stopped him when he walked by her front porch and told him to get out the day the rent became due that she didn't rent her upstairs out as a male whorehouse. Barry wanted look for an apartment so he could move during the next weekend and wanted me to help him move. He would have every thing packed and with two cars he could get out of the place quicker. I told him that he was so upset he wasn't thinking clearly. He could stay with me until he had time to find what he wanted rather than renting the first thing he looked at for a quick, temporary fix. Then I said - Hell, Barry. Just move in. Lets go upstairs and talk to Art and Frank. Barry was about 5'-8" tall but looked taller than he really was because he was rail thin. He had prematurely graying hair, and a black mustache, fair skin and blue eyes. (I found out later that his feet were so small he had to wear women's loafers but no one would have noticed if he hadn't told them.) His dick was a match for my 7 inch one except he was cut. He was cute but at the same time attention getting handsome. I introduced him to Art and Frank and they listened to me relate Barry's problems and my invitation to move in with me. They readily accepted the idea - Art told Barry I needed someone to keep me home nights, off the streets and out of the bars. I asked what they would want for rent with two occupants in the apartment. Frank almost got angry. For Christ's sake Toby, I told you want the rent was. What do you expect me to do - lower it just because we have two gays renting it now? By the way Barry, what's with this Rossini shit? You aren't an I-tie. Barry explained that his father's grand parents were both from northern Italy and his father was tall and blonde. That satisfied Frank. Shit, you northern Italians are more Swiss than Italian, but your so damn good looking I'm going to let you stay any way. But before you two go downstairs I want to frisk Toby. I asked - What are you talking about Frank? First you bring Clay in here, now Barry. They have got to be the two best-looking studs in Colorado. I've heard of gaydar but never a gay magnet. I want to find it. I want to borrow it for a while. I followed Barry back to his apartment, when we left we had all of his possessions. I rang the landlady's doorbell, when she answered I handed her a key and said it was Barry's key to the upstairs apartment. We slept with me spooned around Barry's curled up body. I was a good boy, even though a horny one. I knew Barry was tired out and stressed out. I have mentioned previously that I felt at home in the apartment. Barry did more to further that feeling. He took on the role of a wife until I became slightly pissed with it but I held my tongue. Eventually, I learned not only to enjoy it but, also, to depend on it. He did the house cleaning, cooked the meals, did my laundry with his and brought home decorative accessories that complimented the contemporary furnishings, plus occasional fresh flowers. One night I awoke around two in the morning. I thought I was having a wet dream but Barry was sucking on my dick. Another night he shook me and said he couldn't sleep and asked me to fuck him. He had lost his all of his reservations about being gay. It was really a home now. Barry fully satisfied me sexually. Barry and I lived in the apartment together until I graduated from Denver University and he stayed on a few years more. Neither Barry nor I ever told each other we were in love with the other. But he was the best friend I ever had. We had a wild, fun time just with ourselves, plus my friends, a few of his friends and some of Art and Frank's friends. Chapter 3 I will be selective in writing about the friends or this story could turn into a lifetime occupation but I need to include a few sentimental occurrences, though, because they seem essential to the continuity of the story. Conrad and Sharon finally got around to marriage. They were being married in Denver. Conrad asked me to be his best man. The marriage was on Wednesday. The rehearsal and the groom's dinner for the wedding party was Tuesday, early evening. Sharon, of course, stayed at her parent's house. Conrad had a room at a Holiday Inn on Colorado Boulevard, where the Tuesday dinner was held. His parents couldn't attend but were at the wedding. Sometime later, after the dinner, Conrad phoned me and said he was nervous as hell, could I come over. He thought a blowjob would calm him down and I hadn't given him one for a long time. I said, Conrad, if we get involved I will be busting my butt to get back home to shower and change before the wedding. Why don't you check out of your room? I will meet you in the Lobby and you can follow me home. That way we can help each other get into our monkey suits in the morning. We stood around and sat around drinking highballs with Barry, telling jokes. (Conrad did take a few drinks occasionally, but it was no longer a problem for him.) Suddenly Barry wasn't around. Conrad asked where he was. I said he was probably in the bathroom jacking off. Conrad laughed. After a few more minutes, I took a look to see where he was - he had gone to bed in the guest bed. Conrad, it looks like your last night as a bachelor is going to be spent in bed with me. That's a pleasure I hadn't counted