Lisbon Weekend

By John Yager

The following story is a work of gay erotic fiction depicting sexual acts between consenting adult men in an ongoing relationship. If such stories are not to your liking or if you are not of legal age to read such stores in your jurisdiction, please exit now.

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

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without 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.

The opportunity had been called to my attention about a year ago. For six weeks I and several of my key staff had worked on it, knowing it was an excellent deal, but finding no way to make it fly. The time just wasn't right and I had learned long ago that when faced with such situations, you had better back off. If it was going to happen it would happen. If not, don't get an ulcer over it.

Then, as had happened two or three times in the past, the deal was presented to me again and all the pieces just seemed to fall into place. The president of the European company called me on Monday. They had not only rethought my offer, but had gotten the deal over some of the most significant hurdles with their regulatory agencies. If I could meet with them within the next few days we could work out the few remaining issues and the fourth largest data transmission company in Europe would be mine.

My administrative assistant was on the phone in minutes making the necessary arrangements for funds transfers. One of my secretaries was making airline and hotel reservations at the same time. While all that was going on, I was on the phone trying to contact David Winthrop, my closest friend, to let him know my travel plans. It was our long standing understanding that if I was to be on the European side of the Atlantic I would let him know and he would make every effort to join me, even if it was only for a short time together. Conversely, if David was heading for anyplace in North America, I would try to find a way to join him.

David and I had been friends, and a great deal more, since the Sixties, when I had been assigned to London as a fledgling staff member of a large American conglomerate. I was just out of a graduate business program and about as innocent to the ways of the world as anyone could be. David, two years older than me and a great deal more worldly, had just joined a private banking company in the City, a company he now headed.

I tried every number I had for David, to no avail. Finally I got off a quick e-mail, had my people send two wires, and headed home. On the way I called Joyce and let her know how my plans for the next few days had suddenly changed. She was tied up from Wednesday through the weekend as chair of a charity benefit, a women's golf tournament which was named after her mother and held each year at our country club. But that particular morning she was free and would start packing for me. She also expected to drive me to the airport for my late afternoon flight.

By ten o'clock that night I was settled into a first class seat for the nine hour flight to Lisbon. Dinner had been served and I was trying to get a little sleep. The next few days would be critical and I needed to be as alert as possible. By the time we were taxiing to the terminal the next morning, it was nine o'clock, Lisbon time and I had managed to get at least six hours of reasonably sound sleep.

Two men from da Seva's office were waiting for me when I came through customs and we were off to my hotel in a rather ominous black Mercedes limousine. Our first meeting, I was told, was at one, so I would have time to rest a little before the car returned for me. At the hotel I checked for messages and found confirmation from our London bank. Our London bank, I should add, is Shield's, and David Winthrop is its head. Funds had been received and were being held, pending my instructions. There were no further messages and, most important for me, no reply from David. It was an hour earlier in London, so probably too early to call his office. I headed down the hall from the imposing living room of the large suite, found the bedroom and stripped.

The hot shower revived me and, still naked, I returned to the living room and connected my lap computer. I found that my secretary, always efficient and always looking out for me, had placed a folder of European access numbers in my briefcase, and I was quickly able to get on line. There was the usual batch of messages in my in box, but nothing from David. By then it was nearly eleven so I dialed the hotel operator and requested his London number. Within minutes I was talking with David's secretary and learned that he had left the previous Thursday for Prague and she did not know when he would be back. I left my hotel number with her and decided there was nothing more I could do. Eventually David would check in with his London office or read his e-mail. One way or another he would learn where I was and join me if he could. It was just a question of whether he would get the message before I had to head back to the States.

The meetings with de Seva and his people went smoothly and by late Thursday morning we had the framework of the deal worked out. I called London and arranged to have a rather considerable sum placed in an escrow account and left it for the lawyers, mine and de Seva's, to work out the details. There was nothing more for me to do but let my people in the States know that we had a deal.

Back at my hotel the large suite seemed empty and impersonal. I checked my e-mail again and found no messages from David. I went for a walk and contemplated calling the airlines and booking a flight home for the following morning, but thought better of it and decided to give it another day. Back at the hotel there was a message from de Seva asking me to join him and a few of his key people for a celebration dinner that evening. I called and as politely as possible, turned him down. It was their party anyway and I would only be in the way. If I couldn't be with David, I preferred to be alone.

At six I considered taking a shower but just stripped and lay down naked on the huge bed. Big beds always seem to accentuate my loneliness when I am alone. I dozed a little, drifted into a dreamless sleep, and woke feeling as if my tiredness had gradually receded. But tiredness had been replaced by a new sensation less simple to define, a mixture of want and loneliness, of desire and longing, all overlaid with a restlessness for which I had no cure.

