Absolute Convergence
Chapter Twenty-three

By John Yager

This is the twenty-third chapter of an ongoing series. I want to thank all the readers who have written to me concerning this story. I continue to be surprised and pleased by all the responses this series has prompted. All your comments are read and given serious consideration. I try to respond to all e-mail promptly. If there is a delay in my response it is usually because I am traveling.

My objective in this series is to deal with issues which have impacted and influenced the lives of gay people in the period between the 1960s and the present time, or from pre-Stonewall days to the era of "don't ask, don't tell."

Many readers have asked if this story is, at least in part, autobiographical. I would not be honest if I said it was not. But I want to make it clear to readers that I am not Rob or Rick or any other specific character in the story and none of them, individually, is me. The story is raising many more questions than it is supplying answers and I certainly make no claim to know the answers. It is my hope that by raising the questions I may prompt more consideration of the issues facing gay people in the USA and throughout the world.

Andrew continues to provide much needed proofing and editorial help, for which I am sincerely grateful. I could not post chapters as quickly as I have been doing without his assistance.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. Any similarity to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.

This is a work of gay erotic fiction. If you should not be reading such material, or if such material is not to your liking, please exit now.

This work is copyrighted © by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.

All the stories I have posted on NIFTY can be found by looking under my name in the NIFTY Prolific Authors lists.

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Nothing more had been said by Steve or me about our conversation in what we later came to call Rollins Grove. It was as if by some sort of unspoken mutual consent we were avoiding talking about our sexuality. I know, in my case, I wanted to see how my friendship with Steve developed before anything sexual happened between us.

I told the honors seminar about Steve and they were happy to welcome him as a sort of unofficial member of our group. I told Steve about the gathering the following Sunday at Bardwell's house and he immediately expressed interest in coming with me. From that point on our group rarely gathered on an informal basis without Steve being a part of it.  He didn't attend the formal class meetings, of course, but so far as our unofficial meetings were concerned, he quickly became a part of our little circle and was privy to all our secrets.

We began working out together as we'd discussed. We were about the same weight and height and we made good workout partners. Coach Campbell checked on me every week and was glad to see Steve was working with me.

"Working out together should be helpful for both of you," he said. "I'll be glad to check your numbers too, Steve. Just keep this boy on track."

My classes were going very well and I began to realize from comments teachers made that they'd compared notes on me and come to the conclusion that I had the potential to be an excellent scholar.

As a freshman football player I was able to get a free seat on the buses going to out of town games and had planned my time so I could attend the game in Athens, Georgia.

Steve considered making the trip but, not being on the football team, he would have had to pay for the bus ticket and motel, and chose to save his money so he could do something over spring break the flowing March.

In a way I was relieved that Steve wasn't going to Athens. He and I were becoming good friends and I kept thinking that it was more important for us to have a solid relationship on non-sexual grounds before anything physical happened between us. If he had gone we would certainly have shared a room and I wasn't sure I was ready for that yet. When I thought about it I realized that I had begun to assume that our relationship would eventually become sexual. The idea both excited me and worried me. I didn't know why but the thought of anything physical between us was somehow overpowering.

During workouts, the only time I was seeing him on a regular basis, Steve asked me a lot of questions about Joyce. I assured him that we really were just friends, but I guess on some level he might have been a little jealous and the idea of my going all that way to see a girl who was "just a friend" didn't ring true.

Without Steve going, I asked another freshman footballer to be my roommate in Athens. His name was Sammy Hill and he was so different from me that we made a rather comical pair. Sammy was a place kicker. He looked like a very unlikely guy to play football and the only reason he did was his amazingly skilled legs and feet. He would come on for the kick-off and then scamper to the side of the field. He was so small that if any of the opposing linesmen had ever caught up with him he'd have been mincemeat.

Sammy stood about five-seven and weighted about one hundred forty pounds. He had a slender but very well defined body and a head of shocking red hair. He was a good student and went on to med school and a very successful career as a medical researcher. He also had a quick tongue and an evil wit.

