Date: Tue, 12 Feb 2008 04:37:18 -0800 (PST)
From: kevin Donovan <letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: the association - final chapter

THE ASSOCIATION

CHAPTER 29

COMPLETION

Disclaimer: This is a work of gay fiction.  It will contain scenes
describing sex between adult males.  If that offends you, if you are
underage, or if it is illegal to possess such material where you are, then
stop now!

I appreciate your constructive comments.  Email me at
letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com Copyright held by the author.  Do not reproduce
without permission.

This is the final chapter of this saga.  Thanks to all who have stuck with us!

       My plan for Nicholas when he arrived for his first weekend visit was
desperately passionate and potentially criminal.  I was going to rip off
his clothes and rape him on the spot.  As soon as the doorbell chimed, I
leaped to respond.  There stood Nicholas in the corridor, leaning
gracefully on the doorjamb, wearing a big kiss-me grin-and absolutely
nothing else.
	I, of course, was naked also, but then I was decently enclosed
within my own flat.  As far as I was concerned, only the clothes-ripping
part of my plan had been altered by circumstances.  I grabbed my
exhibitionist lover and dragged him inside, flinging the door shut as I
enveloped his firm musculature in my own strong embrace for a long-denied,
sex-starved kiss.
	The man was unusually compliant for a rape victim, leading me to
persist in the hope that no charges would be filed.  In fact, I believe it
was he who led the way toward the bedroom, my lips attached to his and his
hand gripping my erect phallus.  He fell back onto the bed, and I
immediately impaled him, raw and dry, for our first of many acts of coitus
during his brief visit.
	After I had satisfied my lust, twice, I raised up onto my elbow and
asked, "So, where are your clothes, Ace?"
	"Home," he answered mischievously.
	I played along.  "You mean in the car."
	"Nope.  Home."
	The simpleton had left his condo stark naked, and had driven three
hours on the freeway in a low-slung sports car in the all-together, with no
back-up cover of any kind.  It made me hard again to think of it.
	"Well, it was dark most of the way," he defended lamely.  "By the
way, who is the gray-haired woman who lives on the third floor?  As I was
coming up from the garage on the elevator, the doors suddenly opened on the
first floor, and she got on to ride with me.  Pretty gutsy of her, I
thought."
	I guffawed.  "Don't ride the elevator naked, fool!  Patrick and I
streak back and forth from each other's places, but mostly at late hours,
and we use the stairs.  But luckily for you, that was just Dr. Van Horn.
Art prof.  She's caught me before, too, outside Patrick's door one night.
Next day, she came by to ask if I would be willing to pose for her figure
drawing class.  Which I declined, of course, because of the movie career,"
I added in response to his raised eyebrows.  "But Patrick is doing it
instead.  He couldn't care less who sees him naked.  After all, he's going
to do Adam's porno films.
	"But back to you-- what are you going to do for going out?  Stroll
the streets naked?"  The thought was attractive to me.
	"Why would we go out?  What I came for is right here!"
	I didn't press the point.  Actually, we would need to go out at
least to do our run, if not for any other purpose.  But Nicholas could wear
anything of mine, down to the runners, and the thought of staying the whole
weekend naked in bed with him had a definite appeal, even after having cum
twice in his ass during the past half-hour.  I didn't have time to think
about it, anyway, because his mouth was pressed on mine again, and the
weight of his smooth, muscular body was pushing me onto my back.  I spread
my thighs and slid my feet forward instinctively as his firm dick prodded
insistently below my ball-sack.  It quickly found its target and pushed
roughly into my bowel.
	I regularly get fucked by a lot of guys, but no one's cock fits me
quite so nicely as my man's.  My gut was soon slippery with his first cum
while he worked on spewing a second, and our weekend cum score was shortly
tied, two to two.
       During one of our rest breaks, he brought up the subject of
Stephanie.  I had told him about the break-up scene immediately, of course,
by phone, but he was still having some anxiety about being a home-wrecker,
a role he hated.  "So how do you feel now?"  he wanted to know.
	"What are you, my therapist?"
	"You tell me."
	"OK," I answered steadily.  "Here's what you are to me.  You are
the love of my life, the best friend I ever had, my soul mate, the light of
my existence, my purpose for living, my partner, my mate, my lover, my life
companion...hold on, I'm thinking...am I leaving anything out?"

