Date: Tue, 3 Dec 2002 21:05:36 -0800
From: gymhunk <gymhunk@msn.com>
Subject: Black and White, Chapter 85.

			      All Disclaimers

			      BLACK AND WHITE

			  Chapter 85--Catching Up

	The rain drummed against our dark, bedroom window.  Welcome home,
it droned.  Well, it was fall.  This IS the Northwest.  What did I expect?
I rolled over and touched Dave's shoulder gently.  He stirred, but didn't
awaken.  It had been little better than a year, but how I loved this man.
I probably loved him from the first time I'd eventually talked to him.  I
didn't know how much, until the trauma of his wife throwing him out of
their house and him moving in "temporarily" with me.  It seems like a
lifetime ago.  Even the divorce and the recognition of our mutual love had
come on suddenly.  He took to gay life like a duck to water.  With me along
as his guide and lifeline, he'd sampled everything he'd wanted.

	But, losing his job (because he was gay) had hit him hard.  The
uncertainty of ever working again made him crazy with worry.  But, Fortune
smiles on children and two, loving, gay men.  We met a rich attorney who
wrangled a healthy "wrongful termination and slander" settlement out of
Dave's old law firm.  Surprisingly, the rich attorney didn't charge us for
his services.  He did it because he loved sticking it to the hated, senior
partner.

	Our life together had been eventful, never boring.  And I owed it
all to this beautiful, black man lying next to me.  He brought out the best
in me, coaxed me out of my social shell and got me involved with men and
causes I'd never dreamed of touching alone.  I did owe him a lot.  I only
hoped that I was investing our settlement money wisely.  So far, we'd made
out like bandits in a depressed stock market.

	I sighed contentedly, lightly stroked his thick, broad shoulder
cap, and went back to sleep.

	Dave woke me up pressing against my back, draping an arm over my
chest.  He loved to snuggle early in the morning before getting out of bed.
Of course, most mornings, he had a very hard dick pressed into my back or
between my legs, trying to burrow between my ass cheeks.  This morning was
no exception.  I wiggled my ass back into him.

	"I thought you'd never wake up," he whispered.  "Want me to show
you how much I love you?" he cackled.

	"Like I have a choice?" I groaned, not fully awake.

	"You always have a choice, Mike; except for this morning," he
laughed.  "Reclamation time!"

	I knew what that meant.  He was feeling some distance between us
because other men had been enjoying sex with us, and he hadn't had a chance
to mate with just me.  "I could never turn you down," I smiled over my
shoulder at him.  "What's your favorite position this morning?"

	"Sit on my dick like you did Kurt's last night?"

	"Let me take a leak first," I begged.  "My bladder's about to
burst."

	After taking care of business, I walked back to Dave's side of the
bed.  His tall phallus was throbbing, dripping clear precum fluid above his
navel.  I leaned over and licked up the overflow, then, went to the source
and sucked hard.  My tongue lashed over the big head, licking up as much
precum as I could squeeze out of the spongy head.  Dave's fingers busily
pushed lube up my ass, knowing that I was going to be spread and drilled
deeply.  With a final flourish, he wiped off excess lube on to his towering
butt- stretcher.

	"We haven't fucked like this in ages," he said.

	"This position, you mean?"  He nodded and grinned.  "I always
thought you might go too deep, so I didn't do it."

	"Not hardly the case," he laughed.  "With all the men we've been
doing, how could your ass not be able to take on your favorite dick in any
position?"  He smiled up at me.  "A little variety in men and positions
does help make sex more fun.  But, for me, I'll never find one as good as
you, Mike."

	"That kinda talk will get you anything you want," I assured him.
"Anything!"

	"I'll settle for your hot ass eating my dick for the next several
minutes," Dave moaned as he felt his thick dickhead press hard against my
eager sphincter, then, slide slowly into me.  "Yeah, like that!  DAMN!" he
crooned.  More inches slipped into me, throbbing as they stretched my ass
delightfully.  The lube assisted the one-slow-stroke entry.  Both of us
moaned when I felt his wiry pubes scratch against my back door.  I clamped
down on his thick root and wiggled.  "I was thinking about how good this
would be while you were in the bathroom," Dave whispered.  "But, this is
better."

	I leaned over and kissed him, his hips rising as I bent forward,
keeping his monster deeply seated inside me.  My hard dick rubbed between
us, as he held me in his warm embrace, our tongues dueling.  Dave's big
hands cupped my muscular ass, spreading my cheeks, and slowly pistoning his
thick dick into me.  The more passionately we kissed, the longer his
strokes.  I milked him slowly, keeping pace with his thrusts.

	"I'm gonna cum soon," he murmured around a kiss.  "You always get
me to cum whenever you want."  I smiled at him and resumed playing tonsil
hockey with him, and milking his boner harder than before.  My leg muscles
were starting to bunch up.  I didn't want a cramp in the middle of his
climax, while I was sucking down his load with my ass.  The more effort I
put into milking his black saber, the harder he fucked me.

	The familiar cues surfaced in rapid order: his breathing became
choppy, his thrusts up my ass more frantic, and there was a notable
swelling of the head and shaft of his fucking sword.  I sat back on his
pumping dick, making sure all 11" of his monster were inside me.  He pulled
down on my hips with both hands as he thrust upwards in rapid fashion.  My
dick swung about and slapped crazily on his hard abs as I concentrated on
his pleasure, instead of my rapidly approaching climax.

	"Fuck!  Gonna CUM!" he exploded, ramming his manhood deeply into
me, then, withdrawing several inches before slamming back inside.  I bore
down and milked him as best I knew how.  Spreading warmth engulfed my
insides.  Each time he jerked, I felt more warm wetness spread through my
guts.  I wiggled and clamped down with each thrust, wanting to give him
maximum stimulation as he came inside me.