The bus left campus on Friday evening and drove all night, arriving in Athens the next morning in time for breakfast. Sammy and I had sat together, talking a while, then falling asleep. I was surprised how easy the trip was and how well I managed to sleep on the bus. I arrived a little stiff, but worked out the kinks in no time at all.

The bus took us to the motel where the team was staying but it was still too early for us to get into our rooms. One of the senior starters got everyone lined up in the parking lot and had us all doing stretching exercises. We must have looked like a pretty funny bunch, but it worked, my back loosened up and I guess everyone else got over their stiffness as well.

We had breakfast in the motel coffee shop and then tried again to get into our rooms. We were told it would be at least two more hours. Some of the guys went off into town and a few just hung around the motel. Someone asked if we could use the swimming pool, even though we weren't properly checked in yet, and was told we could. A few of us, including Sammy and I, changed in the men's restroom, and hit the pool. That was the first time I'd seen a motel with a central atrium. Now, of course, they are common, but in those days it was quite an innovation.

Soon someone found a ball and our swimming turned into a very rough game of water polo. As always with a bunch of young, athletic guys, any game was played hard and there was a lot of body contact. Sammy surprised me by his aggressiveness and his seeming fearlessness. All the other football players were much larger than him but he seemed to end up in the middle of even the most brutal situations.

At one point as I was jumping for the ball I was rammed in the back by one of the larger guys. At the time I didn't feel as if I'd been hurt but, as the day wore on, my muscles began to tighten, reminding me of the stiffness I'd felt after our long bus ride.

All in all it didn't last long but by the time we'd finished we all felt as tired as we did after a good football practice. There had been a few other people in the pool when we'd hit it, but they'd quickly scattered when they saw the rough game we quickly got into. After about half an hour we began to be aware of a few small kids hanging around the edge of the pool, watching our rough play and looking as if they wanted to get in the water.

We'd all had the burst of physical exertion we needed after the long bus ride, so declared the match a draw, and ended it.

I was anxious to hook up with Joyce. She had reserved a room at a different motel and I planned to go on to it as soon as possible. I knew she`d been on the train overnight and assumed she might be sleeping, if she`d been able to get in to her room. Finally, about eleven o`clock I called and, sure enough, I woke her.

"Can you give me `till noon?" she asked and I agreed to show up then.

Several of us were still standing around in wet bathing suits. I was happy to show off my increasingly muscular body but had really hoped for a hot shower before dressing and going on to meet Joyce. Finally, as the time was slipping by, I went into the men's restroom, shaved and dressed in the clothes I'd brought for the game, tan dress slacks, a light weight Ole Miss football pullover and my matching dark blue team blazer.

I'd told Sammy before the trip that my girlfriend was coming down from Hartford for the game and I might not show up in the room much on Saturday night. That got a wide grin and his unspoken approval. I couldn't help wondering what kind of a reaction I'd have gotten from him if I'd said I would be out late, or maybe not make it back at the room at all, because I was meeting another guy. It was an interesting question but I wasn't about to find out what his response would have been. The closets were deep in those days.

By a quarter to twelve we still hadn't been able to get in our rooms. "Go," Sammy said. "I'll put your stuff in our room."

I thanked him, put the few things I'd need in a backpack, and headed off on my own. I'd figured out that Joyce's motel was just three blocks from ours, so I hiked on over, getting to her door just at noon.

"My, you are anxious to see me," she smiled when she opened her door. I went it, threw my pack on the big, still unmade bed, and gave her a big hug. She kissed me squarely on the lips and we both just melted. I guess it was partly seeing her again after two months and partly our real affection for one another. It wasn't long before we were on the bed and then things got really passionate. We were kissing deeply and my hands had found their way up under her blouse and I was gently stroking her breasts through the fabric of her bra.

It was Joyce who had the good sense to stop it.

"Don't you think we are going a little too far and a little too fast?" she asked as she pulled back from my mouth.

I was breathing hard and had trouble thinking, let alone speaking.