	"Don't lay all that crap on me," he said gently.
	I sighed.  "It's taken me long enough to say any of that, don't you
think?  But you're right, of course, you're always right.  By the way,
could you say something wrong or stupid or out of line just once, to make
me feel better?"

	"No."
	"Well, here it is, Nicholas.  Straight talk, no crap.  I feel
relief at having it over with Stephanie, especially so easily.  I love you.
It feels like the real thing to me, like it's forever.  I want it to be
that way.  But I don't know what the future will bring.  I'm not hanging
all responsibility for my well-being around your neck, I'm taking
responsibility for that myself.  I just want you in my life, Nicholas, as
long as you can stand to be near me.  And I want to be in yours, as long as
you'll have me.  I want your OK for me to think about you just about all
day every day, because I'm going to do that, anyway.  I want us to be
together as much as we possibly can, starting with this weekend...."
	He silenced me by clamping his mouth onto mine again.  I felt the
firm, spongy head of his cock slipping under my scrotum again.  This time,
it slid smoothly into my anus, lubricated by his own abundant sperm.  Fuck
number three lasted almost an hour, and involved thrusting in every posture
and position we knew that allowed for anal penetration.  Both of us were
bathed in sweat and panting when he finally released his remaining seed
into my gut.  We could have used a shower, but we were too wrung out.  Even
before his dick had softened enough to slip out of my ass, Nicholas was
sound asleep atop my body.  I smiled.  This was how we began, in those
first few nights sharing the "dog bed" back in training camp at The Farm.
	Who needs more space than this?  I wondered contentedly, as
Nicholas' warm, soft breath caressed my cheek.

