Chapter 14

The following fictional narrative involves sexually-explicit erotic events between men.  If you shouldn't be reading this, please move on.

In the world of this story, the characters don't always use condoms.  In the real world, you should care enough about yourself and others to always practice safe sex.

The author retains all rights.  No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.  

The town of Stafford, the Sunrise Arts Center, and all the characters in this story are fictitious.

Special thanks to Mickey and Drew, who have provided advice, inspiration, and encouragement throughout the writing of this series.


When Louis left my house that night in such a hurry because he was almost late for his curfew, I sat back down on the edge of my bed.  I had a lot to think about.  I wondered why he had been so calm and accepting when I told him I'd let Jamie and Phil suck my dick and that I was enjoying it so much I forgot about him for a while.  I felt really guilty about that.  Louis was about the best thing that had ever happened to me in my whole life, and I almost fucked up what we had.  

Of course, it is pretty amazing to have two really studly guys sucking on your dick and balls at the same time, and for a while I just gave in to the great feelings.  I guess my brain shut down temporarily.  Then I decided I was pretty disgusting.  What a sex pig to let myself get carried away like that!  Sure, I was eighteen and like most guys my age pretty much governed by testosterone, but other guys managed to control themselves, especially if they had someone special in their lives.  I decided I had a narrow escape and promised myself something like that wasn't gonna happen again.

I looked across the room and saw the manila envelope lying on my computer desk where Louis had left it. Wondering what that was all about, I went over, flopped in the chair and picked up the envelope.  I pulled out a stack of pictures.  

My God!  They were pictures of Louis.  Naked.  Some of them were pretty artsy, showing off his gorgeous body, erotic but not specifically sexy.  Well, any picture of Louis was sexy, but they were the kind of pictures you see in art books, if you know what I mean. If Bernini had had Black models, he'd have made them look like those photographs.  Under the arty ones were pictures of Louis in several positions but all with his cock hard.  They made my cock hard, too, because they were clearly intended to.  He was soo fuckin' hot!  I sat there and rubbed my dick through the sweatpants I was wearing until it began to leak and make a wet spot.  

I had seen a lot of Louis' pictures, but he'd never let on that he'd taken nude shots of himself.  Nude shots, hell.  Some of these were just plain porn shots.  

I spread them out on the desk so I could see them all.  Then I pushed my sweats down and grabbed my dick.  As I pumped myself, I looked at the pictures.  Then I began to remember some of the things we'd done together. After that I fantasized about some of the things we hadn't done together.  Before I knew what was happening, I felt the cum boiling up out of my balls.  I didn't want to get any on Louis' pictures, so I caught it in my hand.  Collapsing back into the chair, my legs weak and my heart pounding, I sat there, looking at the pictures again.  Almost absent-mindedly, I licked all the spooge from my hand.

Why had he left those pictures?  I already knew what he looked like naked.  I'd seen his beautiful bod that way several times.  We'd sucked each other off and ground our cocks on each other's naked bodies.  We'd gotten naked and snuggled and kissed.  But some of these pictures were so openly sexy, I saw something about Louis I'd never seen before.  He really was seductive.  He'd always been slow and gentle with me, but in these pics I saw a real horndog.

Again I asked myself why he had left those pictures with me?

`Well, duh!' a voice inside me said.  `Maybe he wants you to realize what you've got and be grateful and not mess around with the likes of the Albrights.'  I ran the fingers of both hands through my hair and told myself I'd gotten off lucky.  Whether I deserved it or not, Louis wasn't ready to give up on me.  And I was going to make it my major priority to keep that boy happy.  

Sure, he was cute.  More than cute, gorgeous.  But there was more to him than you could see on the surface.  He was an artist, you know, sensitive sometimes.  Everybody said his photography was outstanding.  He was smart, too.  But he also had this playful side, like he was ready to try anything.  That glint in his eye kept me hard most of the time I was with him and a lot of the time when I wasn't.

I got out of my clothes, used the bathroom, and got into bed.  As I waited to fall asleep, I was fantasizing again about Louis.  I'd always thought when the time came, I'd be a top.  I had often dreamed about topping Louis.  After all, I was the soccer jock, I was heavier, more muscular.  But that night I dreamed of lying on my back, knees up near my shoulders, with my beautiful black lover inside me.


