We lay together on the bed. Each of us in his own little isolated island, separated by a wall of divergent interests that seemed irreconcilable. He did not move, but pretended sleep, and so did I. I was as motionless as an anaconda ready to strike, and surely as dangerous. I thought only of his naked body, beautiful as a reclining David, warm and hairless, muscular and hard, and recipient to my advances.
My own swollen member hurt, taut and flushed with the blood of desire, soaring to the ceiling. Erect nipples flashed exciting currents to the juicy loins, and lightly transversed my sping with a pleasant, but somewhat hurtful current. All the countless phalluses and scrotums and hairy anuses and armpits my lips had kissed, passed before my inner eye conjuring up marvelous and satisfying visions of lust. The wonderful depravity of it all was relived and enjoyed in memory, but somehow shadowed now by this new need: to conquer the male animal lying next to me.
The outside street lamp cast a weak glow into the room and onto the bed.
My eyes had adjusted to the dimness by now, so that I could easily see the beauty of him. That he was ready and needed was as obvious in him as it was in me. His testicles were enormous, packed with loves' juices. The foreskin had rolled over the glans penis as though the swollen cock was trying to escape its' confining envelope, stretching into the dark heavens, begging me to take it into the warm cavern of my mouth so the cum, spurting into my throat, could quench the unholy desires. An impossible impasse.
There could be no melding of bodies, though I was a willing and promiscous homosexual ready to commit any carnal act upon him, he was the bridegroom to be married in the morning, and I was the best man.
We had just survived an almost all night bachelor party. Drink and grass and porno films. Strip dancers, male and female, cavorted naked through the apartment, culminating in an explicit 'How to do it' sex show. It was Venusberg, Walpurgis night and Dantes' Inferno all rolled into one extravagant tableau.
After the last reveler weent home, the untouched bridegroom left the remains of the debauchery and the smell of sex, and went to bed, the fire burning in his loins begging release.
Jeff and I were not longtime friends, but had met only three days before, when I arrived in New York from distant L.A. to attend my sisters' wedding.
That I should have been chosen best man was a courtesy to the bride and not the result of any loyalty or affection Jeff might have had toward me.
They had met at Yale as freshman, and had engaged in the marriage duties long before the wedding night.
As my sister, Pookie, said to me on the telephone one night not long ago,
"You'd like him, Danny. He's your type, but he fucks me, not you, and I'm going to marry him, and we'd like you to be best man." Since our parents were dead, and all we had was each other, I could hardly decline the invitation.
Pookie was outrageous. She was plain spoken and honest, quite candid about her sexuality and needs. And she accepted mine with support and always with a suggestive innuendo, and often a telephone or address of an interesting Bi.
Jeff met me at Kennedy because Pookie hadn't come down from New Haven yet.
I guessed she had to empty her apartment there, of four years accumulated detritus, before taking up residence in New York as a married woman.
Traffic congestion, and the puzzlement of parking, made him late, and I sat in a bench in the arrival section staring at the flys and crotches of each male that passed by, visualizing in my minds' eye, the size of cock and balls contained therein. Once in a while one would pass by who was not wearing jockeys, and a good impression of his meat, riding down his leg, was clearly visible, and an involuntary excitement shuddered down my spine.
And then suddenly he appeared at the doorway across the huge and crowded room. I recognized him from Pookies' description, but I was not prepared for his actual presence.
Of course in my twenty three years, with the intense scrutiny I employed, I had often been stung by a violent vibration, like Sebastians' arrow, when I accosted a man of special beauty, but when Jeff Cinder strode into the room, I was dissolved into his dynamic masculinity. I was in love!
Though he was clothed in loose-fitting garments, his naked body was clearly revealed. It was obvious that his thin silk jump suit was all that he wore.
He strode across the waiting room with a swagger of confidence, and his penis, caught in the folds of the clinging material, jumbped back and forth to each leg, like an elongated tennis ball.
He was tall, well over six feet. Perhaps by a much as six or seven inches.
And he held his head high and steady, his eyes pivoted right and left in search of me. The suit was unzipped to the waist, and as his shoulders moved in tandem with the rest of his body, the silk fell back against the muscular rib cage, and revealed a glorious nipple, first right, then left, then right, then left, of dark rust colored aerole, the diameeter of half dollars. And each nipple protruded at least and inch, or was it two?
It was as though ripe strawberries had been pasted there, sweet and succulent. I had visions of Pookie teasing them, coaxing them to grow with her tongue. Pookie was good at sex. I know!
He stopped in mid-stream when he spotted me. He was as certain it was me as I was of him, and a smile of recognition lit his face. White teeth bounced along the full thick lips, and his dark brown eyes glowed as amber would with a jewelers' light behind them. He extended his arms in greeting, separating the unbuttoned jump suit. Both nipples were visible now. My God! How beautiful he was!
"Hi, brother," was all he said as he hugged me. I could feel his warm vibrant body against mine. My face reached only to his armpit, and was burried there, and the smell of sweat excited me.
