Date: Sun, 18 Dec 2005 16:01:20 -0800 (PST)
From: Alexander Levitzky <alfredogroats@yahoo.com>
Subject: Motorist Assistance

My job in Silicon Valley is lucrative but sometimes wearing.  I had just
spent several weeks of fourteen hour days on a rush project which, I
don't mind saying, I completed beautifully.  My boss thought so, too,
and suggested that I take a few days off to recover.  Better than that.
our grateful client, whom I had got to know pretty well during those
weeks, offered me the loan of his pass to what he described as a torrid
swinger's resort down in the Central Valley.  So I packed my Porsche
with five day's supplies and headed south.

I was in no hurry and disliked the freeways.  After getting out of town
fast on 101 I turned east at Gilroy, and found a two-lane rural road
heading south on which I could take my time.  It was late afternoon,
warm, fairly dry.  I was driving slowly, feeling sleepy, when I saw some
distance away a car had pulled over on the shoulder of this long,
straight road.  It immediately evoked one of my fantasies.  I would stop
to help a disabled vehicle.  The driver would be a beautiful,
sex-starved Hollywood model.  I would easily fix the car's problem and
she would insist on thanking me in a room at the nearest motel, where
she lay naked on a bed, spread legs showing a soft, wet pussy.

I slowed.  As I approached, I saw a man in the driver's seat.  The
fantasy was neatly replaced by the vision of a handsome, sex-starved
Hollywood stud, lying naked on a bed, spread legs topped by a stiff, wet
prick.  I have certain requirements for sex partners, but gender
doesn't happen to be one of them.

However, this one wasn't asking for help.  He was lying back in his
seat, eyes closed, white shirt and red tie bright in the afternoon sun,
just taking a nap, I thought.  I drove on, and half a mile farther saw
a reason for the stopped car.  Another guy, also wearing a white shirt
but no tie, was trudging along the road carrying a small red gas can.  I
came to a stop and asked if he could use help.  He certainly could, he
said, and got in.  He told me that there was a gas station about a mile
ahead in the hamlet of Florita, and that he was exceedingly grateful to
me for stopping for him.  He was a good-looking guy, a little older than
me, thin but fit although his shirt was wet with sweat.  He went on some
about how embarassed he was that he and his friend had run out of gas on
their way home from work in Fresno.  I assured him that it was no
reflection on them and asked how he would bring the gas back to their
car.

"I hope they'll give me a ride back there", he said.

" 'Hope' ?" I inquired.

"Well, they don't like us much here...in fact, these people are awful.
They are so narrow.  We bought this charming little house a year ago,
and as soon as the people in town saw it was two men living together, we
were on the shit list.  They give us a hard time at the gas station
and I don't know whether they'll give me a lift."

"Don't worry about it," I said.  I'll be happy to take you back."

"Oh, that's wonderful," he answered.  "You're so kind!"

I didn't need much gay radar to perceive my companion's gender
preferences.  When we pulled into the station I asked him if he'd like
me to fill his gas can.  He seemed relieved, handed me some bills, and I
filled the can and paid for it.  The attendant, a soiled adolescent,
stared at him in my car and stared at me, taking the money and making
change without a smile or a word.

Starting back I said, "I think I see what you mean.  That kid looked at
us like we were scum."

"Well, you're not," he replied, putting his hand on my arm for a minute.
"I am so grateful."

When we got back to his car we all introduced outselves.  He was Ronald
and his friend in the car, who looked a lot like him, was Frank.  They
were lavish in their thanks and finally asked me, since I was heading in
that direction, if I would stop at their house and accept the reward of
a drink, or something.  I accepted.

We stopped at the gas station while they filled their tank.  Fortunately
it was self service and they paid by credit card, under the stony gaze
of the scruffy attendant staring at us through a dirty station window.
I followed them down the road and on a dusty side street to an isolated
small house, shiny in white paint and surrounded by carefully tended
beds of flowers.  We parked and they ushered me in.

The sun was low, brightening the closed drapes of a good-sized living
room, furnished with a big couch, easy chairs and little tables, a
desk, pillows everywhere, and, just inside the door, a small statue.
The walls were crowded with bright, abstract paintings; the place had
the air of a home truly cared for by the people who lived there.  The
statue was great.  It was a miniature reproduction of Michelangelo's
David, the sculpture of a very pretty boy whose original had caused an
uproar in Victorian times because of its nakedness, complete with a
finely detailed penis hanging down.  This reproduction had one
difference:  the penis was not hanging down.  It stood out long and
stiff.