	Control slowly returned to his muscles, his hips continuously
banging away at my ass, sowing his seed deeply into me.  His eyes open and
he smiled.  Moving like the black cat that he is, he kept up the slow,
fucking pace.  His legs pushed me forward as his face leaned in.  Warm,
soft, full lips closed over my dripping dickhead.  I pushed forward,
pulling off about half his dick, but pushing my dick deeper into his mouth.
He hummed and tongue-lashed at my sensitive dickhead.  Again, I pushed back
harder on to his slowly deflating manhood.  I couldn't believe how big he
is!  Dave's lips left my dick for a second, but his tongue continued
flicking at it.

	His fingers had been busy, too.  He knew of the direct connection
between my nips and dick.  With a few pulls and twists, he had me at the
brink of a climax.  My dickhead swelled between his lips, my ass clamped
down harder, and my moans of pleasure reached a fever pitch.  Dave crammed
his sizeable dick into my hungry ass, fucking me faster and deeper, even
though his dick was shrinking.  But, the extra stimulation on my prostate
had added the final ingredient.  In a flash of hot pleasure, I came hard.

	Dave sucked and drank gleefully.  I bucked and fucked forward and
backward, going for as much stimulation and pleasure as I could find.
Losing control, I leaned forward, catching myself with my outstretched
arms, quivering above Dave's sucking face as he drank deeply of my cream.
I could feel his load leaking out around his thrusting dick, but I didn't
have sufficient control to keep his warm cum from exiting.  My relaxing
balls were coated in his man juice, but I was concentrating on his sucking
lips, drinking down the last squirts of my load.

	He pushed me up, still sucking on my dick, and sitting me more
deeply on his dick.  A hand stroked my dick, coaxing out any remaining
spooge before his lips released me.  I sat back on his hips, engulfing his
dick, again, with my ass tunnel.  Dave's hands moved down my chest and abs,
resting briefly on my dick, trying to strip out more cum.  He smiled up at
me, licking his lips for any of my errant cream.  "I could cum up your ass
every hour, if you'd let me," he grinned.
	
	"I'm not stopping you," I smiled back.

	"Yeah, you are," he countered.  "That big dick of yours and that
beautiful, furry chest forces me to get fucked by you.  I can't do both!"

	"A pleasant dilemma, if ever I heard one," I replied.  "But, right
now, I'm making a puddle with all the cum you shot up my ass."  I pulled
off his large dick with a wet plop.  "Just like in San Francisco, you're
babies want OUT!" I laughed, racing to the bathroom just in time.

	We plowed through our mail again, writing checks for bills,
grinding up solicitations, free checks, and other nonsense mail.  Most of
the morning, we spent reading accumulated magazines and other periodicals.
The afternoon, we spent responding to e-mail and phone messages that had
been left.  Nearly all the phone messages were about 9/11 and the people
who worried about us.  We returned all of them, assuring our worried
friends and relatives that we were well, and had enjoyed our European trip.
Some, we told a few of the salacious details; but, most calls were brief.

	Finally, we couldn't take it anymore and headed off for the gym.
The workout did us a lot of good, releasing tensions we didn't even know we
had.  Coaches Randy and Chuck were there, exhausted after a day of training
with the team.  However, they weren't too exhausted to couple with us in
the steam room after our workout.  I rode Randy's hot, black ass while Dave
pounded Chuck's eager hole.  We finished our trysts with creamy quantities
of their cum down our throats.  They'd missed us, they'd said.  Chuck
insisted that we get together later in the week for an early dinner.  There
was too much to do and too much going on to have a proper evening of
entertainment, now.  But, Randy added, there were a couple of new players
that they'd enjoyed before the season started.  "And they need frequent
servicing, having no permanent men in their lives," Chuck laughed.

	"So, invite them to dinner!" Dave begged.  "We can sort them out
later for more 'in depth' conversations."  They agreed to call them and
extend an invitation.

	We recounted a few of our "good times" in Europe, leaving out
Folsom Street for another time.  Of course, they were interested in Conrad
and Max, but felt so badly for Ziggy that they wanted to invite him
immediately to visit them.  We assured them that we were putting the
pressure on him to come to the States, but he really needed to find someone
in Germany for his life partner.  International long-distance relationships
just don't work.

	At home, we returned more calls, spent a few extra minutes with
Reed to see how the "hate in the media" campaign was going.  He assured us
that The Oprah Show had caused a sensation, doubling the requests for more
information.  The Oprah staff had forwarded more requests each week since
the broadcast.  "Some were for still photos and copies of a videotape of
the two of you in your fashion show," he added.  I was so glad he added
that last qualifier.  I was afraid he was getting requests for our
"performances" at the Folsom Street Fair!

	Robocop had left a message, letting us know that they'd kept an eye
on the house and there had been nothing out of the ordinary to report.  "Of
course," he'd laughed into the recorder, "I'd love to give you a far more
personal report when you have time for us.  You know how much we love
fuckin' with you guys!"

	Our neighbors (Robert and Gary) dropped by later in the evening for
drinks, and tales of our European adventures.  They were as taken by
Ziggy's story as the coaches were.  But, Robert finally let the cat out of
the bag.  "Kurt tells us you have a special DVD," he smiled knowingly.  We
could only shrug and feign ignorance.  It didn't work.  "You know the one!
San Francisco, Folsom Street Fair, hello?"

	They had us in their sights.  There was no dodging it.  So, Dave
pulled out the DVD in question and put it back in the player.  There was
immediate recognition of the principal players.  Gary even knew about one
of the porno stars.  By then, we had to tell them the whole, ugly story,
including the friendly five-way we had in our hotel room.  They lapped it
up eagerly.