He was quiet as we drove the expressway into the city. I had wanted to sit close to him, to feel his warmth through the thin clothing, but there was a certain reserve, an aloofness about him that stopped me. I sat as far from him as the confines of the automobile would permit. I thought of Pookie and how lucky she was to have snared this luscious animal. The jump suit, so revealing, must have been her idea. Probably a gift from her.
Certainly she knew the effect his wearing it would have on me. Just looking at him caused the blood to surge into my loins. My cock was so hard it hurt, and I made no attempt to hide the tent it made. Instead, I ran my finger inside my unbuttoned shirtm and played with my own erect nipples.
As we came off the expressway onto the crowded surface street the car slowed and finally stopped at a traffic light. It was then that he turned toward me. I knew he was staring at my crotch and the obvious state of arousal, and he said in a quiet voice, "I know you're queer, Danny. I know you whore around. I know you fucked Pookie. I know you have the morals of an alley cat, and I'm warning you, don't try to come onto me. I'm marrying your sister, not you, so lay off. And lay off your sister too, Okay? No more fucking around with her either. Capeesch?" And the signal changed to go and we drove off in silence again. I wanted him more than ever!
I was booked into the Regency on Park because it was near his apartment.
As we drove up to the entrance, I handed my bag to the doorman and took one last lingering regretful look at him. "When you want a change of pace, let me know," I said with a smile.
"You're invited to the party ......before the wedding. Just the guys giving me a send-off, They're glad to get me out of circulation." Then he added,
"You don't have to come, you know!"
I looked at his nipples, fully exposed, and rolled my tongue over my lips.
"I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it for the world," and I slammed the door shut and sashayed my swivelling hips into the hotel as he put the Porsche into gear and roared away.
And now, two days later, we lay together on what was to be the marriage bed.
He was first to stir, to cancel the pretense of sleep that we both tried so hard to effect.
"You awake, Danny?" he whispered in a grass-husky voice. Knowing that I was he turned toward me. The bed lurched with the weight of his body. He was so close to me that I felt his warm, moist breath as it stirred the hairs on my chest.
"Yes, I'm awake," I said, stretching, not attempting to conceal my erection,
"I can't sleep with you lying next to me like this. I'm sure you know that.
You seem to know everything about me. You must know that."
"Yes, I know."
I watched him as his hairy hand slipped down to his crotch and fondled his big love-packed balls, cobwebbed with fine hair. What a beautiful male animal he was, and how I ached to roll my body over his and give him, and me, the pleasure that I knew so well. We were silent for a moment. Each addressing his own needs, and what we should do to satisfy them. Then he broke the mood with a loud hoot and a laugh. "Shit man!" That was some fucking party!"
There was considerable impact in what he said because in the short time that I had known him, he never swore. "Some fucking party all right!"
I thought of the four entertainers. The two men and two women who came into the room at the crucial moment when we were high on grass and drink, and had told our last dirty joke. The pall was beginning to settle like fog coming out of the sea, and then suddenly, there they were, four of Gods' beautiful creatures, exquisite in their nakedness, and they danced around the room flaunting their bodies, loving and kissing and touching each other in all the secret places, cock and pudendum, sucking ass and nipples, drooling on feet and armpits.
After they licked and sucked, they fucked. Then they separated and the girls caressed each other, while the boys settled into a slow sixty-nine.
Those of us for whom they performed were caught up in the reckless abandon. Two ushers stripped naked and joind the revellors on the floor.
Jeff remained still and rigid as stone, and frowned in frank disapproval, or was this his way of maintaining control?
And I took my drink and my rolled grass into the bedroom and closed the door. It was not safe for me to remain. In an uncharacteristic display of restraint, I left the scene, removed my clothes, and went to bed.
Did I pass out, or simply fall asleep to dream a drunken dream of love with my brother-in-law?"
When I awoke a short time later, Jeff was lying beside me, his naked body in all its' passionate arousal, revealed by the light coming through the window from the street outside.
"Yes, it was some party alright," I said. Really more than I could stand considering the circumstances."
He chuckled, "What circumstances?"
I raised myself and sat on the bed, my feet leveraged on the floor. "I'm going back to the hotel, Jeff. I can't stay here any longer. It's more than I can handle right now."
He sat up too, his muscular arm circled around my shoulders. "Don't go yet," he said, "Stay with me a little longer," and his hand rested on my thigh, the tips of his fingers barely grazing my scrotum. I moved toward him twisting my torso slightly, and my hard cock brushed against the back of his hand. I faced him and leaned forward. He bent his head down to mine and kissed me. It was awkward at first because of the difference in our heighth, but I suddenly a sudden exhilaration and pushed him back upon the bed witha whoop and a cry of victory for I knew he was mine now, at least for the next few hours. Afterall, the wedding was scheduled for noon, and it wasn't six yet.
The honeymoon was wonderful.
Just as Pookie had planned it to be..........