Bryan: In Tallahassee

Sometimes a second job is needed to pay the bills that arrive unexpectedly. It is what Bryan had to do to meet that obligation. And sometimes, a job will cast a shadow over you. A looming presence. And doors will open.

-1-

  The Time: Before ‘A Instruction.’

He leans on the doorframe going into the office. His chest plastered hard against his arm, the weight of him bearing down on his five fingers and the frame. His feet are fidgety; unable to keep still, as he rocks back and forth, on the balls of his foot. He knows what is coming. He expects it. Jeffrey is that predictable.

“Jeffrey, I am going to Tallahassee, again, this weekend.”

“Again? You were there just last weekend,” Jeffrey says, the irritation in his voice, apparent, in his words.

“I told you that I have an aunt, down there, that needs my help. She is not well. I told you that. I did. I told you that, Jeffrey.” He repeats.

“I know, that is what you told me but you know you are only allowed to miss so much,” Jeffrey explains, “When you were hired by the State, you agreed to be ‘on call’ were any emergency that may arise on the State’s roads during the weekends.”

“I know. I know,” he says, “I will see you Monday morning. Bye. Bye.”

Typical. The man rides all over the county. Sipping his coffee. And basically, doing nothing and barks when the threat of possible work that he may have to do so work. Looms.

He turns. Waving off Jeffrey, without showing his hand in a passive aggressive way.

He does not wait to hear another rebuttal from his supervisor as he walks through the opened garage door of ‘the Barn’.

The walk to his truck is short. Just a matter of a few steps before he is seated behind the steering wheel of his newly bought tan Toyota pick-up. On the seat next to him is his packed duffle bag, his preparation for the upcoming weekend’s activities.

The exit is fast. The other men had already left the moment the hour struck five p.m.

He heads south down the highway to the Florida line. But it will be an hour before he crosses into the city limits of the capitol city of Florida: Tallahassee.

“Maggie, I am on my way,” he says into the cell, the one that stays in his glove compartment, which is used for this one specific purpose. Contact with Maggie.

“Okay, Bryan,” says the woman’s voice on the other end of the cell, “did he give you any grief?”

“Yep,” he answers, “He did. He is such an ass.”

“I know. I know, okay, I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Okay. Okay.”

The conversation is quick. He has notified her of his eventual arrival. One of her rules.

As he crosses over the state line, he lifts the soiled tee shirt over his head. The wind whips through the damp furred chest hairs that are there. The breeze dries the day’s sweat. He is ripe with ‘the stank’. They had shoveled three dump truck loads of asphalt along several state roads today, stopping the run-off from the deeply rutted roads. To the shoulders of whatever road that needed it.

He cups his imprisoned cock and squeezes it. He squeezes tighter as he feels his cock grow in his equally dirty Levis. He unzips and fishes out his now fully erect cock. It does not take him long to get to his cock into the fresh air, as he has freeballed since freshman year of high school. The cool Florida air whisks over his cock as he turns onto Highway 90 and makes his way west to Tallahassee. It will be little less than an hour from here; he can feel his excitement build.

He has been through this tiny town, many times. There is a bed and breakfast here that caters to men like him but that is not where he is going today. From here, it is a straight drive into the city.

As he drives, he gently strokes his cock. Driving on the open road; it has become his custom, to fondle the God-Given toy that is between his legs. This is nothing new. He has been doing this when he discovered in his teens that the more you play with your cock; you are going to be rewarded with a creamy gooey prize, eventually. At the happy end.

-2-

Through the open gate he passes, the winding driveway up to ‘the House’ is a scant half mile. As he rounds the last curve, ‘the House’ sits among the tall pines and the humongous oaks that are scattered across the expansive property. It is a pre-Civil War mansion, built by a one-time Florida Senator. The area was once rocked by a scandal in a more recent time. Maggie bought the house from that family when they were in dire financial straits back in the late 1990s. After the scandal had been made public. That were fast to sell. The shame having been to grand. To explosive. The family had to move.

Not wanting to be caught with his pants down, literally, he had stopped earlier on this winding driveway and tucked his hardened equipment back in his pants. He did not cum. He was just ‘readying’ himself, as you must be prepared. He was no Boy Scout, but preparation is always a plus. He did not bother with the shirt though, as he will shower once he gets into the house. He can feel the wetness in his jeans, as his pubes are drenched in his juices, both sweat and ball-juice. He does sniff his hands smelling his distinct masculinity. He likes what he smells.