I was pretty tender the next day and I think I actually walked funny.  I also felt as if I were walking about a foot off the ground.  There's nothing like two bouts of glorious sex in one night to bring about a sense of euphoria.  And a sore bung hole.  

As he was leaving my house about 10:00 Saturday morning, Stuart invited me to come to his place for dinner and –whatever – that evening, but I had to plead a previous engagement.  So he asked me to come Sunday evening instead.

"Won't you have papers to grade, or lessons to plan?"

He grinned.  "No, we're on Christmas break.  So you come for dinner.  Come over whenever you can, actually, and I'll be ready for you."  He licked his lips when he said that.  "And we won't have to get up early Monday."

"Oh, this will be a sleepover?  Yum."

"But of course, mon petit chou."

"Watch it, buster, I ain't nobody's cabbage."

"It's a term of endearment, too, you know," he said, looking a little sad.

I put my hand under his substantial balls and hefted them.  "Yeah, I know."  

He kissed the top of my head.

"Come casual.  We'll have chili and cornbread if that's okay with you."

"Love it.  But I do have to be at work Monday.  We're closed Christmas Eve, Christmas, and the day after, but we're open Monday and Tuesday.  I need to be there because Jean's off for the week."

I really did have an engagement that night.  I thought the least I could do for Chave MacPherson was take him to dinner to thank him for his donation and the one he'd arranged from his firm.  I'd invited him to meet me at Raintree at 6:30 Saturday evening.

In honor of the occasion, the weekend before Christmas, and the venue, the best restaurant in town, or at least the priciest, I decided not to wear jeans.  I wore gray worsted slacks, my blue blazer, and a pale blue turtleneck cashmere pullover.

I got there first and was shown to our table.  The maitre d' said he'd recognize Mr. MacPherson and bring him when he arrived.

He was back soon with my guest.  When I stood to shake hands with him, Chave put his left hand on my shoulder.  He smelled discreetly of what I was sure was an expensive after shave.  Or cologne.  Or body spray.  Whatever the really hip were wearing.  He, too, was wearing a navy blazer and gray slacks, but his must have cost several times more than mine.  He was wearing a blue shirt with a regimental stripe tie in red, yellow, and navy.

Our waiter recommended and brought to the table our bottle of a luscious cabernet which he said was hard to get outside California.  Chave and I clinked glasses.

"Merry Christmas, Chave."

"Merry Christmas to you, my friend."

After sips and appreciative moans, he leaned forward and looked me in the eye.  "God, you look fine in that sweater.  It's perfect with your eyes."

That's why I'd worn it.  I knew it did.  Not that I was trying to impress Chave.  Well, maybe I was, just a little.  I'm not explaining myself very well.  I just didn't want to look shabby next to this good looking, polished, obviously affluent guy.  If I closed my eyes, after all, I could still almost feel Stuart's big cock up my ass.  I really wasn't trying to come on to Chave or anything.  As I said, I just wanted to look good that evening.

Chave looked good, too.  His hair had glints of red in the subdued lighting.  Not fiery red like Stuart's, just the occasional reddish tinge as he moved his head.  I also noticed something new.  In his left ear was a nice diamond stud.  (I knew with Chave it would have to be a diamond, nothing fake.)

Gesturing toward his ear, I said, "Something new's been added."

He grinned.  "Yeah.  I've wanted to do that for a long time.  Now that I'm fairly secure in my job, I thought what the hell!"

"How have your associates reacted?"

He buttered a roll.  Putting down the butter knife he said, "Nobody's said a word except my secretary.  She just grinned and said, `At least it's in your left ear.'"

"Yeah, I shouldn't think anybody'd give you any grief over that.  It looks great, by the way."

"Speaking of such things, I heard when you first arrived in town you had studs or something in both ears.  But I've never seen you with anything there.  Was I misinformed?"

"No.  I was wearing them when I moved here.  One day I was having lunch with someone who asked about them.  I remembered that they'd been a gift from my ex, so I took them off right then.  Haven't worn them or anything since."

"Are you that bitter about your ex?"

"Not bitter, exactly.  I might wear something else, but not the ones he gave me.  That phase of my life is over."

"Well, you may have to have your ears re-pierced.  I'm told I can't take this out for a month.  And they do grow closed, don't they, if you don't keep something in there?"