"Let's go have lunch," Joyce said, extricating herself from my arms, standing, and straightening out her clothes.

We left her room and headed for the restaurant attached to her motel. By then it was after one o'clock and the place was packed. The hostess told us we'd have a thirty minute wait for a table but, just as we were deciding if we should stay or go on someplace else, Bo Stamps, one the Ole Miss starters, came over.

I introduced him to Joyce and he asked if we wanted to joint him and his girlfriend and one other couple at their table. "It's a table for six and you're very welcome. The other guy in the group was Bill Lang, also a junior and also a starting member of the Ole Miss team. Their girlfriends, Laura and Nancy, were both sophomores.

Joyce and I joined the others and we ended up having a great time. The game was at three o'clock and they'd rented a car and made plans for the rest of our stay; dinner after the game, then on to a club for dancing. We were encouraged to join them and, as it turned out, we spent the rest of the day and evening with them.

Since I was not expecting to play and wouldn't be suiting out, I'd gotten tickets for Joyce and me in the Ole Miss student block. It was a great game but we lost by one point, twenty-one to twenty.

After the game we hung around with Laura and Nancy, waiting for the guys to shower and dress and come out of the visiting team's locker room.

Sammy also found us and immediately introduced himself to Joyce and the other girls before I even had a chance to make the introductions.

"We're in room 207," he said to me, handing me a key. "I guess I'll see you when I see you," he added with a grin. He said goodbye to the girls and was off as quickly as he'd arrived.

"My goodness," Joyce said, "he's cute."

"Maybe a little short for you," I couldn`t help saying.

"Your roommate?"

"Yes, but I hardly know him. I'm beginning to get the feeling he's a real little devil."

"He looks too small for football," Nancy added.

I explained his presence on the team and it was just as I finished that Bo and Bill joined us.

The evening with them was a blast. It seemed very special to be accepted by two older guys, both very well known football players by that point in their college careers. The six of us packed into their small car with Bill and me in the back seat and Joyce on my lap and Nancy on Bill's. We went on to a great dinner and then to a club for dancing. It was one of those "Members Only" clubs which were common throughout the south in those days, as a way around the Blue Laws. We were all under age but it didn't seem to be a problem. We paid a five dollar "membership fee," which was really nothing more than a cover charge, and were admitted without any further questions.

Even though our clothes identified the three of us guys as Ole Miss footballers, we were welcomed and even complimented on the game. During the course of the evening several people came over to speak with us and a few even asked Bo and Bill for their autograph. They looked at me as if they weren't sure I was important enough to be asked to sign a cocktail napkin and I quickly assured them that I was just a freshman.

"Get his autograph anyway," Bo said. "In a year or two you'll be glad to have it."

None of us were drinking, the guys because we were all in training, the girls out of sympathy or principle, I wasn't sure which. We danced until the place closed at one o'clock and then returned to the motel where all three girls were staying.

We said our goodnights in the parking lot and went our separate ways. I took it for granted that Bo and Laura were off to her room, Bill and Nancy were off to hers. They seemed to assume that I was going on to Joyce's room and no further comments were made about plans for the rest of the night or Sunday.

In Joyce's room I tossed my blazer on a chair and jerked off my pullover. The room was warm and I was comfortable in my t-shirt. It was the first time Joyce had seen me without my pullover and I could tell from the way she was giving me glances that she was impressed with the obvious improvement in my physique.

We stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, just holding hands, and talked for over an hour. She told me about Trinity and I told her about Ole Miss. I told her about the honors seminar but didn't say anything about the topic of my project. I told her about Steve but didn't get into the question of my conflicting feelings for him.

Eventually Joyce rolled over, supporting herself on one elbow, leaned over me and gave me a rather chaste kiss on the lips. When I put my arm around her and tried to pull her into a closer embrace she backed away.

"It's not a good idea, Rob. We both know that."

"Yeah, I guess we do," I said, giving her a shy grin.