As he nears ‘the House’, he taps on his horn. One-time. Two-time. The sound carries through the area. He parks near the black shiny Mercedes-Benz sedan in the driveway. It is the car that he will drive out to his appointment.

Maggie can see him from her second-floor office window as it overlooks the driveway. He knows she can see his approach. Maggie sees everything.

He parks and gets out of his truck, leaning over and getting his large black athletic duffle bag in the passenger seat and pulls the strap over his head. To his shoulder. As he walks up the brick steps of the side door, there is a buzz sound that alerts ‘the House’ that someone has crossed over the threshold.

“Auntie Maggie, I am here,” Bryan yells out and laughs too. At the same time.

He plops his bag on the kitchen floor and scales the stairs, two steps at a time, until he comes face-to-face to the open door of Maggie’s second story office.

“Auntie Mags!”

He walks in. He plants a kiss on his dear Auntie, on her make-upped coated cheek.

“So that is what you told your boss?”

“Yep!”

“So, do you have an Aunt Maggie, Bryan?”

Bryan mouths ‘no.’

“I didn’t think so,” Maggie says, “You gonna be ready for tonight?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, “I am always ready.”

They both snicker on the inside joke. He is.

“Well, go get yourself a damned shower, you stink. Boy. You stink.”

“I know,” Bryan, says, “I am a working man.”

“That is why you are in such demand,” she says, “That is what the clients like about you. That you are a regular Joe. I told you that the day I met you.”

“That I know. That I know.”

“You need to shave that two-day old stubble, off, it needs to go,” Maggie says, “He likes his men, clean-cut. Or does he?”

“Am I gonna have to pick him up at the airport?”

“Yep.”

She says, as she looks at her gold and diamond-studded Cartier watch.

“You have two hours, maybe less. Till he arrives,” she explains, “Get a move on, now, Sweetie. Get a move on.”

“Who is it?” Bryan asks.

“Marks.”

“The man from Los Angeles.”

“Yes, it is him,” she says. “Be ready now. Now get that damned stink off you. He likes’m rough…but you know that. Doncha ya.”

He winks at his ‘employer’.

“Who is here?”

“Eve, Jessa, and Abbott,” she explains.

“That’s all.” He says. “The girls have clients, or are they just out, a swimmin’?”

“Just swimming. Yep, it is gonna be one of those slow weekends,” she says, “Take your room next to Abbott, and do not play. I need both of you up to full strength. He has a party out in the woods tonight with that pipeline guy.”

“Abbott is going to like that.” Bryan says. “He is going to really like that.”

“I know,” she says. “He likes his ass filled to the brim with all the man-cum he can get.”

He is not surprised by what Maggie says. She knows what they all have in common. Maggie included.

Bryan smiles. He has filled Abbott’s ass many times. But Maggie thinks he has stopped.

The senior from the State college in Tallahassee can take a pounding. But 23-year-olds, like Abbott, are made that way. He was, except he is the one ‘to fuck’ and not the ‘fuckee.’

He scales the stairs, downward, in the same manner he went up them.

As he picks up his bag from the kitchen floor, he hears the frantic water splashing in the pool just outside the kitchen window. He walks to the rear window and sees, Eve, Abbott, and Jessa frolicking in the oversized pool. All are naked, because who wants a farmer’s tan when you ply the trade in the way that they all do. No one. The women are not worried about Abbott ‘attacking’ them. He has never fucked a woman, and it is highly unlikely that he ever will. To look at the muscle-bound college Senior, you would think he would have women clawing at him. They do. But he is not interested. He never has been. He prefers cock. So, does he. So does Bryan.

He waves at them and they wave back. Abbott is sporting his usual hard-on. The kid cannot help himself. He is quite the exhibitionist.

Seven years ago, it was him too.

Well nothing has changed. He gets hard when the wind blows up his pants leg.

The clock dongs in the foyer on the half hour. He must get a move on. He has an hour and a half before he must be at the airport and get Marks when he arrives on his private jet. He must be on his way to Miami, for some big television executive meeting. Or about some movie. It is the only time; he travels to the east coast and takes a night or two over in Tallahassee. He stops over just to see him: Bryan. Only him.

