Date: Sat, 26 Jan 2002 12:05:46 -0800
From: gymhunk <gymhunk@msn.com>
Subject: Black and White, Chapter 69.

			      All Disclaimers


			      BLACK AND WHITE

		       Chapter 69--The Unavoidable

	Microphones were grouped on a raised stand at the curb.  Two rows
of television cameras stood behind them in the street.  Police barricades
had been erected, cordoning off our street for a block.  Shouted questions
were a cacophonous babble of words.  Three very large policemen stood
between the crowd and us.  Robocop turned and smiled, giving us a
thumbs-up.  We smiled weakly back at him.  We hadn't expected this much of
an interest in us.  I noticed several smiling, expectant neighbors milling
among the reporters.

	Dave strode determinedly toward the raised stand.  "I have a
statement to read, then, we'll take your questions."  I stood next to him
at the curb on the grassy parking strip.  Kurt and Gene took up positions
on the steps leading to the house.  No one would be getting past those two
mountains.

	We'd determined while sitting in the kitchen at Gene and Kurt's
that a good offense would be the perfect defense against this pack of
representatives from the "fourth estate".  Dave read the statement,
summarizing what had happened on the plane, what the Canadian Courts would
probably require of us later, and what we knew about the attack on the
Consulate.  Knowing that there would be conspiracy questions, Dave hit that
one head-on.

	"As the agent-in-charge of the investigation has already stated
with his 'no comment' response, we know nothing more about a possible
conspiracy of additional person or persons involved in the planning and
execution of the assault by Mr. Connor on the U.S. Consulate in Vancouver.
The FBI and the RCMP have confessions from Mr.  Connor and his editor,
Mr. Bruce.  If there is more to this than their confessions, you'll have to
take that up with the Canadian or American Federal authorities.  Now, we'll
be happy to take your questions as long as they don't get too personal or
too inane.  We are private citizens and don't have to answer any of your
questions, so keep that in mind.  I'll start with you, Mr. Spelling."  He
was one of the field reporters for a local television channel.

	"Mr. Carey, do you and Mr. Claiborne feels more or less safe than
when you left for Vancouver on Thursday?" he asked.

	Dave paused for a moment.  "Safe is a relative term.  The two
unfortunate incidents that included us weren't directed at us, as far as we
know.  The issue of personal safely hasn't changed for us."

	"But, wasn't it a little unsettling to have a person so apparently
full of venom attack the residence in which you were sleeping?" he pressed.

	"Again, that probably wasn't directed at us.  He (Mr. Connor) has
had numerous, unpleasant, verbal disagreements with the Consulate in
Vancouver, including several of the staff.  The fact that he and I
exchanged less than kind words doesn't make us a target, despite the fact
that he included in his confession some bizarre characterizations of
Americans and gay men," Dave smiled evenly.  "When given access to weapons
supplied by his boss, he used them.  It was an untimely coincidence that we
happened to be staying there as guests of the Ambassador and his wife."

	A chorus of questions swept over us.  Dave smiled and pointed to a
young woman standing near the front.  "Mr. Carey, please tell us what you
know about the incident at the airport where you were whisked away by the
large gentlemen standing behind you, but we were blocked from pursuit by a
cadre of very large men blocking our way."

	Dave smiled.  "I only know that our good friends got us out of the
airport and away from a press ambush.  We're grateful to them for that.
You seem to have forgotten that we're private citizens, not public
personalities.  We don't have to answer any of your questions, regardless
of how much you pursue or hound us.  You also seem to have forgotten (in
your zeal to scoop your competition) that you have NO right to butt into
the lives of others.  Freedom of the press has boundaries.  That's one of
the reasons you're standing in the street, and not in our house."  There
was a ripple of applause from the neighbors and others.  The press corps
frowned.  There was a clear delineation.  "Now, shall we get back to other
questions pertinent to the two incidents in Vancouver?"

	Dave pointed to a middle-aged man whom I vaguely recognized, but
didn't know from where.  "Do you think Mr. Connor attacked the Embassy
because you were there, you were being feted as heroes, and because you're
gay?"

	"It's a Consulate, not an Embassy.  And, I already answered that
one.  Mr. Connor had numerous unpleasant exchanges with the Ambassador and
his press attaché (among others) in the past.  The fact that we were
there probably has nothing to do with his attack.  The fact that he has
hate in his mind and soul, and access to weapons, does," Dave answered.
"Yes?" Dave smiled pointing to another woman.

	"So, you think he's mentally unstable and will use that as a
defense?" she asked.

	 "Canadian law isn't U.S law.  I don't know the answer to that,"
Dave replied.

	He pointed to another local reporter.  "Do you feel safe now?"

	"With all these policemen around, yes!" Dave laughed.

	The reporter smiled back, knew he'd asked the question badly, and
tried again.  "Let me rephrase that.  Now that you're back home, do you
think you'll be as safe as before you left for Vancouver?"

	"I answered that one, too," Dave sighed.  "Can't you do better?"
The reporter blanched.

	"Uh, well, not to put too fine a point on it," the reporter
suggested, "now that you've been outed, as it were, do you feel as
anonymously safe as any of your still anonymous neighbors would feel?"

	"You'd have to ask them how safe they feel as a result of these two
incidents.  Then, compare those answers to how they felt before.  After
tabulating that, you could ask me the question, again," Dave suggested.

	The reporter was exasperated.  "Let me be direct then," he shouted
over the din of other questions.  "Do you think you'll be a target of hate
groups down here as a result of the failed attempt at the Embassy in
Vancouver?"

