Date: Sun, 27 Mar 2022 15:40:15 -0600
From: Paul Landerman <paul.landerman@gmail.com>
Subject: Joaquin Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Catalunya is a long way from Beverly Hills; half a world away, in fact. To
Joaquin it felt like light years, like Mars and Venus. He had just finished
a phone call with Felipe; the farmer in Porrera was angry and frustrated,
and hung up the phone without saying "goodbye" or "I love you".

Joaquin was concerned, and knew he had to figure out a path through all of
the confusion to rescue this relationship if it was capable of being
rescued.

The fucking Beverly Hills art queen had finally met Joaquin's price; the
closing was next week at the attorney's office. The estate had finally been
settled; the condo title transfer had been filed, the insurance had been
received, the IRS had been paid, the Social Security had been finalized,
the state of California had been satisfied, and the consulting partnership
documents had been executed.

The only thing left for Joaquin to accomplish was to set up two
headstone-markers for Ross, one at the cemetery where his parents were
buried in New Jersey, and one at Malibu Memorial Park.

Most of Ross's ashes had been spread on the ocean along the beach outside
of Mario and Peter's home, where he had invited Ross (Jr.) to dinner the
following Saturday night; Joaquin had kept a small urn with a handful of
the ashes in his bedroom. He decided to give that to Ross (Jr.) along with
most of Ross's clothing, jewelry, art, and keepsakes. Joaquin wanted to
keep the photo albums.

He got on the phone with his travel agent: he wanted the quickest flight to
Barcelona he could find, leaving after the brunch-group dinner at Peter and
Mario's house following the closing for the sale of the art gallery. He
could not wait to introduce Ross Jr., to the group, but he also could not
wait to get back into the arms and bed of Felipe Marquez.

Air France accommodated his request; he instinctively knew that first class
on Air France was going to be a new experience.

The brunch group met at Mario and Peter's house on the beach in Malibu as
scheduled and included Tad and Mike as well; Raj and Stuart were the first
to arrive, followed quickly by Carlos, and then Sam and Mickey, Joaquin and
Ross Jr.

Joaquin was hesitant about calling him `Junior' but the young man said he
was honored by the nickname. He was a hit with the group; they all remarked
at how closely he resembled his father. It was a nostalgic and melancholy
moment.

Dinner was a Mario masterpiece: the Argentine churrasco con chimichurri was
a hit, and Peter provided all of the side dishes: cous-cous with snap peas
and slivered almonds, cold marinated veggies, fruit salad, and of course
cases of wine and beer.

Following dinner, Junior asked if he could have everyone talk about their
favorite memory of his father; Mario provided the first anecdote and
related how he had first met Ross when he came to Los Angeles to stay with
Mason for a quick vacation on his way to a conference in Mexico City.

Mario mentioned that Ross (Sr.) was fluent in Spanish and had been a
presenter at that conference; he did not mention that Ross (Sr.) had spent
the entire trip fucking every hole he could get his hands on and then
bragged about it when he came back to LA on a subsequent trip.

Tad and Mike remarked about how Ross had turned celibate later, after
meeting Joaquin, or at least, when they were all attending Mason's famous
sex parties Ross and Joaquin had kept the sex between themselves. No one in
this group had had sex with either Ross or Joaquin; Joaquin blushed and was
silently grateful that was true.

Junior asked about the parties; Tad was naively willing to relate how the
ribald parties had been the most exciting thing that happened in his
then-young life and had provided the opportunity for him to come out and to
meet his husband Mike.  Tad gushed about the Dick of Death that belonged to
a sheriff's deputy, Phil Downey, who attended several parties.

Stuart blushed when Tad was explaining how Mason had brought him out of the
closet, with an overly-explicit description of the sex involved. Tad
started to explain how Stuart and Carlos had also had sex during those
parties, but Stuart managed to shush him before he got into it; it was not
that Stuart was ashamed of sex, he just did not want to have any drama
between his husband Raj and Carlos, who were both sitting adjacent to
Stuart on the patio watching the fireplace.

Then, Tad wondered aloud about the other surfers and the neighbor boys who
had attended these parties: Stuart explained that all of the surfers had
moved away, some to the east and the Midwest, one was a high school teacher
in San Diego; two of the neighborhood guys had remained in touch with
Mario. Vince and Jeremy were both still in Los Angeles and saw Mario and
Peter a couple times a year. Carlos volunteered that he saw them regularly,
whenever Carlos was in town from his travels as a consulting architect.