	"When are they coming up for a visit?" Gary earnestly asked.

	"We haven't heard from them yet, but we've only been home a day,
Gary," Dave laughed.  "Give them time."

	"When they do, you gotta include us!  These guys are VERY hot."

	"And if I don't agree?" his lover Robert asked.

	"This hard dick in your pants says otherwise," he giggled,
squeezing Robert's bulging crotch.

	"I was only asking!" Robert laughed pulling away from his lover's
groping hands.

	"Well, Morgan wants to move out of San Francisco, if he can find
the right man to top him and get fucked," I teased.  "You know any SINGLE
guys who might qualify?"

	"Which one's Morgan?" Robert asked.  Gary pointed him out on the
screen.  I pulled out the other DVD and showed him a more posed picture.
"Oh, yeah.  He's FINE!"

	"Well, there's a guy on the team who might qualify," Gary mused.

	"Someone we know?" Dave asked.

	"No, he's new.  I don't think you know him," Robert answered.
"We've had him over to the house a couple of times for some 'slap and
tickle'."

	"Fuck!  That guy's a horse!  You sure Morgan could handle him?"
Gary pressed.

	"He's got big muscles," Robert persisted.

	"Just how big's this guy?" I wondered.

	"Shit!  Monstrous!" Gary answered, but not giving me any idea what
monstrous meant.

	"He's like 6'6" and weighs at least 260," Robert added helpfully.
"Big fucker!  Gene's not had any problems getting him to the weights and
adding strength.  The guy's a mountain!"

	"He versatile, then?" Dave continued, seeking confirmation of his
possible match up with Morgan.

	"He sure is with us," Robert smirked.  Gary nodded eagerly.  "Nice,
big dick, too."

	"Yeah, gotta be a good 10", maybe more," Gary sighed wistfully.
"He sure knows how to use it, too."

	"Black or white?" I asked.  "Not that it matters."

	"Polynesian, I think," Robert answered.  " Samoan, I believe."
	
	"Yeah, that's right.  He told me he's from American Samoa, but he
keeps his sexuality to himself, sharing only with trusted friends," Gary
clarified.

	"That'll work," Dave said.  "Morgan's a cop in real life.  Lots of
need for confidentiality there."

	"Yeah, that's for sure," agreed Robert.

	"Well, in case they don't make it, keep looking about.  Is there a
picture of him on the team's internet site that I could send off to
Morgan?" Dave queried.

	"I'm sure there is," Robert answered.  "They've always had them in
the past."  He glanced at his watch.  "Shit!  We gotta go!  Bed check in
five minutes!" he stormed rising from the couch.  "A rain check for a roll
in the hay for another day?" he grinned.

	We nodded and smiled.  "Always," Dave said.

	"I'd stay and take you on myself," Gary suggested.  "But, he'd have
my hide for not giving my load to him, instead."

	"Can you blame him?" I smiled.  "You'd do the same in his case."
	
	"That, I would," he agreed, heading down the front stairway with
his lover in hand.  "You'd better pound my ass good tonight after you made
me leave Mike and Dave," he cackled, putting his arm around Robert's broad
shoulders.  Robert smiled over his shoulder at us, then, slid his hand over
the ass of his lover and grabbed a big handful of high, tight butt.

	Friday, we volunteered at PFLAG for most of the day, hitting the
gym late in the afternoon.  Either all the gay men were coming in later, or
had already left.  We were alone in the locker room.  I checked again to be
sure we were alone, then, pulled Dave's naked form to me.  "I love you,
Dave," I whispered as our lips touched.  My hands slid down his back and
cupped his hard ass cheeks.  My fingers slipped deep into his butt trench,
feeling the sweaty wetness between his muscular, butt mounds.  "I could eat
you all over," I added huskily.  Squatting before him, I popped his growing
dick into my mouth, sucking it hungrily.  His hands caressed my head,
pulling my mouth deeper on to his thickening, lengthening horsedick.  He
face-fucked me slowly for nearly a minute, but I had to keep backing off,
as his dick got too big for me to deep-throat, anymore.

	"Gawd!  You're good," he smiled down at me.  "You nearly got my
nut."

	"I'm saving that for later, Big Boy!" I grinned up at him, with a
glint in my eye.

	"You have something in that devious mind of yours, don't ya."

	I stripped off my shirt and shorts.  "Come with me," I said,
pulling him by the hand.  "You're about to get the fuck of your young
life."

	"And where will this event take place?"

	"The steam room."  I went there first, depositing my shaving kit
with all the lube I'd need contained inside.  "But, showers first.  I know
how you love to be clean before we fuck."  The showers took little time.
Dave stepped past me, still sporting a raging hard-on, hungry for whatever
I had planned for him.  As he approached the steam room door, he checked
for any new persons.  Satisfied, he bent over and spread his black ass for
me.  "Fuck, YEAH!" I crowed, turning off my shower and chasing after him.

	He stood on the first level of the steam room benches, waiting for
me, his big dick dripping precum already as he lazily stroked it.  "What
next?" he asked with a sly grin on his face.

	"Lie down on these towels," I instructed, "on your back."  He
complied.  "Raise those gorgeous legs."  He spread out the towel on the
next level up.  "Yeah, like that."  I put a towel down under my knees and
knelt behind him.  Pushing his knees into his chest, I began rimming his
ass, slowly licking around his rosebud, but never touching it.  The closer
I got to my prize, the louder he moaned.  When I finally hit the target, he
bounced his ass up and down, trying to get my tongue to eat and drill him
the way he loved it most.  I was happy to comply with his needs.