	"Let me be just as direct.  We weren't targets at the Consulate.
And, do get it right!  Go back to journalism school or wherever you learned
English and find out the difference between an Embassy and a Consulate.
I'm appalled that members of the press can be so ignorant!  But, let's get
to your question.  Hate groups will always be with us.  You can't do
anything about a fearful mind inventing boogiemen to make it feel superior
to someone else or some other group.  But, YOU, ladies and gentlemen of the
press, should examine your reporting of those hate groups and incidents.
Did you write a balanced article?  Did the hate spewed by these people get
repeated without challenge or counterbalance?  Have you been the unwitting
dupes of these pathetic, misguided souls by spreading their vituperative
verbiage across the pages of your newspaper, magazine, or television
broadcasts?"  There was stunned silence.  "Well, did you help them by your
lack of reporting balance?" Dave thundered.

	"That sounds like a 'kill the messenger' speech!" the reporter
croaked.

	"You weren't listening, were you?" Dave sighed.  "Even the
messenger has common sense.  You've been parroting what the hate groups
have been saying, not reporting.  There's an enormous difference.  I'm
deeply saddened that you don't see it."

	"So, now we're responsible for the hate groups?" another reporter
asked.

	"No, but you are responsible for RESPONSIBLE reporting.  Repeating
their hateful message without challenge is being a tape recorder, not a
reporter.  Without balance, other hateful people pick up the hate spewed by
these groups and make that message even louder.  Without balance, you're
nothing more than megaphones for their hate," Dave concluded.  All the gay
neighbors applauded loudly.  The rest of the neighbors joined in.  Dave
smiled in recognition.  "Other questions?" he grinned.

	There were others, but they didn't add any light or heat to the
news conference.  Within another fifteen minutes, he halted the confab and
suggested that they all go home.  Ten minutes after that, they had
disappeared, the street reopened, and the police presence terminated.  Our
"wall of muscles" from the airport had slipped away from Gene and Kurt's
during the press conference, using back streets to make good their escapes.

	But, the neighbors all crowded around, wanting to hear all about
our trip, what had really happened (with the press out of earshot), and how
pleased they all were at Dave's grilling of the press.  One of the
neighbors with a large back yard suggested that we all drag lawn chairs
over to his house and get more comfortable.  "We'll bring champagne to
celebrate our return!" I suggested.

	"Splendid," cried one of the neighbor ladies.  "I'll supply a
couple of bottles, too, as well as some sodas."  Others volunteered various
munchies.  In less than ten minutes, we'd assembled in the back yard three
doors up the street, and retold the incidents in minutiae to nearly 40
people.  They lapped it up with a spoon (along with the champagne, sodas,
and food).

	Nearly two hours later, their curiosities satisfied, we headed back
home.  On the front door were notes from Jeremy (he'd seen to Preston's
safe return to the airport), the coaches (worried about us), Robocop (he'd
said that he'd be sure to swing through our neighborhood frequently for a
few weeks to make sure nothing untoward was occurring), and at least a
dozen press cards begging for "personal interviews".

	The phone was no better.  In fact, it was flooded to capacity with
interview requests, well-wishers, friends, and family.  Our first calls
were to Dave's parents and to mine.  Having somewhat satisfied them as to
our safety, we unpacked our shared suitcase and started a load of laundry.
Kurt and Gene, Robocop and Bob, Robert and Gary hung around for a while to
keep pesky press folks away.  That worked well.  All of them can be very
intimidating, especially Robocop in his uniform.

	We returned several additional calls (non-press), repeating the
same abbreviated version of our tribulations in Vancouver.  Several rain
checks were "issued" for future fucks.  After those calls had been
returned, we debated about returning the press calls and notes on the front
door.  Deciding that they could wait a day, Dave scribbled them all on to
one page of legal size paper.  We'd decide later which to call.

	"You guys gotta see this!" Kurt yelled from the sunroom.  We raced
into the back of the house.  The television was on with the local news
playing.  Dave was holding forth about responsible, balanced reporting.
The camera was at such an angle that I was clearly framed in the
background.  I looked like Nancy Reagan with that insipid, adoring, glazed
smile while Ronnie was speaking!  Well, at least, I looked like I cared,
rather than a frozen smile.  The camera zoomed out, showing Kurt and Gene
on the stairway up to the house.  They couldn't have looked more menacing
if they'd tried, their glares clearly directed at the press.

	The newscast cut away to the anchor who asked a couple of stupid
questions of the reporter who'd been at the house.  That chatty nonsense
was so contrived.  "And now an editorial comment from our news director,"
smiled the anchor.

	An older gentleman, probably in his late 50's, smiled into the
camera.  He waited another few seconds, then, began.  "Thank you, Mr. David
Carey!  It's about time someone said it like it is."  The sunroom became
instant quiet.  "In our blind chase after an exclusive, we in the media
have performed a disservice to our community.  As Mr.  Carey so eloquently
pointed out, where's the balance, where's the sense in allowing hate to be
broadcast and printed without counterpoint, where did we cross that line
between reporting and trumpeting the message of hate?  Why did we allow
this to happen?  Why did it take a gay, black man to show us the light?
How could we be so blind?  And what are we going to do about it, and when?

	"Rest assured, this is not censorship we're talking about, neither
self-imposed nor outside-imposed.  Free speech is probably the most
cherished of our freedoms.  But, free speech is not absolute.  As is so
often quoted, you can't yell fire in a crowded theatre when there's no
fire.  Spouting hate is akin to shouting fire in that theatre.

	"Fear will always be with us, little minds will always be able to
invent some boogieman, as Mr. Carey pointed out, to make themselves feel
superior to someone else.  But, we can stop that fear from spreading.  We
need to take responsibility for our community, one person at a time.  It
has to start somewhere, why not here, why not now!

