Date: Thu, 5 Jan 2006 06:08:36 EST
From: EddyRiha@aol.com
Subject: ton's american adventure 1

The usual disclaimers apply.  This is a work of fiction, and those folks
who are prevented from reading such fictional works either by age, by moral
preference, or by law should not read any further.

All of the characters presented here are fictional representations,
including the narrator.  While one of the characters (Ton) is a "celebrity"
in that he has appeared in a number of porn websites, his appearance on
those websites and any activities represented there do not necessarily
reflect his sexual preferences.  I do not know Ton, nor do I have any
knowledge about how to contact him.  The following story is simply a
creative response to the various public representations on those websites.

If anyone is offended by the premise of the story, or by explicit sexual
acts, please do not read any further.

Oh, and this is the first of several chapters. . . .


Ton's American Adventure

Chapter 1

by eddyriha

I was waiting near the baggage claim in the international terminal at
Newark Liberty Airport when I saw him in the crowd of passengers who had
survived customs.  As I expected, he was walking confidently, almost
swaggering as he headed toward me.  His hair was its natural dark brown, as
I had requested, and he was wearing jeans, a loose white t-shirt, and a
pair of sneakers.  In his left earlobe was the familiar gold hoop that had
been, in recent photos, replaced with a small diamond stud.  The hoop
looked better, in my opinion.  And this week my opinion counted.  I had
made all the arrangements, and for the next few days Ton would have the
adventure of his life.

Once he had found his bag, he paused and looked around, kind of unsure for
the moment.  I was enjoying the moment, seeing if he could figure out which
one I was.  I noted his eyes resting on a couple of different men, one of
whom returned the glance more seriously than I liked.  I saw that other man
take a step toward Ton, but before he could take another, I had taken hold
of Ton's right arm.

"Did you have a good flight?" I asked, expressing more confidence in my
voice than I felt.  Then again, in my work I'm used to bluffing people most
of the time.  None of them know anything about my personal life, and I keep
it that way by the most obvious means at my disposal: I share enough
personal details that everyone figures they know everything about me, and
therefore they don't ask any questions.  What better way to keep life
private than to have everybody imagining the whole life has been made
public?

"It was OK, I guess," he said in a quiet voice, inflected with an Eastern
European accent.  It was a steady voice, a pleasant voice, a rather sexy
voice in its own way.  That was the one thing I hadn't been able to
determine before completing the arrangements: what Ton's voice sounded
like.  Many guys don't care much what their lover says or how he says it.
But for me, nothing turns me off quicker than a voice completely unsuited
to the person I'm holding in my arms.

"Let me take that," I said, and he handed me his travel bag.  I had told
him that he didn't need to bring much clothing or other personal items.  I
certainly had enough in my closets to clothe him, if indeed we had any need
of clothing.

As we walked out through the terminal to my car, he remained silent, except
when I asked him questions.  I had the feeling he was somewhat
disappointed.  I know I'm not a dashing handsome dude, and I'm probably
older than most of his usual partners, but a deal's a deal.  And once he
spent some time with me, he might change his mind.  First impressions
aren't everything.

I opened the door for him, and he slid into the passenger seat.  I tossed
his bag onto the back seat before I climbed behind the wheel.

"May I?" he asked, as he held up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Sorry, no," I replied, taking them from him.  "I'm allergic to smoke."

He was clearly disappointed.  After a long transatlantic flight, during
which he was not allowed to smoke, he was again being prevented from
smoking.

I leaned over and kissed his lips.  They were soft and warm, responding to
the touch of mine.  In a moment my tongue was inside his mouth, and his in
mine.  He was fumbling at my belt, but I simply took his hand in mine.
"Not yet," I said as we separated.  "Later."  I pulled him close and kissed
him again.  "You taste better without the smoking."

For the first time, he smiled.

