B & G
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.
Thanks and love to Tom for always patiently and carefully doing the editing chores, and to the rest of my Nifty Six colleagues. Special thanks to Drew Hunt for suggestions about this chapter.
After breakfast I helped Brent load the dishwasher, gave him a kiss, and reluctantly left to go to my apartment. Then I had to stop by B & G and see that things there were running smoothly. I promised I'd pick him up at 4:00. That would give us plenty of time to get to Cleveland, check in at the Wyndham, change clothes, have dinner and go across the street to the Palace.
Ralph, the acting senior electrician while I was gone, told me that everything was fine, and to enjoy myself. He was looking forward to some time off after classes began the following week and seemed to like being on duty while things were relatively quiet. So I decided to go work out for a while. I hadn't been able to do that while I was home for Christmas, and with all the good food, I was worried about incipient love handles.
After I'd worked out and showered, I was sitting on the bench in front of my locker drying between my toes when Guy Mannington came up. He looked sexy, as always, in a gray sweat top, gray shorts, and flip-flops.
"Hey, Gabe, how was your Christmas?"
"Nice, Guy. Spent it with my folks, as usual. How about yours?"
"Well, you know my family's in New Mexico, so I didn't go all the way out there. I'll be glad when classes begin. It's been really quiet here, with all you studs away."
"Poor Guy. No action at all?"
He grinned. "Well, I didn't say that."
I laughed. "I might have known. You can find some willing hunk to fuck when no one else could."
Still grinning, he said, "Yeah, I guess I can."
He waved and walked away, going, I supposed, to his office.
As I walked into the lobby of the gym, Guy was standing there at the main desk. "Bye, Gabe. Nice to have you back. Got big plans for tonight?"
It was my turn to grin. "Oh, yeah!"
"That's great. Well, Happy New Year."
"Same to you, Guy."
I had my hand on the panic bar of the door when Guy called after me, "Oh, Gabe. Your plans wouldn't have anything to do with that sexy Brent Collins, would they?"
I didn't even stop to answer. But I worried about what he knew about Brent – and me – for the rest of the day.
When I picked Brent up, he was wearing brown corduroy jeans, a rust colored sweater, leather ankle-highs, and a leather hip-length coat. He looked like something out of GQ. He had a small satchel and a garment bag, obviously containing his suit for the evening. I had already put my things in the back.
After we left the Inner Belt, we went a few blocks north, turned onto Euclid and drove east a few blocks to Playhouse Square. We pulled up in front of the Wyndham, which was on our right, and let the valet unload and park the car.
When we got to the registration desk, Brent identified himself. As he was checking us in, he asked the really great-looking woman behind the counter if she had been able to accommodate his "request."
"No, Dr. Collins, I'm sorry, we weren't. This IS New Year's Eve, you know, and we've had no cancellations."
When we got to the room and had hung up our garment bags, I asked him, "So what was that about your `request'?"
He grinned, and gestured toward the beds. "As you can see, this room has two double beds."
"Well, I booked it that way when I thought maybe you were straight so that you wouldn't think I was intent upon seducing you."
I grinned back. "And you weren't?"
"Not if you were straight, Gabe. This morning, after you left, I called to see if they could switch us to one king-sized bed. They said they would if they could. But obviously they couldn't."
I sighed. "So, I guess we'll just have to sleep in separate beds."
His face fell.
"Just funnin' ya, Brent. It will be nice and cozy in one of those doubles."
He sighed with obvious relief. "Whew!" Then he looked at his watch. "We have dinner reservations In twenty minutes. We'd better hurry and change clothes!"
Since I didn't have a tuxedo, I had brought my black suit. Brent, who had both tux and tails, had brought neither. He chose to wear a black suit, too, probably out of deference to me. Wearing a white shirt and a gold tie with a small geometric pattern, he looked again like something out of GQ. He was certainly a treat for the eyes. I had always liked my black suit, and with a silver and black tie, I thought I looked pretty good, but I felt bulky, even lumpy next to Brent.
"Hey, Mr. Sutton, you look pretty sharp there!" he said, adjusting the dimple in my tie.
"I don't feel sharp. I feel absolutely dowdy next to you, Dr. Collins."
"Don't be ridiculous. You'll be the best-looking guy at the opera tonight."