	"Therefore, as of this broadcast, we are reviewing all footage and
reporter voiceovers to be SURE that we aren't allowing our station to, as
Mr. Carey said, 'megaphone' hate.

	"That's commentary for today.  I'm Paul Warner.  Good night."  A
voiceover followed telling where and how to go about responding to the
editorial.

	"DAMN!  Can you imagine that?" Dave stage whispered.

	"I knew you were good, Honey, but I had no idea you could move
mountains!" I smiled.

	"This is SO fuckin' amazing!" Dave laughed.  "When I get on my
soapbox, no one listens, or so I thought.  DAMN!"

	Others joined in the chorus of agreement.  "We'll have to call the
station and ask them for a copy of that, Dave," I said.  "You've started
something here.  Perhaps, you can get others to understand it, too.  We've
got the money, why not send a copy to other TV stations and to newspapers
and magazine editors?"

	"Just get one copy," Bill "Robocop" Dundee said.  "I know a guy who
can run off hundreds for you at excellent quality and VERY cheaply."  We
nodded our stunned agreement.

	Then, the phone started ringing, and it didn't stop for the rest of
the evening.  We finally took it off the hook to get some rest.  Our guests
had departed by ten o'clock, Robocop again promising to watch the house for
us while he was on duty, and have some friends on the force watch during
other times. We went to bed.

	I snuggled into my lover and kissed him on the shoulder.  "You're
becoming a star, Dear.  Like it or not!"

	"Nah, this'll blow over," he sighed.  "But, at least one station
heard me.  That's more than I expected."  He paused for a few moments.  "I
love you, Mike.  Thanks for sticking by me through all this uproar."

	"Where else would I go?" I laughed.  "And did you see my Nancy
Reagan look the cameras captured?  What a fuckin' embarrassment!"

	"I didn't even see it," Dave laughed, embarrassed, too.  "I was too
busy watching me make a fool of myself to see anything else."

	"You were ON!" I told him.  "When you get on that special soapbox
of yours, you're a force of Nature!"

	"Get outta here!" he laughed.

	"No shit, Dave," I countered.  "You really get wound up when your
cause is just, and you're SO persuasive!"

	"Bull!" he laughed.  "One snowflake doesn't make a blizzard and
that's what we're up against, a blizzard of tepid, group-thinkers who've
never had an original UNcorporate thought in their lives."

	"You're on your soapbox again, Love!" I smiled.

	"Can't turn me off, can ya?" he laughed.

	"Who'd want to?" I breathed huskily, running my fingers lightly up
his leg and squeezing his fat, flaccid dick.  I rolled over on my side and
kissed his jaw line, lightly stroking his slowly awakening trouser snake.

	"You always know just the right thing to say," Dave sighed with
pleasure.  "Your body language is shouting something distinctive.  But, I
can't quite understand it."

	I stroked more firmly, then, slid my head under the covers,
engulfing his rapidly hardening monster.  I sucked hard and fast managing
to totally deep throat him before his semen launcher grew to its full 11"
length.  Pleased that I was munching on his tight pubes, I pulled back and
tongued just the tip, stroking the long shaft with one hand.  The other
hand was working on his erect nipples, first the right, then the left.  He
moaned with growing pleasure.

	"You keep that up and I'll cum," Dave warned.

	"And the problem with that is?" I mumbled around his thick, meaty
dickhead.  I returned to my pleasure work, adjusting my position to suck
his hard maleness as deeply as I could.  With the upward curve of his butt
ripper, that left only one choice.

	The 69 we enjoyed didn't last long.  In under another minute,
Dave's hips were soaring upwards, begging to be sucked off.  Although his
monster dick was far too fat for me to deep throat now, I stroked him
rapidly with one hand, sucking the tip.  In a wall- rattling climax, Dave
blasted a thick, creamy load down my hungry throat.  I sucked and stroked,
wanting every ounce of his heavy cream to shoot across my lapping tongue.
Each climax wave arched his back and forced more of his monster into my
mouth.  I rode his waves like an accomplished surfer.

	"FUCK!  You're GOOD!" he finally was able to murmur through his
gasps for breath.  I continued to suck and swallow his cream, but gently
now.  I knew well how sensitive his dickhead became after a hard climax.
Sucking and pleasuring him until his monster dick was only half the hard
size, I turned and kissed him, sharing his man cream.  "You're one hot
fucker," he cooed, breaking our kiss and hugging me tightly.  "How can I
make you cum, Mike?"

	"You don't have to make me cum to make me happy, Dave.  You know
that.  I love sucking you off."

	"But, I have needs to be met, too, ya know!" he laughed.  "Like a
big load of Mike cream before I'll be sated."

	"Well," I impishly demurred.  "If you insist, I suppose I could let
you have my cream.  How ya want it served up?"

	"Deep in my ass, and face to face.  I love it when you cum up my
ass and we're kissing.  Makes me so damned HOT!"

	"That could be a danger to my ass, if I get your motor running
again."

	"And the problem with that would be?"

	"You love being right, doncha!"

	"When your hot ass is involved, there is no wrong, Babe," he
whispered in my ear, stroking my round, muscle buns with his big, black
hands.  "Fuck me, you hot stud!"

	I reached for the lube as he pulled his long, muscular legs into
his granite pecs.  Lubing up his hungry hole, I pressed my fat dickhead
against his backdoor.  He looked up at me, his calves resting on my wide
shoulders.  "Take it real slow, Mike.  I want you to make love to me, make
my ass gobble up every inch of that fat, long dick of yours."

	I grinned down at him and pressed harder.  "Sorta like this?" I
smiled, forcing in just the long, thick head between his ass lips.