	"Yeah, Mike!  Eat my ass!  DAMN!  You're GOOD at this!  No one does
it better!" he moaned, pulling his legs harder into his chest, spreading
his ass even more.

	"You need to get fucked," I said, reluctant to stop tonguing that
perfect ass.  But, my hard, throbbing dick was going to cum all by itself,
if I didn't stop chewing on Dave's tasty, incredible ass.

	"Yeah, Man.  Do it.  I need dick. Gotta have it.  Something deep
and satisfying," he grinned up at me.  "Lube it up and pump me, White
Bread!"

	I took my time lubing up his butthole.  I had to give my dick some
time to cool down or I'd shoot as soon as I plugged into him.  Scooting my
towel in closer, I leaned over his prone body, allowing his legs to drape
over my shoulders.  We kissed hotly, my dick jerking each time I felt his
hands on my ass or he rubbed my hairy chest.  I moved in closer, my fat
dickhead knocking at his greased back door.

	Dave grabbed my dick and pulled me into him, the head slicing
through his hungry asshole easily.  "Fuck!  Yeah!  Big fuckin' head!  DAMN!
I love how it rubs against my joy button!"  I smiled down at him as he
moaned.  "Yeah, like that," he added.  "Short-dick me!  I'm so close to
cumming, you can fuck it outta me!"  And I was so close to cumming with his
tight, milking sphincter gripping my thick dickhead that I knew I wasn't
going to last long at all!  "Shit, I'm cumming!" he bellowed.  I glanced
down at his waving, hard dick and saw cum start to dribble from the tip.  I
bent over fast and sucked the tip between my lips, still pumping his ass
with the first few inches of my nearly climaxing dick.  "FUCK!" he bellowed
as he felt my mouth close over the sensitive head of his black pole.  I
tasted a big wad of cum, then, another.

	It was all over.  I rammed him hard, going as far in as I could go
and still maintain my lip-lock on his spraying dick.  My mouth opened to
echo his roaring climax, but Dave shot another big rope of white cum into
me, effectively silencing me with more sperm.  My body jerked.  I know he
felt my firing dick begin to unload in his ass.  He grabbed my big ass
globes and pulled me hard into him.  That pulled me off his dickhead, which
allowed me to shove hard and deep up his ass.  He gripped my racing dick
with his ass tunnel, surprised at how fast I'd entered him and how suddenly
thick my dick was.

	More cum sprayed out of his spasming dick, coating his abs and
chest with cream.  My hips kept thrusting into him, blasting baby gravy as
deeply as I could squirt it.  Dave held me in place, my dick root crushed
hard against his opening, coursing more cum into his thirsty ass.  With my
climax waning, I slowly stripped his long, dripping dick with one hand,
watching more creamy sperm ooze from the tip.

	I began to pull out of him, but his strong hands and arms insisted
that I stay inside.  He smiled at my dilemma.  "I need your cum in me more
than you need to lick my cum off my chest," he grinned.  "But, you can kiss
me."

	I smiled back at him.  That seemed a fair trade.  Pushing his legs
harder into his chest, I ground my slowly shrinking dick deeper into him.
He groaned, but released my ass and pulled my face down to his.  "I love
you, Mike," he whispered, echoing my earlier words in the locker room.

	A locker door slammed shut.  We broke our kiss.  "Time to break
this up, anyway," Dave sighed, pushing his legs back down.  I exited his
well-creamed rump and sat back on my haunches.  He swung a leg over my head
and sat up, pulling a towel over his cum-leaking, almost hard dick.  I did
the same.  "As soon as these things cool down, we should leave," he added,
nodding at the noise outside the steam room.  "I think our least favorite,
chatty, straight men are headed this way."  His prediction was true.
Within another two minutes, they wandered into the steam room and sat down
about ten feet away from us.  Our dicks had cooled enough by then that we
could exit the room with towels strategically placed.  Wrapping towels
around us would have displayed tents that we didn't want to let them see.

	By the time we got home, there were more phone calls and mail to
deal with.  Dave dealt with the phone calls and stacked my mail up on the
kitchen counter.  I went to my computer and found e-mail from several
friends asking about how our European vacation went.  All of them added
that they'd seen us on Oprah and wanted to know more about how the show
really went.  So, I wrote a long dissertation about what I recalled about
it and send that out to all of them.  The European vacation recollection
could wait until later.

	We traded places for a few minutes.  I plowed through my mail, and
a couple of phone messages that had been directed to me.  I tossed or
shredded all the mail, then, returned the phone calls to Uncle Clay and
Dad.  By the time I'd finished talking to them, Dave was back downstairs
with a couple of e-mails that he'd printed off.

	"Uncle Clay would like us to come back again this year for New
Year's Eve," I said when Dave joined me in the sunroom.  "Whatcha think?"

	"Sure, why not?" he answered.

	"I'll send him an e-mail, then.  I'm sure my nephew Josh will love
it.  Uncle Clay says that Josh has a new boyfriend," I smiled.

	"Does he pass inspection?" Dave wondered.

	"Uncle Clay and Linc think he does."

	"Oh?"

	"Yeah, he's about Josh's age, a student, too, and they're crazy
about each other."

	"That's good enough for now," Dave agreed.

	"What's in your hand?"

	"Oh, Morgan sent an e-mail," Dave grinned.  "He wants to come see
us.  Can you imagine?" he laughed.

	"Oh, yeah, I can imagine!  He wants more dick time with us."

	"And, he reminded me that we promised to line him up with some
single men," Dave said, glancing at the page.  "We have anything coming up
on any weekend this month, except the 12th?  Is one better than another for
us?"

