Date: Sat, 12 Apr 2014 23:35:29 -0400 From: Allan B Subject: Touchdown!4 [This is my fourth story, a continuation of Todd and Tony . . . or the hot man whose name I've changed to protect his privacy and me some time ago and am calling "Tony" for the sake of this story. I hope you enjoy Touchdown 4. If you do, write me and tell me. And also, PLEASE make a donation to nifty.org if you are able to, in recognition of the site's convenience and entertainment value. –Al] Tony was surprised when we got in my bathroom. "FUCK!" he exclaimed, looking around. "It's like the rest of this place – just part of the landscape," I self-consciously commented, again embarrassed by my excessively overdone house. Tony had moved away from me, checking out the huge sunken Jacuzzi tub with its windows, the toilet room, as I called it, with the bidet, toilet AND urinal, which admittedly I loved having, the long counter and tinted-glass sinks, gawking openly. He turned around when I minimized it. "Todd, man, this is fucking awesome! And you have no reason to be embarrassed – you earned all this, so you deserve it." That made me really uncomfortable, and I looked down and scuffed my foot on the teak floor. "OH MAN you're blushing!" Tony observed. He came back to me and put his fingers halfway from my shoulder to my left nipple, on my pec. "All the way to here!" he grinned. "Don't forget, stud, I've seen you blush, too," I reminded him. But it was a strange moment, and although I'd meant it as a taunt, it came out filled with intimacy. I found myself putting my left hand up over his, and I bent my head down and kissed his fingers. Tony leaned in and nuzzled his face into my neck and inhaled deeply. "FUCK you smell good," he said through a long breath. I awkwardly kissed the side of his head. "Shower, remember?" Tony licked me from my shoulder up the side of my neck to my hairline behind my ear, and my body sparked . . . again. "Mmmmmm, just enjoying your sweat a little, first," he moaned. My cock was filling, and my skin was tingling. Tony's hand found my almost fully hard cock, and he moaned again into my neck. "I want," he stated into my ear. I wanted, too. I found myself putting my hands gently on his shoulders and pushing him to his knees. He took a handful of my balls and a mouthful of my cock without hesitation, and the shock of pleasure that bolted through me made me have to reach back and find the countertop to steady myself. Tony's nose hit my pubes, and he inhaled with a long, "MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM." I found his head with my free hand and took hold, stoked and inexplicably needy again, and I began to skull-fuck him. "OHHMMMMMMMMMNNNNNNGGGGGGGG FFURUUUCCCHHHHHHHHH MMMNNNGGYYEAAAAAATHHHHHHHHHH!" was roughly what he said around my cock. That just made me more needy, and I forced my cock down his throat and held him until he started to gag before I let him come up and lick my bulging head again. One of the times he was licking and sucking hungrily all over my flaring head, I looked down and saw his cock was raging, and he was stroking it. That just made me hotter . . . and I skull-fucked him harder and faster. "FFURUUUCCCHHHHHHHHH MMMNNNGGYYEAAAAAATHHHHHHHHHH!" or something like it I heard him moan around my thrusting cock as I invaded his throat with every thrust. Something stoked him – maybe my change of rhythm and beginning to almost choke him by holding my cock in for a few beats with every thrust – and he reached around and grabbed one of my buttcheeks HARD and was pulling at me, urging me to fuck his throat harder and deeper. I was building up, knew it wouldn't be long until my aching nuts would explode again, when his moans became frantic, and I felt a blast of hot jizz hit my feet. That was all it took for me to instantly explode. "OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" I shouted as my held his face buried in my crotch and began unloading down his throat. My balls were aching. I wasn't bad for my age, but this stud had me on overload. I was grateful my cock performed as well as it did, but that orgasm felt like my nuts were in a vise when I finally began to blast my load. Between the intensity and the hotness of feeling his seed splattering on my feet and ankles, it was enough to sap me of any strength I had, and my hand on his head went limp and I struggled to steady myself. Tony made sure he licked me clean of every drop until I was giggling weakly. Then he stood and pressed his cummy lips to mine and shared what little of my load hadn't shot down his throat. Despite my weakened state, I sucked at his lips and tongue and mouth hungrily and bucked my body into his. I felt his dripping cock against my thigh and managed to reach down and swipe