Still lying naked on the bed, realizing that I had woken in a state of arousal, I heard a distant knock. It was coming from the living room and I realized it was someone at the main door to the suite. Had de Seva sent someone for me after all? Would he not be satisfied unless I joined his party to celebrate our deal? I was in no mood for such festivities, but wrapped a towel around my waist and proceeded down the hall to the living room door. Peeking through the little observation lens, I saw a white clad waiter standing beside a well laden room service cart. I'd placed no order but again assumed de Seva was responsible.

Despite my immodest garb, I opened the door and was greeted by the waiter. "Good evening, sir." he said, his English beautifully accented by his soft Portuguese vowels. "I have brought you the supper ordered by your friend." Still assuming de Seva was my benefactor, I turned toward the bedroom to retrieve my wallet so I could give the waiter an appropriate tip, when David stepped through the open door from the hall. "This friend, sir," the waiter said as he came in with the service cart.

"Why don't you put all that in the refrigerator," David said to the young man as he handed him a tip. "I think we may wait a bit to eat." I stood in open mouthed shock and David just smiled knowingly. He waited with his usual British poise as the waiter did as he'd been told, took his tip and left. "You look surprised to see me, Tom. I was invited, wasn't I?" Before I could throw my arms around him and welcome him properly, he turned and took off the jacket of his impeccably cut blue pinstriped suite and hung it over the back of a chair. Then turning, he held out his arms. I threw my arms around him and drew him to me.

"I'd more or less given up on you getting my messages."

"I know. I talked to your secretary in the States an hour ago. She also told me congratulations are in order."

"Yeah, I got the deal worked out with de Seva this morning."

"And you transferred a rather handsome sum from your account at my bank to confirm it. I gather both you and de Seva are happy men."

"Well, I don't know about de Seva, but I'm a lot happier now that you're here."

"You won't believe the difficulties your surprise visit caused. I hope you intend to make it all worth my while."

"I can probably do that." David was kissing my ear, which made it hard to think and more difficult to speak. "The last I heard you were in Prague."

"Was and am, so far as any of my own people know. I got your message late yesterday and managed to put my meetings on hold 'till Monday morning. I rather think the Czechs liked the idea of a long weekend." I followed the curve of his neck with my tongue and began to feel his body respond. My own arousal had caused the towel to slip from my hips and fall to the carpet. "I tried to get through to you by phone and finally just gave up and got on a plane. I assume, having gotten me here, you are expecting to spend the weekend with me before heading home."

"You bet. I guess we'll both have to head out Sunday evening."

"Yes, I have a seven o'clock flight to Paris and a connection back to Prague." He broke away and began to loosen his tie. "It looks as if you were just heading for the shower. Now we can take one together."

"Then bed."

"Then bed. Then a little cold supper and then bed again."

"What a plan!"

"Yes, I rather liked it."

David took his jacket and followed me to the bedroom, where he removed his shoes and slacks with frustrating care, hung his clothes neatly in the wardrobe and finally stood before me in all his naked magnificence. "My bags are with the concierge. I'll have them sent up later."

"I doubt if there's any hurry."

"None," he smiled and we again embraced. How wonderful it was to feel our naked bodies press together, to feel the hard muscles of his back and shoulders as I ran my hands over him.

"Shower first, if you please."

"Your wish is my command."

"Hold that thought, Tom. We'll get back to it momentarily."

I led the way to the huge bathroom and stepped into the generous shower. David held back as I adjusted the water and then joined me, rotating our bodies so we were both quickly drenched.

"Um, I like the fragrance of this soap," he said as he ran it over his chest and then over mine.

"I think I like it better now that you're here."

"Sweet Tom. I know I would have been very disappointed if you'd headed back to the States and I'd not been able to spend some time with you."

We finished our shower and dried each other. Back in the bedroom, I pulled back the covers on the bed and we lay down on the crisp white sheets. We always seemed to take the same position, David on my left. He rolled over onto his side and, supporting himself on his right arm, began to stroke my chest with the left hand.

David and I had been lovers and best friends for over thirty years and the habits of our lovemaking were so well established that we moved into them like dancers in a well rehearsed ballet. But despite our longstanding patterns, it was always fresh, always full of expectation.

"Too long, Tom," David said as he lowered his mouth to my chest.

"Almost four months."

"I thought we agreed we'd not go so long between our trysts."

"Too many claims on our time."

"Maybe it's time we considered cutting back, making more time for ourselves."