	"Not as far as I know," I replied.  "Did you look at our 'busy'
social calendar on your PDA?"

	"Not yet," he responded.  "I wanted to check with your brain first,
before I bothered with the PDA."

	"The only thing I know of that's coming up is the broadcast of "A
Day in the Life Of.  And I haven't any idea when that is."

	"Why don't you check on the Internet and I'll check on the PDA for
conflicts.  Okay?"  We checked both sources, but found a conflict on only
this weekend.  We'd promised Randy and Chuck dinner at their house on
Friday night (tomorrow).  That was probably too soon for Morgan to arrange
vacation time, anyway.

	"Go ahead and send an e-mail back to him that both weekends are
fine," I said.  "October 19th or 26th."

	"We should plan a party for one of those days that he's here," Dave
suggested.

	"As soon as we know which weekend and how long he can be here, we
can put something together," I agreed.  "How many single friends do we
have?"

	"Not many," Dave laughed.  "We've married off most of them."

	"Well, there's always Cousin Larry," I smirked.

	"He's looking for a relationship, not a hot fuck, Mike!"

	"Well, Larry could settle down, one of these days," I defended.

	"Yeah, and Hell could freeze over, too."

	"It's not quite that bad.  Besides, this may be just the guy for
him to get him to settle down.  You don't know until you get them
together," I insisted.

	"Okay, fair enough.  They can decide for themselves.  But, I think
Morgan should be warned."

	"Only if they start doing more than fucking around with each
other," I warned.  "Let's not pour any cold water on this before it has a
chance to kindle a flame.  They may not even hit it off."

	"Okay, invite him, but we aren't gonna set it up like a date.  I
want Morgan to have alternatives," he insisted.

	"With all the men we'll be inviting, he'll have the pick of the
litter."

	Friday morning, we raced off to Costco and Kroger's.  We'd been
gone a month and were out of everything.  After nearly $300 at Costco, we
headed back downtown to Kroger's.  I hoped Jason, the wine steward, would
be there.  I wasn't disappointed.  He took at least 15 minutes out of his
busy day to talk to us.  But, most of that time, he spent telling us about
moving in with Randy (the guy who used to own the house we now have).
"Living with someone else requires a lot of compromises," he said.  Dave
and I glance knowingly at each other.  "I've been single for so long that I
forgot what it's like.  But, the bright side is so good!  We fuck all the
time, because we don't have to get up and go home to change for work.  I
love that part!"

	"Just remember why you're together," Dave opined.  "Love did it.
Don't sweat the small stuff.  There'll be stuff that'll drive you crazy
about him or things he does.  Put them in perspective, and ask yourself,
'Is it really a show-stopper?'"

	"And you'll be just as guilty as Randy," I added.  "I'm sure you
have habits that'll push all his buttons.  You've been single long enough
to accumulate a few of those!" I laughed.

	"But, most importantly, you have to remember you're not gonna
change him into some fantasy man.  What you see is what you get," Dave
finished.

	"Well, you can fuss with the edges, but what he is ain't gonna
change at this stage of his life," I emphasized.  "Communication is the
key, but you already know that."

	"All good advice," Jason smiled.  "I'll have to have this kinda
talk with him, too."

	"So, what's on special today?" Dave asked.

	"Let's see," Jason said thoughtfully.  "You don't like the reds, so
how about some champagnes.  I have a couple of domestics that are truly
wonderful.  Besides, the warehouse is trying to clear out last years crush
for the impending, new bottling.  And they're cheap!"

	"Define cheap," Dave laughed.

	"Under $10 a bottle."

	"And they're good?"

	"I think they compare very well with the $20 and $30 bottles,"
Jason insisted.  "I have a Korbel Blanc de Noir for $9.99, and the Korbel
Brut or Extra Dry are a steal at $8.99.  All of my Domaine Ste. Michelle's
are at $6.99."

	"How about one of each?" I suggested.  "I want to try them before I
decide which ones to get more of."

	"That would be, uh, seven bottles," Jason calculated.  "Three
Korbel's and four Ste. Michelle's.  Want to round out a case and get 10%
more off?"

	"Yeah," Dave agreed.  "You know how much we like that Chandon
Reserve.  Add five bottles of that."

	"That's great stuff," Jason smiled.  "That's still priced at $19.99
a bottle.  So with the 10% discount, you'll get it for $18 a bottle.
That's a steal!  Time for a party?"

	"We're thinking of one sometime this month," Dave revealed.  "But,
we're waiting on some out-of-town guests to firm up their travel plans."

	"New friends or old ones?" Jason inquired with a leering grin.

	"New ones," Dave smiled back.

	"Porno stars, so you wouldn't be interested," I added.

	"Like Hell!" Jason laughed.  "Which one or ones?"

	"Morgan Rice from Hercules Productions," I said.  "You know his
stuff?"

	"Shit, YEAH!  He's one of my favorites of the new crop.  What a
stud!"

	"Well, you'll get to meet him, but he's up here looking for a
husband, and you're already married.  You don't qualify," Dave laughed.

	"Randy who?" Jason laughed back.  "For that side of beef, I'd tell
Randy to close his eyes for a while."

	"Morgan's looking for a partner, not a roll in the hay," I reminded
him.  "He can get a hot fuck there, anytime."

	"Party pooper," Jason sighed.

	Dinner at the coaches was very laid back.  They'd had the good
manners to add invitations for the four new players they thought Morgan
might like to play with.

	Sunday morning, we hit the gym for "chest" day.  After a light
lunch, we attended the Baroque Orchestra season opener.  Before the concert
began, the president of the organization announced that this year, they
were not solvent, and the season would have to be shortened, due to lack of
funds.  Grants to the Orchestra were drying up.  The subscriber base was
adequate to fund only half the cost of operations and performances.  They
were desperate for more funds.  "Please, be generous," he begged.