it with my hand to get his juice, causing him to hiss at my touch. I brought my cummy fingers to our joined mouths, and we sucked them together until we both laughed. "FUCK you are HOT!" he declared, finally having broken away from me. "Trust me," I told him dead seriously, "I don't recognize the man I have been today. I thought that version of myself was long in the past, my mis-spent youth. It's ALL you!" He looked at me very seriously. "Don't get freaked if I say this – no hidden meaning or intention here, Todd, but it's US. We're HOT together, because I've done and felt and amazed myself today, too, and it's because of you." I felt myself flush again, and I could do nothing other than grin. Finally I moved around him, stepping in a puddle of his cum and stopping to hold my foot up so he could see it. "Oops," he said and looked around. I swiped a hand towel off a rod and threw it down over the cum puddle and swiped at it with my foot. "Otherwise I might be inclined to get down there and lick it up," I told him with an evil leer. Tony's hand went for my cock then, but I shifted my hips and evaded him. "Shower!" I reminded, stepping to the entrance to the vast shower area and turning the tap on the wall. Tony watched the many jets erupt with sprays like a kid watching his first fireworks display. I was getting used to his look of amazement and awe, and a shiver went through me that maybe he was more into my "stuff" than me. But before that thought took hold any deeper, he turned to me, his eyes smoldering. "Before this weekend is over, you're going to FUCK ME in there!" "With pleasure," I replied, though my mind raced on details, like slippery wet fingers on foil wrappers and the like. I told myself it would work itself out and to enjoy the promise of it. Apparently my cock agreed with my instruction, because it wasn't fully soft. Tony saw me and licked his lips. "Come on, sex fiend," I teased him, and I stepped into the shower. For as hot as we'd been, not able to keep our hands off each other, the shower was more playful than sexual. We splashed the water from the sprays at each other, tickled each other, and if not for the teak floor slats that made the shower non-slip, something I hadn't fully appreciated before, we probably would have been calling for EMTs. He commented on the big fluffy bath sheets I loved, but he did it gently, as if he was learning how to enjoy but not embarrass me with his appreciation. I threw him some of my clean boxers and a t-shirt – my favorite loungewear around the house – and enjoyed him in my clothes. Hamish was in my bedroom and standing ready for us when we came out of the dressing room. Tony's eyes lit up again when he saw Hamish, and Hamish made a beeline for him, again. "Hey I'm beginning to wonder if it's you two having the weekend trick," I blurted, having intended to be funny, but then being self-conscious about my choice of words. Tony, however, only looked up playfully from where he was nuzzling Hamish on his knees on the floor with him. "I apparently need to work HARDer to show you I'm YOUR trick this weekend. Noted!" he smirked. "Tony, I didn't mean to make it sound—" "Todd, I swear," he interrupted me, "If you EVEN try to take away any of the delightful dirtiness of this, well, I, well, I'll do SOMEthing. Let me enjoy this wicked weekend!" He hadn't stopped loving Hamish, but he was looking at me with filthy intent. "Well, OK, then, you're my weekend trick, and that's all there is to it!" Todd got a mischievous look and moved so he was doing his best to whisper into Hamish's ear. "Your daddy is a dirty fuck, Hamish, you know that? A filthy dirty fucker. Mmmmmm yes he is," he repeated in his Hamish tone. But his eyes never left mine, and they danced with sexuality. My cock was stirring again, and I was transfixed. GOD this was fun! I finally got them both moving by saying the magic words: "C'mon," which always got Hamish heading somewhere, making sure I was following once he deigned to go and making sure I was then following. He wanted dinner . . . and I was starving, too. I told Tony I'd show him around the monstrosity I called home after I got Hamish his dinner and followed Hamish down the back stairs, with Tony following me. When I got his bowl fixed, Tony asked me if he could give it to Hamish, who was just about at the end of his patience. I almost clarified that my dog was nowhere near starved and neglected, despite his act. Hamish looked back at me just long enough to let me know that he was considering if someone else feeding him was to his liking. But by the time Tony had the bowl on the tile, all pretense was gone, and he'd tucked in with purpose. "He's really incredible, Todd," Tony told me. "He's a great friend . . . though