Date: Fri, 29 Dec 2006 10:04:21 -0500 From: "xanadu99@earthlink.net" Subject: Al This piece is fiction and all characters in it are fictitious. Al His father had wanted him to major in accounting but despite his nagging Al chose English literature, which his father considered effeminate. Al accepted that he would never make as much as he would have with a business background, but it was his life, after all, and he had never been impressed by his father's career in a large accounting firm nor by his narrow-mindedness. Finding a job after graduation was slow and his father kept saying "I told you so" in seven different ways. But at last Al found a job as a reporter on a local weekly newspaper in upper New York State. The hours were long, the pay poor, but it had the overwhelming virtue of getting him away from his father. The paper was based in a small town about 50 miles from a city, and life there was not rich in cultural amenities. But it had a surprisingly good public library, which for Al was of central importance. During his boyhood years, Al had always been shy and had relatively few friends. For a brief time in high school he and one of his male friends had been intimate, but that lasted only two months. Although Al also had a few female friends, he rarely dated and his relationships with girls was completely devoid of romance. When he daydreamed about sex, which he did often, it was either about public nudity (which he never actually did) or being nude with other boys he knew. His sole sexual outlet was masturbation, which included anal play and auto-fellatio. He was a tall young man, almost painfully thin, with neatly trimmed black hair and a perpetually serious look emphasized by severe gold-rimmed eyeglasses. He dressed conservatively, even when casual attire was expected. In his new location, Al found temporary lodgings in the house of a middle-aged couple, the man of whom was a minister. They seemed excessively attentive to his comings and goings and he resolved to find other accommodations. He followed up on ads in his own newspaper, and one day, one of the men in the classified ad department told him about an apartment notice that had just come in. Al promptly called the number and that evening he went to see the owner. The apartment was a small unit with bedroom, eat-in kitchen, and a nice parlor, once a servant's quarters, all furnished in good quality but very dark furniture, on the third floor of a spacious old mansion located just outside of town. The owner lived alone on the first floor, and many of the rooms throughout were empty and boarded shut. Mr. W., was a man of about 70, neatly trimmed white hare, tall, lean, soft spoken, and clearly intelligent. They liked each other on sight and soon Al had the keys to the mansion since his apartment had no private access to the outside. Al moved in his few belongings, mostly books, the following Saturday, paid his first month's rent, and Mr. W. welcome him warmly and invited him to have dinner with him that evening. Al readily agreed. When he came downstairs for dinner, Al saw a chandeliered dining room with a table set for two, with fine china and Irish crystal. Mr. W. was seated in the living room, spacious, dark wood paneling, thick red draperies drawn shut, a roaring fire, flanked by two easy chairs. Mr. W. was in one and beckoned Al toward the second. Next to the chair was a small table with a glass of dry sherry awaiting him. The two men, one young, the other old, sipped their sherry and talked about books. Every so often a maidservant entered and fed the fire with fresh logs. Dinner was served by the maid, simple but excellent, and the wine with dinner was the finest that Al had ever tasted. After dinner they repaired to the living room and their easy chairs, and sipped cognac. The maidservant entered, put another log on the fire, and Mr. W. told her that she could go home now. They continued their literary talk and after a bit the conversation lagged and they sat in a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's companionship. Mr. W. broke the silence. "Excuse me for a moment," he said, and walked out of the living room. While he was gone, Al mused on the turn of events that had led him to this incredibly civilized place. Chance was a wonderful mystery. "I hope this won't upset you." It was Mr. W. in the doorway. He was completely nude. Al could not think of how to respond. His mind reeled with the unreality of what was happening as he watched the nude figure ease into the other chair. "I think," continued Mr. W. very softly, "that you might want to reciprocate." "I guess I'm not sure what you mean," Al said. "Oh, but I think you do." Al sat silent for a minute or two and then undid his shoes. He placed his clothing in a neat pile beside his chair and sat down, as nude as his host, his heart pounding. "Very nice," said Mr. W., leaning forward. Then, closing his eyes, he leaned back in his chair and, crossing his arms across his chest, began to pinch his nipples, which quickly grew erect. His penis stirred to life. Al was mesmerized. His own penis was erecting quickly. "You should try your nipples," said Mr. W., opening his eyes. Al, who over the years had grown very fond of his nipples during masturbation, did as he was told, and soon both men were breathing heavily, erections bobbing. Al could not hold back and began stroking his penis, at first slowly, then furiously. He closed his eyes and in moments was lost in a wild orgasmic explosion, hips bucking, semen squirting onto his belly and chest. When it subsided, he settled back in the chair and opened his eyes, and Mr. W., standing over him and sporting a nice erection and wonderful grin, said "That was splendid. Would you mind?" he asked as he reached a finger toward a large gob of semen on his chest. Al nodded, and Mr. W. scooped it up along with several other gobs and rubbed them on his own penis and testicles. He stood then in front of Al and continued to pump until his back arched and his penis head pulsed bright purplish-red. Nothing came out with the first few pulses, and then a few drops of a thin milky liquid came dribbling out of his tip. Mr. W. dropped back into his chair breathing hard and the two sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Mr. W. finished his cognac, wished Al a good night, and left the room. Al, still not sure that what happened had really happened, picked up his clothing and climbed to his apartment. He had to masturbate again before he could lie down to sleep. He did not see Mr. W. until about a week later, as Al passed through the central hallway on his way to the staircase. Mr. W. greeted him warmly, asked if the apartment was working out well for him, and gave no indication by word or sign that anything unusual had passed between them. After a month there, it was rent time again and Al sought out Mr. W. to pay. Again he was thanked graciously, and again he was invited to dinner. And so began a monthly ritual that continued without pause for six years. In time it came to include occasional oral sex and a few times Al performed fellatio on himself under the admiring gaze of Mr. W. But mostly it was limited to masturbation in front of each other, seated by the fire. The rent never changed, while Al enjoyed several promotions that advanced him into the ranks of those with a living wage. He thought about moving to larger and more convenient quarters but he couldn't bear the thought of missing his monthly encounters with Mr. W. Then one day, when Al returned home after a day at work, he saw an ambulance in front of the house. The maidservant was outside wringing her hands as the ambulance pulled away. It was Mr. W., a heart attack, she feared. She had no idea to whom to turn except Al himself. Al went immediately to the hospital and upon arrival was told that Mr. W. had died en route. Al returned home and with the maid entered Mr. W.'s quarters, looking for something that might tell them who else might want to know. The obituary ran in the next day's paper. Mr. W. was the last member of a very wealthy family that had made a fortune in lumber and railroads in the 19th century. He had no known descendants nor any known living relatives. Next day, Al contacted a funeral home and then received a call from an attorney. The lawyer wanted to see Al, and drove out that evening to the mansion. It appeared that Mr. W. had changed his will three years before and left the mansion and his entire estate to Al instead of the county. Settling the estate took about a year, and Al continued to live in his apartment, sending his rent check to the attorney in the interim. At last the court made its final determination, and Al was now master of the mansion and a sizable fortune. He moved from his small apartment into what had been Mr. W.'s quarters, taking possession too of his substantial library. He retained the maid to clean and to prepare his meals. And with no little regret, he resigned from his job. And then one day a few months later he dropped in on the newspaper and placed a classified ad in the Apartments for Rent section. He thought it might be pleasant to have a tenant, perhaps a nice younger man with a taste for literature.