By John Yager
This is the thirty-seventh chapter of an ongoing series. Thanks again for all your comments on this series.
I'm continually surprised and pleased by your reactions to this story. I read all of them and I try to respond promptly to each message. If there is a delay in my response it's usually because I'm traveling or just overwhelmed with work.
Absolute Convergence has raised a lot more questions than it's answering and I certainly don't claim to know the answers. It's my hope that by raising questions I may prompt more consideration of issues facing gay people in the USA and throughout the world.
There are several questions which many readers continue to ask. Chief among them has to do with my own background and experience, and the degree to which any one of the characters in Absolute Convergence is autobiographical. As I have said before in these introductions, this story is fiction. Of course I draw on my own experiences but I have made no attempt to model any single character on myself or on anyone I know.
Many readers have asked if any of the stories I've posted on NIFTY are autobiographical. The answer to that question is more complex. Several of the stories are drawn directly from my own experiences and a few are only thinly veiled accounts of actual events in my life.
The first story I posted on NIFTY was London Autumn, which was submitted on June 8, 2001. It is more or less autobiographical, as are At Dusk the Wind Changes, Bradley, Kitchen Conversations, Lisbon Weekend, Soren and Twenty-One Ten .
I would prefer not to give more information about my personal life, but do appreciate the interest expressed by readers.
The Tanner's Tales series is based on e-mail messages and subsequent telephone conversations with the person I have called Tanner. He represents the events related in that series to be factual and his own experiences.
As I have stated above, Absolute Convergence is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. Except for the references to actual historical events, any similarity to actual persons or occurrences is entirely coincidental. This is obviously a work of gay erotic fiction. If you shouldn't be reading such material, or if such material isn't to your liking, please exit now.
Andrew has continued to give much needed proofing and editorial help, for which I am sincerely grateful. I could not post chapters as quickly as I've been doing without his invaluable assistance.
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've posted on NIFTY can be found by looking under my name in the NIFTY Prolific Authors lists. If you'd like to receive e-mail notification of subsequent postings, please let me know by sending your request to the e-mail address below.
I woke to the glow of early morning light streaming through the bedroom windows and the warmth of Sammy's body cuddled against mine. At some point we'd managed to pull a sheet over our naked bodies, all the cover we needed during the warm, humid Gulfport night.
As I rolled onto my back and stretched my stiff arms and legs, he moaned his complaints and moved closer.
"Hey, sleepyhead," I said softly as I brushed my fingers through his red hair.
"Leave me alone," Sammy groaned. "I need more sleep."
I rolled out of bed, gave him a loving pat on his cute naked butt and headed for the kitchen. I was still bare ass too, but that had more or less become accepted house dress.
To my surprise I found Steve making coffee. He was also naked, and alone.
"Hi, stud," he said looking over his shoulder. "You look like shit."
"Well, don't call the kettle black, fellow," I said, doing to him what I'd just done to Sammy, but a good bit harder. On one level I was amused, as I often was by Steve's banter. On another level I was just plain mad, thinking about the way he'd treated Sammy. He'd been too hard on the kid, even if Sammy wanted it, or thought he wanted it. Steve had just played too rough.
He turned and gave me a big grin, which was a surprise. Any aggressive action, especially a good hard slap on the butt, usually provoked a retaliatory response from Steve, even if it was only a little friendly ass grabbing.
"I guess you had a good night," Steve said, turning back to the coffee pot.
"I did, thank you. You?"
"Interesting." He finished what he was doing and turned around to face me again, leaning back with his bare ass against the edge of the counter. I couldn't help noticing that his cock was at about half mast, dangling down soft but long over his big balls. "So how many times did you fuck Sammy's tight ass?"
"I didn't," I said. "He fucked me."
"Yeah?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Interesting."
"Why's that?" I asked, turning a kitchen chair around backward and sitting down straddling it, resting my crossed arms over its back.
"Well," he said, a slight grin flickering across his lips, "I got fucked, too."
Score one for Daniel!
And speaking of Daniel, it was just at that moment that he came into the kitchen to join us. He, unlike Steve and me, looked freshly showered and shaved. Also, unlike Steve and me, he was wearing a pair of very sexy running shorts and carrying a pair of white socks and running shoes.
"Gentlemen," he said, sounding exceptionally chipper.
"Hi, guy," I said, flashing him a big grin. "Are you off for a run?"
"Yeah, I'm feeling the need for a little exercise."
"It sounds like you more than got your share last night, from what Steve was telling me."