like many best friends, he can be a BIT high maintenance at times," I agreed. When Tony reached over and petted Hamish, and I saw him do something I'd never seen him do before. He stopped eating and loved against Tony's hand. "Wow," I exclaimed. "What?" Tony looked up and asked me. I was still looking dumbfounded, and Tony looked like he might think he'd done something wrong. "Shouldn't I . . . " he started, but didn't stop scratching Hamish's neck. "Uh, obviously Hamish is enjoying you being here, too," I replied slowly. "He and I have been together almost five years, and I've NEVER in all that time seen anything or anyone distract him from eating. Hamish opened his eyes, which had been closed in bliss, to glare at me for that, challenging me, as he was wont to do. Tony looked at him, and then Hamish was all his again. It was definitely a love fest between those two, and I was certain it was genuine on both their parts. Finally I distracted Tony by broaching our own dinner. I told him I'd love to take him out to my favorite restaurant. And when that seemed a little heavy I added that taking a hot young stud out and showing him off would really raise my stock in town. He laughed. "Could I make an alternate request?" he finally asked, a little sheepishly. "Well, sure." "Could we order in and stay here . . . together?" he asked so sweetly that my heart jumped. "Ummm," I started. "It's OK if you really want to go out, but I thought maybe I could have you all to myself," he added. Hamish picked that moment to have finished his dinner and, with his usual signal, he pawed the edge so his big bowl knocked the tile to remind me he got a cookie for being a good boy and eating it all. "You, too, Hamish," Tony said to him, and Hamish gave him a smile, but still kept his face enough my way to make sure I was going for his cookie jar. I just laughed and held out Hamish's cookie to Tony, whose smile burst across his face when I did. He took it and gave it to Hamish, who looked very confused, but didn't intend to let that stand in his way. As he munched his cookie and got crumbs all over the tile, Tony just looked at him adoringly. And I at Tony. I really was starving, so as we discussed and decided on dinner – which was easy because Tony basically agreed to everything I suggested – I got us each a little bowl of cottage cheese and strawberries from the fridge to hold us over and a couple of large bottles of water. We could definitely use the hydration. I made the call and ordered the food we'd agreed on, devouring my snack as I did and considering getting more. A restaurant down on Wilshire that was more than happy to deliver to its more regular customers, of which I was one. For a fat fee, of course, which annoyed me a little, but c'est la vie "This is really good. I've never had cottage cheese that I liked it before," Tony admitted. I just looked at him. "Well why didn't you say something, ya dork?" I asked. "Would you have just choked it down or something?" Tony grinned – a very appealing grin, which was becoming irresistible to me. "I probably would have taken the bite to confirm I didn't like it, then said I didn't want to ruin my dinner or something." "You don't have to do that. I have plenty of other food in the house. In fact, I have enough food that I could have cooked for us." "You cook?" he asked, surprised. "Uh, yeah. You think I have a magic food creation machine here or that I eat takeout all the time?" "I'm impressed, that's all," he answered quietly. Too quietly. "What?" I asked. "What is it you didn't say?" Tony just looked at me, considering. I was good at not talking when it was someone else's turn. Living alone did that for you, if you didn't learn otherwise in life. Tony took the last bit of his cottage cheese from his bowl, having saved a bit of strawberry to perfectly match the bite, and then he slowly licked the spoon. The memory of his tongue – on many parts of my body – made me flush, my mind wandering rampant through great memories, recently made. He was apparently ready when he put down his spoon. "What I was thinking, when you said you cook, and I had NO intention of saying, was that you're amazingly hot. You're handsome. You're built. You fuck like the stud of studs. You're nice, obviously to me but also you're obviously sweet with Hamish. You're down to earth. You're smart." "Whoa, you've clearly mistaken me for someone else," I quickly interjected. "I'm just a dumb jock, remember?" Tony looked at me gravely. "Is that what you want people to think, Todd? More importantly, is that what you want me to think?" That hit home. With a BUSTED look, I answered him directly. "It's a safe cover. And, no, I'm glad you don't think I'm a dumb jock, even though it's