	That weekend, our relationship became anchored in permanency.  We
were no longer a possible summer fling.  Nicholas was finally convinced
that his mouth and ass were not substitutes for pussy, Stephanie's or
otherwise.  They WERE pussy, to me.  We resumed the natural, easy sex we
had enjoyed at The Farm, but it was different now, more relaxed, more
confident, more affectionate.
	I had provisions enough to last the weekend, and we never did leave
the building, even to run.  I fucked Nicholas on the kitchen island, sucked
him off on the dining table, and slipped him the sausage on just about
every piece of furniture in the condo, including the coffee table.  We made
ourselves a hazard to aerialists, especially the news traffic helicopter,
on my rooftop patio in the mild afternoons.
	Patrick had been under strict orders to stay the hell away until
Sunday afternoon, so that Nicholas and I could have some romance.  But he
countered by inviting us to his place for dinner and a movie Sunday
evening, giving Nicholas the opportunity to see his new crib, and giving
all of us some time for a sperm-drenched three-way for dessert.  We arrived
at Patrick's in the buff, avoiding any chance encounters with Dr. van Horn
or other non-Association residents, and got the surprise treat of finding
all the local Members gathered for cocktails and introductions.  There was
no time for sex just then, but their hard-ons told me that Nicholas was a
hit with my new friends, and his seemed to indicate that he liked them,
too.  He was more relaxed and vivacious than I'd ever seen him.  Having the
specter of Stephanie safely diverted to the clutches of her "frog" lover
had done wonders for my man's self-esteem.  We were not down on all things
French, however; we, and most of the other guys as well, continued to
communicate easily in that language just to keep in practice.  That, and
it's so damn sexy.
	It was my turn to visit Nicholas two weekends later, and I tried
his technique for traveling light by setting out completely nude, without
so much as a toothbrush and comb.  Even with the roof on, it was a bit
dodgy at first, driving through urban streets before sunset.  I had to be
very attentive to the lane I was in to avoid direct views into my Benz from
the wrong vehicles.  Once on the turnpike, though, it was smooth, mostly
discrete sailing.  I discovered that maybe one trucker in ten lights his
cab to maximize visibility for peeping into passing four-wheelers.  Most
either failed to look or chose to ignore me.  But I carried on a
twenty-minute flirtation with one handsome, dark-bearded fellow who raised
his hips to show me a nice, thick, bulb-headed dick lit by the amber lights
of a highway interchange.  He hovered beside me to watch me stroke my rod,
his mouth fairly drooling at the show, until I shot a load the splashed
onto the dash and dripped from the steering wheel.  His gestures indicated
that he was ready for a rest-break and rendezvous, but of course, that was
forbidden by my commitment to The Association.  I smiled and shrugged up at
him, hoping to turn the dude down gently.  In the end, he gave his horn a
couple of short, deep toots of farewell, and coasted into a rest area on
his own.  If there was a lot lizard on hand there, I'd wager he was all set
to jump their bones, male or female.
	Nicholas' condo was beautiful, but we soon decided together that he
would be leaving it, and his university, at semester's end.  (The
Association would purchase it at appraised value, hand it off to another
member, and he'd be free to invest in another property as he saw fit.)
After all, we'd both be taking Spring Term off to film for Franco.  At that
point, we'd have to figure out how to balance acting career and education.
I knew I'd be changing my major, away from medicine, but I wasn't ready to
decide yet whether to shift to acting or some other aspect of the film
business.  I might be abandoning my own new digs soon, too, and together we
could be heading west.  Whatever, it would be together.
	The semester rushed along, and before we knew it, we were having
Christmas with the 'rents, separately, and basking in the glow of our
Dean's List academic performance and our impending movie stardom.  Then we
were back at my condo celebrating a naked New Year's Eve with a dozen or so
Association friends, including not only Patrick, but also William, Jason,
and Lawrence.  It was great to see the summer guys, who were looking hotter
than ever.  We had all been keeping in touch via messaging and email, but
you can't stick your dick into an Instant Message, and I enjoyed sticking
my dick into all of those present at the party that night.  They enjoyed
it, too.
	William was doing sensationally.  He had transferred to study
finance, and he was poised to burn Wall Street up.  Next to Nicholas, he
was my favorite fuck, especially as a top-man.  He really knew how to plumb
my depths.  He never bottomed for anybody but Patrick (occasionally),
Nicholas, and me.
	After the others returned to classes, Nicholas and I had six
fabulous weeks together, with nothing particular to do except enjoy one
another, before filming began.  We took one week to go down to The Farm.
It was snowing gently as we landed in the small Association jet, which
carried about a dozen other passengers, including several wives and a
couple of children.  What a change!  "Our room" happened to be available,
and it felt just like home to us.  We could run around naked on that floor
only, but other than that, with co-ed use in effect, we actually had to
dress to enjoy the facilities.
	What facilities?  We hardly got out of bed except to exercise and
eat.  But the exercise was great!  Daytime temps rose into the high 30's or
low 40's every day, and there was little wind.  We set out daily on our old
familiar jogging route, but on cross-country skis.  Within half a mile, we
took a turn onto federal National Forest land, stripped off our clothing,
