Date: Tue, 6 May 2014 21:00:38 -0400 From: Allan B Subject: Touchdown 6 [This is a continuation of Todd and Tony, which is a continuation of Todd's stories. I hope you are enjoying Touchdown. If you are, feel free to 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] There was a pool house outside, and there were plenty of suits in there. Neither of us wanted suits! Instead, we went to the ground floor pool bathroom, accessible from the outside through a door on the side of the house into another hall, like the one where the powder room Tony had used, farther forward, along the back of the . . . salon. Yes, my house has a salon! Ugh! We each got a clean, fluffy, Egyptian cotton robe – Tony's choice, versus the soft waffle-weave Turkish cotton ones – and flip flops. Thank God I've got big feet – Tony's are big, too! The chill was in the air, but the pool was steaming just enough to be inviting, sort of backlit by the low landscaping lights around the pool deck. I'd brought the remote, and as we crossed the drive and headed down the steps through the lawn, I hit the clicker and the pool lit up from within. Tony let out a loud "WOOOOHOOOO" and took off at an awkward run – the flip flops – and shed his robe and the flip flops and dove his beautiful naked bod into my pool. Beautiful sight – very beautiful sight! I got there walking, enjoying the sight of him splashing around and swimming some. His wet body was even more beautiful than it had been in the shower. I shed my robe and stepped out of my flip flops on the deck, but I didn't want to dive in despite the cold air licking my nuts and asshole. No, I wanted to stand there and enjoy the sight of Tony, water cascading over his muscles, leaving his fur trailing in whatever direction the water rolled off him. "You just going to stand there freezing your balls off? Not nearly as flattering to that beautiful set you have on you, I must say!" he taunted me. I dove in and got under him and got one hand on his ass and another on his cock. He tried to get away, but I had a good hold of him, and his squirming caused my thumb to pop inside him. I felt his body tense and then shiver . . . and he went back to slowly treading water. I surfaced behind him, my hand still gripping him, my thumb now buried to my hand in him. I'd kissed up his back as his legs kicked and his arms waved in the water to keep himself afloat, and I continued up to his neck and bit his nape, eliciting a loud, "MMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmm." Nuzzling his neck, my body pressed to his behind him, still with the bowling ball grip – my thumb up his ass, my palm and other fingers holding his butt. I was helping hold him in the water now, and his treading became less that and more gyrating on my finger. "OH FUCK, TODD!" he exclaimed. "My cunt is so sore, and you feel SO good. I want you inside me!" I realized my cock had gone hard . . . again. I had no idea where the old guy I used to be disappeared to, but I was going to use the stamina of the young bod he'd left behind without hesitation! "We can't," I reluctantly told him. "I didn't . . . " He suddenly jerked off me and in a swift move had come around facing me and wrapped his strong legs around my waist. I had to stroke my arms and legs harder to keep us both afloat, and when I got my bearings enough, I felt Tony take hold of my throbbing cock. He was on it, pushing down onto it, and I had to work to keep my hips moving away from his frantic pulls at me and his downward thrusts with his butt. His legs around my waist gave him much better leverage than my treading water for both of us did. "Hey, STOP!" I yelled, serious. Tony howled a long, plaintiff wail . . . but he stopped. He slumped in my arms. "I'm clean; I swear it!" he huffed. "Tony," I started, but he cut me off. "I fucking WANT you, Todd!" he yelled with a defiance I hadn't heard from him. "I can't help that. You've got me wanting you so fucking back I can't think about anything else but being joined with you." The "joined" sent a wave of warmth through me, different than the fire that was shooting in flames outward bound from my nuts and shooting into my cock. "I—" He took hold of me again. "You want me, too, Todd. That makes me SO FUCKING HOT for YOU! If we weren't in this pool you'd feel how WET," he hissed the word, "I am from wanting you inside me." "But Tony—" This time he began just rubbing my cock, stroking it underwater, but making my head rub up against his pucker. His eyes went narrow, and he began moving his butt. I tensed, thinking he was going to try to get me in him again, right there, without protection. "Just this, OK. I promise if you don't want to enter me I won't force you." "Tony, I WANT to enter you," I told him with absolute conviction. "But I won't without protection," I finished, but my words were trailing off, his stroking perfect, the way I loved to do it myself. And the feel of him gyrating against my head was about a thousand times better than when I stroked myself off. "Ever?" his question burst through my slide into pleasure paralysis. "What do you mean?" I choked out, though all my body wanted to do was moan with pleasure, because Tony had never stopped his stroking, rubbing and counter-rubbing. And he didn't stop now, despite the intensity of his look at me when I opened my eyes. