My summer of sex with Cowboy

Chapter  29

I'm sitting at our apartment's kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee, dealing with a hangover from over-drinking during the Fourth of July cookout. Bruce's fondness for shots and beers and my propensity to do what he does are responsible for my hangover. It's not that I never drink shots and beers because I'll order that once in a while, but never this frequently, and never Budweiser and Jim Beam. That's not important, though. What is important is how well the four of us are getting along. Cowboy and Lee seem to like Bruce, and, of course, Bruce knows how I feel about him, so that's cool. 

Then, grinning, I'm thinking about Bruce fucking me this morning. Jesus, it's like when I can't imagine our sex getting any better, Bruce takes it up another notch. We've been fucking three or four times a day for almost six weeks now, minus the three days he was in the pussy boy funhouse, and I'm noticing his abrupt initial thrust isn't registering in my brain's pain center nearly as much as it used to. It's either what Bruce said that he'd trained my ass to accept his big initial thrust, or it's me psychosomatically convincing myself that what hurts, um, doesn't hurt.

His recent silly idea of spanking my ass is intended to get me into a submissive frame of mind. It doesn't, but he means well, so I'm going along with it, hoping he'll lose interest in doing that sooner rather than later. I know from spanking Cowboy, for example, that it's boring and tiring doing the spanking. Anyway, I don't think Bruce's heart is in it because he doesn't spank hard enough to hurt very much.

He's an awesome sex partner, although not in a romantic manner; it's fuck-buddy sex from his perspective. Well, he's been doing some making out of late, too, and telling me some sweet compliments as well, neither of which fuck buddies do at all. So, it isn't all merely buddy sex.                            

The other day, for the hell of it, I asked Bruce if we could switch roles sometime, and when he said no thanks. I'm much more suited to being a bottom. I get off on Bruce's dominance both during sex and even some of his bossiness between sex acts, although I don't like that nearly as much as the other. 

While thinking about these thoughts, I watched Cowboy and Lee cooking our breakfast. They appear to be having a lot of fun doing it. I admire their puppy-love affair, wondering why I didn't ever have that. Well, I know why; it was because of Ronny. I was so determined to be cool and tough like him that I gave up having the kind of carefree fun that young gay guys like Cowboy and Lee are having. I'm not blaming Ronny, though. I blame myself for wasting my teen years trying to be someone I'm not.

Lee acts to Cowboy very much as I act to Bruce. That's about the only thing Lee and I have in common. Cowboy deserves a lot of credit for doing Lee the huge favor of outing him. As Lee said, Cowboy's the best thing that ever happened to him, and I feel Bruce is the best thing that ever happened to me, too. As much as I've mocked that pussy boy training manual, Bruce followed it, and in the end, he taught me my place as a submissive bottom who needs a leader to follow. That training taught me humbleness that, previously, because of my physicality and Navy Seal background, I had very little of. 

As for Bruce, he's in the bedroom changing the sheets on our bed, a job he assigned himself to do twice a week. Finished doing that, he comes into the kitchen and says to the boys cooking breakfast, "Hey, guys, the smell of frying bacon always makes me hungry."

Lee says, "We'll have it ready in a few minutes. Carson made a coffee run to Dunkin'. Grab a cup."

Bruce mumbles, "Thanks, I will," but he first comes over to me and puts his hands on my shoulders, leans down, and kisses the side of my face, murmuring, "You doing okay, boyfriend?" I reach up and squeeze his hand, "Better than okay after our fun in bed this morning." 

Well, I'll be dammed; just now, Bruce did something romantic!

He gets a take-out cup of coffee and puts it in the microwave for ten seconds. Then, sitting across from me, he asks, "What's your final answer about a haircut?"

Lee turns around and says, "If you want a haircut like Carson's and mine, my dad is the barber to see." I mumble, "Yes, I know that, Lee. I got a haircut from him, remember?"

He nods, "Yeah, that's right, so you know he's a good barber, right?"

"You bet."

He's proud of his dad, but I thought his old man was a bit of a butcher barber doing my zip, zip, zip clipper too-short haircut. His old man is also a grouch.

Lee sets plates in front of Bruce and me. Each plate has two eggs over easy, four strips of bacon, two slices of buttered toast, and home fries. I go, "You've gotta be kidding me. Which of you two knows how to do eggs over easily without breaking the yolk... and home fries?"

Cowboy says, "I cooked the bacon, but Lee's the chef."

Lee says, "I cook breakfast for Mom and Dad every Sunday, or I used to before I had a boyfriend who had me sleep over some Saturday nights."

Bruce says, "This looks perfect," and he starts eating. Lee pats my shoulder, mumbling, "Eat up, Zach."

Bruce and I are halfway finished breakfast when Cowboy and Lee sit down with their plates. Hmm, when it doesn't appear they're going to bring it up, Bruce brazenly asks, "How'd the cherry-picking go last night, Lee?"

Both Cowboy and Lee laugh out loud, and then Lee says, "I did a premature, um, ejaculation again." Cowboy swallows some fried egg, then goes, "He had his cute hard weenie against my, um, entrance when he lost his cookies all over my butt."

Lee snickers, "It's hot fun, though, and we're gonna keep trying. It's just that Carson is so sexy, so beautiful. I mean, look at him, and his body's so hot, too! Plus, you might not believe this, but he smells sexy... so I lose my shit."

Cowboy nods, "Yeah, Lee's right about all that, so we've decided to cut the foreplay short. Cut down on the making out and groping." Lee adds, "Yeah, twenty minutes of that with Carson, and anybody would lose their cookies. Even straight guys."

Bruce and I are trying not to laugh, but come on... Lee is so sincere, and Cowboy's so conceited it's a funny combination.

Bruce mutters, "Cowboy, why don't you top? That'll bust Lee's cherry  just as effectively as him screwing you."

Cowboy says, "Even though I'm a committed bottom boy, I offered to top 'cause I love this cute motherfucker." Lee tells us, "I said no because I want to do it first with Carson. I need to do it first! After I do it, he can do it to me, and I'll be all set to be a gay sex maniac at college. That's my ultimate goal after being in the closet all my life." 

His innocence makes me snort out a laugh, spitting out some bacon fragments, then do a fake cough to cover up the laugh and say, "I have a strong premonition that it'll work today. Don't wait for bedtime, though; try it after breakfast. I'll clean up the kitchen."

