Even though I was a little afraid of him, I liked being with Al Potts.

He was my boss, and a pretty demanding one too. As district sales manager he had a lot of power; the kind that could take my job away without notice. I had seen it happen to other salesmen.

I was in the bar at the Burbank Airport waiting for his plane to set down, having a couple belts, digging up courage to face those piercing black eyes and blunt questions, when I spotted his overbearing presence at the door.

"Fuck!" I knew you'd be in here, you asshole," he shouted across the room. "Shit man, you drinking again, or is it still?"

He was dressed in his usual dark blue suit and white shirt and tie, but the tie was untied and hanging around his neck, the coat was off and carried, dragging on the floor. The shirt was open, unbuttoned to the navel. Thick black hair curled over his broad chest and flat stomach. The leering smile put me at ease. He was in a good mood.

"Christ, am I glad to be in L.A. A double scotch --- rocks," he said to the bartender, and he scratched his chest and reached into his pants to change position. "Just came from Gallup --- two fucking weeks in Gallop gets your whomper hard and crying."

He sat back on the stool with a broad smile on his handsome face.

He was a tall man. Lean and graceful in the way that he carried himself. He walked as though he owned the world, as though every- one was looking at him and he knew it and was pleased by it. His self-confidence was intimidating, and implied an arrogance and conceit that made all of us around him inferior. Yet I reveled in his self-imposed surperioriy.

The first time I'd met him, I guess it was when he interviewed me for the job, he looked at me with that blank expression in those sharp black eyes, and told me to go across the street and get him a cup of coffee. A sudden storm from out of nowhere had kicked up, and the rain was pelting against the window. Yet, without a rain- coat, and in my brand new never-before-worn suit, I walked across the street in the downpour to get his coffee, and I was glad and flattered to do it. That's how he affected people.

Yet he was a taciturn man, not always inclined to make his needs and wants known, he expected you to anticipate them, and to do what was necessary to accomplish them without the usual verbal persuasion.

The foundation of our friendship began the first week we worked together. He was teaching me my job. By some sixth sense I knew he was in need of release, and being a stranger to the city, did not know where to go to accomplish it. I had become a special friend of the girl who lived across the hall from me. At the time, I was hustling part-time, more for the excitement of it than for the money. Seeing a parade of men visiting me at all hours, she knew I was gay, and I guess she realized she was safe with me,

'that I wouldn't come on to her,' as she later explained. Then she added that she was 'available too, but only after work hours'

for she had a great job in the entertainment industry. She knew, and made it with a lot of important people.

"I love it kinky," she confessed one saturday afternoon, "Wild and strange. But if those bastards won't pay a couple a hundred plus tip, then so long Charlie."

We laughed about it then. Once in a while I introduced her to one of my Bi's.

And so it was that in the first week with Al Potts, I told him about Linda, and in fact paid her fee and buried it in my expense sheet. From then on, he called me his L.A. pimp. Yet all the while I lusted for him.

I looked at him as he sat back on the stool. My gaze passed down his bare chest, seeking nipples buried in the black hair, passed the flat and rippled stomach, to his crotch. The bulge in his pants suggested a basket of goodies. I forced my gaze away from that riveting treasure to look directly at him. His piercing eyes were cocky and knowing. A flush of embarrassment passed over me and, in an attempt to cover it, I began talking nervously.

"You're not supposed to be here 'til next month. Hell, I would've been in Frisco this weekend except a little trouble at Miller Company kept me in town. Fact is, I was heading up there tonight, and then your call came about you arriving here. It was even tough getting in touch with Linda. She's on a picture --- great career chance. I had to talk her into sneaking off work early tonight. Filming a night scene, I guess. Fact is, she's busy

'til after eleven......"

He showed off his white even teeth with a quick grin. "Shit, Danny....this is unofficial. For the record I'm still in Gallup, I'm here for tonight and Saturday night, then I'm off again.

Got to be in El Paso Monday morning. I just need to get my rocks off. Man, I'm tensed up. All I could think of was Linda and her tight little shit-shoot, after a slow blowjob....." and he paused squeezing the bulge in his crotch.

I started to signal the waiter for another scotch, but he stopped me. "If she's busy till eleven, you and I might as well have

dinner together."

It was characteristic of him not to consider the fact that I might have something else to do. He glanced at his watch. His wrist was thick and hairy. God, he was a hairy man!

"Let's check into the hotel and then get something to eat. I'd like to clean up a bit. We can get a drink there."

"Sure boss. Anyway you want to do it is fine with me." I was hoping that he would invite me to dinner. I liked being around him, even though I knew nothing would come of it. Being in his presence was exciting and a real pleasure. I guess he really turned me on, more than anyone I knew.