	"FUCK, YEAH!" he moaned, grabbing my ass with both big hands and
urging me deeper.  "Gotta have it, Man!  Fuck me!"  I pushed in another
inch and he grasped my fat dick with his ass muscles and squeezed me hard.
I groaned in pleasure.  "Fuckin' HOT dick in my ass!"

	I pushed in more inches, each one met with additional squeezing and
begging for more.  When my pubes finally meshed with his butthole hairs, I
sighed, "You got it all, Sweetcheeks. But, the way you're milking me, this
isn't gonna take long."  He smiled up at me and backed off on his ass
muscle contractions.  I pulled out almost completely, then, slowly shoved
deep, letting him feel my heartbeat in each jerk of my fat dick inside him.

	Dave pulled on my hard ass again, urging me deeper and faster.  "I
love how your hot ass flexes in my hands as you bang my butt.  Feels so
fuckin' GOOD!" he exulted, pulling harder.  I smiled down at him as one of
his broad hands strayed over my ass cheeks and slipped down my deep butt
trench.  "So fuckin' round and hot!" he moaned.  A finger dipped into my
ass well and pressed.  He smiled devilishly.  "I know how to make you cum
in my ass without milking your dick," he grinned.  He wet two fingers and
went back to my deep pucker.  I thrust hard into him, clamping my ass
cheeks shut.  "Fuck me, Mike! Cum in my ass!" he begged.

	I backed out, teasing his gaping hole with the long, thick head of
my prick.  His wet fingers slipped inside me and hit my prostate hard.
"FUCK!" I bellowed.  Again, he struck.  "Shit!" I winced, knowing I
couldn't hold back.  I rammed hard into him, taking his fingers with me.
He pulled my face toward his with his free hand, forcing a hard, passionate
kiss on my lips.  I mumbled something unintelligible, drew back once more
and fucked forward hard.

	"FUCK, YEAH!" Dave shouted.  "Spray my guts with your load!  CUM IN
ME!"  I had no alternative.  I drilled him hard and came in geysers of man
cream, deep up his butt channel.  His fingers worked on my prostate just as
hard as before, the other hand now on my ass, pulling me harder into him.
"FUCK!  DAMN!  Fuck me!" he urged.

	My hard, shooting dick convulsed again and again, spewing my cream
into his hungry butt.  My hands on his hard pecs bunched and relaxed as new
waves of cream slammed into Dave's thirsty hole.  I couldn't believe how
hard this climax was hitting me.  I'd had fingers in my ass before when I'd
cum (even my own), but had not cum this intensely before.  My lover's
hungry, eager ass might have had something to do with it, but I'd fucked
him many times before without THESE kinds of mind-blowing results.

	"Fuck, Mike," Dave breathed.  "Where'd that come from?"  I looked
down at his smiling face, my countenance full of questions.  "I felt that
climax of yours deep in my ass.  You sprayed my guts like a fire hose this
time.  What a fuckin', awesome ride!"  He pulled my face down and kissed
me, again.  "Anytime you wanna do that again, you know where you can find
my black ass!"  I stayed glued to his butt until my dick shrunk up and fell
out.

	"What're we gonna do about this?" I asked, squeezing his hard again
dick.

	"It'll keep," he smiled, handing me a towel to wipe off the excess
lube from his ass and my dick.  "There's always later when your hot ass
will be ready for me."  He knew so well how uncomfortable it was for me to
get fucked right away after I'd cum.  However, it wouldn't be long before
my ass would be ridden hard by this hot stud and flooded with
black-baby-making sauce.

	We talked for a while about how we were going to handle all the
press inquiries and requests for interviews.  We were stumped on what to
do.  Perhaps tomorrow would provide an answer.

	But, Sunday provided us with a beautiful, sunny day, and no
immediate answers.  Well, one question was answered.  Dave's need to breed
was consummated with my butthole, eagerly eating his monster dick while we
showered at the gym.  The far shower stall was extra wide for the
handicapped.  We used it to fit both of our muscular bodies inside and get
it on.  With lube from my shaving kit, Dave plowed my ass.  The excitement
and danger were so intense that he came hard inside me in less than a
minute.  His black horn impaled me, lifting me off the floor, and flooding
my ass.  His technique was so good, his fat cockhead so big as it rubbed
against my prostate, and the situation so risky, I shot off my load without
touching my swollen dick.  The splatter of my cream echoed off the shower
curtain as my dick fired repeatedly.

	Nor were we very quiet about our activity.  Both of us moaned
loudly as we came, a duet in hard climax.  But, Sunday afternoons on a
beautifully sunny day didn't find many men at the gym.  So, no one seemed
to have heard us.

	"You know," I said as we exited the gym, "we need to have a party
to tell all our friends, not just our neighbors, what really happened in
Vancouver and on the plane getting there.  They'll keep bugging us
individually until we tell them all."

	Dave nodded.  "When?" he asked.  He unlocked the car doors, and
climbed inside.

	"How soon are you ready to 'perform', again?"

	He glared at me.  "You were there, too.  I shouldn't be the one
leading the parade all the time!"

	"You're the better spokesman, Dave," I smiled.

	"By default."

	"Still, you do it so well."

	"We'll do it together," he declared.  "These are our friends. We
aren't gonna be performing or having to watch our mouths this time," he
concluded.

	"Okay."  I knew better than to argue the point.  He was right.
"So, when?"

	"How about this afternoon?" he suggested.  "We'd get it out of the
way, and everyone has the day off, except maybe Jeremy.  But, we'll make it
later in the evening so he can make it."

	"Suits me.  We'll start calling as soon as we get home," I agreed.

	"What about munchies and drinks?"

	"Let's detour by Kroger's and see what Jason can do for us," I
proposed.

	Dave turned the corner and headed back toward the store.  "He may
not be working, you know."