"Exactly how would you propose we do that?"

"I don't know exactly. Maybe it's time you and Joyce really did buy a house in the Bahamas and Bess and I buy one next door. You and I could buy a boat together and do a lot of fishing."

"Our wives could find some other ladies and start a bridge club or something."

"I'm sure they'd find any number of ways to keep themselves occupied. It would probably take them at least a year to furnish and decorate two new houses to their satisfaction."

"Just think of all the fishing we could do!"

"Um," David agreed.

"Would our boat be big enough to have bunks and a galley?" I asked.

"Of course. And a head with a reasonable shower."

"Not the usual shower you find on boats."

"No, huge, big enough for both of us."

"We'd probably have to have it custom built."

"That's all right, you can afford it."

"We aren't going halves?"

"Oh, if you insist. I guess I could manage to pay my share."

"This boat, David, would it have at least one really big bunk?"

"Absolutely," he said as his left hand moved down to my groin. He began to twist his fingers through my pubic hair. He moved further, ran his fingers over my already hard cock, and then fondled my balls. "It would be the big rather oddly shaped bunk in the bow of the ship, wider at the head and narrower and rather rounded at the foot."

"So now it's a ship we're buying, no longer just a boat."

"Dream big, my love."

"With my money."

"No, I always pay my share."

"So this ship we're talking about will be big enough for us to go out to sea for several days at a time."

"Yes, several." His lips were now brushing my cock, his tongue flitting over the wet slit.

"Would we need a crew?"

David rose up a little and turned to smile at me. "Several rather hunky boys, I should think. I'll be in charge of that. I'll hire only seventeen year old blonde Danes, boys with a great deal of sailing experience and a barely adequate command of English. We'll get them matching uniforms, tight white shorts and matching polo shirts with the name of our vessel embroidered on the pocket. We'll have to think of an appropriate name, Tom."

"You aren't developing a wandering eye, are you, my love?" I gasped as he engulfed me.

Our language moved from the merely verbal to a rather more physical form as our bodies took over and words were no longer necessary or even possible. I moaned involuntarily, not able to contain my response to the treatment David was giving my cock.

I reached out to tug David around to me. He reversed his direction on the bed, never releasing my cock from his mouth. I rolled over a little onto my side, bringing my mouth to his cock, drawing him in. Oh, the old Seventy Minus One, the classic yin and yang. For David and me it had become the gateway to our shared rapture. I drew David's pulsing cock deep into my mouth, felt it push against the entry to my throat and let it in. I swallowed, causing the muscles of my throat to tighten around him and a shudder of pleasure run through his body. I held him close, our bodies pressed together, our mouths devouring each other, feeling the pulse of his heart, feeling his building pressure in his cock. Yes, I thought, this was where I wanted to be, where I wanted David to be. Our bodies were a pledge of so much more, the tangible evidence of all we felt for one another. I could grow old like this, I thought, caring and being cared for, having David with me, in me.

David's moans echoed my own. I felt the pressures rise, felt the growing wonder and the certainty of our release. My own climax swept over me and I felt David's throat constrict as he took me in and held me. His own body responded in kind, sending wave after wave of his seed into my throat, comforting me, soothing me, reassuring me that he was mine, just as I was his.

"Um," David smiled as he turned in the bed and brought his lips to mine. "Wonder of wonders."


"I never cease to be surprised by the sheer joy of it."


He brought his head to my chest and rested there. I stroked his head, combing his soft hair with my fingers. His hand found my still wet and pulsing cock and held it, stroked it, not allowing it to soften, demanding its continued erection. As usual, after our first assault, we slept a little, his muscular body pressed against me, I reveling in his warmth.

When we woke it was dark out, the suite was far too cool and the air conditioner was making vicious sounds. I rose as quietly as possible and found the thermostat. It was set on eighteen degrees, which took me a moment to translate into Fahrenheit. In any case, it was too cool and I turned it up.

"It's freezing in here," David moaned from the bed.

"Sorry, lover," I said. "I was trying to warm it up without waking you. I put it on twenty-two. Is that warm enough?"

"It is if you'll just get back in bed."

I did as he asked and we snuggled together. I ran my hands over him, amazed as always at the hard muscles which punctuated his back. My body moved against his and we were both instantly erect.

"This is very nice," he said. "Do you want to fuck or shall we get up and eat and save it for later?"

"What's wrong with now and later?"

"Nothing that I know of."

I rolled over onto my back, taking him with me. My legs spread and I thrust my body up against his, maneuvering so that the hard head of his cock was aligned with my ready ass. I wanted to be fucked.