"Yeah, so I've heard."

The conversation moved to other things as we ate our salads.  

He asked me what I was doing for Christmas, and I told him I didn't actually have any plans.  

"Not going back home to see your family?"


"You know, I may see your brothers.  There's a Christmas party at the country club in Raleigh that both our families belong to.  I usually bump into one or both of them there."

"Perhaps if you're lucky you can avoid them."

"Ouch!  That bad, is it?"

"Uh huh."

Later, as we were working on our entrees, he asked, "Whit, have you given any thought to showing your glass at Sunrise?  You really should, you know."

"I have, actually.  In fact, I think Stuart Blount and I will show our things at the same time, probably in late May and early June.  I asked him to let us show his miniatures, and he suggested I show my things, too.  He said we could call it "Two Stafford Artists," or something like that."

"Who's Stuart Blount?"

I wiggled a little in my seat, thinking of having Stu's cock up my ass the night before and still feeling a little empty.  "I thought I'd mentioned him to you.  He's one of the art teachers at Stafford High.  Good teacher.  Very popular.  And very talented.  I've seen his miniatures, and they're exquisite."

"I'm not sure I've seen him around.  What does he look like?"

"He's a big guy, about six two, with red, curly hair and green eyes.  Reminds me a little of a lumberjack."

"Careful, Whit.  You're sounding pretty enthusiastic."

I grinned at him and took a sip of wine.  "Hey, I'm gay.  I'm allowed."

"Yeah," he said, reaching for his water glass.  "I guess you are."  He seemed almost sullen.

"Well, at any rate, thanks for suggesting the show.  I'm honored you like my pieces so much you'd think of it."

"You're good.  The rest of the town needs to know about it."  

Perhaps I'd been wrong.  Now he seemed his usual friendly self.  He smiled at me with a twinkle in his blue eyes.  As he turned his head, the light caught on his new ear stud, and that sparkled, too.  Chave was a handsome man in a patrician-looking way.  He might look austere if he didn't smile so much.

I let a few minutes pass as we ate and made more small talk.  Then I gave in to my curiosity.

"Chave, I know you're on the vestry at Holy Trinity.  I know you're a busy attorney.  What else is going on in your life?  I assume if you were married you'd have mentioned your wife."

He'd been cutting a piece of steak, but then he looked up at me and grinned.

"I'm married to my work, Whitney.  I am a member of the Arts Alliance and have season tickets to the concert series at Sunrise.  I try to get to New York for a week of plays, museums and concerts a couple of times a year.  As you know, I work out regularly.  I don't really have much of a social life.  I am, however, gradually collecting a few art pieces.  You are going to do that piece for me, aren't you?"

He'd nicely deflected my question.  "Yes, of course.  I wasn't exactly sure if you were serious that day.  And I got the impression the bigger the better?  Lots of bright spring colors?  You want flowers?"

"Yeah, flowers would be nice.  Maybe toward the impressionistic, rather than too realistic?"

"I like the idea.  Perhaps during the holidays I'll have some time to work on it."

"What are you doing for the holidays?"

I grinned.  "I have to go to New York early in the new year to line up some performers for next season, but I have no holiday plans."

"You're gonna be alone?  That's a shame.  You sure you don't want to visit your folks?  Maybe we could get together and make the rounds of the parties."

"I hadn't figured you for a party animal, Chave."

"I'm not, really.  But I'm sure you understand that when I'm back with the family, certain things are expected?

"Yeah, which is one of the many reasons why I'm not going home."

The rest of the meal was pleasant. I knew I should raise the possibility of his being on the Alliance Board, but somehow the time didn't seem right.  When we parted on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, he thanked me again, wished me happy holidays, we shook hands, and went our separate ways.

As I drove home, I thought about Chave.  He should be one of Stafford's most eligible bachelors.  He was good looking, affable, and well off.  Yet from everything I knew and some things I sensed, he was pretty much alone.  I couldn't help wondering why.  I was pretty sure he was gay.  Not that I was attracted to him or anything.  I just wondered.

I arrived at Stu's about 5:00 the next evening carrying a parcel wrapped in Christmas paper, which I put on a table just inside his front door.  He hung up my coat.  After we hugged, he said, "Oh, what's this?  Something for me?"