	"You know, Dave," I whispered.  "We've made a lot of money in the
market this year.  Why not let the Baroque Orchestra have some of that
profit, instead of Uncle Sam?"

	"What figure did you have in mind?"

	"Well, he said they were short about $100,000.  Why don't we make
it like the challenge grants that Public Radio does?  We'll put that amount
up, if the rest of the subscribers will match it," I suggested.  "That'll
give them a cushion to take into the next year.  Lord knows we'll have to
sell some of our holdings just to pay taxes, anyway.  Why not send some of
it in their direction?"

	"Anonymously?"

	"Yep."

	"But, we'll give them the $100,000 whether or not they match it?"

	"Sure, why not?  They can still use the money."

	At intermission, we collared the president.  "A moment of your
time, please," Dave whispered.  The president of the Baroque Orchestra
board didn't know us from perfect strangers, but he graciously excused
himself from the conversation he was having with other concertgoers.  We
walked to a corner of the entrance hall for privacy.

	"How may I help you?" he asked with a warm smile.

	"Uh, we understand the Orchestra could use some cash," Dave began.
The president nodded sadly.  "Could you use an anonymous donation of
$100,000?"  The president blustered and sputtered at our generous offer.

	"Yes!  Of course!  What are your terms?" he asked warily.

	"No terms, just an outright gift to the Orchestra.  But, it MUST
remain anonymous," I added.  "You could announce it as a matching grant
like they do on PBS during their 'beg-a-thons'," I suggested with a hint of
a smile.  He grinned back, understanding my reference.  "If the season
ticket holders come through, you'll have funds that you can carry forward
into next season."

	"That's very generous," he grinned broadly.  "And a good
suggestion, too.  I'll ask Monica to announce it before the second half of
the concert today."  Monica is the featured violinist and Artistic
Direction for the Baroque Orchestra.  "But, I don't even know your names!"
he exclaimed.  After introductions, he asked, "Can you meet with the Board,
so they can thank you, too?"

	 "Better that we not do that.  This is to be an anonymous gift.
The more people who know us, the more likely our identities will be
revealed," Dave cautioned.

	"I know this comes as a big risk to you and the Orchestra, to
announce such a large gift from two strangers," I smiled.  "Call our banker
here in town or our attorney in Las Vegas at these numbers," I added,
scribbling down the phone numbers for Ed Howard at the bank and John Wells
in Las Vegas on the back of my business card.  (Dave had retrieved the
numbers from his handy PDA.)  "They can verify that we're good for the
money."

	The president bustled away to make the calls and to whisper their
good fortune in the ears of Monica and a few board members on his way
outside.  (He thought the phone calls should be private, too.)  When the
chimes sounded, giving us a five-minute warning to resume our seats for the
second half of the concert, the president strode through the outside doors,
beaming.  A thumbs-up to a few acquaintances and a hurried conversation
with Monica on the announcement, delayed the remainder of the concert for
two additional minutes.

	The musicians and Monica walked on to the stage to polite applause.
Not immediately taking up her instrument, the audience knew she would be
making an announcement.  "I have two items to chat with you about before we
resume the concert," she smiled.  "First, I'm sure you expect changes to
the printed program."  The audience laughed.  That was a standing joke with
this Orchestra.  They always changed the order of the pieces right up to
the last minute.  "We'll be switching the Scarlatti and the Bach pieces."
The audience stirred, examining their programs to see how that would change
the printed program.  "But, more importantly," she continued, "one of you
has graciously stepped up and offered us a magnificent challenge.  This
anonymous party has agreed to underwrite YOUR Baroque Orchestra for up to
$100,000, IF you'll match it."

	The Orchestra standing behind her was stunned, then, smiled
giddily.  Spontaneous, sustained applause broke out across the auditorium.
"I wonder who it was?" a matron behind us wondered.  We smiled, but joined
in the applause.

	"If you match that donation, you'll put me to work," Monica
laughed.  "I'll have to create a program for the additional concert this
year."

	"And change it!" a wag shouted from the front rows.  Everyone
laughed with the orchestra.
  
	The musicians had a lot of fun with the pieces Monica had selected
for the remainder of the concert.  Everyone attending had a good time as
well.  We just hoped that, in an era of skidding values in the stock
market, there were still some generous folks who loved their Baroque
Orchestra enough to help match our gift.

	We heard back from Morgan on Monday, after we'd returned from the
gym.  He'd selected the weekend of the 26th.  He'd fly up on Friday
afternoon and return Monday afternoon.  Dave responded to the e-mail,
asking for the flight arrival time, so we could pick him up at the airport.
Within another 30 minutes, he responded, letting us know he'd be on the
four o'clock, afternoon flight from San Francisco on Friday, the 26th, and
would return on the 2:15 flight on Monday afternoon, the 29th.

	"So, who do we invite?" I asked Dave.

	"Let's go through our 'trick' list and see who might still be
single," he smiled.  He consulted his PDA, again.  "You write them down
with their phone numbers as I go through the list."

	"Okay."  I grabbed a tablet of scratch paper and put Larry at the
top, just in case Dave forgot him.

	"Larry," he said, glancing up at me, "Esteban, uh, is he single?"

	"Last time I checked, he was."

	"How about Paulo from the restaurant?"

	"I haven't talked to him in months.  It wouldn't hurt to call him,"
I said.  I put a checkmark by his name to call him and find out.  Dave gave
me the phone number, which I dutifully scribbled down next to Paulo's name.