Cowboy says, "Great idea," and he takes a piece of bacon off Lee's plate and eats it in three bites as Lee grins at him. Bruce mumbles, "You two give me a hard-on. I wish I were nineteen again." Fuck, so do I.

Bruce is using a piece of toast to wipe up the last of his breakfast, saying, "Lee, you and I are a couple of lucky fucks. Cowboy is the prettiest guy I've ever seen, and he chose you to spend all his time with. Zach here is a handsome fucker with a macho killer body, and he says he's in love with me. And, like you, Lee, I'm skinny, no offense intended 'cause you've got a cute body, but we're skinny and average-looking, while neither Zach nor Cowboy seems to notice or care about that." 

Lee says, "Oh yeah, I know how lucky I am! I do what Carson tells me, too, including sucking his perfect dick." Cowboy nods and puts some home fries in his mouth, muttering, "That's all true."

I say, "You and I think alike, Lee. Bruce said he's lucky, but it's the other way around." Cowboy takes another piece of Lee's bacon and says, "Let me get this straight, Zach. Are you saying Bruce is fucking you? I thought..." and I interrupt, "Yeah, I thought I was a committed top too, but I've discovered thanks to Bruce that you and I are alike in some ways."

Cowboy goes, "No shit? That shocks me. Jesus!" I shrug, and he adds, "When Lee gets his act together, we outta have a four-way." Bruce goes, "You're on!"

They joke about that as I think how lucky all of us are. Four gay guys living together and openly talking about our sex lives without any jealousy or petty disputes. And damn, the thought of Lee fucking me has my dick stirring. He could never come close to matching Bruce, but it'd be a fun thing to do. And I wouldn't be jealous of Bruce fucking Cowboy. Hell, I fucked him myself like thirty times.

Sorry, Ronny, wherever in the cosmos you are, I'm enjoying my life without you more than I did with you by a factor of infinity times ten. Looking back, I wasn't enjoying myself at all, not compared to now, and what a revelation that is! The lies we tell ourselves to justify what we want to believe... it's just fucking sad. 

Well, I don't need to tell myself any lies now because my feelings are out there for everybody to see; my emotions are so real they radiate, glowing brighter every day. Of course, if Bruce ever moves on from me, it will be a long way down...

While I clean up after breakfast, the boys go into their bedroom, and Bruce has a cigarette on the balcony. It only takes ten minutes to wash the two frying pans, the grill with all the bacon grease, the dishes in the dishwasher, and wipe everything down.

Joining Bruce, I light one of his cigarettes and put my arm across his shoulders as he stands at the railing, looking at eternity. I mumble, "That's done. What do you wanna do now?"

He says, "Don't hug me, okay?" Taking my arm away, I'm like, "Why can't I hug you?" He shrugs, "I don't know, um, it's like I think it's my job to do the hugging."

Another insane theory. 

"Oh yeah? So, start hugging then." He rubs his face, and I ask, "What's wrong?" Bruce shrugs, "I don't know. I'm not pulling my weight around here, making me feel like a freeloader and a phony. You three are so natural and so fucking nice and normal. Plus, you and Cowboy are rich, and Lee works twenty hours a week, and I'm a shit bum."

"No, you're not!" I try for levity, saying, "Hey, you're the only adult here. Us kids need an adult."

He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. "What bullshit that is. Omigod, I don't deserve you, Zach. It's like I'm stealing candy from a baby." He looks at me, "And I still can't fucking believe you were a Navy Seal. I mean, you're so, um, so easy. So easily pleased, too. All I need to do is kiss you, and you're like swooning at my feet."

I mumble, "Well, what's wrong with that?"

He says, "I'm used to earning every little morsel in this brutal life, and you just hand it to me. You're too good for me, Zach. Don't you see that? I'm not in the same league as you, Cowboy, and Lee. I'm out of my league here. I'm like a junkyard dog at a tea party or some such shit."

Hmm, to get him thinking about something else, I say, "No, you're not, but I need a hug that you're supposedly in charge of." haircut. He snorts out another laugh and hugs me, murmuring, "Thanks for getting us out of that nowhere conversation."

He lets go of me and adds, "I'm going to my favorite barber for a haircut, and you're coming with me, okay?"

That's what we do. Getting too-frequent haircuts is a remnant of his pussy boy days. He'll get over it. Bruce's barber is further away from our apartment than from the hotel, but it's another nice day, and with the top down, it's a nice ride. As we go along, Bruce snickers and says, "I wonder how the boys are doing with their latest cherry-picking effort." 

"I predict they're successful right now, so we might not see them again before tonight." He goes, "Christ, they make my dick hard. I hope they're fucking like minks."

"Yeah, but they seem so freakin' young!"

He mumbles, "Uh-huh, they do. And just so ya know, after our haircuts, I'm feeling the urge to fuck your brains out." Nodding, I go, "Omigod, no!"

In the car, after the barbershop stop, I mumble, "Are you ever going to get over these military haircuts? I mean, I don't give a shit. These haircuts are ones I had for four years in the seals, but why now?"

Ignoring that, Bruce says, "There, Zack. Pull over at the CVS, and I'll buy a pack of cigarettes for us." 

I do that, dropping the stupid haircut conversation, and then we find a note from Cowboy in his perfect, neat penmanship at the apartment saying, 'SUCCESS! I've been fucked by Lee... twice! We're on the beach. Love, Cowboy'

Bruce and I high-five as I say, "They'll rarely be out of the bedroom now." We laugh as I stand right next to Bruce, and then I rub his head because I like touching him. 
He grins and puts his arm around my waist, and I mutter, "I like touching you." He goes, "I know you do. It's okay, I guess, but don't overdo it."

Ha! He changed his mind, so I put my arm around his waist and squeezed his slim body. He slowly shakes his head, chuckling, then says, "Omigod, if I didn't like you so much, I'd probably steal your car and sell it, knowing you wouldn't call the cops because you love me."

"Why do you have thoughts like that?"

"Because I'm a dirt dog used to taking advantage in every situation I can get away with. It's called survival, and it doesn't include being nice. Faking being nice works just as well as the real thing." 

Jesus!