Winsor's, the restaurant at the Wyndham, was right off the lobby. They were doing a good business, of course. Apparently they had a full house of people who were going to see "Fledermaus" and spend the night. After we were seated and had gotten our drinks, I congratulated Brent on his foresight in making all of the reservations.
He grinned, raising his birdbath martini glass to mine. "I was counting on our having something to celebrate tonight. Cheers."
"Skoal! You weren't counting your chickens just a little bit?"
"Well, I could always cancel the reservations if it hadn't worked out. The cancellation fee was pretty steep, but I was willing to risk it."
"I don't think I've told you, but this is such a great idea! I can't think of a better way to spend New Year's Eve, or a better companion for the occasion."
We clinked glasses again.
I suppose downtown Cleveland has better restaurants than Winsor's, but our meal was excellent, beautifully served. The waiter was all one could ask, and damned cute, too. The crowd was elegant, many of them in formal wear. We recognized a popular columnist of the Plain Dealer, and Brent pointed out some first-desk people from the Cleveland Orchestra.
The Palace Theater is one of three old-time movie houses that have been renovated as performance venues in Cleveland's Playhouse Square. Of the three, the Palace is the most splendid, with crystal chandeliers, lots of gilt and red velvet, certainly the right place for the performance of a light opera on New Year's Eve.
The production of "Fledermaus" was brilliant. There's a ball scene where it's traditional for local celebrities to do walk-ons. That night the lady mayor of Cleveland was one of the "guests" at the ball. She looked splendid in her ice blue silk gown. She came onstage on the arm of the young Austrian maestro who had recently become music director of the Cleveland Orchestra. Their appearance brought lots of applause and even some whistles from the crowd, which was clearly already in a festive mood. Another "ball guest" who elicited many cheers was the young phenom who had gone directly from his high school in Akron to a spot on the Cleveland Cavaliers. He looked elegant in his white tie and tails, and he moved with an athlete's grace. Neither Brent nor I recognized the young woman on his arm, but she was lovely, her dark skin glowing under the stage lights, looking especially fetching in a pale yellow ball dress.
I'm no expert, but I thought for a local production, the singers and pit orchestra acquitted themselves well. The audience, perhaps because of the occasion, was ecstatic, standing and applauding and cheering at the end. I noted that the "ball guests" didn't take part in the curtain calls. They had no doubt gone on to whatever parties were on their agenda for the evening.
The Wyndham is sort of kitty-corner across Euclid from the Palace. Brent and I had decided we could do without topcoats, but the cold wind whistling up Euclid made us step lively as we went back to the hotel. It was after 11:00 PM when we got to our room. I pulled off my tie as soon as we got there, getting ready to strip to my shorts.
"Want to watch the ball drop?"
"Do you mean watch the balls, plural, drop? As in yours?"
"Oh, shit! No, you know what I meant. The big one in Times Square."
"Yeah, I know, babe. But under the circumstances, it was pretty funny."
I grinned. "Yeah, I can see that."
"Uh, Gabe, don't get too comfortable, okay? We've got room service coming."
I waggled my eyebrows at him. "How comfortable can I get?"
"Oh," he said, with his sweet smile, "take off your jacket, your tie, and your shoes if you want. I'll help you out of the rest later."
"Sounds good," I said.
About 11:30 there was a discreet tap on the door. Brent opened it. A uniformed bus boy wheeled in a cart with a bottle of Dom Perignon in an ice bucket and some things in silver dishes with silver lids. There was also a silver pitcher.
Brent handed him a tip, thanked him, and turned to me. "Now it's time to start the party." He opened the champagne and poured us each a glass. Then he lifted one of the lids and popped a red raspberry into each glass. Handing me a glass, he said, "If this isn't premature, Gabe, I'd like to propose a toast."
"Please do, professor."
I touched my glass to his. "I like that. To us!"
We each took a sip.
"Brent," I said, setting my glass down, putting my arms around his waist, and pulling him toward me, "This has been one fabulous New Year's Eve. Thanks, babe. You have a lot of style."
He set his glass down on the rolling cart, put both arms around my shoulders, and nuzzled my neck. Then, straightening up, he said, "And the best is yet to come."
"I like the sound of that."