Junior wondered about those sex parties; he had grown slightly turned on
listening to Tad talk and glancing around at the men surrounding him on the
patio, wished that he had been there to taste their cocks, their cum, their
assholes, and get bent over the sofa and have all of those cock shoved into
him.

He really needed a cold shower and decided that he better not have any more
alcohol, or he would probably make an un-solicited advance on his
hosts. Mario and Peter were older, but still delicious to look at and
fantasize about. He could not wait to get back to his hotel and jack off.

He mentioned to Joaquin on the way to his hotel how great it must have been
to be in those parties; Joaquin laughed and said that it was indeed a
unique experience. He did not want to elaborate, because he felt it was not
appropriate to talk about the sex life of Junior's dead father; even if the
kid was gay, Joaquin did not have a right to dishonor Ross with those
stories. Tad had done enough already.

Junior found the number he needed when he searched on the `net for the menu
of rent-men: his style was men like Joaquin, but he could never tell
Joaquin the truth. There were a half-dozen like Joaquin in Santa Monica to
choose from: he settled on a dark-haired Cuban gym-rat with big biceps,
beautiful lips, and a big cock who advertised that he was versatile. Good,
thought Junior, you are gonna fuck me and then I am gonna fuck you back.

And that is exactly what he did: the gym-rat rent-boy showed up in a half
hour and began undressing as soon as Junior closed the hotel room door. He
was commando- no underwear- and not cut, with a trimmed bush and the
de-rigueur shaved balls and taint.

Junior loved sucking ass, so they were quickly in a 69-pose on the bed,
with the Cuban kneeling over Junior getting his ass fingered and his cock
sucked.  Junior was moaning at the fingering he was receiving from the
Cuban, wanting to cum as his rigid cock was being sucked and jacked.

Junior pulled the Cuban into position to fuck him; Junior loved having his
ass assaulted, and after quickly lubing up cock and asshole, was receiving
a thoroughly painful and highly pleasurable fucking. The Cuban was a master
of restraint; Junior felt like his ass was going to fall off from the
plowing he was receiving before the Cuban finally came.

But cum he did; gallons, buckets, shot after shot, half inside the hole and
half on his back. Junior was shivering with delight; he loved cum and was
only sorry that he had not seen it as the Cuban was spraying his back with
the load. The rent-man shot gobs of cum like a rocket. Junior was jealous:
he oozed cum, he did not shoot it.

Not even bothering to clean up, Junior repositioned the Cuban once again,
this time placing him on his back on the bed, and climbed between his legs,
lubing his ass and coating his own cock, then finding the warm hole where
he gleefully planted his hard member.

Ross Junior did not know it, but his cock was exactly like his father, thin
but long, cut with a huge helmet. He also did not know that his sexual
prowess was just like his father; in the next year he was probably likely
to fuck his way across southern California without stopping.

Junior hammered away at the Cuban, who had probably lied on the website
about being gay and about being versatile. The grimace on his face revealed
that he was not accustomed to being fucked and was probably in fact
straight but gay-for-pay. Junior did not notice any of that and happily
continued shoving his cock in the gym-rat's hole. He pulled out before
cumming and jacked off to cum on the stomach and chest of the smooth
Latino's six-pack.

Gym-rat got up without a word and went to the shower; Junior stayed in the
bed and reveled in the memory of the past hour. He wanted the Latino to
stay the night but did not want to pay the freight for a sleep-over. The
Cuban left a few minutes later; Junior double-locked the hotel room door
and then re-booted his lap-top to the same website and found Fuck Number
Two.

It was dawn when Fuck Number Two left the hotel and Ross fell asleep; Ross
had fucked himself on top of the guy, having him lay flat on the bed on his
back so Ross could kneel over him and mount his enormous cock and fuck
face-to-face. While the rent-man was cumming up Ross's ass, Ross was
cumming and jacking himself on the guy's stomach. It was not the
Dick-of-Death, but it was certainly memorable.

His recovery was a little slower than with Guy Number One, but Ross soon
had him on his hands and knees so that he could fuck him doggy-style from
behind; it was not his favorite position, but he did enjoy grabbing the
guys' hips and pulling his ass back into his crotch while fucking him. This
time Ross came into his ass and was worn out with the effort. He slumped on
the bed and waited as the man showered and then left. At least this guy had
not fabricated his web profile; he clearly enjoyed the sex and moaned
loudly while getting his ass filled with Ross's cum.

When room service brought the late-morning coffee, Ross was too tired to
notice that he was dressed only in his Armani boxers or that the room
reeked of cum; the waiter pushed the coffee cart into the room and took
time to set up the coffee service on the dining table, parting the curtains
slightly to a view of the Pacific Ocean, and wasted time fussing around the
room. Ross grew anxious at the seemingly mundane activities: he suddenly
realized that he needed to tip the waiter.