I mumble, "Oh, I didn't know that, but don't steal my car. I just got it a few months ago." He says, "If I did and then spent all the money I got for selling it, I'd call you up and say I was sorry, and you'd take me back, wouldn't you?"

I laugh, "Probably, yeah, now that you mention it."

He mutters, "And I'd do it all over again. You're too easy, too soft."

"You might be surprised how unsoft I can be." Flicking his cigarette butt over the railing, he goes, "You've got balls, I know that much. I saw that firsthand from what I remember of my rescue. That took guts 'cause you didn't know how forceful the security people would be."

I shrug, "They weren't forceful enough by a lot."

He squeezes me, mumbling, "I'm not gonna do any of that stealing shit I talked about. It's just a process of cleaning out my head, talking that shit out loud."

Getting off that topic, I say, "It'd be great if you'd fuck after smoking these cigarettes."

He says, "Yeah? Hmm, I can do that, but first, I'd go for some of your total body oral sex. That is off the 'effing charts hot!" 

"Yeah? I can do that."

He chuckles, "Yes, you can. C'mon." We go into the bedroom, close the door, and strip naked in thirty seconds. God, look at Bruce!

"Your body turns me on, bro!" Bruce says, "And just think, you're gonna get to lick it."

Nodding, I say, "Let me start at your feet like I did the other night." He goes, "Foot fetish time, huh?"

"Uh-huh, a little foot fetish is developing, but only because they're your feet."

Bruce mutters, "Go for it," then he tells me bossily, "First, pull the bedspread and blanket down."  

"You're standing right there, Bruce. You pull the covers down yourself." He starts to say something but stops and goes, "Yeah, why not," and pulls the bedspread and blanket off so energetically they fall off the end of the mattress.

We look at one another, and Bruce says, "I'm still getting used to not being your mentor and, um, someone you need to obey."

"I hadn't noticed that," and he laughs, then says, "I love when you lick me all over. I think you're awesome, Zach."

I mutter, "Well, thanks, Bruce. It's my pleasure." He lies on the top sheet with his hands behind his head, saying, "I'm psyched for this, seriously!"

 Me too, so I get on the bed at the foot of the mattress, on my knees, and hold his left foot between my hands. I know it sounds crazy, but Bruce's feet are like his penis, his entire body, actually. I mean, if an artist were to draw the perfect pair of feet, they'd look like Bruce's feet. They'd be without the normal goofy-looking too-long toes; there'd be no ugly bulging knuckles or bizarre toenails. They'd be pretty feet, smooth and perfectly shaped, like Bruce's feet that go perfectly with his nicely shaped legs and arms, his flat stomach and almost subtle definition in his chest, his short blond hair and blue eyes with perfect tight skin that looks like a ten-year-old boy's skin. 

Gulp, altogether, Bruce is the perfect male form, one that UFO aliens from a hundred light-years away are probably looking for. It's just lucky for me they haven't found Bruce yet. He goes, "Dude, what are you waiting for?"

Still holding his foot in both my hands, I say, "I was just thinking how glad I am they haven't discovered your perfect body yet."

He naturally asks, "Who?" and I say, laughingly, "I'm too embarrassed to say what I was thinking."

Bruce shrugs and says, "Well, no need to tell me, but are you going to start worshiping my skinny body with your tongue, or what?" 

I mutter, "You mean like this?" and I suck all the toes of his foot into my mouth and lick across the back of them, wondering a goofy thought, which is, we've been together most of the time, so when did he cut and file his 'effing toenails? They're so smooth and nice. Hell, I cut my toenails as infrequently as I can get away with, and I don't file them like Bruce does, although I probably should 'cause sometimes they snag when I pull socks on. 

Forgetting about that bizarre thought, I suck on his manicured toes and toenails, getting a scent off his foot that's just like the scent of his balls or his neck or his, well, his whole perfect-smelling body.

Systematically, I lick over his entire foot, starting at the heel, licking up his nice arch to the back of his toes, and over the smooth toenails down the top of his hairless foot to his ankle, then do the same to his other foot. It's the second most submissive thing I do for Bruce, second only to rimming his ass, so I do it again with each foot and get a hard boner in the process.

I want to do it a third time but don't because his legs look too lickable to ignore. I lick on the underside over the prominent calf muscle and then around to the top of his leg and back down to the ankle and then up to his knee and over the knee, and then lick up his thigh to his groin. Holy shit, I'm deeply into a submissive frame of mind adoring my boyfriend's body, the smell and taste and look of it; all of it is perfection in my mind. 

Bruce's cock is quite firm by now, listing to the left, so I lick from the mushroom head up to where his pubic hair would normally be. Then, using willpower, I leave his penis for later and lick down his other leg to his knee and lick and suck and inhale his knee's scent for a few seconds before continuing down to his foot. His skin tastes as it smells, subtle scent and subtle taste, neither of which I can articulate. Um, Bruce's skin has a pleasant scent and taste... that's the best I can do to describe it.

Again, I notice and appreciate how much more appealing his body is without body hair, so I salute whoever made hair removal part of the pussy boy experience. And, by the way, I've got nothing bad to say about the working pussy boys; it's management, ownership of the, um, of that club I despise.

Bruce has been making quiet grunting sounds, squirming a bit, and rubbing my head when he can reach it. Meanwhile, I'm getting seriously close to blowing my load. My boner is extremely tight but still up against my belly, which means it can get tighter still, tight enough to move away and stick straight out from my body. I'll know I'm going to climax momentarily when that happens.

Anxious to rim Bruce's ass, I lick up his left leg, and when I get to his privates, I give them a good licking all over, especially his balls, then with a hand under each of his thighs, I push them up while nodding my head at Bruce. He cooperates and pulls his legs back, arching his back which pulls his ass up, and there it is... his tight rosy-pink anus.

His buttocks have minimal bruising left from the paddling, but I still don't feel right messing with them. I'll wait until the pinkish-white skin is all I see. Instead, I lick up and down his ass crack going over his asshole with each pass of my sore tongue. His asshole has the same subtle scent and taste as his legs and privates 'cause Bruce is a considerate top who keeps himself very clean, knowing his submissive boyfriend likes rimming him.