and skied for miles very comfortably on the old logging trails in the buff.
Hunting Season was over, and we never encountered a soul.  The fun of
applying lotion to each other's bodies before and after was an added
dividend.  We returned home tanned as if we'd been to the beach.
	There was The Crypt, of course, secretly open to Members only.  We
spent a couple of evenings down there enjoying the fleshly delights of
close contact with our fellow Members present-while their wives played
bridge, enjoyed cocktails, or watched first-run chick-flicks, upstairs.  We
were the youngest ones, and the only ones from our class, in attendance,
but what the hell, all the men were in top condition and hot as could be.
They all seemed quite willing to turn ass-up for cocks like ours!
	The movie shooting schedule called for me to spend two weeks on
location in Romania, then take two weeks off, with Nicholas on the set one
of those weeks, then both of us on location for a week.  One hotel suite
was to accommodate the two of us-with regular visits back and forth from
Jack and Joe.  We contacted Adam in Prague and set up visits with him
during our off weeks at his home/studio compound.  We could enjoy watching
the filming of his porno movies featuring several of our friends along with
other Association members, and off-set, we could fuck around with any and
all of them to our hearts' content.  The guys in school came in for long
weekends and holidays to film their scenes, which were mostly one-on-one
until the final orgy scene, which would be filmed during Spring Break.
	The following month, Nicolas and I would be filming on location in
Morocco on and off, and then there was a month in London doing studio work.
We'd have a hotel suite in Morocco and a flat in London during those
periods.
	The "final" movie script had arrived a month before filming, and we
got a scary surprise.  Not only were our parts both bigger than expected
(unless they hit the cutting room floor, that is), but the range of emotion
called for was greater, too.  Some of it was pretty intense stuff.
Nicholas' character had to snap near the end and have a dramatic melt-down
as he and his lover neared their tragic demise.  Mine went into battle
knowing he was going to die, with stoic, yet tragic resolve.  So we were
not just to be a pair of pretty faces in this thing, we were actually
expected to work rather hard.
	And it was work, but fun work, as it turned out.  We wore sexy
"Hollywood" ancient soldier costumes, or parts thereof, or we were naked,
in all of our scenes.  Either there was skin showing, or flowing,
figure-clinging fabric, all the time.  Mostly, skin showing, and no figure
doubles, either.
	It was the same for my opposite, the devastatingly beautiful Greek
actress Marina Marcarios.  She is a couple of years older than I am, and
she has two previous films to her credit.  On the set, she is very
professional.  Off screen and in person, she is remarkably down-to-earth,
fun-loving, and even earthy, as I discovered when she spat plum-pits at me
in the market, when we were out prowling around a bit together before
filming began.  I spat right back at her, and our relationship was off to a
happy start.
	Nicholas, poor thing, was saddled with the high-spirited Italian
beauty Adriana da Silva.  Ninety-eight percent of males on the planet, gay
and straight, would envy him wallowing in the sack with that hot and busty
temptress.  The girls were good friends, since working together on their
first picture a couple of years earlier.  Neither had a modest bone, which
was a good thing, since regular displays of their tits and asses were
apparently indispensible to the unfolding of the plot of this film.
	Marina and I spent about two weeks rolling around naked together,
all told.  Some of our simulated sex was real enough that I might just as
well have gone ahead and stuck it in, and no one but us would have noticed.
I don't think actors are supposed to get hard when they do these scenes,
it's just not professional.  But I showed her the full length, breadth, and
rigidity of my Tower of Power.
	After the steamiest, Melina batted her eyes at me and said,
"Cigarette?"
	I sighed.  "Any twenty-year old male who could do that with you and
NOT get an erection would have to have a serious circulation problem," I
rationalized.
	She giggled, and said, "Just lie on your stomach for a couple of
minutes, and we'll talk shop while it goes down."
	"You're assuming it WILL go down while I lie here next to you.
But-ouch, that hurts-well, pain should do it."  My swollen member was
pressing into the hard, set mattress, which was not designed for our
comfort.
	One day, in the third week of filming, Franco called me into his
office at the end of the day.  After a bit of chit-chat about how the work
was going (he was generally well pleased), he got down to business.
	"I hear you're having dinner with your co-star tonight," he began.
Nicholas was in Prague, and after all, I did enjoy Marina's company.
Adriana was at her flat in Rome.
	"I have a little proposition for you," Franco continued.
	It was a shocking one.  Here's the gist of it: Marina and Adriana
are Lesbian lovers.  They met on the set of his film two years earlier.  He
got wind of it right away, and called them in for a fatherly chat,
suggesting that, for their careers, they had best keep it discrete, but
promising to help however he could.  He had been thinking ever since of
providing the girls, whom he really did think of almost as daughters (not
to mention popular bombshell actresses off of whom he could make a load of
money), with protective cover, and he had decided as soon as he met me and
Nicholas that we might be it.
	He wanted us to pair up in "relationships."  He'd already hinted as
much to Marina, and she was interested.  Tonight, he suggested, would be a
good time for us to talk things over openly, perhaps after dinner in one of
our suites.  Then, if we came to an understanding, the two of us could work