-3-

His scuffed and well-worn boots reverberate through the hallway as he walks down the long wooden floored corridor that is off the main living room to the many bedrooms that are on the north side of ‘the House’. His bedroom, not among the spacious but it is only one on the weekends that he uses.

He strips off his grubby clothes and dumps them into the hamper. He knows that Rose, the ever-present maid, will have them washed, folded, and waiting for him when he returns Sunday afternoon, before he heads back to Georgia.

On his bed, she has neatly laid out, his black Armani suit, to wear, tonight, minus the tie. It is a formal night, well, maybe stylish, is a better word. A tie is not required. Maggie runs a tight ship. She has a certain image that she wants to project from ‘her staff.’ Maggie is not a slacker. She has been in this business for decades.

He walks to the many mirror-covered bathroom. His surveys his naked 30-year-old body from every conceivable angle. As he is bombarded, by himself, from all angles. Like some amateur weightlifter before a competition. He needs a little color. A slight tan. He is paler than he would like to be. But he has seen the use of the orange spray-glow tan. He does not want to look like the ghastly plastic orange-skinned Halloween pumpkin basket meant to hold a kid’s bounty on that holiday. He will brown by Maggie’s pool in the backyard. (Along with Abbott and the girls.) His muscles are taunt. Pectorals. Dark trimmed chest hair among the musculature ridges. Abdominals nestled in a light sheen of naturally pigmented dark hair. Which accent his hard-work-come-musculature. Biceps. Triceps. Even his calves. Firm. Even his neck has muscled up. Like other parts of him. He turns and surveys his ass. His buttocks are getting into better shape. He flexes them. They roll with his added attention. Over them, too, is a faint whisper of dark hair. Looking much better. “Good.” (He grabs either side of his ass and bends. He can see a light dusting of dark fuzz as it originates there and creeps up from the crack. To his back. He likes this natural occurrence.) The gym has helped. He no longer has the white boy ‘no ass.’ An improvement. Maggie said it would happen. (But he knew too.) And it has. She was right. She was happy to pay for his membership in a gym back home. Even got him a trainer. But he did not want one. (But that had brought about some other opportunities too. Reed was fun in the locker room. His trainer.) But she would not take ‘no’ for an answer. She insisted. “It’s an investment.” She said. She was right about that too. “It won’t last forever. You need to enjoy yourself. While you can,” she said to him. Too. He did not like to hear that. All this ending. It was not something he liked to hear. But she was not one to dwell on such things for long. She has experience. He likes what he sees.

He faces the mirror again. And thrust out his cock. His cock is surrounded by the dense fur of his masculinity. He needs to shave his balls. Do some trimming. Do some manscaping. But he does not have enough time. He says to himself, too. Grabbing his piece of manhood in his hands. It begins to, steadily, harden in his fingers. The curly-Q of the many hairs wrap themselves around his clasping fingers. This will last. He says to himself in his head. This will last. Repeating it like a mantra. As a drop of seed materializes out of his wee pee-hole. He wipes the juice over the helmet of his cock. And brings the remainder of the sweet-salty seed to his mouth, tasting the essence of himself. He comes a lot. Even when he is just looking at himself. He tastes good. But he has been told that since he was in his late teens.

            “Nope. Nope. That’s for later.” He tells himself. “That’s for later.” And withdraws his hand. But his cock points out from his furry groin looking like an arrow, readying, to pierce a target. Later. He tells himself. Later.

He never thought he was particularly handsome. As a kid, he was the string bean, wiry and clumsy on his own feet but once he got into college, the one year that he went. There were changes. He thickened up, muscled.

His return to the gym was a blessing. As he had once gone. In college. But he was to distracted then. He still has the narrow waist, but he came into it. The gym helped, along with his independence and much-needed separation from his overly devout evangelical family. And the weeks that Reed and he were an item. That was nice. Even though both kept it that to themselves. Reed would be fired from his position at the gym, were it be revealed he liked to be fucked in the shower.

If his family knew what he did on certain weekends when they called. (Which was rare or almost non-existent.) They would curse him to the pits of hell for his fucking and sucking, on the amorous delights of the male body. Of course, they would be spewing their Christian love and quoting Bible verses while they did it but that is why he has not bothered to tell them. They know he is gay, he told them that news last year about for which they have yet to recover. Knowing that, he plies his wares for money would send them into monster spasms, even though he has been doing it for many years now. He keeps his mouth shut. Locked tight and to himself, his mom did not raise a dummy, but she did raise a gay man.