After wetting his ass crack with saliva, I concentrate on his asshole, licking and sucking on it until his anus loosens and I can get my tongue inside to lick on his prostate gland. My tongue aches, but I continue licking his prostate until he goes, "Ahhh!" and his legs go out on either side of me as a high-arcing stream of cum shoots from what is now a wooden boner sticking straight up from Bruce's groin. His cum stream shoots out in an arc, as I said, then comes down in a steak hitting my back and extending down past my buttocks to splat partially on the sheet behind me.

Bruce's fist goes around his boner, and he strokes out one short follow-up steam of cum as he's shaking a little, red in the face, gasping, and breathing deeply. I push his hand away, then take his dick in my fingers and put it into my mouth to lick and suck out cum drools as Bruce's legs are spastically shaking on either side of me.

He takes several deep breaths as normal color returns to his face. With a visible final shudder, he says, "Lie over, Zach," and when I do, he gets on his knees next to me and pulls my boner away from my belly, then licks it up and down before sucking it into his mouth and, Omigod, he does oral sex that I've never felt before in my life.

A professional cocksucker knows tricks I didn't get to learn when my training was cut short. I buck on the bed and, in thirty seconds, arch my back off the mattress, struggling and groaning before squealing, "Ummm, ooh, ahhuagh..." blowing my load in his mouth. What an orgasm! Holy shit, I'm quivering all over as Bruce takes my cock out of his mouth and swishes his tongue around, then mutters, "A slight bacon flavor."

I've still got chills running around my groin. Frankly, I'm shocked and amazed Bruce helped me out like that. I needed the help because my balls were turning a dark blue color. I go, "Jeez, Bruce, thanks!"

He's sitting back on his ankles, still tasting my cum. Then he says, "I blew my load, so I couldn't fuck you as I promised, and your body licking had me so fucking hot, sucking you off seemed the right thing to do." I'm nodding my head, still in shock.

Finally, I mutter, "Your, um, blowjob technique is off the charts, Bruce. Totally incredibly awesome." He shrugs, "Yeah, I made quite a bit of money for my man with that and for me too." Yeah, I can see that.

We lie here on the bed with Bruce talking a little about his six weeks on the streets of NYC, making it almost sound like fun while I know it couldn't have been. He mostly described some of his more unsavory, um, clients who would look for him every few nights and how he'd hide from them, hoping for someone less unattractive. A lot of it sounds like pure bullshit, but I like hearing him talk. He has a nice voice.

Finally, he goes, "My cum must be dried by now."

"Most of it hit my back and is rubbed off on the sheet." He says, "I'll wash your back if you help me change the top sheet."

"Deal," and that's what we'll do even though Bruce changed the sheets a few hours ago.

Then, Bruce uses a wet washcloth to get the dried cum off my back, and then we put a clean sheet on the bed, then the blanket, and  Bruce's cell phone rings. I finish the bed as he looks at the caller ID and frowns, muttering, "Luca Bianchi, holy shit!?" Looking at me, he goes, "Luca is one of the guys I texted in desperation, asking if he knew of a job I could fit into. You know, when you saw me texting the other day, that's what I was doing."

"Oh, that was about a job." He nods and answers his phone. I give him privacy by getting us a couple of beers. Drinking from my bottle of Bud inside the apartment, I watch an animated Bruce walking back and forth on the balcony, talking, then listening. When he puts the phone in his pocket, I join him and hand him a beer.

He mutters, "Thanks," takes a big gulp of beer, and goes, "Holy shit, Luca is the guy I lived in a big cardboard box with. The box we put over an underground train, what they call an El in Philly. We had our box over the train's overhead grate on the sidewalk because heat rose and kept us alive one winter when we were sixteen. Since then, once or twice a year, we text or call to see what's up using the same number of the cell phones we stole."

"Um, something about that doesn't sound feasible, but never mind... it's about a job, huh? What'd he say?"

He swallows beer and says, "It's a job of sorts. Not a full-time job, but one lasting maybe twenty days starting this Saturday. Luca said he'd pay me thirty dollars an hour."

"What kind of job pays that much?" I don't add... a job that Bruce would be qualified for. He swallows more beer, obviously excited about this, and says, "It's a construction job. It's a non-union construction site taking copper pipes from an old thirty-story building that will be demolished in a month." 

Nodding, I mutter, "Huh, yeah, I guess copper is valuable."

Bruce says, "Yep, and Luca says he needs someone he trusts to spy for him while I'll be working with two other guys. He's worried the hired guys might tend to walk off with half the copper pipes at night and, therefore, half his profits."

Hmm, I ask, "Um, does this sound a little, ah, off to you?"

He shrugs again, "I don't want to think negatively, although I wish it were just me working without the spying thing. Anyway, I thanked him, and, fuck yeah, I'm doing it. He said ten hours a day. That's three hundred buck times twenty days. What's that, six thousand dollars? Yeah, damn right, I'm doing it." 

I don't want to say anything, but it sounds like his friend is stealing the copper piping from the building. This guy Luca is the one doing the stealing. 

Bruce is stoked, though. "Wow, six thousand bucks means I can pay my way for a couple of months. By then, the boys will be off to college, and maybe you and I can start some kind of business the way you said we might." 

Trying to sound supportive, I go, "Absolutely," then I can't help inserting a touch of reality into the proceedings, asking, "But, ah, where will you live in Philly for twenty days and nights? I hope not in a cardboard box."

He looks annoyed, mumbling, "Don't be a dick! Luca invited me to stay with him and his wife. He's married with a two-month-old baby girl." 

"Married? Wasn't he, um, working the streets with you that winter?"

Bruce makes a face, saying, "Yes, what's your point?"

"Oh, nothing." Bruce says, "Luca was and still is straight sexually; he and I had no sexual interaction if that's what you're suggesting."

I mutter, "I wasn't even thinking about that." Bruce makes a face and says, "Him being straight shows you how desperate a kid on the street will be. He forced himself to blow truck drivers and older men even though he was straight. Naturally, he did it as infrequently as he could get away with and pulled in way less money than what I was making, so I helped him out buying food and shit. And he mentioned that five minutes ago, and it's one of the reasons he thought of my text and called me."

It still sounds fishy because, get serious, did this job just come up out of the blue? It doesn't seem sensible that whoever owns the building, probably the city, would remember at this late date to get the valuable copper out. On the other hand, what the fuck do I know?

I say, "Obviously, I'll drive you to Philly tomorrow."  