She leaned over me again and said, "Here, you need a souvenir." She turned my head to the right and kissed me on the left side of my neck. The kiss was long and I realized she was intentionally leaving me with visible evidence of our supposed intimacy.

"You clown," I said, trying to push her away. She giggled and began to actually nibble with her teeth. It had gone beyond kidding and was beginning to hurt.

"Hey, Joyce," I whined, "that's enough, okay?"

"Well, if you're such a bad sport, it will have to do." She rose up and then leaned down and gave me another quick peck on the lips. "Now, Mr. Ballinger, on your way."

"I'll be here at ten o'clock. We're going to breakfast before I put you in a taxi for the train."

"Fine, now leave. I need my beauty sleep."

I did kiss her again after I'd pulled on my sweater, and then left to walk back to the motel where I and the other team members were staying.

When I opened the door to room 207 it seemed completely dark. I could hear slow gentle breathing and knew Sammy was asleep. I closed the door behind me and stood just inside the door for a moment as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. A soft beam of light angled across a bed, and on it, Sammy's bare chest. He was uncovered and seemed to be wearing only boxer shorts.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim light I realized there was a line indicating the bathroom door and realized Sammy had left it on for me. I also realized there were two full sized beds, the one near the door, were Sammy was sleeping, and another just beyond it. I moved into the room and undressed, hanging my blazer in the wardrobe and then putting my other clothes over a chair beyond the beds.

I'd brought pajamas, not knowing what Sammy wore to bed and not wanting to appear immodest. But seeing he was only wearing boxers, I pulled the covers down and crawled into bed in just my shorts, as I usually did.
I think I slept, or at least dozed. My right shoulder and upper back had begun to hurt again and I had trouble finding a comfortable position. At some point I heard Sammy get up and head for the bathroom. I'd left the light on and when he opened the door the light streamed into the bedroom.

"Oh, hey, Rob," Sammy said. "I didn't realize you were back."

"Yeah, an hour ago, maybe."

He went on into the bathroom and closed the door. When he came out he left the door open a little so there was a dim light illuminating the bedroom. He came over and sat on the side of my bed.

"I didn't think you'd make it in until morning."

"Yeah," I said, setting up and rubbing my shoulder.

"So Joyce kicked you out."

"I guess you could say that."

"Well, she seems to have marked her territory," he grinned, reaching out to touch the enflamed spot on my neck. "Does it hurt?"

"No, my neck is fine, it's my right shoulder and back that are giving me fits."

"Let's see, he said, moving up along the bed until he was just behind me."

"Did you pull it doing something kinky," he laughed.

"No, smart ass, we didn't do anything kinky. We didn't do anything, really."

"Maybe the bus ride stiffened you up."

"It did, but I stretched that one out. I think this is from Pat Burns broadsiding me in the pool this morning."

"Lie down on your stomach and let me work on it."

I rolled over, grabbed a pillow and hugged it under me.

Sammy began to knead my stiff muscles with obvious skill. I could feel them gradually relax.

"You're good, Sammy. How come I didn't know that before?"

"Because I keep it a secret. Being a place kicker, I don't have that much to do on the football team, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I mumbled into the pillow.

"So all through high school I was the sort of de facto team trainer. I don't want to get put in that role again."

"Well, you're damn good."

"I know, but I like to choose my victims."

He continued to work the muscles of my back, moving slowly down until he reached my butt. He worked my rear a little through the bunched up fabric of my boxer shorts, then grabbed them by the waist band and began to pull them down. "Mind if I get these out of the way?"

"Suit yourself," I said, lifting my midsection up a little so he could pull them completely off.

Once he had full access to my body he moved into a kneeling position straddling my thighs and began to lean into my butt, putting his full weight behind the massage. He gradually worked down the muscles of my thighs, first one leg and then the other, never leaving one without attention for too long at a time. By the time he reached my feet, he had my legs bent up at the knee, exposing the soles and working deeply into the muscles, even working into the spaces between each toe. As he did so, he'd slipped off the end of the bed and was standing at the foot, again leaning into me. It felt wonderful. My only problem was that it felt too good. My cock, denied any attention for way too long, had begun to lengthen and harden under me, snaking up between my belly and the sheet.
I was hoping he'd just let me lie there on my back, but of course he didn't.

