Date: Fri, 11 Jan 2019 06:16:52 +0000 (UTC)
From: Justin Balancier <jbalancier9@yahoo.com>
Subject: Can't win them All

			   "CAN'T WIN THEM ALL"
			    By Justin Balancier
			   Jbalancier9@yahoo.com

Please remember to support Nifty with a contribution in any amount. It's
Nifty who brings these stories to you.  http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

                   ******************************

The names, places and events are fictional. Any resemblance to persons
living or dead is purely coincidental.

The month was April - the year was "yesterday" and it seemed so long ago,
but I remember it all. I've got to remember.


                               The story

In Brooklyn, New York, Mike Fachino was a landscaper who worked,
landscaping the grounds of condominiums on Long Island for the nursery firm
of Cassalla & Cassalla from Coney Island.

Benjamin Sertucci worked as an apprentice helper with Mike being his
mentor. Both men were Italian and had that Barbarino charm.

Long Island was Benjamin's first job in landscaping. As an apprentice, he
began moving rock and helping to build stone walls. Later, he got on the
soft scape team which did the actual planting of trees and shrubbery.  The
pay was good, but the work was not challenging, as far as Benjamin was
concerned.

He wasn't lazy and the heavy lifting didn't bother him because he was
healthy and strong. However, he had the notion that certain looks and sex
appeal was answer to prosperity, without killing oneself. This notion just
didn't pop into his head, like the idea of the day. On the contrary, it was
a cultivated notion back up with considerable practice. He was an escort
who was gay but passed for straight.

Benjamin was keen on earning an easy buck. In the evening and weekends, he
was a male escort, with a portfolio of comfortable clients. Men and women
would contact him, for an evening of his time. Rich older women were the
most willing to be seen with him in public, and never bargained over
compensation. Keeping private deeds private was the agreement and the code
to live by.

He was well spoken and mature with older people and crazy gay acting with
his peers. He was mysterious looking, husky with no feminine traits, very
Italian and well endowed. Ben was a fast learner and understood how to
survive for the pleasure and the profit it provided.  His appeal was like a
blazing sunset, on a warm summer night, and everybody liked being around
him, even Mike. What does that mean?  It means he was eye candy and bubbled
with charisma, fitting in straight or gay, wherever he went.

At first, he kept being gay, away from his co-workers and concentrated on
landscaping. It's not that he was ashamed of anything; he felt that his
business wasn't the concern of the people with whom he worked. It is
uncanny however, that seldom works to any degree.  Yes, they knew Ben was
gay, but he was more popular than anybody, except perhaps for Michael.

Michael Fachano, his co-worker buddy, was married and a little rough around
the edges with the tendency to swear a lot. What he lacked in polish, he
made up for in flesh. He was husky as a football player, with jet black
hair, olive rich skin, solid rock body and penetrating eyes.  His parents
came to the United States from Milan Italy, when Michael was still an
infant. At home, only Italian was spoken and he didn't learn much English
until he went to school. In grade school, he soaked up English like a
sponge and was speaking complete sentences in the matter of days with no
Italian accent.  He preferred speaking English but never forgot Italian.

He liked Benjamin; they were both fluent in Italian and English; and
language made their bond a little more special.

Mike had been married for twelve years to Maria.  Maria was also Italian
and attractive as a model, but seldom friendly, with no charisma and little
charm, except when lying in bed.  Everyone imagined, she was a sex goddess,
because she had little else that was obvious. That may have been true,
according to Mike, but she complained and liked to argue. Nothing was ever
good enough for her and she treated Mike poorly, it was something he
couldn't keep secret, so he talked about his home life, although he
probably shouldn't have done that.

The guys on the job told Mike that he was too much man for her and he
needed to be more forceful.  Strangely enough, he agreed, just to go along
with them. Still, he didn't like arguing, and under that tough exterior
beat the heart of a frustrated gentle man; so he let Maria rant and swear
all she wanted. He would get in his truck, hit the steering wheel with his
fist, and drive around mumbling swear words in Italian looking for peace
and quiet.

Mike was sexually ripe for picking and it was something that Ben thought
about constantly.  It irritated him hearing about Maria's treatment of his
buddy Mike, but he didn't offer advice and stayed out of their private
business.