on. Conrad was rock hard the minute we started to undress. In bed we started fondling and kissing each other. Conrad, will you do something for me. Anything Baby. Fuck me. He raised himself up on one elbow and said. Since when has that been an option with you? Since, with my consent, Clay deflowered me on a Labor Day Camping trip a couple of years ago. And you haven't given me any boy pussy, yet? No, but I have thought of getting naked and sticking my dick between the seat cushions of one of the sofas in your store to see if you would top me in front of a customer. Toby, the thought of it has my sex drive in high gear. I shouldn't you know, getting married tomorrow, but the idea is wickedly tempting - do you think we should? Conrad, after Clay fucked me and I felt his hot cum shoot into my ass I felt like he had put something of himself inside me and he was a part of me. It is the last chance for you to make me feel that way about you. Do you have something we could use for lube? There just happens to be a tube of KY under your pillow. I reached in back of me and switched on a bed light. I won't put in on right away. You like my mouth on your cock. I'll suck it a little. Then you can fuck me. I put the KY on Conrad and told him I would really smear around his cock rim. I didn't want his oversized cock head to get caught in there when he tried to take it out. Oh shit, Toby. Can you imagine me taking my vows with my dick caught in your ass? Conrad fucked me and shot a lake of fuck juice into me when he climaxed. I guess he had been saving a load for his bride and I got it instead. It was sooo goood! A couple of hours later Conrad woke with me sucking on him again. Toby, please don't - I've have to be able to get it up for Sharon tomorrow night. You will, you will get excited. You've always said she wouldn't let you in until you were married. Besides, if she is a virgin you might not get it in for a couple of nights? I got back on his cock and he began fucking my mouth. Barry went to the wedding reception with me. (Conrad invited him.) Aaron never did return from his summer in Greeley the year of my graduation. He stayed and earned a Master's Degree and became an instructor at the university there. He called me one evening that he had met a guy at a restaurant, a farmer that lived near Windsor, between Greeley and Ft. Collins. He still taught but commuted to work. His partner, Lee Dalton, had inherited the farm; they lived in a huge, old Victorian farmhouse - much remodeled. Barry and I loved to go visit them on a weekend now and then. Each bedroom was almost as big as our entire apartment. Aaron told me, on the sly, that it was a good thing I had gotten to him between his buns. Lee would have killed him trying to he loosened him up if I hadn't trained him to like it. Guess Aaron got a big one to spend the rest of his life with. I was happy for him. Chapter 4 One night about 8:30 Frank knocked at the door and said to come upstairs. He wanted to introduce us to someone. When I entered the Living-Dining Room the visitor said - Hi Toby. Well I'll be damned. Are you Mike or Matt? I never could tell you guys apart. Frank and Art looked quite dumfounded, pointing back and forth - Do you guys know each other? What's with the Mike, Matt stuff? (Mike and Matt were twins. Their father was a minister, self proclaimed I think, of a Hispanic Church called "Iglesia de Dio" - Church of God.) Matt explained that he had known me, casually, all of his life. The other's just listened while Matt and I talked. I knew Mike a little better than you. He was a friend of Brad Kinney's. Where is Mike? In Phoenix, married and is a new father to a baby girl. What are you doing in Denver? Going to Denver University, and you? I work for UPS. My dad kicked me out of the house when he found out I was gay. My mom slipped me some money. A few weeks later, Mike told the old man to stick his religion up his ass and left, too. How do you know Frank and Art? I see them almost every day. I deliver UPS packages to their store. Toby, weren't you a buddy of Taylor Smith? More of a neighborhood friend. Did you know he was the town's biggest cocksucker? Really? He saw me pissing in a urinal in Westgate Park. He wanted to give me $20.00 to suck my dick. I told him mine was worth a $100.00. One day at Westgate Park, while walking through the trees, going to the swimming pool, I entered one of the openings with picnic tables. An older guy was sitting on a table; Taylor was sitting on a bench between his legs with his head in the guy's crotch bobbing up and down on his cock. All the time I was talking to Matt my eyes, embarrassingly, were glued to the ball lump in his crotch and what hung down his pant leg below his crotch. I copped a look at Barry and he was doing the same thing. Matt was Hispanic, shorter, thinner and more petite even than Barry and had beautiful bedroom eyes; the cock that was transmitting through his pant leg would be large even, for a 6-foot tall stud. (But one never knows what pleasure God deemed to place in another guy's pants, does one?) The next day Frank told Barry and I that Matt was truly hung like a horse and that he certainly must wear a jock strap in the summer or it would hang out the leg of his UPS summer shorts uniform. Also, he