"Okay, turn over," he said as he continued to work deeply into the soles of my feet.

"Got a problem with that, Sammy," I said, still mumbling into the pillow.

"Turn, mister. I've seen hard cocks before."

"How'd you know?"

"I have that effect on guys."

"Yeah? All guys?"

"Yep, every one."

Well, I thought, he asked for it. I rolled over and my throbbing cock slapped up against my belly, pulsing with each beat of my heart. Oh, well, I thought, if he's worked like this on a lot of guys, he really must have seen it all before. I locked my hands behind my head, giving him full assess to my body.

Sammy continued to work on my feet, then he gently spread my legs and crawled up to kneel between them. His talented hands worked along my shins and then along the stringy muscles along the front of my thighs. As he did so, I began to realize he was making little sounds, humming sounds and then what seemed to be the beginnings of words.

"What you saying, Sammy?" I asked.

"Oh, Rob, I'm just loving the feel of your muscles."


"Oh, yeah." He seemed to hum a little more, then said, "I was standing at the door to the weight room the other day watching you and Steve Chapman. You looked like two gods, Rob, your bodies hot and sweaty and hard. I just wanted to join you, Rob, but there was just no way."

"You should have come in, Sammy. We'd have been glad to work out with you."

"Yeah, sure."

"Really, Sammy. When we get back to Ole Miss you come work out with us. You can build up your own body, man. You don't have to be envious of us."

"Oh, right, Rob." He'd reached the tops of my things and his hands spread out across the tight skin covering my hip bones. "Did you know I'm the tallest man in my family? Hell, I already outweigh my dad by twenty pounds."

"You can build some muscle, Sammy. Steve and I will work with you."

"Thanks, man, but it isn't going to happen. You two just got the right genes. I was born scrawny and I'll always be scrawny, no matter how much I work out."

"Well, we'll help you, man." He was crooning now, a slow steady crooning as his hands moved up my sides.
"It's okay thought. I just love being with you big, muscular guys."

"Well, Sammy," I said, "we love having you on the team."

"Yeah, like your little mascot, little Sammy, the guy who kicks the fucking ball and then runs for cover before any of the big bad guys can tear him up."

His hands had reached my pectoral muscles and were slowly spreading out, slowly kneading them. I was wondering if the guy was losing it. Maybe he was really nuts. I figured I could just pick him up and dump him on the floor if he got really weird. But in the meantime I had to admit what he was doing felt great. There was no doubt about it, Sammy had very talented hands.

As his hands moved further up my body his body came down to rest on mine. He was still wearing his boxer shorts but I could see he was a hard as I was. He gently laid down on me, his belly against mine, our cocks trapped between us.

Sammy's lips closed over my left tit, kissing it, sucking it. I moaned, not wanting to throw him off, but thinking this was really getting very strange, no matter how good what he was doing might feel.

I removed my hands from behind my head and gently stroked his back. My head went back into the pillow, loving what he was doing but not sure if I should stop him or not.

His lips moved around my neck until they touched the spot Joyce had raised. He kissed it gently and then again began to croon. "She marked you, didn't she, Rob? She got you hot and then sent you home. She got you wanting it and then she kicked you out."

"Sammy," I tried to say, "It wasn't really quite like ..."

My words were stopped by Sammy's lips on mine. He was kissing me, softly at first, but with increasing passion. My hands involuntarily moved up across his back to hold him closer to me.

He pulled back a little and when I tried to speak again he hushed me. "Don't talk, Rob. Just let me take care of you. I want to love you, even if you can't love me back, even if you end up hating me and calling me a filthy little queer." His cheek was resting on my chest now, his head pressed against my chin. His red hair was surprisingly thick. I'd expected it to be soft, like a woman's but it was heavy, thick and very masculine and it had a wonderful smell as if he'd shampooed with something infused with pine.