I started up the car, and in a moment we were headed toward the exit.  As
we approached, I saw a whole line of cars waiting in line.  "Damn!" I said
aloud.  "They've only got one booth open."  Sure enough, as often happens
at the Newark airport, there is a significant discrepancy between the
number of workers on duty (1) who can process people's parking lot tickets
and collect the money and the number of drivers (12 of us) hoping to have
their tickets processed and exit the lot.

This was going to take awhile, and I was already harder than I'd been in
months.  If I pulled over to have Ton do something about it, we'd lose our
place in line and have to start waiting all over again.

There was nothing to it.  I reached over and rubbed the back of his neck,
gently pointing him toward my crotch.  He looked around, at the cars ahead
of us, at the car which had just pulled in behind us.  "Are you sure?" he
asked.  I nodded, and so he began undoing my belt and opening my fly.  I
was wearing boxers which have no buttons or anything: they come in rather
handy in situations like this because, with a slight twist of the hips,
everything important becomes immediately accessible, if you know what I
mean.

The moments his soft, moist lips touched the head, I almost lost control.
He gently touched skin with his tongue, running it along the edge of the
head, then down the tender underside of my dick, all the way to my balls,
which he sucked delicately into his mouth, one at a time.  Then he was back
to my dick, massaging it with his lips, his tongue, as he moved back up to
the head, now fully swollen.  I had all I could do to breath normally, to
keep one foot on the clutch and one on the brake.

Then, suddenly, a second ticket booth opened up.  As some of the cars
pulled into line there, I realized that we'd be reaching the booth before I
had expected.  But I wasn't about to stop this wonderful, pleasurable
experience.  I doubt I could have stopped, even if I'd wanted to.  So, as
Ton poised his mouth over the tip and began to slowly suck my cock into his
mouth, I reached onto the back seat for the old quilt I keep there.  I
spread it over my lap and over Ton, so nothing of him was visible.  That
coverup took only a moment, but Ton didn't pause in his efforts to please
me.

"Just keep it quiet down there," I whispered.

I wasn't so worried that a ticket collector would hear any noises coming
from Ton; I was simply worried I would bellow out something when I came, as
I sometimes do-at least, that's what I've been told.  In the middle of an
orgasm, whoever remembers whey he says or does?  I usually don't moan
during sex, except for whatever I say or shout at the approach of an
orgasm.

Ton continued to work on my cock, gliding his tongue on the underside,
following his lips as they moved up and down the shaft.  I was so close to
coming, but I was trying to postpone it until after I had paid the parking
fee.  There was only one car ahead of us, then it was our turn.  I handed
over my ticket and my credit card.  As the ticket collector was processing
the fee, Ton was moving faster and faster, pumping my cock with his mouth
and throat.  I felt myself reaching that point of no return, and through
the quilt I pushed his head down.  He understood what I meant and paused in
his movements, tightening the pressure of his lips.  That was what did
it-and I let out an "Oh, my God!" as I shot into his mouth.  As he sucked
in all my cum, I kept shooting and shooting, until my dick was completely
spent.

The ticket collector handed me my credit card and the slip for me to sign.
"Are you OK, sir?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah," I replied as I reached for the paper and pen.  My eyes were
watering so much I could hardly see the line where I had to put my name.
"Just something I felt there, for a moment."

"I know the feeling," he said with a smile as I handed him the slip with my
illegible signature on it.  "Except I usually wait until I get home to feel
that good."  He handed me my receipt.  "You have a good night, sir."

"I think I will.  You, too."

After we were on the highway heading to my place, I lifted up the quilt,
and Ton sat back up.  With a finger, he wiped off some of my cum that had
dripped out of his mouth and then licked off the finger.  "That's tasty,"
he said.  "I assume there's more where that came from?"  He was laughing.

"Of course," I replied.  "But you'll have to earn it!"

We stopped at a well-known burger place for dinner, and as we were sitting
there eating, as Ton was telling me about the place where he grew up and
the place he no lives, I was thinking to myself, "I can't believe I'm
actually here with this wonderfully attractive guy."