was a total bottom, no reciprocity, not even kissing. But you could kiss him all over his body, except on his mouth. What he wanted was to look at lesbian magazines and straight fuck mags while a cocksucker hung on his dick, preferably all night. He and Art took turns sucking on him. I asked how he could last all night. Frank said he would lie on the bed, legs apart and space out on poppers. If he did get close to climax he would push you off, have a beer and take a piss before going back to bed and jacking it hard again. He actually could feed you horse cock all night. Being Matt and I had known each other a long time, and with hope in my heart, I went to an adult book store the first chance I had - I bought some plastic, shrink wrapped mags that were sold in packages and some poppers, which I put in the back of the fridge. To Barry's and my good fortune, Matt knocked at our door one Saturday evening, while I was on an errand for Barry to the supermarket. Barry had invited him in and he was drinking Barry's specialty (a dry martini). Matt explained that Frank and Art weren't home, so he came down to see us. (Oh boy, did I hope I knew what for.) Hey, Matt, I thought you drank beer. You better be careful of those Martinis. Why? They are like a woman's tits, one is not enough and three is too many. I'm on my second so I have a one left to go before I switch to beer. Matt was sitting on one of the leather sofas and Barry and I sat on the opposite one looking at his package. I think we both had the mother of all erections. Matt had to piss. Barry showed him where the bathroom was. I placed the porno magazines and a bottle of poppers on the table between the sofas before Matt returned. When he returned Barry told me I had some phone calls while I was gone. We went into the bedroom area. There weren't any calls but we whispered that maybe we should give Matt a few minutes to decide what he wanted to do. When we returned, Matt had his flaccid horse out of his pants and was reading the mags. In addition to a 9" fuck tool, his cock head can only be described by saying that it looked precisely like the head of a real horse's dick. (Put your thumb on the top of your cock, just at the back of the head; with your forefinger, pull the skin on the bottom of your shaft back until your cockhead has a flat appearance.) That is the best I can describe it. Hope you readers have actually seen a horse with his dick hanging all the way down. Matt, Frank told me what you liked. (He didn't answer.) He just continued reading. I asked him: Matt why do you like lesbo and fuck mags? Because Mike and I used to fool around as kids. He said we wouldn't be queer if we called my cock a pussy. Well you have a nice pussy. No wonder Mike liked to play with it. Are there any shaved pussies in those mags? A few. Have you ever wanted to shave your pussy? No. The conversation stopped. (Couldn't think of a way to entice or excite him.) In a few minutes he opened the plastic seal on the poppers with his thumbnail and inhaled. He unzipped his pants, pushed them down to his shoes and began to jack his incredible, beautiful piece of dick flesh until it reached that stage between getting excited and totally erect. Finally I though of something to say: Matt would you like me to grab a beer for you? Barry and I are both good cocksuckers and we could take turns slobbery sucking your big meat all night. Matt took off his shoes, threw his jeans and shirt on the floor and went to the bedroom and flopped himself in the middle of the bed, spread his legs and continued reading the mags. Barry and I had a session with Matt that can only be described as a cocksucker's wildest dream. Barry sucked. I sucked. Matt's prick would drip; he would rest occasionally, just as Frank described. Neither of us had ever been so high on cock. Barry and I milked his cock like a couple of whores. After hours of sucking Matt, around 2 o'clock in the morning, blew his nuts. Barry got the load but kissed me and transferred some of it to me. Matt collapsed in the middle of the bed and Barry and I masturbated each other until we, too, climaxed so we could get some sleep - one on each side of Matt. All three of us slept until almost noon. After several cups of coffee, Matt left. He gave us both bear hugs and said he would see us again. Finally I completed my law studies. The day of my graduation from Denver University turned into on of the saddest and most bizarre days of my life. Chapter 5 - My parents, Art and Frank, Conrad and Sharon, Clay and Kim, Barry and several other friends attended the graduation ceremony. After dinner my parents left for home. About 2 o'clock the following morning Frank knocked at my door. A Colorado Highway Patrolman had knocked at his door (the patrol car parked in front, lights flashing) and had asked for me. The patrolman told me that my parents had been killed in an accident with a truck. They had (according to witnesses) switched from the left lane to the right lane of the freeway to exit and were hit by a truck. Their gasoline tank exploded and their automobile became their crematorium. It took the police a while to decipher the burned license plate and more time to locate their home address and to relate the story to a next-door neighbor