	"We'll just have to take our chances."

	But, he was working, staffing the wine steward's desk with his
usual efficiency.  "Damn!  I'm glad you see you guys!  The boredom here is
killing me.  And aren't you the international celebrities!  I caught that
little stump speech at the curb yesterday.  It sure made a splash on the
evening news."

	"I was floored when the news director did an editorial on it with
promises for change.  I could hardly believe it myself," Dave smiled.

	"You were SO right on, Dave," Jason praised.  "I'm glad someone
finally heard that voice crying in the wilderness and is doing something
about it."

	"Yeah, one station is promising to make changes.  I'll believe it
when I see them make those promised changes," Dave sighed.

	"A man as persuasive as that should run for office," Jason added
seriously.  "Not only a hero, but a bona fide mover and shaker of the
political establishment."

	"Not gonna happen," Dave retorted.  "I speak my mind too freely.
That's a deadly sin for a politician."

	"I'd vote for ya, Dave," I smiled.

	"You're my best cheerleader, Mike, but two or three votes won't do
it."

	"We'd get most of the queer vote," I laughed.

	"Yeah, but that's not enough," he pointed out.  "You gotta have a
reason for the straight folks to vote for a fag.  I haven't seen any, yet."

	"You gotta big dick!" I laughed.

	"That'll get the gay vote, but little else," Dave smiled.  "Get
serious, you two.  This is going nowhere.  Now, let's talk munchies and
drinks."

	Jason loaded us up with wine coolers, sodas, beer, and a few light
summer wines.  He suggested several fruits that could be made into a giant
fruit salad and some finger food (chips, crackers, etc.).  Blueberries from
our back yard were coming on strong, so I added them to the fruit salad,
and topped it off with my special champagne/honey dressing.

	Calls had been made to all the friends and former fucks we could
reach.  Better than two thirds of them were eager to come over.  For the
others, we left messages on their recorders.  Several offered to bring
something (which we encouraged) to eat or drink.

	Although the evening was warm, it wasn't too warm to enjoy our back
yard with overflow into Kurt and Gene's.  By eight, everyone had arrived
that we'd invited (including several who had gotten the message late and
raced over just in time).  Sprawled among several items of patio furniture
and the lawn between the two houses, we told them both stories, including
things we'd never told the neighbors or the press, including Lt. Garvey's
special fondness for us.  I did most of the talking, as Dave seemed tired
of being the focus of every retelling.

	They seemed satisfied that we'd told them all the gory details in
about the same amount of time it took to tell our neighbors.  We asked for
their suggestions on how we should handle all the requests for interviews
from the media.  The coaches suggested a Reed Terrell they knew who did
good work for the team as a public relations expert.  Jeremy knew the guy
as well, although not his work.  He'd sold the same Reed a new Lexus LS430
not more than three months ago.  Jeremy had the man's number on his PDA and
wrote it down for us.

	"The guy's quite a hunk, Cajun, I think he said, blue eyes, dark
hair, handsome, round, muscle ass," Jeremy smiled knowingly.  "He's gotta
workout regularly to maintain a body that good."  The coaches agreed, but
didn't know if he had training equipment in his home or frequented one of
the local gyms.  Jeremy hadn't seen him at the gym that he usually went to,
or at ours.  The coaches were equally uncertain where he trained.

	By eleven, our guests were gone, wishing us well, and happy to see
us returned in one piece.  Although several good-hearted offers were made
to warm our bed, we declined.  Most of them paired off with other couples.
Jeremy was the exception, being single and not wanting anyone tonight.  He
was "still recovering from Preston," he'd said with a wink.

	With a potential solution to our press problems, Dave's stress
levels dropped and his libido soared.  His face was in my ass before I got
my shorts off, but that switched quickly.  My dick filled his throat with a
creamy load in less than five minutes of him going down on me.  Then, his
face returned to my ass and munched, licked, and slurped on me until I was
writhing and begging him to fuck me.  He smiled and stroked my sides,
running his big hands up to my shoulders.  "You want this doggie style,
White Bread?"

	"Any way I can get it, Dave!  Just FUCK me!"

	He leaned in and kissed my neck, his fat dick bounced and skidded
across my winking butthole.  I reached between my legs, corralled his
leaking trouser trout, and pulled it into a secure position; the thick,
long head speared my open ass.  "DAMN!  That feels good on my dick," Dave
breathed into my ear, nuzzling it.  I squeezed his dickhead again and
backed on to an inch of the shaft.  "Yeah, even better, Babe!" he moaned.

	I smiled and turned my head toward him.  "Tonight, I really need
you to get deep and fuck me hard, Dave."  I pushed back and impaled more
inches into my hungry hole.  "Come with me, young man," I purred, dragging
him down atop me, on to the mattress as I stretched out.

	"I know what you want," he grinned.  "And I'm the man to deliver
it," he promised.  His thick 11" of horsemeat stretched and spread my deep
butt channel.  We sighed in unison as the last, thick inch ground in.
"Despite the fact that I ate your ass to within an inch of its young life,"
he panted, "you're gonna need some lube if I'm gonna ride you like we both
want."

	I reached over to the nightstand and handed him the lube bottle.
He pulled out slowly, then, pumped out two thick squirts of slick, clear
fluid into my gaping, starving butthole.  "I'm so hot for you right now
that I'd gladly let you fuck me all night long, never let you out of my
ass, and drink up every jet of baby sauce you shoot in me," I moaned.  In
answer, Dave shoved balls deep in one stroke.  "Fuck, YEAH!" I groaned.
"Give me that juice, Man.  Fuck me good!"