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate, Todd," he apologized, his contrition sincere. "I don't understand," I told him, and then I saw the regret on his face amid the physical pleasure and did. "Wow," was all I could say as the awareness hit me. "Really," he said, a request, not a statement. "Just let it go." And with that he closed his eyes and redoubled his efforts, stroking and rubbing me, adding pumping his hardon against my groin and abs between us. I didn't want to let it go. I wanted to grab hold of his thought and marry it – did I really use THAT verb?! – with my own and grow it and make it possible and maybe even real. But the feel of him on me, working me, working himself against me was all too much to force any concentration to pursue the conversation. Instead, I reached with one hand, awkwardly increasing my other arm's and my legs' work to keep us afloat, and I pulled his face to mine. The kiss was deep and long and sweet and full of need and wanting and satisfaction and promise of ultimate satisfaction, accompanied by moans from both of us that seemed to never end. I knew my own couldn't – I wasn't in control of much of anything. Other than my legs and arms still functioning, I was IN the contact with him, every bit of it, going with it, floating on it, hungering for more, hungering for release, hungering for HIM. Tony was first to go, with a long groan that built up in him as I felt his legs tighten and tense around me. His cock spurted his load, I'm sure, but all I felt was his body writhing and his cock throbbing harder with each pulse of ejaculation, and his lips, pressed desperately against mine but not moving, just pressed there tight. And that long groan. And then that took me over the edge. I was not so graceful and shouted and cursed and bucked as Tony made sure the pressure on my cock went to critical, both his grip stroking me and his pucker rubbing my head. I was holding him tight, but my head was on his shoulder and his on mine. And just like that, immediately, my legs could take no more, now bearing the total burden for keeping us afloat. My well-conditioned legs, which had always carried me in running plays, just gave out. We slid slowly down to the surface and then under, both of us catching a quick breath. But we didn't let go of each other right away. Instead, underwater, Tony pressed his lips to mine again. Though it was a brief kiss, it was full of meaning. And I felt the same. We got ourselves to the side and then, holding the deck edge, worked our way to the shallower part where we could stand on our feet but were still neck deep in the water. Tony was sort of huddling against me, looking out at the lights of the city, and I was holding him tight against me with one arm around him. "Would you like to go in the Jacuzzi where it's warmer," I asked. I can have it heated in a few minutes. I left the clicker in the pocket of my robe over there. It was a bit before Tony answered, and I had to look to make sure he hadn't drifted off. "I don't want to move, Todd," he finally told me. "I feel like this is a dream, and if I move I'll wake up alone, at home or somewhere without you." Sentiment like that was so long in my ago that it was uncomfortable for me. And yet, it was exactly what I was feeling about him. I manned up and told him so. In response, Tony buried his face in my neck, first kissing me then just keeping his face there. And then I felt him jerk – just once. "Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, Tony," I said, coming around and wrapping him in both my arms. "What?" he said, too quickly. "I know what, Tony," I said quietly, barely loud enough to be heard above the crickets. "You won't go for asthma and a little cough, huh?" he threw out with a wink, and I admired his brain to come up with that. When I didn't answer he said, "Okay, what can I say. I'm a SENNNNNNNNNsitive bottom!" he mugged, but he was serious, we both knew it. His last attempt at deflection was to put his lips against mine and added huskily, "Accent on the SINNNNNNNNN!" "I have an idea," I blurted out. Tony waggled his eyebrows at me and reached down and grabbed my ass. "NOT THAT kind of idea, you sex machine!" I guffawed, but I was dead serious, too. "You haven't exactly been complaining up to now," he pouted without credibility . . . and then lost it laughing. I wasn't laughing then, and he noticed it. "I was thinking of a way to talk about this." He stiffened, but I held him tighter and he relaxed again, almost all the way. "Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis," he said. "Yeah," I said, now realizing that I didn't want to let it go. I gestured to him and then to me. "This. You wanna?" He was SO conflicted, I could tell. But I KNEW – that was the thing. He was frightened. But I KNEW. I waited for him to respond. "Yeah, Todd, actually I do." His body went slack against me, though his arms held me as if for life itself. "If I don't, I'm not sure I can make it through to the end of the weekend," he confessed. I started to say something, but I was conflicted now on my approach. We'd dipped our toes, and I had an idea about how the high dive. Now Tony was game. Would it last? "You see the thing is," he blurted, surprising me, "This started as a HOT sexual tryst. But I swear to God, when you fucked me, I FELT it." I couldn't help it. "Well if you hadn't, I'd