"First, though," he said brightly, "we have raspberries and cream." He went to the cart, took a lid off one of the silver bowls, and began spooning raspberries into smaller crystal bowls. Then he poured cream from the silver pitcher.
We took them to the coffee table in front of the sofa and sat side by side, hips and thighs touching. He flicked on the television, and we watched the lead-up to the Times Square celebration as we ate the berries and sipped our champagne.
At a couple of minutes to midnight, he refilled our glasses. As the New York crowd screamed and sang "Auld Lang Syne," he held up his glass. "Happy New Year, Gabriel."
"It already is for me, Brent. Happy New Year to you, too." We touched glasses and drank.
We put everything back onto the cart and wheeled it into the hall, where we left it beside our door. Back inside the room, I flipped off the television and grabbed Brent around the waist, pulling his pelvis toward mine. I wasn't surprised to find that he was as hard as I was. He put a hand on each of my butt cheeks and squeezed as we kissed. He was a quick learner, and it was a very exciting kiss.
When I thought I would explode, I pulled away and began to unbutton his shirt. "It's permissible to get undressed now, is it, professor?"
He giggled, just standing there and letting me undress him.
"Permissible, huh? You're the one who sounds like a professor. Yeah, it's permissible. In fact, it's mandatory!"
I did it all slowly, nuzzling and kissing his flesh as it became exposed. Everything the night before had been so rushed, and our 69 session that morning had been mostly under covers, so I'd not really had time to appreciate his body.
Although he didn't have an unusually long nose, Brent reminded me a bit of an afghan hound, thin, elegant, patrician. But he had the gray eyes of a wolf. I've described his wavy, light-brown hair, and the lock of it that tends to fall over his forehead. His chest had just a little bit of hair around his quarter-size pink nipples and a small patch between his pects. Then there was a light trail from his innie navel to his pubes. His cock was about the size and shape of mine, but the skin on it was pink, much lighter than mine.
By the time I had him standing there in only his black socks, I was tempted to suck on the beautiful tool pointing toward my face, but I had other plans in mind. First, though, I needed to get naked.
"Okay, gorgeous," he said, grinning, "it's my turn."
I stood up, facing him, arms at my sides, and waited, my cock screaming for release from my boxers. Brent did to me exactly as I had done to him, except when he pulled my boxers down, he daintily licked the precum off the tip. I shivered. He stood, and we faced each other.
Then he sort of snickered.
"Well, that's a mood breaker," I grumbled, grinning. "What's funny?"
"Nothing, really. But here we are naked, primed, ready to go, and we're both still wearing black socks. Besides, I've gotta pee. Better do it now than later, right?"
I sat on the bed and removed my socks while he used the bathroom, then we switched.
He was in bed when I Ieft the bathroom. I turned off the rest of the lights and pulled open the draperies. The room had a spectacular view of Lake Erie during the day, but at night we saw an equally spectacular panorama of the lighted buildings of downtown Cleveland. They provided all the illumination we'd need for what we were about to do. I'd put condoms and lube on the table between the beds while Brent was in the bathroom.
I'd sensed that he had very little experience, and I wondered why a guy as beautiful as he was seemed so – so virginal, I suppose. I couldn't understand why a gay man in his mid-twenties, especially one who'd been in New York City for three years, would still have this air of sexual innocence about him. I resolved to ask him about that soon, but certainly this wasn't the time. I decided at least to let him call the shots that evening.
I pushed him onto his back, and began planting gentle kisses all over his face. "So, baby, what's your pleasure?"
He groaned. "Oooh, this is pleasure. Just being here with you is the greatest pleasure I've ever had."
I smiled down at him. "Do you want me to just keep kissing your face?"
"Yeah, for an eternity or two. Then there are two things I want, and I can't decide which comes first."
He smiled up at me. "I've fantasized about getting my mouth on that prime butt of yours, stud. But I also want you to fuck me."
"Well, you could start on the butt part and then you could fuck me."
He lay there, obviously debating, so I went back to kissing him, this time working on his throat, especially that little hollow at the base.
After a while, he gently pushed me away. "Can't talk with your head under my chin, sweetheart."
"Uh huh. I think tonight I have a gift for you. Don't know whether it will mean much to you, but it means a lot to me."
Intrigued, I asked, "What's that, Brent?"