	He scarcely needed my encouragement to fuck my eager ass.  He'd
already pulled out and shot back in twice in the time I'd muttered my
urgent needs.  "You'll get a couple of loads of baby gravy tonight, Mike,"
he whispered in my ear, his long thrusts punctuating his words.  "But, if
you feel like you're gonna cum, don't waste it on the sheets."  I smiled
over my shoulder.  "You know how much I love suckin' down your sauce, Man!"
he grinned.

	"I was hoping you needed a butt full of my cum, too."

	"I'll settle for that, too," he snorted.  "But, right now, you need
some of your black daddy's ball honey."  He fucked me hard and deep for
several butt spearing minutes.  "Fuckin' HOT ass!"  I milked his dick with
every ounce of knowledge and skill I could muster.  I needed a drink of
dick cream and I needed it NOW!  He ground in more dick, going as deeply as
I'd ever felt him.  He was riding high on my ass, leveraging his thrusts
for maximum penetration.  His body stiffened, he held his hot breath, which
had been chuffing on my neck, then, nailed my ass in one mighty thrust.

	"FUCK!" he protested, and lost control of his higher muscle
functions, but not that of his stabbing hips, bent on uploading as much
dick juice as he could into my hungry, eager butt.  I felt several jets of
hot cream and his jerking dick inside me.  I raised my hips to spread my
ass cheeks more and get as much black dick in me as I could.  "SHIT!  What
a tight, hot ass you got, Mike," he finally said.  Waves of climax ebbed,
but still caused jerking spasms of muscle contractions and thrusts into me.

	"Yeah, Man!  Love that big dick up my butt squirting a hot load.  I
felt those first hot shots of baby sauce flood my ass.  Loved it!"

	Dave kissed my neck and breathed hotly in my ear.  "No one knows
how to make my dick as happy as you do, Mike," he sighed contentedly.  "No
one!"  I squeezed hard on his slowly deflating dick.  "Careful!" he
laughed.  "That thing's sensitive!"

	I backed off a little, but held him captive for several more
minutes before he pulled out and we cleaned up.  He'd drained his nuts
completely into me.  No drips of lingering cum hung from his always-big
butt fucker.  I smiled in triumph.  Seldom did I keep him in my ass long
enough to drain him completely.  He rolled over to his side of the bed,
then, pressed closer to me.  "I think you need to cum, too," he grinned,
tossing back the sheets and gulping my throbbing dick.  For someone who'd
been sucking dick for just a year, he'd become VERY good.

	He tantalized, sucked hard, backed off, feather licked, and
polished the big head of my throbber with his tongue and lips until I went
nearly berserk.  "I'm so close to cumming, my nuts hurt!  Let me cum,
PLEASE!" I begged, thrusting my hard dick down his throat.

	"Not so fast, Sugar," Dave smiled, backing off, again.  "My black
ass needs some white frosting between these chocolate buns."  I smiled up
at him and quickly handed over more lube.  In one quick gesture, he applied
the grease and sat on my towering phallus.  "Damn!  How I love a big dick
in my ass."

	I crammed in the last thick inch and rested, enjoying my dick
jerking inside him as his ass muscles clamped hard around my dick root.  He
leaned over and kissed me passionately.  "Take as long as you want, Mike.
I love your big dick in me."  But, that wasn't going to happen.  I was
already teetering on the edge of a major climax.  Dave leaned back on his
hands, burying me even deeper up his happy rump.  I thrust up hard and he
smiled with his eyes closed, drinking in the deep pleasure.  "Take your
time, Babe.  You feel so good in me."  I backed off slowly, trying not to
add more friction to our coupling.  Dave was doing his best to not milk me,
too.

	But, the intense pleasure was more than we could endure.  "Ah,
Fuck!" I groaned, as I felt that special boiling sensation in my nuts and
the undeniable swelling of my fat dickhead.  I shoved hard upwards, and
shouted, "Take it!  Fuckin' Take IT!"

	Dave grinned widely and relaxed his ass muscles, allowing me to
fuck him as fast and hard as I wanted to.  "Yeah, Baby, fuck that ass,
blast your hot cream into my black butt.  FUCK ME!" he moaned.  He sat back
again, and aggressively milked my spurting butt spreader.  "Give it to me,
Mike.  Fuck me!" he reiterated.  "Fuck me!  Yeah, cream my hole. FUCK IT!"
I pushed his hips down and thrust upwards again and again.  It felt so hot
to be unloading my nuts into his hungry ass once more.

	"DAMN!  You're GOOD!" he beamed.  "Hottest fuck I've had since the
last time you hammered me, Mike.  I never get enough of your hot fucks!"  I
smiled broadly, acknowledging his accolades.  "No one does it better,
Babe," he grinned and kissed me, again.  He kept my slowly shrinking dick
prisoner in his tight ass for several more minutes.  I know I leaked as
much cum up his butt as he did into mine earlier.  By the time my dick
shriveled and fell out, our ardent kisses had revved up Dave's engine
again.

	"I could use another deep load of cum, Sweetcheeks," I smirked,
slowly stroking the hard, 11" dick in my face.  He moved down my body,
positioned his knees behind my butt cheeks, and lifted my legs.  I pulled
my knees into my chest and grinned.  "All lubed and ready for ya," I
smiled.  He kissed me again, pushing my knees harder into my shoulders,
spreading my ass, and lodging his leaking, throbbing dick at my puckered
back door.

	"Gawd!  You make me hot!" he smiled, breaking a kiss just long
enough to speak.  He rode forward, impaling me on his black sword to the
hilt.  The left over lube and deeply sprayed cum from his previous load
oiled my ass chute for the pistoning to come.  Dave slowly pulled out and
pressed back in.  "How do you DO that?" he moaned.  I'd been working my ass
muscles in a slow milking motion.  I grinned, but didn't reply, pulling his
face down to mine.