"Nah, that's okay. I'll take a bus."

"What? Don't be like that, Bruce. I want to drive you there."

He says, "Okay, sure. Thanks."

I mumble, "I thought maybe we'd get a room and, ya know, check things out a little a day before you start."

"You're worried about this, aren't you?"

"No! I just wanna see Philly."

He says, "Bullshit, you've already been to Philadelphia. Listen, Zach, I'm no dummy. This may not necessarily be a hundred percent on the up and up, but the job part is real. From what Luca has told me in our once or twice-a-year communications, he gets involved in some shady deals, but he's never been in trouble with the law, so he knows what he's doing."

Hmm, he hasn't gotten caught yet, is what he means. Bruce is as suspicious of this as I am, but he knows how to handle himself. Still, six thousand bucks? Am I supposed to believe this guy, Luca Bianchi, has six thousand dollars in his pocket to hand over to Bruce? That isn't ringing any realistic bells for me. Well, maybe he sells the copper every day. Once again, I don't know what I'm talking about, so I say, "Whaddya say, Bruce? Shall we go down and scope out the place a day early?"

He shakes his head, "NO! That would be dissing Luca. Don't worry; I wasn't born yesterday, Zach. I won't wait until day twenty to ask for my six grand; don't think I'm that stupid."

Uh-huh, I'm gonna check this Luca Bianchi asshole out online. His name even sounds like a gangster or a Mofiaoso guy, assuming the Mafia still exists. And Luca's marriage doesn't change anything. Gangsters get married and have kids, too.

Well, Saturday is the day after tomorrow, so I have a day to talk Bruce into us checking things out a little by going to Philly early tomorrow. That's after I Google Mr. Luca Bianchi.

We put on bathing suits, drive to the beach, buy two pizzas and four Cokes, and then find the boys on the beach. They're sitting in beach chairs, touching the armrests; Cowboy's arm is across Lee's slim shoulders. Their heads are closed as they talk about something. I wonder what... haha! 

Walking up behind them, I go, "You fags are scaring the children." Lee looks back, grinning, "We're harmless, mister."

Bruce goes, "Pizza!" and puts the two boxes on Lee's beach towel. I put the soda next to the boxes, mumbling, "Dig in," then trudge back up the sand to tease the grumpy beachboy. 

Grumpy is reading a paperback when I walk up. Hearing my footsteps, he looks up, and his gaze at me is both interested and indolent. I say, "Hey, hotshot, we both got haircuts! How about that?"

He has a tight burr haircut, and the contrast is obvious between tan skin and white skin where, before his haircut, his hair protected the scalp from the sun. He rolls his eyes, mumbling, "Whaddaya want?"

"Well, duh. Whaddaya think I want?"

He frowns, then says, "Where ya been lately?"

I ask, "Did you miss me the past few days?" He grins for the first time since I've been renting chairs from him and says, "Maybe I did. You're cool looking, and I like your haircut better than mine."

He has a cute grin with dimples and little spaces between each of his front upper teeth.

I say, "I missed you too. I want two beach chairs."

He gets up and unlocks a chain around a batch of chairs, grumbling, "Oh, great; I need to start a new batch now." I go,

"That haircut ya got there is a stark change for you, sunshine. That's quite a severe burr haircut. What's up with that?"

Taking two chairs from the cluster of chairs, he goes, "Not that it's any of your business, my friend, for the first time, was giving me a regular haircut, but things went terribly wrong immediately, and," pointing at his head; he adds, "A half-hour later this is what I ended up with."

Taking the chairs, I give him a twenty, saying, "Keep the change. Um, are you guys still friends?"

He shrugs, "He's still my boyfriend, yeah. I gave him the same butchered haircut he gave me so we'd be even."

This kid is only cute when he smiles, but he has a nice tight body. Too young, though. I say, "Well, you look hot with that haircut, so don't worry about it."

He mutters, "Who's worried? Dickie and I look the same. That's all I care about."

Carrying the chairs down the beach, I'm surprised the grumpy kid was so forthcoming today. Ya don't know how someone perceives you. He admitted he missed my ballbusting... and he's gay! I would never have guessed that, but for some obscure reason, it makes me feel good that he is. More young guys really should be brave enough to give in to their homosexual tendencies... they might find it's an attractive alternative. Or, at the very least, they'll have a little fun finding their true inclinations.

Cowboy's saying, "That's a cool haircut, Zach." Lee says, "Yeah, that is pretty good, but Dad would have finished it better."

 Bruce mumbles, "That's the whole point. Zack wants to let his hair grow." Lee nods, "Yeah, I knew that! I was kidding with you, nitwit."

Cowboy smirks, saying, "I'm teaching Lee to be a wiseass."

Chuckling, I set up Bruce and my chairs, and Cowboy insists Lee set their chairs up, meaning they are right next to one another. Then, we eat the pizza laughing as Lee tells us about his successful cherry-busting without ever using words like sex, fuck, asshole, cock, cum.

He says, "I gotta watch how I tell you about it because I wouldn't want to freak out anyone on the beach overhearing our conversation."

Cowboy mutters, "They'd need to be a moron not to know what you've been describing, Lee."

Lee goes, "Well, fuck 'em then." Cowboy mutters, "That's my boy!"

Bruce and I use Cowboy's sunblock, then sunbathe a little, take a walk on the beach, and swim some, all while not talking about his Philly job. Around five-thirty, we all leave the beach, dropping off our chairs at the stand. Grumpy is off duty, and the older man there mutters, "Thanks," because we could have left them on the beach.

Cowboy rides off with Lee on his motorbike to buy lobsters for tonight's dinner, which the boys insist they'll be in charge of preparing. Bruce and I drive back to the apartment, and, as grungy as we are, we get naked. He looks at me, raising his eyebrows and flicking his dick with a finger.  

"Uh-huh," and drop to my knees. I suck Bruce's cock and balls until we both have raging boners. Bruce pulls me to my feet, plops a glub of KY gel on my anus, bends me over the desk, and fucks me fast as if there's a taxi double-parked outside waiting for him. I mean, it's fast and furious fucking using all seven inches of his hard penis as I'm unabashedly moaning and groaning in ecstasy, calling his name and squirming, pushing my asshole back into his trusting, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me into his thrusts and all of it done in sync. We fuck so often we know what each other will do and when we'll do it.