Mike would talk about pussy, with the guys on the job. Everyone talked
about pussy, except Ben. He just laughed, and went along, when it was
expected. How yucky, it was listening to constant pussy talk, however he
could swing both ways; so he laughed too. Going to work every day was like
being in Rome; he did what they did.

Although drawn to Mike, he kept his soiled thoughts to himself for fear of
losing a good friend.  Ben liked checking out the guys at work, and
studying their movements. It was not landscaping, that he did best; it was
men. The bulge in Mike's crotch was sinful, and the vision that danced in
Ben's head had nothing to do with sugarplums. Sometimes Mike would catch
Ben looking at his crotch and smile. "I don't know –I don't know `bout
you" he would say in Italian then close his legs putting his arm around his
buddy.

It was Monday, and work was finished for the day. Ben's truck was in the
transmission shop for minor repair. He needed a lift home. "I'll drop you
off," said Mike

"Hey buddy, I'm gay."

"Yeah, and I'm the King of England. What's that got to do with a lift?

"Aren't you worried, that I might hit on you?" said Ben, speaking to Mike
like he never had the nerve to do before.

"You're not man enough - me concerned?  It beats me why any guy would want
dick anyway. Stop with the bull shit."

Ben looked at him but said nothing and stood there looking surprised.

"You're pissed now, aren't you?" Mike finally said to him.

"No, I'm not pissed, that's your opinion; but don't think I am not man
enough.  I judge differently, that's all, but let's just skip it. Do I get
that ride, or not?"

"Get your ass in here." Mike belted out. He opened the passenger side door
for Ben and walked away.

The parking lot was almost deserted as Ben slid into the truck but Mike
made no effort to get moving. "Tell me about this gay shit." Mike asked,
sounding serious this time and not a wise guy.

"What gay shit do you want to know about?"

"C'mon, you know, faggot dudes" Mike answered.

"Very funny – that is so stupid, there are no dudes.  Faggot is a word
that people call gay men and it's not going away; I don't get furious over
it. But if you call me a faggot on the job, I'll beat the crap out of you."
Ben boasted sounding like a tough guy.

"I would never call you that." Mike said

"Thank God, because you would slaughter me in a real fight; and my family
would hold the biggest funeral in Brooklyn since Al Capone" Ben said
laughing.

Mike cracked a smile, which turned into a laugh and then whacked the back
of Ben's hand. "You're fuckin okay, good buddy" he said.  Something tender
just happened and both of them seemed to sense it.  "I was having fun
talking about faggots; besides the question was dumb. I shouldn't ask my
best buddy about that shit.  I'm an idiot." Mike admitted

"Did I hear right?  I'm you're best buddy?" Ben asked

"I said it didn't I, but don't go makin a fuckin big deal out of it," Mike
replied switching again to Italian.

He made no effort to get moving; he sat there with his legs open talking
and Ben looking at his crotch. It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure
this one out.

"I want to blow you Mike." Said Ben blurting out the words and holding
nothing back

"Yeah – yeah, I figured you'd get around to that. Did you tell me about
faggots, so you could blow me?"

"Yes – well, sort of, but not really. Jesus, don't ask me questions like
that. Hell, you are the one who asked about faggots.  Do you want a blow
job or not?  Hurry up, before I lose my nerve, Ben blurted out not caring
what he was saying.

"I don't cheat on my wife."

"Maybe you should – I'm sorry; I didn't mean to say that; but it isn't
cheating. You are not screwing around with another woman. I'm gay; it's a
guy thing, like two kids behind a barn with their hands down the front of
their pants."

"Are you sure, I won't be cheating?"

"Absolutely," Benjamin thought to himself, "How fuckin dumb can this guy
be?"

Mike wasn't dumb, not at all. He knew exactly what was happening, and he
was enjoying the attention because it was coming from Ben.

Mike was bulging, between his thighs, like sausage begging for air. His
zipper was already down and you could see his white underwear.

"You like, what you're lookin at?" asked Mike

"Is that for me?" – Ben replied, eyeing the bulge like a convict
choosing his last meal.

"NO, it's for me, but we're gonna share, `cause you want it." And he pulled
his dick free and held his strong hand around it.  "Is this what you're
looking for?"

"Yup, that's it."