Ronald excused himself to take a shower after his sweaty walk on the
road.  I was invited to sit in a comfortable chair, asked my choice of
drink, and was given a good-sized glass of excellent scotch, on the
rocks.  I expressed my admiration of their garden and the inviting room
we sat in, Frank told me about some of its interesting decorations
conspicuously avoiding the statue of David.  Ron returned, wearing only
a light bathrobe.  When he sat down the bathrobe splayed open and I
could see his shadowed prick.  He seemed unconsious of the exposure, but
I doubted that.  Anyway, we exchanged information about our occupations;
they were designers for Modest Modes, a women's wear plant in Fresno.
Finally Frank said, "We're so grateful to you.  Is there anything at all
we could do for you?"

I hesitated, then thinking, let's go for it!, said:  "Well, there's
something I'd like that requires two other men ... it's a sex fantasy."

Frank's face brightened, he smiled, said "Yes?"

"One of them fucks me in the mouth while the other sucks me off."

He smiled wider and looked at Ronald.  I didn't see a signal pass
between them, but he answered, saying "I think we could handle that."
He paused.  "Why don't we finish our drinks and then take off our
clothes.  You'll notice we keep it nice and warm here."

"Wonderful!"  I said.  I took my glass, tilted it up, and in several
long swallows drained it.  I stood up.  They looked at me for a moment,
then took their own glasses and emptied them.  They got up.  Ron
shrugged off his bathrobe and stood there naked -- with an erection
beginning.  All I could focus on for a bit was his prick, much like
mine:  cut, plenty long and not too thick, a lovely pink.  Then Frank
and I worked fast on shoelaces belts, zippers and buttons, and in a
minute we were all naked.  They both had good, lean bodies, and Frank's
prick was just as nice as Ron's; mouth-watering.  Mine was standing
straight out and tingling.  Frank wrapped his hand around it, pulled a
few times, and said "Nice!  Let's take these to the bedroom."

Just off the living room was a big room with an enormous bed with an
ornate, carved dark headboard.  The art on the walls here was not
abstract at all.  There were six or seven life-size posters and a couple
oils.  They were all front or side views of naked men with big, erect,
penises.  One was jacking off.  I admired them while Frank found three
thick pillows and stacked them against the headboard, telling me to
climb up.  I lay on the bed, the pillows supporting my chest and head,
my legs spread, my prick standing straight up, quivering.

"Who should do which?" Frank asked.  "Whatever suits you two," I
replied, "you both look so good."  "All right," he answered, "I'll take
the top.  That all right with you, Ron?" he asked.  "Just fine," he
answered, "I'm going to love this."

I raised my arms as Frank, thighs widespread, straddled my chest with
his knees near my armpits.  He put his hands on the headboard and leaned
forward.  His prick was perfectly angled and an inch from my mouth.  I
wet my lips well, formed them into a little O, put my hands on his ass
cheeks and pulled him toward me.  His prick slid slowly and deliciously
in.  As its head passed my lips I pressed my tongue underneath and
wiggled it.  He responded with a pleased groan.

Meanwhile Ron, kneeling between my outstretched legs, had encircled my
glans with his warm mouth and was sliding up and down just behind the
corona, exciting me intensely.  Frank began rocking slowly back and
forth while my lips and tongue worked on him; in, barely touching the
back of my throat, and out until his corona met my lips.  Ron paused in
his sliding from time to time to lock his lips just behind the head and
move his head from side to side.

It was wonderful.  I had to do nothing but keep my mouth on Frank's
sweet prick as he slid in and out, and savor Ron's ministration to mine.
I lost all track of time; I wanted these beautiful, liquid
sensations to go on forever.  But the pleasure was building
fantastically.  Frank started moving faster, then jerkily, and suddenly
let out a suppressed, high-pitched groan, and his fluid streamed from
his prick into my mouth.  As I swallowed, I felt my own sperm come up
and enormous pleasure surge through my whole body.  I barely
managed to avoid biting Franks softening cock, but sucked on it hard as
I shot into Ron's mouth.  I stayed with Frank until he was totally soft.
Disengaging, he moved down until our heads were together and kissed me
on the mouth, probing it with his tongue while Ron sucked everything he
could get from my soft dick.

The three of us stretched out on the bed.  I felt glowing with
satisfaction, Frank looked very pleased, and Ron, too, looked content,
although his smooth prick was standing stiffly from his body.  "You are
very good," said Frank.  "You're both great," I answered, and I must
reward Ron."  I reached out, put my hand around his prick, bent down and
slid my mouth over the head.  Frank said, "Why don't we just do it
again, with our positions switched?"  "That would be fine with me," I
answered, disengaging, "but I'm not going to come again.  That was just
too good."  "Don't be so sure," said Frank.  "Never underestimate the
power of a gay cocksucker."  So I resumed my place on the bed, head
supported by the pillows.

Frank went to the nearby dresser and unscrewed the top of a large jar.
He inserted two fingers of his right hand, which glistened when he
withdrew them.  He came back to me and said, "Raise your knees."
My legs were already spread wide, but I did as he said, and felt a
finger between my ass cheeks, sliding into my asshole.  Then Ron
straddled me and brought his rod to my mouth.  I put my hands on his
ass, rounded my lips, and pulled him in.  Frank's finger slid slowly in
and out a few times.  It was mighty interesting.