on Nicholas and Adriana when they arrived on location in a few days.
	Negotiations went swimmingly, and that's how Marina and I became
regulars on tabloid covers around the world, and Nicholas and Adriana the
same-sometimes the four of us on one cover.  We decided that we would not
marry, since actors no longer need to, for social or box-office reasons,
but we would be a permanent couple, and we would live together when our
schedules allowed it.  We would be seen together regularly in public, and
photographed.  But we would also be completely free to live our private
relationships with our chosen same-sex partners, with whom we would
publicly be known as "best friends."
	Marina has a house in Athens and a summer cottage on Naxos.
Adriana has her luxurious flat in Rome and a chalet in Switzerland.
Together, the four of us recently bought a George IV-period manor in
Sussex, not enormous, but posh enough, with grounds, stab les, and a staff.
That last worried me a bit, but the last tenant, apparently, had a penchant
for village youth, and the staff is discrete and downright blasé about who
they find in bed with whom.  Nicholas and I provide the house near
Hollywood for the four of us.  Plus, I have a small one in Palm Springs,
and he has one in Key West.  All those places are unusually naked-friendly
for the U. S. Between films, we have plenty of choices as to where to be
together, and whom to entertain.  So many friends have open invitations to
visit our U. S. homes that, whenever Nicholas and I go to any of them,
there are usually two or more buddies in residence there already when we
arrive.
	And so to summarize (most of this is well-known): obviously, that
first film went exceedingly well, bringing in a huge box office and putting
the four of us on the road to major film stardom rivaling Joe and Jack
themselves, who couldn't be happier for us.  To everyone's surprise, it
even picked up five Oscar nominations: for costumes, make-up,
cinematography, score, and-Nicholas for supporting actor, due to his
smashing performance in the melt-down scene.  I asked him how in hell he
did it, and he answered that he simply imagined that I had just told him I
was leaving him, and then behaved as he thought he would in that situation.
Franco was scorned as producer and the film as best picture, but that was
just Hollywood prejudice against the genre and against films that make
mega-bucks.  We took no actual gold statues home, but we had a fine time at
the awards show, where the girls were sensational in their
multi-thousand-dollar gowns, and one television wit commented that he had
trouble recognizing me with clothes on.  I had to laugh, thinking that I
knew a lot of guys that would have that same problem with me.  Nicholas and
I, I have to admit, looked mighty fine in our formal finery, too.
	Critics were amazingly kind to us.  One said I was "like Ben Afleck
on steroids," and that Nicholas was like, "well, another Ben Afleck on
steroids."  No word yet on how Ben felt about that.  But we had a stack of
film offers on our agents' desks before the first film even opened.  In
three years, I've made nine films, Nicholas eleven, and none of them dogs.
We've worked for Franco two more times, and appeared together in two films.
I've worked with Marina in three (the public eats it up.)
	For the past two summers, we've volunteered at The Farm on training
staff, the first time, with Adam as staff leader, the second time, with me
in that role.  Of course, the first summer, our film was in the can but not
yet released and no one knew who we were.  Two or three recognized Adam and
Brendan, who was on the team as well, because their DVD had recently been
released.  But the second summer, I kept my face straight, but it cracked
me up, to see the jaws drop on those young trainees when they saw me and
Nicholas come out on the porch and be introduced to them as their trainers
on the first day!  Though we had made a couple more films by then, our
first film was actually still showing in theaters, and there we were, on
the night of the sex demonstration, performing as the doggie-style models.
I thought some of the guys were going to sprain their necks straining to
see every thrust of my hips as I rammed my cock into Nicholas' ass.  We
made it a point to make ourselves available in the crypt when the guys went
for their first visits, giving another sex demo show, and taking on as many
of the young men as we could handle in the labyrinth.  Luckily, Joe and
Jack joined us for the alumni night, and helped us make sure every trainee
present got fucked by at least one of their film idols.  It wouldn't do to
leave anyone out!  I shot so much sperm, I almost got dehydrated.
	Adam's full DVD series was the best-selling one he's made yet, and
the guys who appeared in it get recognized often on the street, too.  We
maintain close contact with all of them, often meeting at The Farm,
sometimes with our wives or partners, and entertaining them regularly at
one of our homes, as well.  Marina and Adriana love The Farm-no paparazzi,
great service and surroundings, and no autograph seekers.  They take their
tops off on the pool deck, and the young staffers fight with one another
for the right to take them drinks.
	In the end, The Association has made good on its promises to me and
Nicholas, and we are doing our best to make its advantages available to
other promising young men after us.  It is my hope that this testimony will
help that to happen.


NOTE: Here it is, Alexander, as you requested, the full account of my
induction into The Association, and the astonishing effect it has had on my
life.  I thank you for the opportunity to record it.  Once you have
confirmed that it meets your expectations and is filed with the Archives,
I'll delete it from my computer and give the machine a security wash, in
accordance with regulations.  The story remains, as it must be, for Members
only.

Douglas