"Well, yeah," he grinned, "but my legs need a workout."
"Didn't you just shower?" Steve asked.
"And shaved and used my deodorant and a little aftershave. Want a sniff?"
"Sure," I said, rising from my perch. I walked over to give him a hug.
"How come Daniel gets a hug and all I got is a very painful slap on the ass?" Steve whined.
"You can have a hug, too, little boy," I said, "when you smell as nice as he does."
"He won't smell all that nice when he gets back from his run," Steve said, turning back to pour coffee into a pair of mugs.
"No, but you never know who I may run into along the way."
"Well, I'll wait till you get back, Daniel, then if you want another shower, maybe we can take one together."
"Um, that sounds nice," he said, finishing the double knot on his remaining shoe and standing up to leave, "unless I get a better offer on my run."
With that he was out and on his way.
"Cocky bastard," Steve snarled, but he was grinning the whole time.
"Well, maybe he has something to be cocky about, mister, if he succeeded in fucking your cute ass last night."
"Well, yeah," Steve said, not coming up with a more original response on short notice.
"So did you enjoy it?"
He handed me one of the steaming mugs and took a slow deliberate sip from his own. Only then did he answer. "Yeah," he said, again with a flicker of a grin, "I enjoyed it a lot."
"Good," I responded, "me too."
"Yeah? Sammy isn't big enough to pleasure a Myna Bird."
"He did fine." I took another sip of the steaming coffee and then added, "it was his first time, you know."
"I didn't, but I'm not surprised. I never figured he'd want to be a top."
"Well, life is full of surprises."
Steve looked at me for several minutes as we sipped our coffee. "So where's Sammy now?"
"Still sleeping. He probably won't get up `till noon."
"How long do you think Daniel will be gone?"
"Oh, half an hour at least."
He looked at me again and I saw his cock had lengthened.
"So what are you thinking, Mr. Chapman?"
"I was thinking I'd sort of like for you to finish what Daniel started last night."
"So he fucked you but you didn't get off?"
"He fucked me and I did get off. I'd just like to do it again with your cute cock up my ass."
"I think that could be arranged."
We abandoned our coffee and headed for the bedroom Steve and Daniel had shared. The sheets had been pulled up but the bed still looked well used. As soon as we were in the room Steve shut the door behind us, then grabbed me from behind and started kissing my shoulders, moving from one side to the other as he tongued my skin and pressed his body against mine. I could feel his cock pulsing into the cleft of my ass.
"Who's getting fucked here?" I snapped as I reached back to grasp his buttocks and pull him against me.
"You're fucking me," he snarled as he continued to run his wet tongue up the right side of my neck and then into my ear.
I turned in his embrace and pressed my lips against his. I kissed him hard, forcing my tongue deep into his mouth, into his throat. Our bodies reeked of sweat and sex and neither of us had shaved since the previous morning. Our stubble scratched as we continued to kiss. If felt hot and I wanted to take him. An image of Sammy's bruised body flashed through my head.
What followed was harsh, driving. I shoved him onto the bed and then stood looking down at him. He was on his back, his legs spread, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breath.
"Do it, fuck me," he demanded.
I slowly walked around the side of the bed, took a tube of lube from the bedside table and then walked back, just as slowly, to the foot of the bed. I stood looking at him as he glared at me. My cock was raging. I'd never felt so hard. His own rod was fully erect, arching up against his abs, its unnaturally large head wet and dripping. His balls has already drawn up into his body as if he were already on the edge of coming. I stared at him, feeling as if I could make him come by the force of my will alone, as if I could make him come by just continuing to look at him.
"Fuck me, damn it!"
I yanked his legs apart and knelt on the bed between them.
"Yeah," he said, sensing that his own needs would soon be met.
I jerked his left leg further to the side and then lifted it to my shoulder. When he started to lift his right leg I shoved it down.
"Not yet, you bastard," I growled, wanting him to know I was in charge. I shoved his left leg off my shoulder and it landed with enough force to rock the bed.
I moved over him, my crotch pressed against his. I could feel our cocks pulsing together. While still supporting most of my weight on my arms, I lowered my lips to kiss him. It was a hard, demanding kiss, a possessive kiss and he yielded to it. Again I thrust my tongue into him so deep that he gagged but even then I didn't withdraw. My chest still hovered above his, not touching him, not making contact except where my crotch pressed against his and where our mouths met.
He was groaning now, but when he tried to put his arms round my torso I broke the kiss.