have worried about my manhood!" He looked at me seriously. "I'm OK with this conversation, Todd. I need it. But if you're now hesitant, I understand." Well, speaking of my manhood . . . "I thought it was funny," I said. "Sometimes I need to be funny to give myself time to absorb the deeper meaning." I stopped and he was looking at me, waiting for a signal to continue. "I felt it too, Tony. That's why I asked you to come here with me." Tony smiled at that. "Yeah, but you see, Todd, there's more." Then he trailed off as he added, "There's a lot more . . . " and he looked away at the city and put his head against my shoulder. "There is, Tony, for me, too. I'm not a kid, as you've obviously noticed." I paused there for him to throw in his own crack, but he didn't. He just held me, and I felt the hope and fear radiating into me through his arms around me and his hands on my flesh. So I forged ahead. Actually I dove in. "I haven't done a love-at-first-sight thing ever in my life, Tony. I don't know how. I don't really even know what it is. But I think I'm experiencing it now, at this point in my life, with you." "I have done it," he said quietly into my neck. "And this is exactly what it is." And then he pushed away from me and faced me. "But I get it. This is a hookup," he said flatly. "It's a hookup and neither of us intended for anything more than an afternoon fuck and then a weekend of fucking. I totally get it. And I've taken some of the power of it away now, by admitting how I feel. I just have to keep the already written end in mind as reality, unlike the fantasy I have." My breath was stopped, and I felt like I was going to leap . . . and wanted to. "Is it too early to ask you if you'll move in with me and share that fantasy?" I asked quickly with a broad grin and a laugh. FUCK WHY had I laughed? Tony smiled and laughed with me, but only the briefest of laughs. Then he answered gravely, "It's too early for any of this." I was instantly deflated, the part of me that knew that it wasn't really a joke at all. His answer most assuredly wasn't a joke either. Should I? He faced me, looking too serious for the very tenuous footing I had. "But if you'd asked me or if you did ask me to, Todd, I'd doom us to being a stupid-gay-men-trying-to-act-like-lesbians joke for our friends in the not-too-distant future." WELL PLAYED! I loved that he was so smart and could match the nuances of our banter and nick the edges of the topics we were dancing around. Wait, I DID love . . . What if we really did take the lesbian route and cleave together for all our friends to make fun of? And we'd just smile together and laugh at and with them . . . and probably hold each other's hands and lean our shoulders together and . . . His beautiful eyes weren't challenging; they were loving and . . . hopeful. "How about we get through tonight, we enjoy every minute of it, we get through the weekend, likewise milking it for all its worth, and then we write the ending we want?" I was sorry it wasn't more daring and forceful. He was backing off, because I hadn't said anything, hadn't picked up the line he'd thrown out, and he thought he was too far. He thought he was alone in the fantasy. "But whatever happens," he continued suddenly, "If you ask me tonight or Sunday night or a year from Sunday night. The point is you have to ASK me. You have to look me in the eye and without any hesitation, no jokes at all, you have to ASK me . . . and I have to answer you with every fiber of my being behind my answer." "Wow, so we went from a pair of lezzies to a straight couple just like that," I joked. And I continued despite his warning look. So you want that engagement ring in platinum or gold? Or do you have to decide on your trousseau first so that nothing clashes?" Ooops. Definitely too far. SHIT, DREESEN! "I was just kidding, Ton," I offered, truly contrite. I moved closer, our torsos touching and our faces so close my hot breath bounced off his lips. "I'm sorry, I just . . . " "No, I get it," he quickly retorted. "You have to laugh if it gets too real. IF – and I do mean IF – something like that really happened between us, we'd both know. Because . . . you can't need to laugh to get through it." The last was delivered gravely. "You know, Ton, I was really wondering why I would have to be the one to do the asking," I blurted out. WTF that came from, I'm not sure. Wait, yes I am. Because if he asks . . . Tony looked off, over my shoulder, the faraway look galaxies away. And he seemed to be slipping even farther away. But then my heart jumped when he turned to me, even though his face wasn't hopeful or happy, and his eyes were like lasers. "Because, Todd, I can't offer you an equal trade," he stated intensely, his arm sweeping wide up out of the warm water and across the pool, the house. As he finished he put his arm down, and the faraway look returned, though his eyes didn't leave mine. I took him by his shoulders almost too roughly. He was surprised. "That's bullshit, Tony!" I spit out. "And if you don't know it you forgot it in the last few minutes because I know you KNEW it, I know you FELT it between us, and it had nothing to do with this STUFF." It was my turn to swing my arm agrily, water splashing in a wide arc, the plunks of the drops punctuating the silence which had seemed to reverberate after my outburst. Tony's look