"She just hurts you, Rob," Sammy was saying now. "I know you think you need a woman, all you straight guys do. I can help you, Rob. Please let me help you. Let me make love to you. Just let me love your beautiful body, Rob."

With my left hand pressed firmly into the center of his back, I moved my right hand to his chin and turned him to face me. His eyes were black holes in the dim light, deprived of their usual sparkle.

"It's okay, Sammy." I whispered.

He quickly twisted from my grasp, slid off the foot of the bed and stood there for a moment looking down at me. Then he turned again and hurried to the bathroom and back, placing something beside me on the bedside table. When he looked back at me, he saw I was glancing to the side to see what he'd brought. It was a small blue jar of petroleum jelly. I looked back at him and he smiled shyly. He'd left the bathroom wide open and the room was flooded with harsh light. He was blushing.

"Too bright?" he asked.

"Yeah, a little."

He hurried over again and partly closed the bathroom door, still leaving it more open than it had been initially. The bed was now caught in a soft glow, which seemed to please him. He returned to stand at the foot of the bed. His eyes moved slowly over my body. I watched him, seeing on his face the soft, adoring expression of a supplicant. Finally his eyes reached mine. He smiled softly. "You are so beautiful, Rob. I just want to worship you."

"No," I said and saw a look of sudden fright move over his face as he thought I had changed my mind. "I'm not a god, Sammy. I'm just another guy."

He exhaled slowly and gently separated my legs. He again looked up the length of my body, his eyes fixing on my pulsing cock. A veritable pool of pre-seminal fluid had collected in the valleys of my abdomen.
Still standing at the foot of the bed, he slowly slid his boxers down a little, then stopped, his eyes again on mine.

"Is it all right?"

"Yes," I whispered.

He slid them down and off, then stood there naked, exposed, again looking over my body as if he were determined that not one detail would escape his examination.

Sammy really was a good looking kid. I knew we must be nearly the same age. In fact, I eventually learned he was almost six months older than me. Yet in my mind he was always a kid, a cute little guy who loved me, or at least loved my body, with a passion I had never known before. He was thin but his muscles were reasonably well developed and amazingly defined, as only a very thin guy's can be. His body was completely smooth with only small tufts of hair under his arms and a small but ample bush of reddish brown hair above his somewhat short and very thin dick. He slowly knelt between my widespread legs, then leaned forward, pressing his hands into the sheet on either side of my hips, supporting himself. He lowered his lips to my cock, gently, lovingly kissing its wet, pulsing head.

I moaned.

He slowly lapped the clear fluid from my belly and then began to work his way down the length of my shaft. In slow, wet, continuous strokes, his tongue moved down from crown to balls, then slowly up again, leaving the fuzz on my sack wet and slick. Again and again, he covered the length of my shaft, all the while emitting a sort of humming sound. I found myself moaning too, my own voice almost in harmony with his.

He moved from licking to sucking, taking the head of my shaft into his warm, wet mouth and slowly moving his lips down until its entire length had been consumed, its head buried deep in his tight throat. I had never experienced sex like this with Rick, my only basis of comparison. With Rick there had been an equality, even when I fucked him. There was also a shared pace, as if we had determined early in our relationship the speed at which we liked to move.

With Sammy I felt as if I had an almost disembodied role. I was passive as he served me and Sammy was completely in charge. His pace was so slow that at times it was maddening. At others, when I could relax and let him lead, I felt as if I were basking in the warmth of his adoration.

My body floated on an erotic cloud of his making. I drifted into an almost drugged state and them found myself yanked back to full awareness as he brought me to the brink of orgasm.

My moans were almost constant now. His humming set up little waves around my cock which threatened to put me over the edge. Three times he took me nearly to the brink of climax and then backed off until I could regain control. Finally, as I approached that edge the fourth time, I uttered one word, "please," spoken softly as I felt my body quake with the almost painful need to come. Sammy didn't acknowledge my plea but he didn't stop that time. Instead he just kept going and my cock pulsed deep in his throat, flooding him with my seed.