	"We could invite Ron from the football team, but he's such a
bottom.  I don't think that's husband material for Morgan," Dave sighed.
"Same problem with James, and Big John and Little John are an item, now,
right?"  I nodded my confirmation.  "Mark's a bottom, too," he mused.
"Hey, what about Steve's sons, Jim and Jeff.  They might be a little young
for Morgan, but they're single and SO hunky!"

	"Uh, they're both bottoms," I cautioned.

	"Fuck!  You're right," he sighed again.  "We could try for Jim's
bodybuilding friend, Eric.  He's pretty versatile."

	"I'll add him."

	"Beau and Ben are still fucking like rabbits?"

	"Yep."

	"Well, how about Scott, our real estate agent and Dr. Hartung?
They're both single, aren't they?" Dave smiled cautiously.

	"I'll call and ask."

	"Let's see, uh, Sean, that redheaded mover with the big dick?"

	"Added," I smiled scribbling fast.

	"Poindexter is too far away.  So's Preston."

	"Poindexter?"

	"Lt. Garvey in Vancouver, BC."

	"Oh, yeah.  And Preston's too far away, too."

	"Jack and Jeremy still fucking?"

	"I haven't heard a word from them.  I'll call them, too.  But,
they're probably still fucking," I grinned.

	"Markus and Julio are too far away and too married.  Same married
problem with Darren and Jerrod," Dave said exasperated.  "We seem to know
only married couples."

	"And mostly our fault, if you'll notice," I grinned over at him.
"We introduced most of them to each other."

	"Yeah, we did, didn't we!"

	"How about those four new guys on the team that the coaches invited
to dinner Friday?" Dave asked excitedly.

	"I don't know their preferences for top or bottom, except for the
big Samoan who's versatile; but, why not!" I agreed.

	We made the phone calls.  All the single men agreed to come to our
party to meet Morgan and other single, gay men.  We couldn't reach Esteban
(his "phone was disconnected or no longer in service"), so he got crossed
off our list.  Jeremy and Jack were still a couple.  Robert and Gary said
that Beau and Ben were still a couple, too.  Sean was leaving town that
weekend, so he couldn't make it, either.  That left us with only Larry,
Paulo, Eric, Scott, and Grant to entertain Morgan.  We'd invited the four
football players, but they had to be home, in bed, no later than 11
p.m. for bed check.  At least, that weekend was a home game.  With the
party starting at 7:30, that should give them adequate time to get
"acquainted."  So, the count was nine men (plus us) for Morgan's
entertainment.  That should keep him busy!

	We spent most of the weekend before Morgan's party with "Daddy and
his boy."  They had a great time, although they were only here for two
days.  I think Daddy got fucked nearly as much as Boy did.  Of course, Kurt
and Gene took a turn; Donnie and Trevor did them at the gym; Robert and
Gary pumped their butts (and got fucked by Daddy, too) after dinner on
Saturday evening (spending the night with them).  We were first and last,
banging both of them on Saturday morning upon their arrival, and again
Sunday evening just before they left.  Daddy did have a very thick dick,
but it sure felt good to us as it rubbed across our prostates.  Having Boy
sitting on our dicks while Daddy pounded our butts did assist in getting
our nuts to spray fast.

	Boy had a nice dick, but he was a confirmed bottom, having no
interest in anyone's ass, except to munch, lick, sniff, and chew on it.
And true to his word, he was able to take on everyone, orally and anally.
He seemed to have no problem even with Kurt's monster.  Evidently, he and
Daddy had a lot of big-dicked friends in San Francisco who visited them
often.

	The following weekend, Morgan arrived.  His flight was on time,
too.  Striding through the double doors to the baggage area of the airport,
he turned many heads.  Men and women turned to look at his handsome face
and beautiful body.  He wore a muscle shirt, exposing his bulging shoulders
and huge arms.  His pants fit like a glove, emphasizing his round, muscle
ass, heavy quads, and bulging package.  Several turned and looked at his
ass and back as he passed them.

	I was standing at curbside, so he could see that someone would pick
him up as promised.  Dave had taken the loop around the airport again, as
he couldn't park there.  Morgan rushed through the doors, parting the ocean
of humanity like Moses and the Red Sea.  He took me in his big arms and
lifted me off the concrete sidewalk, spinning us around as he hugged and
kissed me.  I grinned when I saw several women turn disgustedly away, some
mouthing "Shit!" when they saw us hugging.  "Another stunningly beautiful,
muscleman turns out gay," I could see them think.  A few men smiled and
sighed, wondering what it would be like to be in his arms.  I could have
told them how great it was, but that would have only made them cranky.

	After a moment in his bone-crushing arms, he released me.  "You
look better than I remembered," he beamed.  "Where's that black Adonis you
live with?"

	"He's bringing the car around.  He couldn't park here."  A hunky,
young man stared at us, smiling.  "I think that's a fan of yours," I
indicated nodding in the young stud's direction.

	Morgan looked over his shoulder and spied the nearly trembling man.
"You're Morgan Rice, right?" the stranger stammered.

	"Guilty!" Morgan grinned back.

	"This is SO making my day!" he burst out, giggling.  "Could I have
your autograph?" he asked, struggling to find something in his backpack to
write on and with.

	"Be glad to," Morgan replied.  "I could sign your pretty ass, but
it would get washed off."  The guy blushed furiously.  Morgan was doing a
great job of perpetuating his top persona.

	Dave had just pulled up and honked to get our attention.  "Let me
get paper and pen from the car," I suggested.  They waited while I asked
Dave to find a pen and some paper in the glove box.  I scurried back with
the proper items, noting that the two men had continued their conversation.