He chuckles to himself. You must laugh at it, so he does.

He found that people were looking at him, especially the girls. But he was not interested in them, the girls, that is, but he did not say anything.

He played the game.

He had to, what else was he to do?

“You in there, Bryan?”

It is Abbott. He knew it would be a matter of time before he showed up. Abbott has a thing for him. So does Eve and Jessa, but Eve and Jessa knows it is pointless. Abbott still holds out hope that something will happen. Between them. Bryan knows it will not, in any shape, or form. But Abbott is a ‘good fuck’ so he lets the kid fawn over him. Drool. And partake when he is in the mood.

“Yeah, I am in here,” Bryan yells from the bathroom.

Abbott comes in, and plops down in the chair and stares at him. Abbott’s cock, throbbing, and pulsing in its hardness. But the younger man does not touch it. He just let it be seen.

“Who you seeing tonight, Bryan?”

“Marks.”

“Oh, lucky you,” Abbott says, “And I ain’t his type. Damn!”

“I know.”

“Yep, what are two bottoms to do?” Abbott interjects, sadness in his voice, “You gotta pick him up?”

“Uh-huh.”

Bryan can feel Abbott’s eyes as they sweep over him. If he were not already undressed, Abbott would have undressed him or helped to unclothe him. Bryan turns and waves his body at Abbott. His cock flops from one side of his thigh to the other.

Abbott smiles at Bryan’s display.

“You gotta shave?”

“Yeah,” Bryan says, “You should not, the stubble suits you. I like it.”

Abbott’s fingers go to his cock and plays with it.

“But that is not what he wants. Or Maggie.” Bryan sighs.

“…and you must give the clients what they want,” Abbott says, “Maggie’s number one rule.”

“Uh-huh,” Bryan bemoans.

Abbott stands and walks up to him. His cock waving like a pole between his legs. Bryan lets his fingers roam over him. Bryan does not stop him, as he needs to be primed before tonight, besides Abbott has talented fingers. As he grasps his hardening cock in his hand. Bryan does not stop him. He likes the warmth of the younger man’s grip. His fingers.

Abbott squats and takes Bryan’s cock into his mouth. The sound of those wet machinations, from Abbott bobbing up and down on his cock. It is the only sound, heard, in the reflective bathroom.

“I don’t want to cum.” Bryan says as he gently pushes Abbott from his cock. “Bring me to the brink. To the until.”

“Uh-huh.” Abbott complies. Once he brought to that point.

Abbott stands. Their cocks duel between their close thighs as both of their pubic bushes graze the other. Bryan leans in and kisses Abbott. Tasting his own pre-cum on Abbott’s lips.

“That felt good. Thank you.”

“I’ll get out of here. I know you are in a rush. See me before you leave, okay? By the way, I like that smell of you after a day at work. You smell wonderful.”

Bryan turns to him and kisses the blonde surfer type, again, square on the lips.

“Of course. Of course.”

Abbott exits the room as he steps into the already steaming shower.

Time is ticking away, thank God, the airport is close. Thank God.

-4-

He pulls up to the terminal right as Marks walks out of the automatic door. He has a black overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He sees me.

Abbott had sucked on his cock, in the bathroom, before he left ‘the house’. He is primed for Marks.

Marks bolts out of the terminal as soon as sees the car parked on the yellow curb.

“Marks, how are you?”

He smiles. He is fine.

“I love that damned accent of yours.” Marks says.

“Thanks.” Bryan says, reluctantly.

His ‘s’ sound has that southern twang and drawls out. Apparently, he likes my South Georgia twang. At times, he hates it. Remember what Maggie said, ‘what the client wants, the client gets.’ Who am I to complain? I will happily comply.

“It is one of the things I like about you,” he says, “one of the many things I like about you.”

Marks winks at me.

“You are at the same place as last time, aren’t you?”

Marks nod his head, ‘yes’.

I sling his bag in the backseat of the Benz.

“You look good in that black coat and get-up. Is that for me? For my benefit?”

“Yes.”

“One time I would like you to show up in your torn pair of Levi’s and a ratty tee shirt and those work boots that you say you hate so much,” Marks says, “I would like to be greeted that way, just one time.”

“I will,” I say, “…but I keep forgetting. Maybe you need to tell Maggie. I would forget to do so many things were she not in my ear. No. No, there is no need, next trip, you will see me that way. I promise.”