He had a room at the Towers in the Century Plaza, on the top floor, which surprised me. While it was rumored around the office that Al Potts was a wealthy man, he usually stayed in a motel when he came to L.A. As we rode the elevator he explained that being unofficial business he was footing the tab himself.

When the bellboy opened the door to the room, I saw that it was beautiful with white carpeting, and lush drapes of many pastel colors, like a rainbow, and when he opened them, Century City spread out before us with all its' twinkling lights. It was clearly a feminine room, soft luscious colors of satin and silk. Quite a contrast to the macho hairy Al Potts. But he moved about it with ease. He was used to this quiet elegance.

"That's the bar over there, Danny," he said, pointing to a credenza, sparkling in its' antique white finish of bleached mahogany. "There should be ice in the bucket," and he went into the bathroom. As I made our drinks, I could hear the pressure of the water as it struck the glass shower door.

"Bring it in, Danny," he called out, his voice loud and demanding with a somewhat hollow sound.

There was a steamy film on the glass door to the shower, but I could see the general outline of his body, so strong and stocky. Then he thrust the door open, and stood there facing me. He was naked! All the millions of black hairs that covered him were plastered to his skin, his huge nipples were visible now, no longer hidden in the dense hirsute forest.

In the single moment that I stared at him, his glorious maleness washed over me like a giant wave. I had not seen him nude before and was not prepared for the perfection of his athletic body. He was long waisted, with broad shoulders, and his slender hips had just a trace of thickness, a silent comment on his approaching maturity. His feet were solidly planted on the tile floor, and though his legs were heavy with sinewy muscles that seemed to quiver with each movement, they narrowed to trim ankles, that gave him a definite youthful grace.

My eyes feasted on his crotch. The wet pubic hair was pasted to his loins and exposed a huge cock and low-hanging testicles. The cock was reaching out from his torso, erect and hard, and I watched with fascination as the foreskin slowly eased back, revealing the piss slit.

The moment of pause was pregnant with unthinkable possibilities.

"The scotch, Danny," he said gently, and he reached a soapy hand toward me. He took a swallow or two and, handing the glass back to me, he pulled the door to the shower closed and said, "Leave it on the sink, Danny."

I turned away to the window in an attempt to control myself for I was deeply affected by the sight of him. He was still naked when he came out of the bathroom. His huge cock was half hard and bounced from leg to leg as he went to his suitcase. He donned his silk briefs, but they did little to cover him. My own cock, confined by shorts and pants, was erect, and I did nothing to conceal the tent that it made.

That familiar wise half-smile flashed over his face, but he said nothing as he continued to dress.

We went to Harrys' Bar for dinner. It was in the Entertainment Center across the street. We talked quietly and seriously, but with unusual good humor, about the west-end of L.A. and of all the exciting things there were to do. His attitude toward me had always been business- like, but this night he pried with personal questions, into what I might know about the hidden pleasure places.

"You know Danny, this is good for you and me....what we're doing tonight......"


"I know you better now," he said in a low husky voice. And then, he dropped the bomb, "You're a queer, aren't you Danny?" I had been staring at his hairy chest revealed by his open shirt, still seeking nipples buried in the black hair. His bluntness somehow gave me courage to look at him. The deep-set eyes burned with a brilliant spark. There was no humor or softness or gentleness, only the surgical knife piercing my soul.

His handsome face, chisled angles of straight planes, was capped by a shock of coal black curly hair. His full lips were firmly set hiding the white teeth. Though he rarely smiled, I wished he were smiling now.

I looked at him in straight-forward manner, "Yes, I'm queer," I said honestly and in a matter of fact tone.

He continued his stare for several long minutes, as though digesting what I had just said, then he sipped his wine and chewed slowly and deliberately on his steak. I continued to stare at him realizing that that was the end of my job, of my relationship with him. The die was cast now, and there was nothing I could do to call it back.

"I'm glad we have no secrets now, Danny," was all he said, and he lowered his gaze and continued eating. He led the conversation back to the levels of pleasure lying beneath the surface of the great city.

"Sure," I said, "We got live sex shows, toilet clubs, whips and chains, slave auctions, anything you want.....and I know where it all is, Al, I can take you to any of it, if that's what you want."

Finally he stood up. "Well, Danny, time for me to pick up Linda for some first class head and a great fuck up the ass," and we parted company as he got a cab and sped away. I went back to my apartment to be alone and to think about him, wondering if our relationship would change now that he knew the real me. I undressed and got into bed, naked and hurting, and wanting him. Placing a pillow between my legs, I began to masturbate. Then the phone rang.