	Morgan took the proffered pen and paper and scribbled his
signature.  The young man smiled, then, wrote something at the bottom of
the paper, ripping that portion off and handing it back to Morgan.  He gave
the young man a pat on the ass and walked to the car with me.  "Receipt?" I
grinned.

	"Address, name, and phone number," Morgan smiled, looking at the
paper again before stuffing it in his tight jeans.

	"He lives here or visiting?" I asked.

	"Lives here," Morgan replied, tossing his overnight bag in the
trunk of the Lexus.  "He just flew in on the same flight, but he got on in
Los Angeles.  I told him that my public persona doesn't mesh with reality.
He knew instantly what I meant, and said that he looked forward to fuckin'
my ass for me."  Morgan got in the backseat and turned to Dave, "Nice
wheels, Dave.  You must be doin' alright!"

	"Yes, we're doing fine, thanks," Dave responded, turning around for
a kiss that Morgan was leaning into.  "This is really Mike's car, but he
let's me drive it."

	"Like when I can pry the keys out of his hands," I laughed.

	"So, what's the schedule for the weekend?  I hope it involves a lot
of me on my back and both of you atop me.  One at a time, of course," he
snickered.

	"We have a party in your honor planned for this evening starting at
7:30," Dave said.  "Only single, gay men have been invited.  Mike and I are
the exceptions.  Four newly minted, professional football players, Mike's
cousin, and other 'friends' for a total of nine men for you to choose
from."

	"Oh, yeah, and thanks for sending me their pictures in your last
e-mail," Morgan said.  "That'll help them not be total strangers in a room
of mostly strangers."

	"The rest of the weekend is open for you to do as you please,
including going through the entire guest list, or working over that little
number you just met," I added.

	"I like the way you think," Morgan laughed.  "But, I need to spend
some quality time with my hosts, too."

	"You've already had us," Dave reminded him.

	"And it was all quality!" Morgan exulted.  "And I want MORE!"

	And he got more.  Dave mounted him doggie style, while Morgan and I
69'ed.  Then, Dave and I switched.  Morgan finally shot his load while he
was returning the favor, with Dave sitting on Morgan's thick 8" dick and I
was sitting on Morgan's face.

	By the time we got cleaned up, it was 6:00 p.m.  We fixed a fast
dinner, iced the beer and champagne, and prepared some easy finger-food.
Morgan changed into one of his beefy tank tops, adding frayed shorts to
complete the trashy tramp look.  With his good looks and incredible body,
he could have worn anything and looked great.

	The football players arrived in two cars, with apologies for having
to leave early.  Morgan was just getting their names when Cousin Larry and
Paulo arrived separately.  Shortly, Eric the bodybuilder, Scott the real
estate agent, and Dr. Grant Hartung arrived.  Eric and Morgan hit it off
instantly, checking out each other's muscles.  But, within a few minutes,
that cooled and the football players became Eric's focus, especially the
big Samoan.  Dave became aware of the attraction between Morgan and Larry
by 9:00.  The other men had paired off with other members of the football
team.  By 10:30, all the football players were gone with their fuck of the
evening.  I was surprised that Scott and Dr. Hartung went home with
somebody, as that wasn't their style.  But, lust is blind!

	Morgan and Larry went upstairs to Morgan's "bedroom" (although we'd
planned on Morgan sleeping with us), leaving us, the old maids, to clean up
and turn out the lights.  We were in bed by 11:30.

	"I guess it all turned out alright," Dave murmured when I turned
out the table lamp on my side of the bed.  "Everyone seemed to have a good
time, and went home with a 'door prize'," he giggled.  "Of course, any one
of those football players could have kept our bed warm."

	"There's an 'Amen' in this corner," I smiled in the dark.  "They
sure opened up, being away from the coaches.  They're all nice guys, but I
still don't know what their preferences are."

	"Well, I'm guessing that two of them are bottoms, as Scott and
Dr. Hartung are tops," Dave considered.  "Eric's headed home with that
versatile Samoan.  I remember how much Eric loves to be fucked, but he has
a nice dick and the skills to be a great top.  Paulo's a hunk and is pretty
versatile, so who knows what he got."

	"Cousin Larry knows how to top, but he's a bottom for sure.  I'll
bet Morgan has to fuck his brains out most of the night.  Larry's really
caught up in Morgan's video image," I concluded.  "But, I know Morgan won't
let Larry's monster dick rest until he's had at least one ride on it."

	Silence flowed around the room.  When I whispered Dave's name, I
got no response.  Well, time for me to got to sleep, too.

	I yelled up the stairwell at eight the next morning, informing our
houseguests that breakfast would be ready in another 15 minutes.  Hearing
them stir and the upstairs shower turn on, I assumed they'd be down soon.
I didn't figure on a last-minute fuck in the shower before breakfast.  Dave
and I were nearly finished with our breakfasts when they finally appeared.
We traded off preparing more food and keeping them in conversation.  Larry
left about ten, with a meaningful grope and a kiss for Morgan.  We got a
chaste kiss and a pat on the ass.

	"How come Larry's not with someone?" Morgan wondered.  "He has a
lot to offer a man."

	"He does," I agreed.  "But, not to be talking out of turn, Larry's
always looking beyond what he has today for what he thinks he might get
tomorrow."

	"He's a player," Morgan concluded ruefully.

	"In a word, yes," Dave agreed.

	"I know the type," Morgan sighed.  "Great in the sack for a few
times, then, they're on to the next conquest.  San Francisco's full of 'em.
And, why not?  They usually can get someone new each week."

	"So, you wanna try that guy from the airport, or work on one or
more of our other guests from last night?" I asked.

	"Everyone seemed to be paired up last night.  I don't wanna break
in on that.  I'll try for the guy from the airport," he answered.


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