Back in the car, I leaned over and kissed him again.  I was getting horny
again-or should I say, I was still horny-but now it was Ton's turn.  After
all, turn about is fair play, or something like that.

So I drove to this place I know, a lake in a park that wasn't too far off
the route from the airport to my house.  I could name the park and the
exact location, but that would spoil it for me and those guys I bring
there.  Not far from this lake, there's an old abandoned house-it was
partly damaged years ago in a fire, and then boarded up.  But the back door
is off its hinges, and that allows me (and whoever I'm with) to sneak
inside and go into the back room where there's an old mattress.  Yeah, it's
kind of grungy and there are dead leaves on the floor.  But there's
something to the thrill of knowing you are being incredibly intimate with
someone else and knowing you are only fifty feet from the busiest road
passing through the park.  If that don't excite you, maybe you should stay
home and watch a sitcom.

I parked the car in the picnic area, then led Ton through the woods to the
back of the house.  It was early evening, and under the trees it was
starting to be more shadow than sunlight.  The house looked dark and
forboding, and Ton frowned when he saw it.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"You'll see," I replied as I led him to the back door.

"You don't live here?" he asked when we stood in the back room.  I have to
admit that, if I'd flown halfway around the world, and had then been
brought to this room in this house, I'd have been wondering if I'd made a
mistake in making the trip.

"No, this is just a place I sometimes go, when the mood strikes me."  I put
my arm around his shoulders.  "And the mood really strikes me right now."

His first instinct was to move toward my crotch, to begin sucking me again.
But I stopped him.  "It's your turn, now."

I had him sit on the old mattress, and then I began removing his clothing:
shoes, socks, t-shirt, jeans.  Last to come off were his briefs.  His cock,
when I first saw it, was not that remarkable.  Flaccid, it was about the
same size as mine.  But I knew, from the online photos I had seen, that it
could become much, much larger, nice and thick like mine does.  The main
difference between his and mine is that, like most Americans, I'm cut, and
like most Europeans, he's uncut.  (The comparisons are based solely on my
own experiences.)

As I began to run my fingers over his dick, it began to swell slowly.  I
ran my finger along the foreskin, then pulled it back to reveal the head.
Ton had closed his eyes, and there was a smile on his face.  He already had
precum on his slit, and I tasted it-tangy, salty, like my own in some ways,
but a whole other range of taste at the same time.

He lay back, and I began to run my lips and my tongue over the head of his
cock, the shaft, the balls.  His balls are perfect, lightly haired, the
right size to fit in my mouth, one at a time.  He began to moan softly as I
sucked on his balls, then when I took his cock into my mouth, he moaned
louder.  I started to reach my hand up and cover his mouth, but then I
realized, what the hell-if anyone were outside and heard the moans, they'd
think the place was haunted.  I mean, if you were outside and heard moans
coming from a dark, abandoned house, what would you think?

Not being all that experienced a cocksucker, I couldn't fit all of him into
my mouth, but I did my best.  While I sucked, I ran my finger along the
strip of skin between the balls and the anus, that part outside the
prostate that has its own sensitivity.  I moved my finger back and forth,
slowly, lightly, until I found the spot.  Suddenly, Ton gave a jolt, he
cried out, "What the fuck?!?!" and his cock expanded another inch or two.
His eyes were open and he was staring at me in a way that I knew I now had
his full attention.

I continued to suck at his now enlarged cock, and my right hand was
caressing his balls.  My left index finger had moved from his prostate skin
to just outside his anus.  I ran my finger around the edge of his pucker,
and suddenly his legs twitched, his cock exploded, and I found myself
swallowing rope after rope of his cum.

When he finished, his dick remained hard, and he was sitting up, the
surprise clearly etched in his face.  "No one's ever done that stuff
before, to me," he said.

"Hang on, buddy," I replied.  "There's much more to come."