"No one's ever been up my ass before. I want you to be the first, and I want you to do it now. Please."
"I'm touched, babe. Are you sure?"
"As sure as I've ever been about anything! I know you'll be gentle. And I need to feel you inside me. So, how do you want me?"
"Desperately," I said, grinning.
"Fool! I meant what position?"
"On your back, so I can watch your face."
It was heaven, just lying there in that room, illuminated only by the lights from Cleveland's downtown, having Gabe plant tender kisses all over my face and neck. I could have taken a lot of that if it hadn't been for my other urges. There were so many things I'd fantasized about doing with him if I ever had the chance, and now here was my chance. I was so happy I wanted nothing, yet I wanted to eat out his ass, to fuck him, but most of all on this special night, to have him inside me, to give him the gift of myself.
As I had used the dildoes on myself that fall, dreaming that it was Gabe who was fingering me or putting his cock into me, it never occurred to me that he'd rim me. Yes, I'd thought about his magnificent rear and practically drooled at the thought of getting my mouth on it, but his doing that to me just never crossed my mind.
He took both pillows and, raising my butt with one hand, shoved them under it. "Hold your legs up with your hands, babe," he suggested. When I did that, he went straight for my butt. Nothing in my experience had ever prepared me for how that felt. He took a few tentative licks of my crack and then zeroed in on my hole. He began to alternately suck on it and probe it with his tongue.
"Oh, fuck!" I said. "That's fantastic."
I could feel his mustache tickling as his tongue began jabbing quickly at my pucker. "Ohmygod, Gabe, that's, I've never, I mean, oh shit!"
He chuckled, and I could feel his hot breath on my anus. I began to wiggle my butt. "Don't stop, unless you're ready to fuck me."
Again he chuckled. "All in due time, stud."
He went back to tonguing my hole. He switched from the short, quick jabs to leaving his tongue still partly into my pucker and rapidly moving his head from side to side. I thought I would come right up off the bed, and I screamed.
"I'm assuming a place like the Wyndham is pretty well soundproofed, Brent. But maybe you'd better keep it down a little."
"I don't give a damn who hears me. I can't help it when you do that!"
Any further comment was forestalled by his return to what he'd been doing. Now he was sticking his tongue further into me than I would have thought a tongue could go. He was literally fucking me with it, and I began to whimper. And wiggle.
"Oh, my sweet man. That's indescribable, but I need more. Please, Gabe, take me!"
"One moment, professor." He had put on a condom and lubed it before I knew what happened. Perhaps I was so high from what he'd been doing with his tongue that I couldn't keep track of time. At any rate, he had a couple of lubed fingers up my ass and was stroking my prostate before my brain caught up with what was happening. That was so exciting I thought I might come before he ever got his dick inside me.
"I'm ready, lover, I'm ready. Enough foreplay. Just do me!"
He leaned down between my legs and gave me a searching kiss. I suppose there was a faint taste of my ass, but it wasn't much, and my attention turned to his tongue in my mouth and the need in my butt.
He put the tip of his cock against my now-pulsing pucker. I felt a little pressure, and the head popped inside.
"No, keep coming."
He pushed slowly. I felt a sense of being filled up, some slight but momentary burning. When his thick, curly bush was against my perineum, he paused. "Okay, babe?"
"More than okay. Fuck me!"
He began to move in and out slowly. I haven't words to describe the sensation. I felt full. I felt fulfilled. I was floating away on a cloud of whipped cream. Then he began to wiggle his hips, and suddenly it was fireworks time, the Fourth of July. He'd obviously hit my prostate. Again, I yelled.
"Aha! Found it! You liked that, did you?" He grinned down at me.
I locked my feet behind his butt and tried to pull him deeper into me. He seemed so in control, yet so sensitive to me, to making me feel good. I knew at that instant, if I'd ever had any doubt before, that I loved this man.
"Oh, God, Gabriel! This is better than anything, maybe even better than Mozart."
"Better than Mozart? No way!"
"Wow! I'm flattered. Now, let's get on with the program."
Time stopped. I was on that cloud while fireworks went off overhead, inside me, I don't know where. But they were going off. At one point I felt Gabe stiffen. He muttered a few epithets, and then I could feel his cock pulsing. I thought it would be all over then, especially when he leaned down and began to kiss me again. His tongue instructed mine in another dance, and my cloud was ever so slowly coming back to earth.