When he reached for his wallet and realized he was only wearing Armanis and
no pants, he blushed, but the waiter patiently told him "If you need me for
anything, I can stay here for a few minutes" and that gave Ross a whole new
train of thought.

"Like,,,?" began Ross.

"Like, maybe this,,," the waiter rubbed his own crotch; the coffee was
forgotten, and soon the two were in the very rumpled bed, with the waiter
on his back and his lovely and adequate 6-inches stiffly pounding up into
the asshole kneeling over him. After the waiter had deposited a healthy
amount of cum inside Ross, Ross knelt over his face and had his cock sucked
until depositing a similar amount of cum down the throat of the waiter.

"I'm going to love California", Ross thought, as the waiter softly closed
the door behind himself, folding his large tip. Ross nearly collapsed in
the shower, still needing lots more sleep, lots of coffee, and time on the
beach.

It was late afternoon when he had recovered enough to grab a beach towel
and walk down the hotel steps to the private beach; there were a few
families there with kids, all of whom had glow-in-the-dark white skin, a
few surfer-types, a small crowd of sorority girls bent on getting drunk as
quickly as possible, and a ladies-with-purple-hats brunch group.

The waiter from the beach-front bar came over to Ross to ask for his order;
Ross asked for a Corona, the highly-advertised beer from Mexico. Ross
thought he might as well get into the California style. The waiter soon
returned with the beer, a couple of napkins, and a tray with tortilla chips
and a small ramekin of salsa. Ross had never had fresh house-made salsa;
this was a new and delightful experience.

While he was not hung-over, he still felt a little under the weather from
the lack of sleep. He was delighted to have found the ready group of
friends, and while thinking about them, his phone buzzed; the caller ID
showed that it was Stuart, Mason and Mario's nephew.

While he was answering the call, the waiter returned. Stuart invited Ross
to have dinner with them that evening at The Beachcomber, Tad and Mike's
restaurant in Pacific Palisades; Ross agreed and made the arrangements and
got the address, and then turned toward the waiter who had been patiently
waiting.

The waiter told him that one of the surfers had bought him a drink and had
it sent over from the bar; Junior asked who it was and looked in the
direction indicated by the waiter and saw a hand waving at him from one of
the cabana chairs. A delightful blonde young man was waving at him, and
Ross waved at him to come over and sit with him.

Anonymous sex is sometimes awkward and most times not; it simply requires
initiative and openness. The surfer had both. The two grabbed their bottles
of beer, their beach towels, and climbed up the dune to the hotel patio and
found the elevator to Ross's room. This was the second time Ross thought to
himself "California is going to be amazing."

The blonde wasted no time in getting out of his swimsuit; he was already
hard, and kneeling in front of Ross, took the cock into his mouth and began
eagerly slurping. Ross moaned, threw his head back, and was deeply grateful
he had showered before going to the beach. He had lost count of the number
of climaxes in the past 24 hours; he did not care but was clearly going to
have a couple more before going to dinner with Stuart and Raj.

Before Ross could decide if he was going to cum in the surfer's mouth, the
surfer commanded him to cum in his mouth; oh well, when in Rome. Junior was
almost there anyway, and so within a couple minutes more of vigorous
sucking, his cum was gliding down the throat of the blonde on his knees in
front of him.

"God that was good" the surfer moaned. "You wanna fuck?"

Of course.

Ross smiled, stood next to the side of the bed, bent over, and the surfer
obeyed the natural instincts and shoved his tongue into Ross's hole. Within
a couple minutes, Ross was wet enough, and the surfer had his cock inside
of him; he must have been a very horny surfer, because he climaxed in less
than five minutes, planting a nice load into Ross.

"Thanks" Ross murmured, as the surfer grabbed his swimsuit and headed out
the door. He realized it was nearly time to leave for dinner in Pacific
Palisades with Stuart and Raj and jumped in the shower; he was gliding
south on PCH when his cell phone rang.

It was Joaquin; he wanted to remind Ross that he was leaving for Spain the
next day; he invited Ross to come over to the condo, which Ross could use
until Joaquin returned. That was a very generous offer, Junior thought; he
still played the video in his mind of fucking Joaquin but was afraid to
suggest it.

Oh well, he had had plenty of sex in just the past 24 hours, although he
had paid for most of it; the surfer was icing on the cake, he thought. But
this is California, and surely there had to be lots more horny surfers out
there; he had to remember to try to get the beach bartender in bed as well.