"Not so fast. If I remember correctly it's my turn."

"You have a long memory."

"When it's to my advantage, I do."

"So you want me top you," I smiled. "Can we wrestle for it?"


He swung his graceful body off me and out of the bed. I heard him rummaging in the bathroom for a few moments and then he was back.

"I don't mind at all being on top," he said as he pressed his weight against me. "I just want your cock in my ass. I think I want to ride you."

"Oh, we must be speaking in equestrian terms," I said as he adjusted himself to me.

"If by that you mean bareback, I would have to agree."

"So you get to be on top but I play the dominant partner."

"Something like that," he said as he reached back for my dick and brought it to the entrance to his ass.

"Shouldn't I use some lubricant?"

"No need," he said as he raised up and then forced himself back and down onto my hard pole. "I packed enough in my bung for the both of us."

A long, slow, deep growl came from David's slightly parted lips as he slowly impaled himself on me. I felt every inch of my cock slowly slide into him, or rather, felt him slide down over every inch of my cock until he was sitting on my groin and I was as deep in him as it was possible to go.

"Yes," David hissed as his butt made contact with my pubic hair.

"Oh fucking yes," I agreed.

He reached forward, grasping my upper arms with his hands, holding me down against the bed, and began to move. His body rose and fell, slowly at first, but then with gradually increasing speed.

"Flex those biceps for me, Tom, you know your hard muscles send me into a rage of sheer horniness."

I locked my hands behind my head and did as he asked, feeling some pride as well as some added sexual energy as the hours I spent in the gym resulted in the hard swelling of my arms.

With each rise and descent of David's ass, I felt the head of my cock pass over the hard knot of his prostate and with each encounter, he moaned again, sending little waves of pleasure through both our bodies.

He was reaching climax. I knew the signs. Then on an especially hard down stroke, he froze, holding himself perfectly still as he fought to regain control. Slowly, as his impending climax subsided a little, he began to move again.

The second time he moved too close to orgasm and I felt him go over the edge. His body trembled and his cock erupted, sending ribbons of his white semen up over my chest.

"Oh bloody yes," He moaned.

David's climax set me off and I also erupted, sending my seed deep into his gut. David leaned forward, licking every bit of his seed into his mouth.

Then his body was on mine again, the full marvelous weight of him, pressing into me. We dozed a while but woke to dine ravenously on the wonderful meal David had ordered. He had wisely ordered cold dishes and a wonderful cold Portuguese wine.

Still later we pulled on jeans and sport shirts and tennis shoes and walked for miles along Tagus, reveling in our brief time together.

The weekend was a blur, making love in the huge bed of my hotel suite, eating at small cafes which lined the port. By Sunday afternoon we were so tired that David actually envied me my much longer flight and the chance it gave me for much needed sleep.

At the airport late Sunday, we sat in David's gate area waiting for his flight to Paris to board. My flight for New York was scheduled for three hours later than his and I wanted to see him off.

"Will you look into the boat, or shall I?" he asked.

"You're serious."

"Absolutely. Especially the part about the young hunky boys we'll hire as the crew."

"I rather liked the part about the oddly shaped bunk in the bow."

"You know,"  he smiled, "we could call her `The Wandering Eye.'"

"Yes, I like that."

We were both silent for a moment and then David reached over and took my hand. "Tom," he said, "I know we were just teasing, but maybe it's time we seriously thought about a way to be really together."

"The houses in the Bahamas are a reasonable starting point. We could at least be there several months of the year."

"I agree. You and Joyce have actually started looking, haven't you?"

"Yes, we've looked at a few and will probably go ahead and buy one soon."

"Let's find a time, say a month from now, when we can meet you two there and look for two houses."

"Next to each other?"


"We looked at some places in a new private area. There are finished villas and lots on which we could build to our own design."

"I'll call you next week when I get back to London."

"You're serious. You really are serious."

"Yes. It's definitely time." He was silent again, just holding my hand. An elderly lady across from us looked up from her book. Her eyes moved over us, settling on our clasped hands. She took off her glasses and looked up until her eyes met ours. She smiled approvingly, put her glasses back on and went back to her book.

"And I assume you'll be writing up this weekend, as well."

"What?" I asked.

"Well, you turned our time together in London last autumn into a rather nice little tale. I assumed you'd want to do the same with our Lisbon weekend."

"It would be the basis for a nice story."

"Just change the names to protect the innocent."

"The innocent?"

"Well, you know what I mean." His flight was being called and I walked with him to the gate.

"Love to Joyce," He said as we embraced.

"Yes, love to Bess."