I dealt with Ron's prick just as I had with Frank's, and he relished it.
It was sweet to have it there and I didn't have to think much about it;
the job was automatic now.  I was able to pay attention to what Frank
was doing, and it was marvelous.  He put his mouth on the end of my limp
prick and just sucked it slowly in; then, keeping his lips tight, he
pushed it out with his tongue.  He did that again and again, and it felt
very good -- my prick was coming to life once more, aided by the 
sensations his finger in my ass was providing.

Meanwhile Ron started really fucking my mouth, shouted something, and
jetted his come into my throat.  My own prick had got hard with Frank's
treatment, and waves of pleasure were rising as I sucked Ron dry and
released him.  He got off my chest, moved down low beside me, placed his
mouth on my right nipple and began licking it.

The sensation in my groin was growing incredibly, heightened by the
sensations from my chest and my anus.  Suddenly my body jerked, I
spasmed, my vision dimmed, and I had a long, gloriously intense orgasm
that nearly knocked me out.  This one differed from the first.  It came
from deep inside and seemed to bring up everything that was in me.

As I slowly recovered I told Frank that it was the best I'd ever had
and that he was a genius.  "I love him," said Ron.  "He can make me come
all day."  "Ron can do that, too," said Frank.  "And at sixty-nine...oh,
it's just heaven.  Sometimes we fuck, but oral is the best.  Isn't that
right, Ron?"  "Yes, darling," he answered, and I heartily agreed.

Eventually we returned to the living room and got dressed.  They
insisted on another round of drinks and asked me to stay for dinner.  It
was getting dark and I said I had be getting on to find a motel; they
urged me to stay the night. and I agreed.  They prepared a fine
meal in their little kitchen.  We chatted for a while after that:  about
my work, about theirs, and about their favorite gay hangouts in the
Central Valley.  Then we went to bed -- their bed, with me in the
middle, chaste save for someone's hand wrapped lazily around my prick.

An alarm clock woke us in the morning.  Frank got right up, saying that
it was his turn to make breakfast.  I wasn't surprised to find that I
had a hardon.  I went to the bathroom and, with some difficulty,
emptied my bladder through it.  It didn't go away.  When I came out
Ron said, "Hold on to that!", had a short spell at the toilet, and came
back to the bed where I was lying naked on my back.  "Lovely," he said,
and lay beside me.  Our hands went to each other's pricks, and his
stiffened as I stroked it.

"Let's suck each other," I said.  Ron spun around and so our pricks
faced each other's mouths.  I moistened my lips and took him as he did
me.  His free arm went around me and his hand was in my ass crack, a
finger probing my asshole, which tingled.  His warm prick fit my mouth
perfectly, and I tightened my lips on his shaft and began moving on it.
The one nuisance about sixty-nine, which really is the finest thing two
men can do, is that your tongue is on the top side of his penis instead
of the more sensitive underside, so you depend mostly on your lips.  I
clamped mine just behind the head and made little motions up and down.
He was doing the same to me; we cooperated beautifully, and the pleasure
built fast.  In a short time we were both moving as quickly as we could
and, just as my orgasm began, I felt his sperm spurt into my mouth.  We
shared ecstasy at almost the same moment.  Our pricks softened together,
and we both extracted out the other's last drops.

When I opened my eyes I saw Frank by the bed looking at us.  He was
still naked, and his prick was standing straight out.  "That's the most
beautiful sight on earth," he said.

Damn, I thought, he's attractive.  "I'm looking at another, Frank," I
told him, sliding off the bed onto my knees and reaching for him.  "Oh,
no," he said, at the same time stepping close so that his prick was
inches from my mouth.  Putting my hands on his buttocks I pulled him to
me and let his prick slide into my mouth, already lubricated with Ron's
sperm.  I stroked its underside with my tongue.  As I worked on it Ron
got up.  I saw him pick up the jar on the dresser and scoop up lubricant
with a long finger.  He moved behind Frank and I could feel his hand
separate Frank's ass cheeks, where I was sure that finger went right up
into Frank.  His brought his other hand around to Frank's chest and
started rubbing his nipples.  Frank had his hands on my head, urging it
back and forth, and in a very short time let out a strangled groan as
his prick jerked and his come flowed generously into my mouth and down
my throat.  I sucked him dry.

After we all cleaned up we ate, nude, the breakfast Frank had prepared,
with some corny jokes about my not needing any breakfast juice.
Reluctantly we all got dressed again.  They made sure that I had their
address and telephone number and promised me that I would be welcome any
time.  They escorted me to my car and got into theirs to go to work.
When I reached the highway I stopped and took careful note of landmarks.
I wanted to be sure I could find my way back.