What about all of the gay web sites like Men to Men, Adam4Adam, Grindr,
Craig's List, Flirt, Scruff? Lots of possibilities. Somehow being in
southern California made him feel more open to the possibilities than he
had ever been in New Jersey.

He was sure it was not because of his mother's Catholic background,
although that had certainly been a barrier between them. Is it possible
that there is a dominant cultural bias that differs from state to state,
region to region? Was California gayer than New Jersey, or hornier, or more
open to anonymous sex? Was Pennsylvania filled with sex-starved horny Amish
buggy drivers? Was New York filled with skittish uptight Wall Street guys
who just needed to get their freak on?

He reached The Beachcomber, parked and went to the bar, where he found
Stuart and Raj waiting for their table. Raj of course was drinking club
soda; Stuart was having a Cosmo. Ross wanted to laugh but kept his
composure. They hugged, and just at that moment Mike came up and showed
them to their table.

Tad came to the table along with the waiter and brought Stuart another
Cosmo and another club soda for Raj; he told them to ignore the menu, he
had made a special dinner for them. Mike asked Ross for his drink order; he
asked for a Manhattan.

The dinner was a delight; it was a Chile relleno, with pulled broiled
chicken stuffed inside of the poblano Chile. Ross was not yet accustomed to
the Mexican influence on California cuisine, but was excited to try it. The
Chile was a mild Poblano, and the stuffing of broiled chicken included
Asadero cheese; the side dishes were grilled squashes and rice. Desert was
tangerine pie; Ross was amazed by the entire experience.

He was, however, even more amazed by the conversation following
dinner. Mike suggested that Ross might want to sleep off the drinks before
trying to drive all the way back to Santa Monica to the hotel. The state
police were famous for catching drunk drivers. The last thing Ross wanted
was to start his life in California with a DUI ticket. However, where was
he going to sleep?

Mike had that covered; Ross was going to stay with them at their house two
miles away. They insisted Ross leave his car at the restaurant, and they
drove him to their home.

Tad showed Ross into the guest room, which had its own bath; he turned on
the lights for Ross and said he would be back in a moment to check on him
and make sure he was comfortable.

When Tad returned, he was with Mike; the two were grinning, wearing only
their boxers, and Ross, who was in the middle of getting ready to jump into
the bed, was down to his socks and underwear. Ross had a hunch about what
was going to happen next: having been clued in from Tad's description of
the sex parties at Mason's house; he definitely knew which direction he
wanted this to go.

He got his wish without even having to express it: Mike and Tad came up and
stood on either side of Ross, caressing him front and back, chest, arms,
nipples, neck, ass, and crotch, and soon had Ross hotter than he had been
with the surfer at the hotel. They pulled down his Armani's, and Tad knelt
in front and Mike knelt in back, and tongues and mouths got busy getting
everything wet.

Mike's tongue went inside Ross's asshole, causing a sharp intake of breath;
Tad's mouth slurped on Ross's cock, which was already hard. Ross was having
a hard time breathing and having a hard time concentrating on the feelings
assaulting him. He wanted to fuck, he wanted to be fucked, and he wanted it
all at once.

Mike and Tad accommodated him wordlessly, Mike shoving his cock in Ross's
asshole and Tad bending over and taking Ross's throbbing cock into his own
asshole. It was a sex sandwich; Ross had heard of it and had seen it on gay
porn videos but had never experienced it.

It was fun, exciting, and nerve-wracking: he did not know who would come
first and was afraid he was going to cum too soon and break the chain.

That did not happen; Mike came first, and he and Tad changed places. Tad
slammed his huge Oregon farm-boy cock into Ross's well-lubed hole, and Mike
took Tad's place at the front and yelped when Ross's cock slid into him.

The electric current rushing through Ross made him feel like he was going
to cum; it was an amazing buzzing feeling of being over-charged with
emotion, feelings both physical and mental, and the buzz of the alcohol at
dinner with Raj and Stuart. His attention was momentarily diverted to Raj
and Stuart, and he began wondering how and when he could get them into bed
as well. That thought actually made him harder, and he began fucking into
Mike more earnestly.

Tad was shouting behind Ross, and cumming; that created a chain reaction,
and Ross came next, spilling his hot seed into Mike's warm asshole. Mike
came again, and soon they were a tangle of arms and mouths and legs and
cocks, kissing and embracing and nuzzling.

Ross awoke in the morning to the aroma of warm biscuits; he managed to jump
out of the bed and piss, and then wander out to the kitchen to find Tad
cooking a breakfast casserole while Mike was making coffee.