"Well, take it man, there is nobody around."  Benjamin went down on his
hefty baby maker like a frog catching a fly. He deep throated his warm
flesh, and Mike groaned while rising to fill his mouth with cock. He
pressed Benjamin's head between his legs, muttering "Oh yeah," your mouth
is really warm; keep going it's so much better than I thought."

Benjamin didn't have to work very long before Mike groaned, and let loose
with amazing sticky baby milk. Mike flooded his mouth and it started to run
over his lips, but he slurped it back and never lost a drop. He could
barely swallow fast enough to keep up, but he managed. This was not a load
to be wasted.

"Holy shit", Mike said. "Jesus man, you're a pig, women spit that juice out
and you gobble it up like a pig"

"Yeah, I've heard that pig comment before.  I'm no pig, just a good cock
sucker; there is a difference.  Don't tell me you never licked pre cum off
your finger.  How long has it been since you chucked a load? You almost
flooded me." Ben said.

"It's been awhile, for some reason, I haven't wacked off lately."

"Maybe you were saving it for perhaps a buddy - you think?"

"Nah, I just react when the timing is right. It turned me on watching my
dick in your mouth. You're good at that pal," said Mike."

"I know, and nobody has ever asked for their money back."

"What?"

"That's a joke, you supposed to be a grinning -" Benjamin said, using his
Godfather imitation: "What's sa matter, you can't show respect? I'm a gonna
make you an offer."

"Yeah, I bet you are. Okay, let's have it." demanded Mike. "What's up?"

"I want to lick your chest and do you again, only this time better; but not
now – later, some other time, you understand?"

"Better, how's that gonna be better?"

"You can fuck me too, for as long as you want. You will like being inside
me. It's tighter than pussy. I promise."

"I don't know about that, I don't fuck men... "pause"... well, maybe I
could do that; I could use a slut. Okay, yeah, fuckin okay. Just keep your
mouth shut and don't talk about this to anybody, capisci?" Mike demanded.

"I'm not dense; we have to work together, so confidential stuff is
private. I don't know about you Mike, you are full of mean remarks, just
like that woman you're married too. I'm not a slut take that back."

"Okay-okay, so you're not a slut; let's hope so. Okay, yeah, I'm sorry."
Mike started the truck and the engine roared. "Let's get out of here. I
need to think more about doing this." – He said.

He dropped Benjamin off at his house about twenty minutes later. "I'll
screw around with you bellissimo (good looking) Mike said, sounding very
old world Italian. "Those lips get my dick moving; don't bullshit me now!!"

"Not to worry, I'm a pro man" Ben assured him. "I know how to get you off,
Brooklyn style."

"Remember, shit head. We talk to nobody on the job, and keep your mouth
shut to your gay friends. I'm married, so don't fuck things up for me." And
he drove away.

Ben watched as the truck disappeared. He thought about what Mike had just
said to him.  "The idea of getting his dick moving" was all he cared about.

Ben knew how men think. He didn't expect anything more than that, but
stranger things have happened with married men. He could wait.

Ben began fooling around with Mike a few times a week. He swallowed saucers
of cum, and tongue licked him on a regular basis. Ben turned him on like
wildfire, and there was no stopping a mountain of masculinity once a
sleeping titan was awoken. Mike was that titan.

Mike had grown attached to Ben, and would call him on his cell, just to
talk. Sometimes after work or on weekends, they would pal around together
going to ball games, drinking beer and acting like brothers. When they were
alone, Mike started to hold Ben's cock and would jerk him off to watch him
shoot on himself, but wouldn't touch it. He liked saying that Ben had dirty
habits.

Benjamin would reply. "Yes I do. I have a lot of them"

Talk like that excited Mike and soon they were doing everything naked and
yes, a little dirty and slipperier each time.

Even with the harmless name calling, they had consensual ideas about
sex. When they were alone, the underwear would drop to the floor, and Ben
would be on his back with his legs in the air. Mike's warm body would
blanket him like a cloud of protection. For the next several minutes they
belonged together and it was good. They used each other like rabbits, but
it was a game with genuine respect.

The highlight came when Mike bent down and kissed Ben on his lips and
stayed there kissing him with their bodies pressed together and their
tongues dueling for dominance...

To be continued...

Email - Jbalancier9@yahoo.com