and inquire about any children or other relatives that should be notified. The neighbor and my parents had keys to each other's houses in case of an emergency. She told the police about me and helped the police find my Denver address and that is how they were able to contact me. Frank drove me home, arriving about 5 o'clock in the morning. We rested, but did not sleep until about 8 o'clock when Frank called Clay. Both Clay and Kim came immediately. They insisted I stay with them, but Frank was staying until Sunday evening. It was a full week before Clay drove me back to Denver. In the week's time, Clay had the house appraised and listed it with a realtor. Kim and Frank helped me find my parents' will, insurance papers and all the other things I needed, which I turned over to Clay. Frank advised me not to sell the furniture with the house or sell it locally. He would arrange for a truck come from Denver and pick up the furniture. He wanted to buy some of the items and the remaining would make more money in Denver and he knew where to send them to get them sold. Kim helped me sort through linens, dinnerware, silverware, and other items. Some she advised me to keep and we packed those and took them to her house for storage until I wanted her to send them to me. Clay found a deed for two cemetery lots and took me to the cemetery office. The man in the office said I could sell the lots but he thought it would be nice if I contracted with the local monument company to have a stone bench placed on the lots in memory of my parents, which choice I thought was the best. I stayed in my parents' house after Frank left. My last day, before Clay took me back to Denver, he took the afternoon off and brought with him all the documents that required my signature. Toby, I was surprised that you were described in your parent's will as the "nephew of John Mason. I had assumed John and Debra were your parents. No my parents lived in Douglas, Wyoming. My mother died one year after I was born and my father (John Mason's brother) couldn't cope with a one-year-old child so my uncle John and aunt Debra agreed to take me. Later, my father died but I was never legally adopted. I knew this but it was just a technicality and it didn't bother me. Toby, I don't want to unload a lot of stuff on you but I feel I must tell you what I have been thinking about. Toby, I want to adopt you. What? Why? Do you remember us sitting on a bench under a tree on the DU campus and my telling you I had inherited a fortune when my father died? Yes? Well, since my father's death the money has multiplied through investments. It is making me guilty that I have never told Kim about it. Now I want to set up a family trust for Kim and the Ann Kimberly and tell Kim about it. But, and this is a big but! Before I do it I want to adopt you so I can set up a separate family trust in your name. Clay, I already owe you so much. I just can't let you add this to what you have already done for me. Toby, you are looking at it the wrong way. I want to do it. It would make me very happy if you would agree. Whatever you think you might owe me, I owe you a thousand times more. By the way, Kim knows about our relationship. Oh my God!!!!! She's not angry with you or me. She told me one night that she had known for a long time. If I had been cheating on her with another woman she told me she might have killed me. But she began to realize that our relationship evidently satisfied a need of mine that no woman could fulfill. Believe me, Toby; I doubt I would still be married to Kim if you had not been around the corner for me for all these years. I signed the papers Clay wanted me to sign, including adoption consent papers and the family trust papers (which were blank at that time). Now Toby, I want to confess something to you. What? Despite your distress, I have been packing around a hard cock for the entire time you have been home. I can't help it, Toby; I want you so bad. I feel so cheap even telling you about this when you have been through so much this week. I walked around the table to where he was sitting, put my arms around him and kissed his cheek. Clay, there is nothing cheap or disgusting or bad about one human being's wants for another human being. Those wants are right, beautiful and full of love. You said I would make me happy by signing those papers. You would make me happy if you used my body in any way that would satisfy your needs. I want you, too; in fact there is never a day goes by that I don't want you. Clay, get naked, come to my bed. I have always fantasized about us making love together there. Clay had a bottle of poppers; he said they would slow him down. I locked the doors and pulled down the window blinds. In semi darkness I took him into my mouth. I loved to suck Clay; he was so masculine - even his cock looked manly. I wanted to suck on him forever, as I felt Clay did, too. Forever, turned out to be more like a few minutes. Clay's 8 inch gift from God signaled eruption. Clay grabbed my head and pulled it into his crotch, burying his cock deep into my throat. His ball sack shrank and his balls rose into position on each side of his cock shaft. His cum nuts discharged a flood of his warm, sticky, love juice into the back of my throat. More to follow.