All my senses had slowed down. I had never experienced anything like it before. Sammy pulled off slowly as my cock went limp in his mouth. His tongue continued to tease it, stroking it, so that I never became completely soft. He moved up beside me and lay with head on my stomach, the head of my cock never far from his mouth. I stroked his head, running my fingers through his thick, slightly wavy hair. In the dim light it had lost its color and appeared dark brown, even black. With one hand he rubbed my thighs and with the other he gently kneaded my balls. We lay like that for a very long time, just gently touching, gently loving each other, flirting with the edge of sleep.

Eventually his unflagging attention began to have an effect on my cock. I felt it lengthen and harden in his mouth. His efforts speeded up and soon I was pulsing again, ready for whatever he had in mind.

Sammy got up, took the jar from the bedside table and worked the slick salve into his ass, coating the sides of his cleft and working a finger into the ring of his ass. He stood by the side of the bed as he prepared himself, our eyes locked, an otherworldly smile on his almost too pretty face.

I assumed he was preparing for me to fuck him but hadn't a clue how he wanted it. When he judged himself ready, he again moved over me, kneeling with his legs on either side of my hips and began to position himself so he could lower his body onto my cock.

I'd never really liked that way of doing it when Rick and I made love and I found it just as awkward with Sammy. He got the head of my cock just beyond the ring of his ass and there the process seemed to come to a grinding halt. I had very little control. I tried thrusting up into him but he seemed to rise when I would thrust, defeating my efforts. For his part, Sammy wasn't doing much at all. Maybe his ass was too tight for him to take my cock without discomfort. Perhaps it was because of the excruciating slowness with which he moved, but his attempts were running me crazy.

I considered reaching out for his shoulders and just forcing his lithe body down onto my cock. I considered it, but was afraid to do it, for fear of really hurting him.

"This isn't working, Sammy," I finally said. "If you really want this, let me do it my way."

"Oh god, Rob," he immediately began, "I guess you don't usually fuck like this."

"No, buddy, I'd do a lot better if we could just get you on your back."

"I should have realized you'd prefer to fuck me the way you'd fuck a girl."

"Or a guy, Sammy."

His eyes sprang open in disbelief. "You've fucked guys?"

"Well, not `guys,' Sammy, but `a' guy."

"Oh, man! I can't believe that! You've fucked another guy?"

"The world is just full of surprises, Sammy. Now, come on, pull off my cock and turn over. I can make this work for both of us."

It seemed counterintuitive but if we were both going to enjoy this and Sammy was going to experience a really superior fuck he had to get my cock out of his ass. He didn't seem too happy about it, but he did as I asked.

In fact, he rose off me so quickly there was an audible pop. I rolled to my right and he immediately planted himself in the center of my bed, feeling, I knew, the wet puddle of my stuff which had accumulated there. He was a good sport though and there wasn't a word of complaint.

I grabbed the lube and applied it generously to my rampant cock.

"Up," I said, grabbing his legs in my hands and lifting them up to rest on my shoulders. His little winking ass came into full view. I got a good bit of the lube on my index finger and gently worked it into him. His ass was very tight. No wonder the little guy was having trouble.

I got my finger in all the way, twisting it as I went, spreading the lube and massaging the ring of his sphincter. I felt it relax. I remembered how that had felt when I worked Rick's ass and was just as amazed at how a guy's ass can open up like that.

I worked a second finger into him and again felt the same surrender as his ass prepared to welcome me.

"Oh, yeah, Rob," he moaned. "That feels so fucking good."

"Nobody done that to you before?"

"No, man, I've only been fucked once and it wasn't all that good. The guy was drunk and I really had to do all the work."

"You must have wanted it bad, Sammy."

"I want this more."

I leaned down and kissed him on the lips and it was clear that really surprised him. I knew what he was thinking, straight guys just aren't supposed to kiss other guys, even if they let other guys kiss them. There were a lot of surprises in store for Sammy but the night wasn't long enough for all of them. His eyes shot open again and his cute face seemed go glow with pleasure. I couldn't help but like the little guy.