It only lasts three minutes, but it's three minutes I won't be forgetting for a long time. My cock sticks out so hard and tight it doesn't move when cum comes screaming out in a blur of shimmering liquid that flies out three or four feet before dropping to the floor with a wet 'splat' sound.

Meanwhile, Bruce has his arms wrapped around my waist, my ass tight against his crotch as he humps one time against my buttocks and blows a lot of creamy cum into my bowels. I'm like a ragdoll, so limp Bruce is holding me up while filling me up with premium semen.

He rubs his face back and forth on the back of my head, breathing like mad, his heart pounding against my back, then he lets go of me, and I stagger a few feet and sit on the edge of the bed, still feeling zipping sparks of pleasure in my ass and all around my groin. Bruce mutters, "Get off the bed, Zach! You'll get cum on the bedspread."

Nodding, I get up and cup my hand under me, walking into the bathroom. Bruce follows, saying, "It just hit me that I won't be able to do this for three weeks! Omigod, we're going to go cold turkey without fucking for almost three weeks."

No way!

Wiping at Bruce's cum as it runs out my ass, I go, "No, no, no, Bruce! I'll drive down and get a room." He turns on the shower stall's water, saying, "I'm sorry, but that would be hard to explain to Luca and his wife. Get Lee to fuck you, or hire one of Eli's street pussy boys. I know two of them, and they're quite cute. Well, one is anyway." 

"What will you do?" 

Shaking his head, he mumbles, "Hell, I don't know. I'm going to miss fucking you; I know that much."

He steps into the shower stall, yelling, "I'm tougher than you, Zach. I'll probably just gut it out and be horny as a motherfucker three weeks from now."

I whine, "Well, I could come down once a week at least, couldn't I?"

"No, and stop that whining!"

I say, "Don't say no until you see what's up with everything. Maybe whatshisname won't care if you sleep with me occasionally in a hotel."

"We'll see, but don't you dare come down unless I tell you it's okay."

He's so fucking stubborn! While he's showering, I Google Luca Bianchi. Holy fuck, there are pages of Luca Bianchi, and one of them could be him, but I can't tell which one. What a waste of time! And, no, I can't go three weeks without feeling Bruce's cock in me! Christ, the three days he was in the funhouse, I spent like three thousand dollars on pussy boy's fucking me.

Hmm, in the Seals, I was lucky if I had sex once a month. I need to calm down and act my age. So, maybe I'll hire a pussy boy, or it doesn't even need to be a pussy boy because I can get a bar pick up a few times per week. And no, I'm not asking Lee; that's insane! And I'm also not intruding on what he and Cowboy have going for them, either. So, I won't be fucking Cowboy.

I'm on my own, but I think Bruce will relent after a few days. I mean, he likes our sex almost as much as I do. Now that I think about it, I wish he hadn't so easily suggested I hire a pussy boy. It would be nice if he showed a tiny bit of jealousy about me doing that. Yeah, Bruce isn't into me nearly to the degree I'm into him. Hmmm, I hope that guy, Luca, actually is straight and not bisexual. I'll be jealous if he's fucking my boyfriend!

Bruce comes out of the bathroom, still drying himself, saying, "Okay, you're right. I need to evaluate the situation there before making decisions. Who knows, maybe it won't be any problem if you come down and I spend some nights with you. Let's think about what's important, though. It's me making money so I can pay my way. Right?"

I nod, "Yeah, of course. Text me, though, okay? Ya know, every day, or better yet, call me."

He makes a face but doesn't comment. He could have said I sound like a girl in her first relationship. Instead, he goes, "Aren't you going to shower?"

I ask, "Won't you be jealous that I'm using pussy boy whores?"

He says, "They don't consider themselves whores. They're escorts."

I say, "You're avoiding my question."

"Well, frankly, I'd have thought you could go twenty days without me fucking you, but since you apparently can't, I'll swallow any jealousy I have so you can get your rocks off while I'm gone."

Nodding, I mumble, "It's your fault I'm like this," and with that childish remark hanging in the air, I go into the bathroom and take a shower. After the shower, I'm drying myself in the bedroom, seeing Bruce at the desk on my computer. I mutter, "Sorry about acting like a snatch."

He turns around, "Jesus, you're admitting you've got some girl in you?"

I shrug, chuckling, "Not really. I seriously doubt that, but I sounded like one whining like that."

Bruce says, "Whatever. I've been Googling buildings ready for demolition in Philly, but there are too many to know which one Luca's talking about." 

I say, "I'll drive you down Friday, and we'll stay over so you'll be there first thing Saturday morning." He shakes his head, "No, I'm staying with the Bianchis Friday night. That's what he expects, and it's what I'm doing."

I sigh, "Okay, whatever you say."

He goes, "I'll take a bus if you don't..." I interrupt, "No, I'm driving you!"

"Tomorrow afternoon, we'll see how it shakes out."

I nod, agreeing with him because what else can I do? Dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, I'm getting us a couple of beers when the guys come in with lobsters. Big pound-and-three-quarters lobsters, two quarts of clam chowder, eight ears of corn on the cob, and a head of cabbage. Lee holds up the cabbage, saying, "My coleslaw will make the deli's coleslaw look sick."

"This is gonna be a great send-off dinner for Bruce. Thanks, guys!"

Cowboy and Lee look over, and Cowboy goes, "Send off? Whaddaya mean?"

Bruce says, "I'll be working in Philly for three weeks, making some money to pay the rent, ya know?"

Lee says, "We just got to know you."

Bruce says, "And that has been all my pleasure. You're both awesome! Anyway, I'll be back in three weeks if Zach will have me."

Cowboy says, "Don't worry about that, Bruce. The way Zach looks at you, he's got a wicked crush on you. I know that look; it's the way Lee looks at me."

Lee frowns, "I don't have a 'look.'"

Lee and Cowboy tell us they're taking a bath together, and Lee adds, "And I might do Carson again after that." They smirk at each other, walking off with Cowboy mumbling, "Don't forget the spanking."

Bruce and I roll our eyes, then take our beers out on the balcony and light up cigarettes. Taking a drag, I ask, "Are you nervous about the job?"

He goes, "A little, yeah, and I'm uncomfortable staying at Luca's place with his wife and kid, but I can't turn this opportunity down."