"No," I said. I couldn't let him pull me down onto him. I knew if I felt my chest pressing against his I'd lose control. I couldn't risk losing my domination over him. My own will had its limits.
Steve spread his arms out fully to either side of his body, accepting my command, making no further effort to hold me. I lowered my mouth to his again and rested my lips over his, not trying to enter him.
He whimpered, begging for more. The muscles of my arms were tingling. I knew I couldn't hold myself in that position for much longer. I arched my back and lifted myself back into a kneeling position. We were both breathing hard. Steve's eyes were wide and his mouth was gaping. I grabbed the lube and spread it over the fingers of my right hand.
I shoved one finger into his ass and found it loose. Daniel had fucked him hard. Now Steve was wanting more from me. He must have liked it. I removed my finger and used the lube on my own cock, spreading the cool cream over the length of it as I continued to glare at him.
"Daniel must have fucked you hard," I glowered.
"Yeah." An evil grin flashed across his lips.
"Last night. Again this morning."
"And he made you come."
"Yeah." The grin again. "Both times."
"You liked it and you still want more."
"Yeah, Robby, fuck my ass. Make me feel it."
"You filthy slut."
"You know me, stud."
I wanted to fuck him to distraction. I wanted to mark his body the way he'd marked Sammy's. I wanted to give him pain, real pain, so he'd feel it for days.
"Now," I said, lifting his legs to my shoulders.
"Yeah, do it."
I rammed into him. There was no subtlety, no attempt to ease the entry, no desire to make it pleasurable for him. I lowered my chest onto his and pounded into him again and again.
My cock was bigger than Daniel's, longer, thicker. Even though Steve had been opened by Daniel's fucking, his ass still felt satisfyingly tight to me. I was getting off on the yielding wetness of him, knowing I was feeling Daniel's seed on my cock.
Our bodies exuded the strong male odors of sex and sweat and physical endurance. As I pounded into him, Steve's rectum quivered and he emitted a loud farting sound. I could smell the musky odor of Steve's gaping ass and was even more aroused by it. I loved knowing I was where Daniel had so recently been.
Soon we were rutting like deranged beasts, my entire being driving into him, his rising in response.
It took a strong man to lift himself to my thrusts the way Steve was doing. The way we moved felt like combat but there was some innate cooperation in it. As the speed and power of my fucking increased, his own body kept pace. His massive thighs were locked around my waist and his muscular arms now held me to him. My own hips were moving like a numismatic hammer, pounding my swollen cock into him as deep as it would go. I lowered my mouth to his shoulder and bit hard into the ridged flesh.
"Yeah," he moaned, wanting more.
"You fucking whore," I growled into his ear as I closed my teeth on the soft lobe. "You filthy fucking slut."
"Yeah, Rob," he moaned, "you know it."
"Yeah, I know it, you bastard," I said, slamming into him again and again. "I couldn't believe what you did to Sammy."
"I didn't give him anything he didn't want." He groaned under me.
"So do you want this?" I growled as I rose up and pummeled his sides and chest.
"Yeah," he moaned again, "oh, yeah."
I had never fucked so hard. I felt as if my whole body had taken on a life of its own, beyond my control, beyond sense or caring. I was so hard. I fucked him so hard. Yet, somehow the release we both sought seemed to elude us. This had ceased to be about sex. It had certainly ceased to be about caring or love or even friendship. Steve and I were locked in some ritual of anger and self loathing and disgust. I was getting off on hurting him and he was getting off on being hurt.
Then, in an instant everything changed. I looked down at him and saw tears streaming from his eyes. My heart stopped. My mind went blank. The pounding motions of my hips, of my cock driving into him, came to a screeching halt.
"Steve," I moaned. "Steve?"
His silence was all it took to send me over the edge. I felt my own body tense and in a second I was coming. I felt my cock expand and then it exploded. My hot seed shot from me into him, deep into him. My seed and Daniel's mixed in Steve's body as if at that moment the three of us became one.
"Oh, god, Rob," Steve sobbed as his own body convulsed and his cock shot forth ribbons of his semen over his hard, pulsing abs.
I collapsed on him, felt his arms again come around me, hugging my body to his. Our breathing was labored. My eyes stared down into his.
Slowly, our breathing steadied and Steve's sobs subsided. I rose up a little and examined him. There was blood on his shoulder and his ear. When I moved a little I could feel him tense as if his whole body was sore.
I looked into his troubled eyes and whispered, "you going to be okay?"
"Yeah," he whispered back. "I'll be fine."
To be continued.