was intense, still meeting my eyes. I felt like it was fourth and two with ten seconds remaining, and I had to make the play. "THIS!" I shouted, again waiving from the house to the view, my arm sweeping fast and dismissively, "Is a vessel in which I live my life. It's empty, in exact proportion to my life. It's real estate and chattel imitating life, substituting for life. It's living imitating life, Tony." His face was still intensely focused, but his look was one tiny shade softer. And I saw just enough of a change at the corner of his lips to tell me he was hearing me. RUN THE PAY, DREESEN! "What I would offer you or what you would offer me is our hearts and our commitment to each other, NOT," another arm sweep even faster and more dismissive than before, "THIS SHIT!" I was worked up now. Pumped. The play was in motion, and it was about time for me to release the ball or run it myself. I can't stop now. "Because it IS shit, Tony. I went into your bedroom earlier today and FELT us have amazing sex. And I FELT us connect. And I watched you and Hamish when we got here and every thought I had was THIS is it, THIS is what I never dared to hope for. I saw you look with wonder at ALL THIS SHIT and thought FINALLY it brings joy and WE can enjoy it. I feel something now about my big, ugly prison of a house which Hamish and I have been sentenced to knock around in." And then I took a breath and said softly. "And even if it is only a weekend, it's an awesome feeling, and it's one I'll be very, very sorry if it's over." IF I'd said . . . "That's no way an ugly house, Todd," he broke in when it was clear I'd stopped. "And this isn't humor to break this up at all, I mean it. And about all that, Todd, if it's possible to have a heart-on," he pronounced carefully, "My heart is about to cum just from the amazing things you're saying to me." I smiled, but I waited. The ball was in the air. The buzzer was about to sound. Tony's beautiful face was intent. "I felt it all, too. I FEEL it." he said, and the ball was spiraling perfectly toward the receiver in the end-zone, the pass instead of the run looking like it might work. "I WANT it," he said softly, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my jaw lightly. TOUCHDOWN! . . . . . . . . . . . SIX MONTHS LATER . . . . . . . . . . We looked around the empty rooms of Tony's house, checking drawers for things missed in packing and tops of window frames and doors for dust missed in cleaning. Tony and I had discussed his house for a long time after he'd moved in with me. Or, rather, after he'd stayed with me from that first weekend and never left, gradually bringing more and more of his things at my urging. I'd wanted him to do what he was comfortable with about his house. But I wanted him with me in OUR house. He'd talked to realtors and had decided to sell and invest in a duplex in another area of Santa Monica. Closing for his beautiful little house was the next day; walk-through by the buyers this afternoon. "Regrets?" I asked him. Tony stopped walking through the rooms instantly and turned to me with a very serious look. "Not one!" he said, very gravely. I broke into a grin. "Whew!" I joked, wiping my forehead. "I must not be showing you how much I like us being together. Then again if I show you any more either my ass or my jaw will be in the ER!" he joked back. "Oh, sorry," we heard an unfamiliar voice behind us, just as our bodies had collided in a kiss. Obviously the buyers or the other agent were a bit early! We didn't part, but we did both look over our shoulders to see who it was. He was tall, young – about Tony's age – and neatly dressed. And giving us a broad smile that I thought was full of meaning. "I'm early," he told us, his voice rich with tonality. We gave each other a kiss and then parted to shake hands with him. I wondered if he'd be squirrelly about two men kissing . . . or if my suspicions about that smile would be correct. We shook hands and found out that he was the buyer, not their agent. We didn't know either, just that the buyers were a couple. "Guess your wife will be along shortly?" I asked him. "Wife?" Thom asked with surprise. And then his face changed. "OH, you mean my sister. We're buying the house together, but it's just because I couldn't qualify for the mortgage because of my credit." I was sure I was right when he said that. Call it intuition, but a well-groomed, good-looking, well-spoken man buying a house in Santa Monica who was hindered by bad credit? Sounded like the ghosts of misspent twenties past, maybe an ex-lover who got him into debt or something. Tony was somewhere else, though. "You'll love it here, Thom. I know I have, and this is where it all started with Todd and me, too," he told him, mooning a little . . . which I loved. I pulled Tony close. "If you recall, it STARTED at the gym!" I corrected him with a wink. "HOT!" Thom said, and then he looked startled and embarrassed to have said it out loud when we both looked at him. YUP I was right. Tony and I linked hands. "Yeah, it was," Tony said, again mooning at me. "Was?" I challenged, with mock horror. Thom jumped in. "It looks like it very much still is." "Hey don't defend this scoundrel," I told him. "What do you mean WAS?" I directed back at Tony. Tony suddenly got all shy. We were good at this together, but we'd never played this way to an