Nodding, I mumble, "You'll handle it, Bruce."

"I've handled a lot tougher shit than this, and without making any money, never mind six grand."

"You say six grand, meaning six thousand. Did you know the word 'grand' for a thousand comes from America's underworld, which I hope isn't a harbinger of, um, anything bad?"

He says, "Will you stop it! Lucia isn't a gangster. You're right that there is probably something, um, slightly shady about Lucia's business dealings, but he's not a crook. He's probably just cutting corners... something like that."

It's good Bruce at least will be on guard for the possibility of an illegal endeavor, although I'm not sure that would stop him from doing it. We have five beers before Cowboy and Lee finally yell that dinner's ready! And it's fabulous too. Lee's coleslaw is indeed far superior to the deli's, the clam chowder's yummy, the corn on the cob dripping with butter and salt is delicious, and the lobsters cooked perfectly are tender and as good as I've ever had. Bruce didn't appear up-tight during dinner, and he complimented the guys a lot! It was an excellent dinner. 

Bruce and I walk after dinner, then drink two Jim Beam and water, watching the last four innings of a Red Sox/Yankees game. When we get ready for bed, I'm ready for some good sex. Well, with Bruce, I'm always ready for that. I turn the bedroom light out, we get in bed, and Bruce murmurs, "I'm not going to be able to do sex as good as you're expecting, Zach."

We're naked, and I'm against him with his arm around me the way we always lie in bed together as I mumble, "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because, after almost six weeks of the most intimate behavior with you imaginable, I know how you think. This is our last night together for three weeks, and you romantically think our sex needs to be somehow more special than normal because we'll be apart for a few weeks."

"No, I don't," although that's exactly what I thought.

He mumbles, "Liar," and puts his other arm around me, squeezing me, murmuring, "I'm going to miss it as much as you, and that's scary for me. You're the first person in my life that I've let become important to me. It makes me less autonomous, less independent, and, therefore, more vulnerable."

"And that worries you?"

He goes, "New things are always worrisome to me, yeah."

I don't know what to say to that, especially because I liked hearing it and wouldn't want anything I said to make him take back any part of me being important to him. After a short silence, he mumbles, "But let's see what happens," and he takes his arms away, adding, "Lube yourself up and then give my cock and balls a good licking and sucking. I'll take it from there."

Still bossy, but it makes me smile as I murmur, "Yes, Bruce," and then make a face because I want to stop saying that. Sliding over to the other side of the mattress, I get the Ky jelly from the bedside table and, with a glob on my finger, push it inside me. Then, another dab right on my anus, and I wipe my finger with a tissue, then slide back to Bruce, who says, "Push the covers down so I can get my fingers in your long hair while you're blowing me."

I snicker, "Yeah, thanks to you, my hair is an inch long." He goes, "You've got really nice hair too; I'm glad you decided to let it grow out."

There it is, the mentor coming out in him again. Um, unless that was the bossy boyfriend's bossiness.

We took the bedspread off before getting in bed, so after I neatly folded the sheet and blanker at the foot of the bed, I got on my knees between Bruce's legs and ran my hands up and down his thighs from his knees to his crotch. His skin is so smooth and tight; it feels sexy, too. Leaning down until my face is against his cock and balls, I inhale his scent and feel my cock respond to this irresistible scent, like a dog smelling a pork chop cooking on the grill.

As he always does, as most guys do when getting their dick sucked, Bruce puts his hands on my head, his fingers moving in my hair. That's very familiar, too; it's all familiar but always new at the same time. Rubbing my face in his privates, something I mocked as stupid beyond belief when it was part of the pussy boy manual requirements, but I love doing it now. Anything unusually intimate with Bruce... that's my thing.

We shave every morning, and that's a good thing, too, as Bruce wouldn't appreciate a scratchy beard against the head of his dick. When I've got my fill of his scent, and it's now the only scent in my head, I do a long lick from the mushroom head down to the root of his pretty seven-inch penis, then again, then lift it and lick up the underside feeling it firm up in my fingers.

Curving my tongue, I lick around and around the head while Bruce makes a 'Sssssh'ing" sound and stretches his legs out tightly on either side of me, rubbing my head and slightly lifting his hips. A few more licks around and around the head of his hard cock, and I've got a nice boner between my legs. I push his boner against his stomach and go crazy, licking all around his scrotum. 

Bruce's hairless scrotum is the first one I've ever encountered that is roundish rather than sagging down loosely. It's firm, too, and the two balls inside feel big and heavy when I move them with my tongue. Licking the side of his thigh, then the side of his scrotum five or six times, has Bruce groaning and tightening his body while pulling my hair. After licking all over his scrotum, I again move his nuts around with my tongue and then pay full attention to his boner. 

There are boners, and then there are BONERS! Bruce has a remarkably hard one that's plenty good enough for anal intercourse right now, but I can do better than that for him. After routine licking up and down it and sucking on the head a bit, I bob my head forward and take the head into my throat, then I pull back, then bobs forward, and the head plus an inch or so of the shaft goes down my throat. When I move my head back, Bruce goes, "I'm good! That's awesome," and gently pushes my head away. Damn, I could do that all night!

Coming up between his legs, I lie on Bruce, chest to chest, grinning at him and feeling his seriously hard boner under my boner. Ummm! He grins back, we kiss quickly, and he goes, "Lie on your back, and we'll try the missionary position. Something new for us."

Aw, he's trying to make it special even though he inferred it was silly of me expecting something 'special.' Heterosexual missionary-style fucking presents no challenges for men and women, but it's a little more challenging for gay guys. It can be helped along if a pillow is under the bottom's lower back, raising his asshole and making it more comfortable for both the top and bottom. The missionary style sex has benefits for gay and straight lovers, including eye contact, watching facial expressions as pleasure sensations build and build, plus you can kiss. At the same time, fucking, which takes the proceedings up to romantic territory, which I'm not expecting. 

Bruce is holding a pillow, mumbling, "Let me get this under your ass." I lift and then settle down on the pillow that is mostly, as I said, at the small of my back, feeling comfy. Bruce's boner is very hard, hanging away from his stomach but not sticking out straight, so it will still get harder inside me. That thought makes me shimmer a little and grin. Bruce sees me, and he grins, mumbling, "You and me, we do like having sex, huh?" I nod energetically, and he gets on his knees between my legs.