“Good,” he says, “…and I want to see that truck I bought you. I want to see you in that gift I got you.”

“I promise, you will see it, too.” Bryan says.

Maggie’s words echo in my head, ‘give the client what they want’.

Marks will be okay this time, but this is the third time he has made this comment. Mental note, jeans and my truck, next time.

Before he can pull away from the terminal curb, Marks leans over from the passenger seat and kisses Bryan roughly across his lips. He can feel Marks tongue as it worms and squirms into his mouth. At the same time, he can feel pressure being applied to his cock. Marks is squeezing ‘him’.

“Mmmm,” Marks says, “I do like country boy cock.”

“Let’s get ourselves to the hotel suite.”

Bryan puts the Benz in gear and pulls from the curb. Marks hand has not left his groin. The squeezing is getting tighter.

From afar, you can see the tall white phallic-like structure that is the Florida capital building as they approach it. It is lit up in adoration of a gigantic dick. Marks suite is in the shadow of this building. All the buildings in Tallahassee are pale in comparison to this capital building.

“So, are on your way to Miami?”

“Yep,” Marks says, “there is another film in the works…I am to meet with a big star there.”

“Who?” Bryan asks.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Marks says, “You know that. I can make you a star. At least in my eyes.”

Bryan does not respond. Again.

-5-

The room fills half the top floor of where he takes up residence, while he is in town. Marks. It is cheaper than what he would be paying for a similar suite in California. The car is parked in the underground garage, before they go straight up to the elevator, to the floor. This specific floor.

“Would you like a glass of wine, red or white,” Marks says, “They always stock the room with what I want. Money has a way of getting you whatever you want, even when you do not know what it is, that you want.”

“Naw, I’m fine. I am fine,” Bryan says, “You always ask me that when we get here. You are predictable in that way.”

Marks eyes roll over Bryan. He can feel himself being undressed. By Marks.

“Get naked!” Marks demands, “Since you hate to wear them damned clothes so much.”

That is true. He hates to wear them. Being naked is how he prefers to be, and it is how he met Maggie, too. Years ago.

He was at a secluded nudist colony tucked away in the dense piney woods east of Tallahassee, just a wee bit north of Interstate 10. Off some less-traveled dirt road. He was laying on an oversized beach towel soaking up the rays of the high Florida sun. On a typical southern Saturday. He felt the shadow of her naked body loom over him casting her feminine shadow upon him. Pleasantries were exchanged, “hellos” and “hi,” as well as, the compliments. “You are a handsome man.” She said. And more. She asked to him to visit ‘the House’ that same day as if to see if he would be interested in some extra employment. He was 27 years-old at that time of her approach. He had noticed her watching him on a few visits he had made to the pond. Abbott was already working for her, then, when he was approached. He had already fucked Abbott on several occasions back in the secluded woods. On the paths in the woods. He would find out later that Abbott had mentioned him to Maggie. Apparently, Maggie found her talent wherever she would come across it. And she wanted him.

“Whatcha thinking ‘bout Bryan?”

“Oh, nothing, Marks. The past.” Bryan says. “The past. I can’t wait to get close to you.”

“Me too. Me too.”

They are both naked within seconds. The clothes are simply, a covering, a shield to what lies underneath.

 Now, they are exposed. You cannot tell which one is the rich one, the one who drives around in a battered yellow dump truck and tractor from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. at work every weekday, or which one just arrived in Tallahassee on his personal Leer jet. It does not matter. They are both men. Their cocks prove that point. He is slightly taller than Marks, only by a half-inch or two or less. He does not know. Both have their hair in all the right places, on their chest, around their cocks and underneath their arms. They are muscled. Their cocks are throbbing as the blood rushes into the many tiny vessels that fill each cock. Making that appendage, grow and expand. It is there that differences are more apparent, as men are different in that way.

Each man responds to ‘the swell’ that grows between his legs. It is instinctive if you are a man. You reach for what is there. Every man does it. Some deny it while others proudly show it off. Bryan and Marks proudly show theirs off.

Both men are seated on the corner of the King-sized bed that fills the bedroom of the suite. Out the window, the looming capitol building fills their vision.

“There you go again,” Marks says, “Off in that damned head of yours, again. What is on your mind, now, Bryan?”

Marks pleads for an answer.