easier, ya know?" Tony put his thumb and forefinger together and drew them across his tightly closed lips. "I'll never tell," he promised. And then, he immediately clarified. "The part we just talked about. I'm telling EVERYONE I was fucked silly this weekend by the hottest quarterback who ever lived, though!" he vowed with a grin. "Tell them it was me, Tony. That way my stock will rise a thousand percent!" He looked surprised. "Are you publicly out?" "Yeah, for a long time. I couldn't do it anymore after hiding it during my playing years. It ruined the best relationship I ever had, and I came within a breath of outing myself before I retired from playing. I still regret that I let my agent and manager talk me out of it. They were right financially; but I lost Dave," I said wistfully. "I'm sorry," he told me, and his inflection told me he meant it. Then he asked me a question I hadn't allowed myself to ask for a very long time. "Do you still love him?" I looked him headlong and took a slow breath, calming myself amid a storm of conflicting thoughts. "Yes, I do," I confessed. "But it was a long time ago. And we've both moved way beyond that." "If I loved someone, I'd do whatever it took to get him back, Todd. I know enough about you to know you're no quitter. And you're an amazing catch," he mumbled, but I heard him. It was a very serious thought stream we'd entered. I considered where to go and played it safe. "Are you out, Tony?" He gave a rueful laugh. "Uh, YEAH, ever since my father caught me with my best friend doing things that he didn't think best friends should do. He kicked me out and cut me off. That day." Tony had been looking down at the granite across the island from me. I leaned across and took his hand, a gesture which was foreign to me, but it was also what I wanted to do. "I'm sorry, Tony," I told him softly. "That must have been terrible." He hadn't moved his hand in mine, nor had he looked up. But then he did, and I saw his eyes wet. "Can I tell you what the hardest part was, Todd?" I stepped around the island and stood so we could face each other across the corner, but I could also put my hand out on his shoulder. "Of course." He had a flash of defiance in his eyes. "The hardest part," he spat out quickly, "Was that my mother didn't say a word when he ordered me out of the house then and there." A tear escaped, and he swiped at it, fast, and the defiance got stronger. "She didn't say any of the terrible things that my father did, but by not saying anything, by not reacting at all, it was like she didn't care, like she wrote me out of her life and didn't even care. At least my father was angry that his son was a faggot!" he almost shouted the last part. I had him in my arms. "I'm very sorry, Ton," I repeated as I held him. "I can't imagine." He moved back away from me to face me so fast he almost went over in the stool he was sitting on. "You really can't, can you, Todd?" he asked, almost challenging. "You wouldn't be capable of just throwing someone away like that, of wiping them off the slate because they didn't measure up. You really couldn't do that no matter what they did, could you?" He was looking at me strangely. It was intensity that I had mistaken for challenge. He was seeing me, and he was right, though he had no idea how right he was. "No, I couldn't do that if I cared about someone, much less about a child." I didn't tell him I'd faced something far worse than having a child disappoint me because he'd been born gay. "Dave is a total idiot if he let you go!" he said defiantly. "If you were mine, I'd—" and then he stopped, looking stricken, like he'd really messed up. I stepped back in and held his face with both my hands and smiled. "If I was yours, you'd what?" His intense gaze returned, and determination was evident. "I'd hold you TIGHT, Todd. I'd never let you go." "You can hold me now, Tony," I told him, not regretting for an instant that I might be giving far more than I'd intended. Tony wrapped his arms around me and pulled tight against me, my arms around him, too. No words. No movement other than our breathing and the force of our holds on each other. Tony was holding on against years of pain; I was holding onto years lost to isolation and not allowing myself to get involved with anyone. We were still holding each other like that when the chime sounded, which I knew meant our dinner was at the gate. Tony reluctantly moved to separate from me, but I didn't move. "Don't you have to—" "It's the gate, and I need this for just a moment more," I replied, hugging him tighter again and getting the same in reply. "You feel SO good," he said into my shoulder. "You feel even better," I told the back of his head and kissed it. We both let go, and when I