Then he pushed himself back up. His cock, I noticed, had never gotten soft. He began to hump me again slowly, and before I knew it, the cloud was aloft, and the fireworks were starting again.
"God, Gabe. How can you do that? You're incredible!"
As delirious as I was, I hadn't come, and my cock was about to explode, by this time drooling almost a constant stream of precum on my belly. Soon, I felt that special burning that signaled impending orgasm. "Oh, baby, I'm gonna come!"
"Yeah, come for me, stud! Shoot your stuff. I wanna see it all over your chest!"
That did it! I exploded, pumping out what had to be my greatest load ever. Some of it even landed on my face. Still hard, Gabe leaned down and licked my face free of cum. Then he went back to fucking me. I was amazed at his staying power and thinking how grateful I'd have cause to be in the future that he could do that. I didn't want him ever to pull out, and I knew I'd want him to do that to me regularly. Forever.
Soon he began to piston in and out of me. He groaned instead of yelling when he came the second time, then collapsed on top of me. I felt the cum squish between us as our torsos made contact. He lay there quietly as I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the top of his head. He was a little sweaty, but his curly hair smelled and tasted wonderful, part shampoo and part just Gabe. That was a scene that I could quickly get hooked on.
I don't remember anything after that. I think I went to sleep with him lying on top of me. I was sated and fulfilled. Gabe was probably just exhausted.
It was late on New Year's morning when we woke up. I first became aware of the bright light. The sun, reflecting off of the windows in the downtown buildings, illuminated our room brilliantly. I got up, closed the draperies, and padded into the bathroom. When I got back to the bed, I looked at Gabriel. He was lying on his back with one arm thrown over his forehead. He looked vulnerable, like a little boy. But further down, the tent in the sheets made it clear that this was no boy.
I got back into bed gently, hoping not to waken him. He rolled onto his side facing me, opened one eye, and said, "Mornin', beautiful."
"Mornin', iron man!"
He gave me a sleepy chuckle. "Iron man?"
"Yeah, I would never have believed that an old guy of thirty could come twice without ever getting soft in between times. That's quite an accomplishment."
"Old guy? You'll pay for that," he laughed, pushing my hair off my forehead as he did. "But as for my stamina, that was probably because I'd never had sex with anybody like you before."
I wondered how many people he'd had sex with and then decided it wasn't really any of my business. He was with me now, and that was all that mattered.
"Now, I need a piss in the worst way," he said. "Guess I may as well shave and shower while I'm in there."
I was a little disappointed because I still hadn't had a go at his ass, but I didn't say anything because there was always that night. I was assuming we would spend it together at either his place or mine.
"Like some company?"
"Yeah. Come on!"
We shaved separately but had fun showering together. After toweling each other off, we dressed once more in jeans and sweaters.
The champagne brunch at Winsor's was spectacular. Neither of us wanted any champagne, but the buffet had anything one might want. We both had oj, eggs benedict, and coffee.
Back in the room, we made short work of packing up. We called down to have Gabe's car brought to the door from the parking garage across the street. It was there by the time we had checked out.
As we drove home, I was glowing, in a state of euphoria. My ass felt a little tender, but very nice. My whole body was still tingling.
I'd purposely cut myself off from intimacy since high school. As a result I'd been lonely and frustrated. Things had changed a little after I met Gabe. I'd lusted after this guy since I first came to the university in September, so I was still frustrated, but at least I had a friend. I'd quickly fallen in love with him, and now he was my lover. I really thought this must be love I was feeling. He, too, seemed happy with our newly-blossomed relationship.
I began having domestic thoughts, wondering about our possibly living together. But then I cautioned myself that I was rushing things. We'd need a lot more intimate time together before either of us would give up his living space. But it was with happy thoughts that I looked forward to getting back to town, to having dinner that evening, to sleeping with Gabe, to continuing our new relationship into the future.
Gabe seemed to concentrate on his driving. I wondered if he were having thoughts similar to mine. He did nothing to interrupt my reverie until we were about ten minutes from home. As we were waiting for a traffic light to change, he looked at me and asked, "How do you happen to know Guy Mannington?"
To be continued.