Leaning forward slightly, his left hand on the bed next to my right hip for support, his right-hand guides the mushroom-shaped head of his hard dick to my anus. A minor hump of his hips pushes half the head in, spreading my asshole about half as wide as it's going to need to open for the whole head to get in. I suck on my bottom lip staring at Bruce intently. It's fairly dark in the bedroom, although there's a small lamp on the desk that was left on. It's not providing much light over here, although I can see Bruce fairly well. I can see his hair is light blond, and his eyes are blue when he looks up and mumbles, "Successful docking," and then he smiles. Fuck, he's being sweet tonight!

Still looking at me, he asks, "Ready?" I nod, feeling slightly hypnotized by his deliberate, unhurried approach to this. He pushes rather than thrusts the rest of the rounded head of his boner in past my sphincter muscle. My eyes close tightly as I clamp my jaw and deal with the pain of my stretched asshole. It's definitely painful, but the intensity of it lets up quickly, like in ten seconds, reducing to an uncomfortable hurt feeling, and then that fades too as I let out a quiet long-held breath.

Meanwhile, Bruce slowly has pushed his entire boner inside my ass. I open my eyes, seeing his eyes closed and him biting his bottom lip. Oh yeah, I remember how fantastic that entrance into a guy's tight rectum feels. Vibrations after vibrations of sheer deep pleasure are soaring off the penis's nerve endings, additional fluids are rushing to the penis, making it tighter and a little fatter, and a little longer. It's quite something to experience, and I tighten every muscle in my rectum to further enhance the throbbing pleasure and watch Bruce make a face at the momentary surge of pleasure.

He goes, "Mmmm, fuck..."

He opens his eyes and murmurs, "Feels really good," and then pulls his hips back and drags his swollen boner back, rubbing my prostate tightly the entire length. Not quite seven inches, though, because the lips of my anus catch around his cock just under the mushroom head and hold on tenaciously but only for half a second as Bruce then pushes his hip forward, driving the head and shaft up inside me again spreading the walls of my rectum-tunnel as it goes in seven inches and there's nothing to stop it.

Bruce has a serious expression as he's doing four deliberate but not quick entrances and withdrawals. They have the full attention of all my rectum's nerve endings, meaning my anus and especially my prostate. Still, there's the sensation of being opened up, too. I'm visualizing that in my head while experiencing it in real-time, every inch of Bruce's swollen boner going up inside my body, passing by and squeezed tightly by my anus as the swollen hard penis is pressing against my prostate gland both while going in and coming back out. It's a fantastic thing to experience. 

All the muscles in my body are relaxed now as I'm beginning to feel sexual pleasure growing, a growing pleasure that's enhanced watching Bruce because I love him and feel romantic even if he doesn't. This is most definitely not how you'd ever have casual sex with a bar or club pick-up.

That'd be creepy, but tonight it's the opposite of creepy because it's with Bruce.

He has me opened up to his satisfaction now, and the real fucking begins. Bruce is very coordinated and, as I've mentioned before, a good dancer. Hence, his hips move his hard long boner back and forth in my ass rhythmically, steadily, and rather forcefully without him needing to think about it. I can see the top of his shiny, lubed boner disappearing inside my rectum and coming right back out over and over.

While that's interesting to witness, it's the pleasure sensations that his moving boner creates inside me that are mostly on my mind. Pure, intense pleasure, sexual pleasure, the greatest physical pleasure known to me, with the only exception being the eventual climax.

I'm not thinking about the climax now, though. I'm thinking about how delicious each individual quick trip Bruce's hard penis takes inside my body. Many, many trips, each one making me moan, "Ooh, aah," and, as the trips come faster, I'm like, 'Ooh, aah, Bruce..." Staring at Bruce now instead of his quick-moving boner, I see his cute scrunched-up facial features as the sexual pleasure coming off his cock with each trip his hard penis takes inside my hot tight rectum, the pleasure grows and grows until the mind struggles to comprehend it.

Watching Bruce adds to the sexual pleasure for me, watching and hearing the sound, "Slap, slap, slap," of his body slapping into my quivering firm butt cheeks plus Bruce's grunts, "Oh, oh, oh" at each thrust. Wave after wave of pleasure as my arms reach up and my hands lock behind Bruce's neck.

He looks at me, sweat bubbles on his forehead, and then his smile makes me smile as I gently and slowly pull his head down. He offers no resistance, and when our faces meet, he opens his mouth slightly, and we do the best, most intense kiss ever, with his hips never missing a beat.

After that kiss, our mouths together, I moan, "Bruce..." and our tongues slide together again, and my climax explodes. It blasted right past the tipping point, cum splattering against Bruce's stomach and dripping down to mine. I shudder so hard our teeth scrape together, and Bruce lifts his head, humps hard against my buttocks, and empties his tank, shooting cum from his nuts in a hard stream against the walls of my bowels. Both our bodies are stiff as our boners. I squeal as Bruce gasps and inhales as if he can't get enough oxygen in his lungs.

The indescribable pleasure streaks out from my groin to my toes and the hair on my head, making me do my full-body shudder, then again. Bruce gasps again, then thrusts his cock in my ass, with his cum splashing out with each thrust. He only does it a half dozen times before going, "Oh, holy fuck..." and then pulling out and lying on his stomach next to me. 

We both breathe deeply, then Bruce mutters, "Ew, it's gooey," meaning my cum on his stomach that he's laying on. Meanwhile, his cum is drooling out of my ass. I mutter, "We'll need to change the sheets again." He snickers and says, "You'll need to change the sheets again."

I go up on my side, facing him, quietly saying, "That was special, Bruce. That was romantic sex that was making love."

He murmurs, "Unless one of us was faking it."

 I rub my hand on his back, saying, "It was terrific faking, in that case." My hand rubs his back and then up the back of his head, feeling the short bristly just-cut hairs as I say, "I'm seriously going to miss you, Bruce."

"I know, but earning this money is extremely important to me. With my money situation temporarily in good shape, I may even be able to be nice."

I chuckle, "You mean instead of faking it like you did tonight?"

He says, "Maybe," and I lie partially on him, murmuring, "Wouldn't that be something."

To be continued...