"Yeah.  I didn't know how you'd feel about exchanging Christmas presents, so please consider this a gift for the host tonight."

"So I can open it?" he asked, his green eyes sparkling.


What I had brought was a platter.  I had done it in Christmas red with a green wreath with a white bow in the center.  I'd done it so the glass wasn't solid red, nor was the wreath solid green.  On close examination, both looked as if there were thousands of little sparkly red and green pieces in a clear matrix.  I thought if he was doing any entertaining during the holiday season he might enjoy using it.

"Ohmygod, Whitney, this is gorgeous!  I didn't see it when I was in your studio the other day.  It's way too much for the meal I'm giving you."

"That's okay, Stu, you've given me other things I'm grateful for, you know.  That's why I made it for you."

The kiss I got in response was worth the sleep I had lost staying up late to make the platter. He actually picked me up.  I felt little and a bit silly with my feet dangling.  On the other hand, he was so warm, he smelled so good, and he kissed so well, I was willing to hang there as long as he wanted.  But in that position, our cocks were pressed together, and I began to get hard.

"Whoa, Whitney," he said, putting me down, "I'm sorry.  Guess I got carried away.  But you're such a sweet guy, and I'm so bowled over by your present, I just wanted to -- well, anyway, let's get something to drink.  And thanks again for the platter.  I'm going to get out a display stand and put it on the buffet for the holiday season."

"Stuart, are you going to be here for the holidays?"

"I'm invited to Asheville to spend Christmas with Jack and Maggie's folks, but I'll be back the day after Christmas."

"What about your family?"

"My mom passed away when I was in college.  Dad's remarried and living in Santa Fe.  My sis and her husband are in Chicago.  So the family doesn't get together much any more."

He led me into the kitchen where he poured us glasses of merlot.  The room was warm and it smelled of chili simmering.  He opened a container of sour cream and onion dip, grabbed a bag of potato chips, and I sat while he sliced tomatoes and cucumbers to add to the salad.  I just enjoyed watching him move.  He was wearing jeans with a dark green flannel shirt over a white tee, and he looked delicious.  I don't remember what we talked about, but I'd discovered that he and I never ran out of topics for conversation.  

He told me he'd grown up in Winston-Salem and gone from there to Carnegie-Mellon in Pittsburgh for both his bachelor's and master's.  Then he'd decided to come back "home," and he got the job at Stafford high, where he'd been for 7 years.

"So, at the ripe old age of 30, I guess I'm here to stay."  

He fixed corn bread batter and poured it into a cast iron skillet, which he left on the kitchen counter.

"Tell me when you're ready to eat, or twenty minutes sooner if you can," he said, grinning, "and I'll pop that in the oven."

We sat in the kitchen and drank wine and nibbled and talked.  About 6:00 he put the cornbread in the oven, and we ate when it came out.  He dished up big bowls of chili and set out freshly grated cheddar to sprinkle on top and put out apple butter to spread on the corn bread.  

I don't know when I've had a meal I enjoyed more.

After we cleaned up the kitchen, we watched "It's a Wonderful Life" on TV.  As old and trite as that movie is, I enjoyed watching it that evening with Stuart more than any of the previous times I'd seen it.  We had kicked off our shoes and sat with our feet propped on his coffee table.  At some point he put his arm around me, and I just snuggled down into the warmth and comfort of being close to him.  When that movie was over, he got out a dvd and put it on.  

"I think you probably know this one, too, and I'm betting you like it."

"It" turned out to be "An Affair to Remember," one of my favorite of the old mushy romances of my parents' day.  We both had tears in our eyes when it was over.  He used the remote to click off the dvd player and the television.

Then he kissed me.  Or, rather, we kissed each other.  As we became more and more aroused, he stood, pulled me up, and said, "Let's go to bed, shall we?"

I didn't argue.  

The foreplay was long and sweet.  I wondered whether his gentleness was innate, or whether it was something he'd learned while he was married to Maggie.  But for a big guy, especially one who was just barely out of his twenties, he was amazingly gentle.  And his gentleness managed to arouse me as much as I'd ever been.

Even so, I was surprised when he handed me the lube and asked me to enter him.  I had assumed that he'd be the top, as he had been two nights earlier.  It turns out he was an eager and appreciative bottom that night.