“Just thinking.”

“About what?” Marks ask.

“This,” Bryan says, “That, a lot. You know how I tend to wander.”

“This what? That what? Tell me more.”

“Why do you like me? What about me make me so attractive to you?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

“Yes. Yes, I have,” Bryan, says, “I did when I showered at ‘the House ‘earlier. I did not see anything special.”

“What did you see?” Marks asks.

“A guy who did not finish college. A guy who does a job that makes himself feel vastly uncomfortable because he has trouble operating machinery. A guy who is has a secret that no one knows about.”

“That’s not what I see,” Marks says, “I see a humble man, a self-reflective man, a man who has so much to offer and damn, that cock that dangles between your legs. It is quite an offering.”

“You see me as an object? You see me as a sexual object, don’t you?”

“No. No. That is not what I am saying. It is the part of you that I have seen more than anything else, you are one of the best lovers that I have ever experienced. The best, in my life, really,” Marks says. “Really. I mean it.”

Bryan grimaces.

“Before you, in all my travels. I have met many men, slept with many men who thought they were ‘the best’ at the fucking. At the sucking. at the rimming. At all of it…but they were not, they were not. Bryan, you outshine them all. You have a gift, a certain gift. You are unlike anyone that I ever met. Not only with that glorious cock of yours, or with your tongue, even when you have that little bit of stubble on the tip of your chin, you know how to use all of it. You know how to please the man that you are with at the time. You seem to be able to anticipate what a man wants, find it, and then deliver on what should be done. Haven’t you ever been told this?”

“Really?” Bryan says, not believing what he is hearing from Marks.

Other men have told him this, but he has always doubted, if it were true. It is that lack of self-esteem and the voice of his long dead father in his ear, telling him. He was worthless, it is what he hears.

“Really,” Marks says, “I have tried to get you to leave ‘the South’ and come with me to LA but you said you cannot move.”

“I can’t. I told you that.”

“I know,” Marks, says, “I know. So I keep asking and you keep saying, ‘no’, but I will keep doing it because you mean a lot to me, not only for that cock between your legs but for the brain in your head and that beating compassionate and caring heart in your chest.”

Marks has his right hand over Bryan’s heart.

Marks leans into Bryan, their face melds them into one as they kiss.

The kiss is long and…wet, and ever so full of passion.

He can feel the static electricity between them, their hairs on their chest respond to their closeness. The sheets ruffle under them. Under their bare ass.

“I want you to fuck me,” Marks says as they separate.

He did not need to be asked.

“I want you to do it without a condom.”

“You know I can’t,” Bryan says, “You know Maggie’s rules. I know her rules.”

“Maggie is not here,” Marks, explains, “You are. I am. I want all of you in me.”

He can feel the anxiety in his head. He knows he should not fuck without a condom, but the condoms are too tight, they are not big enough to fit him, accommodate him, no matter what brand he uses.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Marks says, a smile creeping across his 50-year-old face. Happy.

“Okay.” Bryan concedes.

Bryan falls back onto the soft plush of the cool cotton sheets while he feels all five fingers of Marks’ right-hand roam through the prickly hairs on his chest. Marks is gentle, letting his fingertips do their magic on some unseen roadmap that Marks is following with his fingertips trek. He wants to sigh as the tenderness that is being evoked on him. But he does not, he lets his leaking cock express how good it feels. Each pinprick of Marks’ fingers causes a delicate bubble of his pre-cum to be expelled. And coalesces on his cock.

Marks sees his unspoken expression and lets the fingers on his left-hand trail to the slow steady flow of pre-cum from his cock, smearing that gob-juice over his delicate swollen head but he does not cry out. He holds his verbal expression in; and lets his body talk to Marks. Marks understands.

This battle between will and control rages on in Bryan’s head, but he does not relent. He moans softly, barely audible.

“Does it feel good?” Marks ask.

He does not answer but he feels his face grow warm, (and red). That is his answer.

Marks head darts to his groin as he swallows him. He is unable to take all his hardened cock into his mouth. He gags but that does not stop, Marks’ slobbers and the cum juices mingle in Marks’ mouth from Bryan’s cock

Again, Bryan does not utter a word as Marks’ goes about the furious ‘milking’ of his cock with his mouth. The wet sound of the skill being applied to his cock does not burst the dam that is building.