"Good morning Jersey Boy" Mike said; Tad laughed, and Ross smiled. "Your
hair looks like you have been good and truly fucked."

"Oh yes, and it would be nice if my future held more of that" Ross replied.

"Well, get some coffee and some breakfast, and your wish is our command"
Tad smirked.

Ross could not believe his new life: "I am fucking loving California", he
thought, smiling through the breakfast and thinking about his hard cock
already impatient for these two. It was not long before Mike and Tad had
swept the kitchen of the breakfast, and pulled Ross outside to the deck in
the rear of the house overlooking the ocean; sex and scenery? Ross was
delirious.

He was also amazed at how creative and clever these two were sexually: Mike
pulled a vibrator out of his pocket and turned it up high and worked it
around Ross's cock and balls. The buzzing set him on fire; he wanted to cum
at once.

Tad had placed himself on his knees behind Ross, and was kissing and
licking his ass cheeks, and spreading his cheeks apart and fingering his
hole. The combination of the dual assault made Ross slightly dizzy, and he
reached for the railing, when Tad took the initiative to lick inside of his
ass and get him prepared to be fucked.

Tad lay back on the chaise lounge, and Mike steered Ross toward it and
placed him over his husband's hard cock; seeing it in the daylight made
Ross gulp. That monster had been inside of him last night, he knew, but now
seeing it in the bright morning sunlight was a scary new reality: he did
not know if he could do it again.

But he remembered the "Situation", the loud-mouth Jersey Shore kid on TV:
no way was Ross going to let anybody on the West Coast know that a Jersey
kid was not up to the task.

He knelt over Tad, took a deep breath, opened his ass cheeks, and plunged
down on the monster. The cock slid into him as easily as an aircraft
carrier sailing upstream on your favorite fishing creek: extremely tight
and not without some pain. But Ross was determined to make this work; he
let out his breath, pushed his ass downward, and the rest of the monster
popped into him, all the way to the hilt.

"Oh fuck" all three said at once; Ross laughed, and then began very slowly
pumping himself up and down on Tad's cock. Mike was leisurely jacking
himself while watching; he stepped closer to the chaise lounge and Ross
took Mike's cock into his mouth. It became apparent that Tad was not going
to cum any time soon, and not wanting to destroy his asshole in the
process, Ross climbed off and bent over the deck rail and turned back to
signal that it was Mike's turn.

Mike has never been slow; he is quick to pick up signals, and quick to
follow suggestions. His cock was inside of Ross before he had turned back
to look down toward the ocean. Mike had also never been slow in cumming; in
a couple of minutes, five at the most, he was flooding Ross's asshole with
more of the cum he had used the night before.

At that moment, Ross noticed that he could see people on the beach below
them; two were looking in their direction, actually staring in their
direction. Ross mentioned it to Mike; Mike looked over the railing and
laughed and said "Oh yeah, that's Kris and his boyfriend. He is a waiter at
the restaurant."

Ross was not prepared for it, but in about ten minutes he was being
introduced to Kris and his boyfriend; they were trying to shake hands while
also slipping out of their swimsuits, cocks already hard. Ross sat on the
second chaise lounge, and took Kris's hard cock in his mouth, while the
boyfriend stood behind Ross and gently pushed his head into Kris's crotch.

Moaning, Kris was obviously enjoying the sucking; Ross could not see that
Mike was fingering the boyfriend from behind, who was also moaning.

It was well into late afternoon when Ross was driven back to the restaurant
to recover his rental car and prepared to drive back to the hotel. He had
been fucked by the boyfriend, who was a quick little twink, and came almost
as soon as he entered Ross's asshole. He had been fucked by Kris, who was a
study in stamina if not finesse; he lasted far longer than the pleasure
did, and Ross was truly grateful when Kris finally came inside of him.

He was fucked again by both Mike and Tad, in a more gentlemanly leisurely
relaxed style; and he fucked the boyfriend, just for the sheer joy of
seeing his eyes roll back in his head. He was one of those skinny blondes
you see whose ribs crack when you shove a stiff cock into his hole.

When he returned to the hotel, there was a message for him from Joaquin;
Ross had been invited to dinner so that the two could meet and Joaquin
could give Ross the keys to the condo and provide a guided tour. He
showered, changed clothes, and zoomed away toward Beverly Hills to the
condo which his father had owned.

He was thrilled and melancholy simultaneously; he was sad that the man was
gone and was angry at his mother for having lied to him all those years.

He was delighted that Joaquin had been so open and hospitable; he easily
could have told Junior to go fuck himself.