The next morning after we had some delicious wake-up sex, he fixed me a breakfast fit for a lumberjack, with sausage and big stacks of wonderful pancakes.  He'd warmed up pure maple syrup to go with it, and I ate more breakfast than I had since I was a teen.  

Afterward I had to leave so I could get to my place, shower, put on clean clothes, and get to Sunrise by 9:00.  He'd promised he'd call me Friday after he got back from Asheville.

So my first Christmas in Stafford was going to be spent alone.  Going to where the Pells lived (I had long ago quit thinking of it as home) was unthinkable.  Jean apologized for not inviting me to have Christmas dinner with them, but they were going to Fort Meyers to be with her parents, who were too old to travel.  Friday, her last day until the Monday after Christmas, I'd hugged her and told her to enjoy the holiday, the time with her family, and the Florida weather.

I'd not been alone for Christmas since grad school.  Kyle and I had been together for the holidays every year we were together.  

It was very quiet at Sunrise.  I sent Jerome home at noon and told him not to come back until the Monday after Christmas.  I could close up that day, and open, hold the fort, and close up the next day.  Delighted to have the time off, he hugged me.

"Merry Christmas, Whitney.  I'm sorry you're gonna be alone on THE day."  

He'd told me that he and his mother were invited to her brother's house in Statesville for the holidays and said if they had been staying home, they'd have asked me for dinner.

I assured him that I'd manage and wished him a merry Christmas.  He put a big hand on either side of my face and kissed me on the forehead.

"You're a pretty good guy," he said, grinning at me, "for a little white dude."

"I love you, too, Jerome," I said, hoping he wouldn't notice my erection.

I got caught up on lots of office work those two days.  We had a few people in the galleries, but at least the phone didn't ring constantly as it usually did.  I had plenty of time to think about the holiday just a couple of days away.  I decided I'd go to the late service at Holy Trinity on Christmas Eve and sleep late the next day.  Maybe I'd spend most of Christmas in my studio.  It seemed I never had as much time for the glass as I'd hoped.


That night when Judd confessed to me that he'd been "unfaithful," I was so relieved.  From all the guilt he was showing, I thought he'd let them both fuck him or something, or even that he was going to tell me that he didn't want to be my boyfriend after all.  Phil and Jamie are first-class jerks in my book, but they are hot looking dudes.  If I had been there, I might have given in to letting them suck my cock and lick my balls, too.  But that would have been a momentary lapse.  It wouldn't have meant that I felt anything for them.  For sure not the way I felt for Judd.

So far as I was concerned, Judd didn't have anything to feel guilty about.  And I wanted him to know how I felt.  I think he understood that by the time I left.  I was just sorry I had to dash for home to keep from getting in trouble with my parents.  Otherwise, I could have shown my sexy soccer boy that he was still loved.

The next day when we got together at lunch, Judd thanked me again for being so understanding.  I told him that subject was closed.  He grinned and rubbed my leg with his foot under the table.  Then he told me how hot he'd gotten looking at those pictures I'd left with him.  He wanted to know if it was my purpose to give him jack off material.  I told him that wasn't it.  I told him I wanted him to pose for me, so I'd have some pictures of his hot bod.  

"What?  Me?  No way!  Never!  Not on your life!"

I pleaded with him, but he said, "No, Louis.  Subject closed."

I wondered why, but since we were in the lunchroom, I decided maybe we should postpone the discussion.  

We were together a lot over the weekend before Christmas and the first two days of Christmas week.  We even decided what we were going to get each other for Christmas.  It wouldn't be a surprise, but it was what we both wanted.  So we went shopping together.

We were committed to our families on Christmas day.  I had to be the main crucifer for the late service on Christmas Eve, so Judd and I decided that we'd get together and exchange our presents.  His parents were cool with his coming to church with me that night.  He'd never been to an Episcopal Church before and was a little nervous, but he wanted to be there.  I told him just to do what everyone else was doing, and he'd be okay.  His folks went to the Congregational Church, and they were planning to attend on Christmas morning after their family gift exchange.

Then, later, I got an idea.  My parents would be going to Holy Trinity for the late service, too.  I asked them if Judd could sit with them, and they said they'd be happy to have him do that.  So, everything was set for Christmas Eve.

To be continued.