The sounds of the sucking fill the quiet room. The shadow of Tallahassee’s giant phallus looms over the city as Bryan’s sees it out the window. His phallus, like the skyscraper out the window points to a darkened night heaven. The more suction that Marks does to his cock, the more his full balls react to the wet-heated stimulation.

He wants to moan but he holds off. He clenches both fists, tighter and still tighter, but he does not cry out. He endures. He finds the strength that he knows he has inside of him, that deeper inner strength that a man garners since the first day he walked the road of fucking. He learns. And takes another step of self-control.

He bucks his hips on the bed. The sweat wells up over his body as the temperature rises between them both. The sheen of perspiration illuminates the younger man’s body in the dim light of the bedroom. He places his hands on both sides of Marks’ head and lifts him from his elongated cock.

“It is my turn,” Bryan mumbles. “My turn.”

Bryan’s cock remains fully extended, each pulse of his heart feeds more of the life-giving fluid to his cock. The pulsing fuels the desire locked deep in his genes.

“Okay.”

Marks find his place in the warm sweet spot where Bryan had heated it up. The scent of Bryan’s perspiration reeks from the damp sheets underneath his ass and back. Marks breathe is that overwhelming odor, those working-man exertions.

Bryan lets his fingers dance along the soft tender flesh of the man that lay before him, the combination of the fictional Madison Avenue Ad Executive Don Draper-007 British spy-type look-alike older man. The image swirls in his head, to the actual man in the bed with him, now. Both are welcome. A man that he has longed for but held off from invoking his feelings for…one of Maggie’s most important rules, do not fall in love with the man you are fucking. He has held off for a long time in not doing it. He wants to tell Marks his feelings, but he says nothing.

He travels up Marks’ well-muscled leg, through the dense hairs there. Feeling the heat emanate from Marks’ body, the closer he gets to Marks’ groin. In the center of Marks’ crotch, the tower that is Marks’ manhood rages like a quiet volcano. Waiting to erupt. As the pressure builds in the ‘cummie’ magma of his balls.

Marks sighs and squirms.

He puckers his ass in anticipation for what will come. Bryan’s cock buried to its hairy hilt there. Marks, in his fevered imagination of anticipation for Bryan’s cock mounts. It is why he traveled to Tallahassee. Bryan.

As Bryan’s fingertips creep up Marks leg to the inside of his thigh.

Marks lips quiver as the inside of his thigh is gently tickled by the deft fingered approach to the swollen loaded balls.

“Ahhhh,” Marks sighs, as gentle stream of clear manly fluid escapes from the confines of his balls, “ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

Marks quakes fill the room as the first fingers touch his tender ball-sacs.

Bryan rubs Marks’ balls, squeezing them and then taking the pressure off. Each pause and stop feeds more sensation through Marks. And empties his spunk just a little more with the tease.

Bryan turns Marks over. There is no fighting. No hesitation. Marks just does it.

Bryan lets his right-hand wander to crack of Marks’ ass and sticks a wet finger at the entrance of this hairy-lined heavenly passage. Marks open his legs to allow greater access to the thick fingers of his lover. One goes in, then another.

Bryan is readying himself for what he knows is coming. For what he wants. Marks’ ass.

He bucks his hips as he accommodates the digits that are plunging into the well of ‘his ass.’

“I want your cock!” Marks squeals. “I want your cock! I wannnn…”

“Shhhh. Shhhh.” Bryan says, “In due time.”

He removes his fingers and replaces them with his mouth, he lets his breathe rake over the hairy passage. A short breath, a burst of his heated air. Parts the tiny follicles of hair that are at the divine entrance.

“I am going to fuck that ass till you scream,” Bryan whispers into the dense hairy hole that is at his nose. He is telling Marks’ ass what he is going to do.

“What did you say?” Marks says, “You whispered.”

“Shhh,” Bryan says again in a low whisper. “Shhhh, now.”

His tongue darts out, tasting the sweet dew of sweat and exhilaration of Marks tender hole. Marks puckers tighter but Bryan prevails. He knows Marks’ ass better than Marks does. He licks at the tender button as he holds the hips of his mature lover. Each plunge of his tongue stirs an even greater reaction from Marks. The sighs. The moans. Carry through the four corners of the room.

Bryan looks to the lights on the outside of the state capitol building. “I’ll give him something that he will never forget.” He says. He can see his ‘capitol building’ sliding into Marks’ ass.