"Oh, man," he groaned again. I wasn't sure if it was a response to what my fingers were doing, or to the kiss.
I had three fingers in him now, twisting them slowly, feeling his muscles relax. I knew he was more than ready for what I had.

"Ready, Sammy," I whispered, smiling down at him.

"Oh, yeah, Rob, yeah!"

I moved forward a little and positioned the head of my cock at the now relaxed opening of his hot ass. As I leaned forward, pushing my cock slowly into him, he moaned again, a long, low, contented moan as if his life was now finally fulfilled.

"Oh, yeah," he whispered. His eyes were sparkling and he had an almost beatific appearance.

When I was all the way in him I leaned forward and again kissed his lips. As I lowered my full weight onto him I sensed again how slight he was. I wondered if I wouldn't crush him but he seemed very happy to have me on him.

His legs were locked tightly around my body and we began to move together in accord. He was lively now and very animated. He moved and twisted under me as he tried to lift himself to meet my strokes. My greater weight made it difficult or impossible for him to move much but it was clear that his whole being was going into the effort. I loved the feel of my cock in his tight, hot ass.

We moved together as the rhythm built. I moved my lips from his mouth to his dimpled chin and then over to his left ear, where my wet tongue burrowed into him. He was making a sort of syncopated sound, a moan, perhaps, but one being propelled by my thrusts.

"Yeah, Rob," He said again and again. I felt my own climax building and knew he must also be close. Then, with no real warning, the muscles of his ass clinched tightly around my cock and I felt his hot seed pulsing forth between us. It was more than enough to send me over the edge, soaring into the thin air of orgasm. I felt my own seed explode in him, flooding his gut as a deep guttural growl escaped my throat.

"Yes," I heard one of us say, "yes!"

We slept, or at least dozed. We woke and rather painfully separated our fused bodies. I rolled onto my side and slipped into a deep, contented slumber which carried me well into Sunday morning.

"What time is it?" I asked with a start as I woke. I had a date with Joyce for brunch and then to take her to the railroad station.

"Almost nine," Sammy said, his voice more groan than discernable words."

I bounded from the despoiled bed and quickly showered. As I stood naked, shaving, Sammy wandered over to the bathroom and stood equally bare, leaning against the door.

"You're going to see her, right?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I have a date with Joyce at ten o'clock and then I'm going to take her to the station. Her train leaves a little after noon."

"You know our bus is leaving at two." It was a statement, not a question, and his voice sounded sullen.

"Yeah, I'll be back in time."

"Do you want me to check out and take our bags to the lobby? We were told to be out of the rooms by noon."

"Would you, Sammy? That would help a lot." I looked over at him and saw the growing frustration playing across his face. "Look, Sammy, I have to see Joyce off. I'll be back here in time for us to get some lunch in the coffee shop before the bus leaves."

"But not in time to..."

"For us to have sex again before we have to get out of the room."



"Okay, I guess I understand."

"We're friends, Sammy. Joyce and I are just friends, very good friends, but nothing more."

"It's none of my business anyway, right?"

I finished shaving, rinsed my razor and put it back in its case. "What we did last night, Sammy..."


"What we did was wonderful. But I don't know if we'll ever do it again."

"I do understand I have no claim on you, Rob. I really do understand that."

"Claim or no claim, Sammy, I hope we can be friends, good friends."

"Me too," he said. He turned and walked back into the bedroom as I reached for a towel, finished drying and then wrapped it around my waist. When I went out into the bedroom he was lying on his own bed, the one nearer the window. He was still naked and his body looked pale and thin in the dim light filtering through the closed drapes.

I dressed without saying anything more and they went over to him. I knelt down by the side of his bed and kissed him gently on the lips.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"No, thank you," I said as I rose and left, pulling the door closed tightly behind me.

My life, I realized, as I stepped out into the bright autumn day, had suddenly become a lot more complicated.

To be continued.