	"Fuck me, Big Man!" I urged.  Despite his earlier delivery of
cream, his dick felt even harder than last time. It could have been my sore
ass rebelling, but as fast as he was pounding my butt, it was more probable
that he was almost ready to flood my ass, again.  "Yeah, that's it, Dave!
Fuck me, fuck me HARD!"  His hands gripped my legs, and he shoved hard
inside me, increasing his pace by 100%.  He pulled out and fucked just the
tight ass rings with his big dickhead.  He held his breath, allowing his
entire body to enjoy the tsunami about to crash over him as he fucked.

	"Aw, YEAH!" he exploded and rammed deep, grinding in his fat, long
dick.  "Fuck!" he bellowed as he dick bucked inside me.  I felt a wave of
hot sauce squirt into me, then, another.  "DAMN!  FUCK!" Dave repeated with
each new thrust and shot of cream.  I held on to his pistoning ass, and
pulled him hard into me with each of his pelvic rams.  Feeling him enjoy
breeding my well-fucked ass this much made me smile.  Backing off on
milking his thrusting, squirting dick, I clamped on to the root of his
mighty staff, reducing the blood flow out, keeping his dick hard and
dripping inside me.

	Although my legs were tiring, I didn't mind as long as my hands
were on his flexing ass cheeks and his monster dick stayed hard and deep.
But, despite my best efforts, a second climax was too big a signal to his
dick.  It shriveled up rapidly and exited.  "Damn!" I smiled in
exasperation.  "You could have left that in all night."

	"No possible way, not after you milked me dry," he said rolling off
me, again.  "You're such a HOT fuck!" he grinned with pleasure.  "The
best!"

	"Takes two to tango," I giggled, stretching the cramps out of my
legs.  "But, if I don't hit the bathroom, those babies of yours are gonna
make a big wet spot on the sheets."  I raced into the bathroom and
"aborted".  We'd make some handsome babies, if we could only figure out how
to take them to full term.  I sighed inwardly, then, smiled.  "But, it's
sure fun trying," I whispered to myself.

	Monday was cloudy with a threat of rain, but it was warm.  We
fussed around the house, not really accomplishing much other than the
laundry.  By mid-afternoon, the rain appeared.  It didn't amount to much,
just enough to settle the dust.  By the time we finished up our chores, it
was four o'clock.  We hadn't been to the gym, yet.  Grabbing our gym bags,
we headed out the door, and were ambushed by a reporter.  We ignored his
questions and microphone.

	"We gotta call that PR guy that the coaches told us about," Dave
fumed.  "This is getting out of hand."

	"Maybe we need a watch dog to bite them!"

	"Then, they'd sue our butts for having a vicious dog."

	"Okay, let's make the call after we get home.  This is stressing
you out, again, Dave.  Neither of us needs it."

	"The workout will do us both good," he said pulling on to a main
thoroughfare.  "We'll burn out some frustrations in the sauna, too," he
grinned evilly.

	"You just wanna fuck my ass again in the showers."

	"So?"

	"The sauna would be a nice change," I smiled.

	"Those two sessions last night really drained by nuts, but I know I
can find another hot load for that sweet ass of yours."

	"Promises, promises!"

	Monday is back day, so we ran through the machines and free weights
as other gym members moved around to other machines and weights.  Dave took
the 5:00 p.m.  aerobics class, and I moved over to the line of elliptical
walkers.  I talked to Trevor for a few minutes, asked him how he and Donnie
were doing.  He smiled and whispered that they were constantly fucking each
other.  He hardly ever got any sex at the gym anymore, he confided.

	"Who's that muffin?" I asked, pointing to a hot-looking guy with
short, black hair and a hard, round ass straining the seams of his cotton
shorts.  The stud was working on the bench press, his bulging muscles
glowing with sweat.  "Look at that basket!" I stage whispered.  I got
snickers from couple of gay men nearby.  The straight folks didn't seem to
understand.

	"Yeah, nice!" Trevor agreed.  It was a large mound that looked
delicious.

	"You know him?"

	"Nope.  Gotta be new.  I didn't check him in, so I don't know his
name, or if he's just new at this gym, or an out-of-towner," Trevor
allowed.  "Looks good, though.  Have you been watching to see who he looks
at?"

	"Just now saw him check out a couple of the straight ones by the
free weights," I grinned.

	"Could be muscle comparing," Trevor said.

	"He was checking their butts and smiled when they turned around and
he saw they had no dicks," I laughed.

	"And the way those two pop steroids, their dicks will stay small
along with their little nuts," Trevor growled.  "How can they be so
brainless?  Is it a straight guy thing?"

	"Probably not just the straight ones who abuse steroids," I
suggested.

	"Yeah, you're probably right.  Guys like that who need 'little
helpers' only want the muscles.  They don't care about the side effects."

	"Of course," I smiled, "if it makes their butts hard and round and
deep, I'm sure I won't care about their dicks."

	"Well, you have a point, but I do like something to hang on to,
besides their pill container!"

	"Voice of experience?"

	"Yeah, I've fucked a few of the 'roid heads," Trevor sighed.  "They
weren't bad fucks, but the mood changes and aggressive craziness was too
much for me."

	"I'll take your word for it.  They don't sound like my kinda
people, anyway."

	"Oh, here he comes," Trevor smiled.

The new man strode up and grinned at us.  "This walker taken?" he asked.

	"No, help yourself," I indicated.

	"Anything I can do to show you equipment or a tour of the
facilities, let me know," Trevor proposed.  "I'm Trevor, one of the
trainers here," he added, offering his hand.