crossed the room to a panel and touched it, it lit up with an unflattering photo of a driver half hanging out a car window looking up the drive away from the camera. When I spoke it startled him. It was, in fact, our food, and I hit the remote for the gate. Somehow Hamish knew that when I pressed that button, company was coming, and he was at my side wagging his tail. Tony was gazing at us from across the kitchen. "What?" I asked, moving away to go close the front door, which had stayed open since we got home. Tony just smiled and shook his head a little, so I went out of the kitchen and through the house to close the front door. Then I ran upstairs for my wallet, Hamish barking and chasing me, enjoying the RUN WITH DAD game. As we ran back down the huge front staircase I saw Tony there, in the hall, smiling at us. I liked seeing him there, in the house with us, smiling at us, being with us . . . I went on through, though, determined to get to the door before the restaurant driver hit the bell. The doorbell sounded more like an Addams Family foghorn type of long blare than it did a door chime, like the soft electronic melody the gate made. And that, no matter how many times he'd heard it, made Hamish nuts, barking like a crazy dog and running from the door to the side windows to look out and back again. It was a lot easier just to go out and shut the door behind me. Which is what I did. I got us sweats, and we sat out on the back patio and ate out of the Styrofoam containers, though we did eat with proper flatware from the kitchen instead of the plastic. It was cool, but with the heaters turned on and the sweats it was nice. I'd offered Tony wine, but he declined in favor of another bottle of water, and I admitted that was my choice, too. We talked and talked during dinner, and Hamish sat by the table, between Tony and me, as if he was following every word. I couldn't have been more drunk if we'd had the wine. But I was drunk on Tony. We'd both fed Hamish pieces of our dinner. Tony had looked surprised when I did the first time, both at me giving him the food as well as the calm way he ate it and just maintained his position. Hamish knew the drill. And Tony quickly joined in. By the time we were done, there wasn't a scrap left, because Tony and I had stopped eating some time before, and the conversation had continued to flow, just as the remainder of the food kept flowing to Hamish. "Do you want some dessert?" I asked Tony when I was finally ready to get up and clear up the patio table. "HA!" he cried and lifted his sweat shirt and rubbed his perfect abs. The patio lights caught his fur and it glistened as it rippled under his touch . . . and my balls let me know what I wanted for dessert. "The and dessert don't mix!" he staunchly told me. And then he turned his laugh to an evil grin. "And I'm pretty sure I need some heavy aerobic activity now . . . yes, I'm certain I do, if I want to keep these . . . and to keep your interest." I was transfixed, considering the possibilities and the joys I'd already experienced with that amazing body of his. But I got a grip and stood and grabbed some of the food mess off the table. As Tony got up and got the rest, I told him as I walked to the kitchen, "Great. Because I thought we should take a walk and then a swim after dinner!" As I passed inside, I saw his face behind me, laughing. The walk was through my house. I'd promised him a tour, and he got it. We went all through it, all three stories of rooms after rooms, many of which I never set foot in. Hamish had stopped on the second floor landing, figuring he knew the place better than I did anyway, and he was absolutely right. Hamish wandered through the house constantly, diligently ensuring all was in order, despite my ambivalence. By the time the tour was over and we were back at the second floor landing with Hamish, I had my arm around Tony's shoulders, and his was around my waist. "About that aerobic activity," Tony said as we stood there. "The pool is heated," I said, and took a step toward the stairs going down to the big front hall. Tony didn't move, and I stopped and twisted to look at him. "But the bedroom is this way," he countered, low and sultry. "Hamish okay for a while or does he need to go out?" I looked at Hamish, who had a look of indulgence. GEEZ, GO ON, he was thinking, I could tell. "He'll be just fine for a long while," I said, pulling Tony with me toward my rooms again. [Thanks for reading. Don't forget: if you enjoy reading stories on nifty.org, please make a donation to help support the site's continuance. And also, if you want, feel free to email me with any thoughts, comments, suggestions or requests at allanbinnj@gmail.com because I really do enjoy hearing from you!]