audience. "It's great, Todd. Every minute of every day," he said quietly, almost shyly. "OH MY GOD it IS you!" Thom shouted at me. "Todd Dreesen!" "Yup," I said. "That's me." We'd shook hands, but it hadn't registered I guess. "You know, I heard you say your name, I looked at you and thought `wow he's a handsome guy who looks like someone hot and famous', but it wasn't until just now when he said `Todd" that I realized it IS you. You have NO IDEA how many times I ja----" He suddenly broke off and went bright red. "Um, I mean . . . " Tony laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "It's okay. I've accepted that I wasn't the only one using Todd Dreesen for my jackoff fantasies." Thom was still bright red, but he'd recovered. "And OH MY GOD you ARE gay!" he said, his look awed. "Oh, there's been no question about that for anyone for a long time now," I told him. "Wow," he said. Then he turned to Tony. "You are the luckiest man in the world!" I pulled Tony back to me. "No, I am truly the luckiest man in the world to have Tony." I meant it. "You guys are an amazingly hot couple!" Thom was gushing. "I bet—" "Okay, okay," I stopped him with a laugh. "I think we can avoid THAT topic!" Thom looked guilty but he threw a Hail Mary. "Oh, I was just going to say I bet you have guys falling all over you all the time, you're both so hot." I looked at him with my best SURE YOU DID look. "Okay, I wasn't thinking that. But you've obviously got as dirty a mind as I do if you KNEW what I was thinking!" Tony: "Oh, trust me, he has a FILTHY mind! How do you think he bagged me from the very first time we met?" "I'd SAY," I tried to get some control of this conversation back, "That we were VERY well-matched in that regard, Mister Spinoza!" "Only for another two days," he cooed dreamily. "Only for another two days you've got matched filthy minds?" Thom asked, completely confused and having no idea what Tony was talking about. "Would you like to go to a wedding day after tomorrow?" Tony asked him. "ARE YOU TWO?" Thom shouted. And then he was hugging us and acting a lot like Hamish, jumping, hugging us. We were. Tony had taken four weeks from when we'd decided to get married to have the courage to ask me if I minded him changing his last name to mine. I, of course, joked with him and told him I'd had my heart set on becoming Todd Spinoza. He didn't buy it, but he also appreciated the lightening of the moment. Truth be told, I was overwhelmed. But I was overwhelmed every day by this wonderful man. We'd leapt off that cliff face-first, holding each other tight, and we'd landed in the most awesome place. And we'd stayed there, even though some difficult times, and we both knew there would be ones coming. But we also knew that we would hold tight to each other and get through them . . . together. Two days after the walkthough on Tony's house, on a beautiful bluff in Malibu at sunset – a good friend's home – two hundred and seventy-five people and one dog joined us to see us take the final step and to join ourselves together in marriage. Hamish, all freshly groomed and strutting his stuff more gloriously than even the vainest of our guests – remember, it was Hollywood here, and we had some doozies! – stood up with our two best men and the former priest who married us. We'd written our own vows, but neither of us could say them standing there – we each tried, and we each choked up and fell into the other's arms, finally just choking something out to the "Awwww"s and claps of our guests. Mine was "Thank you for being mine and letting me be yours." Tony's was even briefer, when he got enough control to say, "Us, together, always, my love." Fortunately the crying transferred to the guests after the pronouncement and during our kiss. Hamish was the only dry eye out there. And then we partied like crazy, like good gay men know how to party. NO DRUGS, of course! Tony wasn't into them at all; and I'd never been into that. But we had one helluva disco-style dance themed reception, courtesy of our friends who'd insisted on having the wedding at their sprawling "Look how fucking rich I am" beach house, as I called it. Then Hamish and Tony and I got on a private plane – my former boss's plane, the former owner of the team I'd retired from – and headed to Montana to a "cabin" some friends had there for our honeymoon. The cabin turned out to be roughly the size of our house! But it and about ten other buildings sat in the middle of the most beautiful land that stretched far in every direction. It was perfect for us, perfect for Hamish, who was already racing around checking everything out. "THIS is real," Tony said, snuggled against me in the chill. "It's BEEN real since that first Friday afternoon, Ton," I told him and kissed the side of his head. "That's Mister Dreesen to you, Mister Dreesen!" he joked quietly, tightening his arms around me. "It's you and me – that's what it is," I told him. And just when we were about to share our first Montana kiss, Hamish raced up and shoved his face between my leg and Tony's and rubbed against us. "It's us three," I corrected. And with that Hamish did something he never did. He jumped up on his back legs and put his front paws one on each of our arms. A new kind of Hamish hug. We both liked it. And apparently he liked US, too. [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!]