	"Reed.  Thanks for the offer," the man smiled, shaking Trevor's
hand.  "But, I've been here before, just not at this hour."  Something
clicked in my head, but I couldn't figure out where I'd heard the name.
This guy was HOT, so my mind wandered rapidly to seducing him rather than
trying to figure out how or where I knew the name.

	"Okay, just keep it in mind," Trevor said.  He walked away after
winking at me.

	"I'm Mike," I smiled, offering my hand.  He shook it warmly.

	"Reed," he smiled back taking my hand.

	"What time are you normally here?  Dave and I are here at all
hours, but I haven't seen you before."

	"Mostly evenings, after nine or so.  The crowds are much smaller
and I can get through my routines faster.  But, I have a late meeting
tonight, so I came in early," Reed said.

	"Bummer that you have to work late," I commiserated.

	"Yeah, part of the joys of being in public relations.  You have to
go where the clients are and work with their available time," he sighed.

	"Reed Terrell!  Right?" I grinned.

	"Yeah, how'd you know?"

	"A couple of friends recommended you to help us fend off the
press."

	"Oh?"

	"Yeah, we've been the center of some news recently."

	Dave walked up sputtering.  He took the open walker on the other
side of Reed.  He looked over at me and sighed, "A substitute instructor.
She doesn't know her ass from her elbow.  I couldn't stand it any longer!"

	"Oh, THAT Dave and Mike," Reed laughed.  "Very famous!"

	"Oh!  That bad, huh?" Dave groaned.

	"No, just that famous," Reed said.  "Press giving you a hard time
about interviews?"

	"Yeah, we had one ambush us as we left the house to come over
here," Dave snarled.

	 "I saw your impassioned speech at curbside yesterday.  You're a
natural, Dave.  I'm Reed Terrell," he added, shaking Dave's hand.

	"Yeah, well," Dave smiled with embarrassment.

	"And you have a bunch of them breathing down your necks, pestering
you for time and an exclusive.  Right?"

	"You know them well," Dave sighed.

	"You were recommended by Chuck and Randy, and by Jeremy," I
offered.

	"Chuck and Randy are the football coaches. Great guys. But, Jeremy
is who?"  Reed asked.

	"Sold you your Lexus?" I prompted.

	"Oh, THAT Jeremy!  Yeah, great guy!  And, confidentially, a total
hunk."

	"Yeah, we know," Dave beamed.

	"You're shittin' me!  You've enjoyed more than a conversation with
him, then."

	"MUCH more," I volunteered.

	"I heard he's also a stripper.  True?"

	"Yep," Dave revealed.

	"Damn!  James'll shit bricks when I tell him," Reed murmured to
himself.

	"James?" we asked in unison.

	"Yeah," he smiled self-consciously.  "My other half."

	"Ah, thought so," Dave confirmed.

	"If we ever opened up our relationship, it would be for a hot stud
like Jeremy," Reed laughed.

	"Don't limit yourself," I offered.  "Chuck and Randy are pretty
hot, too!"

	"Don't tell me..."

	"Of course," Dave grinned.

	"This'll make him crazy," Reed laughed.  "He's wondered about those
two for a long time."

	"He knew they were gay, right?" Dave pressed.

	"Oh, yeah, just not about their bedroom attributes," the PR man
allowed.

	"Well, not to take you away from what you're obviously enjoying,"
Dave smiled staring at Reed's bulging crotch, "but, we have need for
someone like you to help us out.  You have time to talk to us, tell us what
you can do, and how much it'll cost?"

	"How about dinner?  James would love to meet both of you, I'm sure.
He already thinks you're the hottest couple in town."

	"He's gotta be on medication to think THAT!" I laughed.

	"No, he just appreciates two hot men who are certified heroes."

	"We were there.  We don't see it quite like that," Dave protested.

	"Well, this will give you a chance to tell me the story you can't
tell the press.  Then, I can be selective about who you talk to and tell
the rest of them to go away, nicely, of course.  So, how about it?
Dinner?"

	"As we don't have plans for dinner, that's gonna work for us,
Reed," Dave answered, catching a nod from me.  "You sure that James won't
have a problem with surprise dinner guests?"

	"He won't after I call him and tell him who the guests are.  He
should be home in a few minutes and I'll catch him, then.  My phone's in
the locker room right now, anyway.  You guys have anything you'd like to
request?  We have just about everything."

	"Keep it light," I suggested.

	"James will come up with something.  He's very clever around the
kitchen.  A nice wine with dinner?"

	"Oh, yes!" Dave agreed.  "We're winos of the first magnitude!"

	"GOOD!  I love a good wine, too," Reed smiled.

	We finished our aerobic walks, Reed called James, and we hit the
showers.  Reed's body was very easy on the eyes.  His ass was every bit as
good as his shorts showed and his dick a very nice, thick one.  His
shoulders were broad, his pecs nearly perfect.  James is a very lucky man,
I thought.

	Dave was shameless.  He let his black snake expand and begin to
rise as Reed dried off.  I nearly laughed out loud as Reed hastily tried
not to look, but kept stealing glances.  "Impressive, isn't it," I grinned
at Reed.  He turned several shades of red and nodded guiltily.

	"We need to toss these clothes in the washer," I said as we were
leaving the gym.  "We live close by, so could you follow us over and we'll
follow you home from there for dinner?"

	"Sure," Reed agreed.

	We drove home and parked the car in the driveway.  A black sedan
was sitting at the curb with two men in it.  Fuck!  More press, I thought.
As we left our car, they opened the doors to their car.  "Are you Michael
Claiborne and David Carey?" the larger one asked.

	"Who wants to know?" Reed said from behind us.

	"FBI," the larger stranger said, as both flashed badges.


Will Reed be able to help them?  Will their lives ever return to normal?
What's the FBI want with our heroes?

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