"Shit, Danny! That fucking Linda stood me up......."

"Where are you?"

"Christ! I'm back at the hotel bar. It's not even midnight yet.

How about you taking me to one of those sex clubs we talked about?"

We drove down Santa Monica Boulevard in Weho. It's called Boystown, full of street hustlers, travestites and gay bars.

"Look at that," he cried, "Basic Plumbing. Now that sounds interesting. How about there?"

I knew this bar and I was known there. It was one of my hangouts.

This was not the kind of place to take Al Potts to. But at that moment, a car pulled away from the curb leaving a parking place right in front of us. Amazed at our good fortune, I pulled in.

It was a few minutes past midnight. The bar was coming alive with the vermin that crawl out in the dark. Most bared their chest, wearing unbuttoned shirts or open sweaters or leather vests, which by design had no buttons.

Bottled beer was all that they served. I don't think the place owned a glass, or if they did, would admit it. The two bartenders wore only jock straps that seemed to be made of cellophane, but the room was so dark it was hard to tell if they wore anything at all. There had to be fifty or sixty men of all sizes, ages and descriptions;

loners, couples and groups, talking animatedly to each other with gestures, hugs, and holding of hands or groping bulging baskets.

I glanced at Al wondering what his virgin reaction would be to this raw display of sexual camaraderie. He grinned his acceptance of the raunchy atmosphere. His awareness of the attention he caused, with his handsome face and beautiful body, was clearly an exciting addition to an already stimulating experience. I watched him as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails of it from his slacks.

His hairy chest fit in with the rest of the macho displays around us.

We managed to get to the bar for a couple of bottles of Bud each, and then fell back into the shadows against the far wall where we watched the grotesque, display their wares. The smell of grass, sweat and cheap cologne misted over us.

We had lit a couple of high quality joints that I just happened to have, and cooled our raw throats with the beer as we leaned against the wall and surveyed the room. After a while, we became accustomed to the juke and the sounding of the patrons, and our eyes adjusted.

The dark, smoky atmosphere seemed to lighten so that we could watch the parade.

Al seemed entranced by the open display of uninhibited deviate sex;

men disporting themselves publicly, kissing mouths and nipples and belly buttons, fondling crotches and firm rounded buttocks, laughing their pleasures and shouting obscene demands to each other. As it got later, all restraint seemed to fade away and the shouts of laughter became more shrill and the actions of the turned-on men more explicit. Several of them stripped to their shorts, pumping their hips back and forth, offering their bodies to anyone and everyone.

We watched one man who was in the shadows next to us, urinate into an empty beer bottle. He then lifted it to his lips for a long swallow and passed it to the man next to him, who did the same, who then gave it to another and then another, passing the bottle around the room and they drank the piss without knowing whose it was.

"Jesus Christ!" was all Al said as he refused the bottle.

When he whispered to me that he had to hit the head, I went with him.

From experience I knew that a lot of raunchy things happened there.

It was a large room dominated by a urinal that was at least twelve feet long. It was crowded with men pissing into it. Al found a spot and moved in. He showed no sign of shock, which he surely must have felt, for there was a young man lying in the center of it.

He was naked. Hot steamy piss was cascading all over him, even into his open mouth. You could see the throat muscles rotate as he swallowed. The smell of ammonia was strong. And his hands moved rapidly on his swollen cock as he masturbated.

I looked at Al who was staring at those around him, and then at the sacrificial lamb caught in a baptism of piss. There was an incredible expression on his face. I could see that he was caught up in the whole charade, for the absolute lewdness of the scene seemed to have sent great gusts of passion over him. There was no disgust or shame as I had expected. He made no move to turn away. I watched him zip down his fly and reach for his cock. The swollen hardness of it had forced the foreskin back over the ridge exposing the glans. He stood there a long time, urinating on the naked man. One of the pissers, now finished, moved toward Al, and put his hand on Al's balls squeezing them carefully as though they were very fragile.

"Christ Almighty!" Al said and he stuffed his cock back into his pants and zipped them up. "Let's get out of here, Danny. Shit!"

No Secrets cont.

In the car, he sat back on the seat and closed his eyes. He was panting. His breath came in deep gulps. Clearly he had been enormously affected by what he had seen. Of course I shouldn't have taken him there. It's the kind of place you grow up to, gradually.

not the sort of thing a macho like Al Potts should see on his first trip into the gay world. But his startled reaction was obvious. He was shaken, and I think his disturbed state was due to the definite fascination he felt, and to the realization that he too, like the other perverts, pissed on the naked man.

We drove around awhile, aimlessly, neither had anything to say. I was sorry that our evening together was ending this way, full of confusion and misdirection. All that I had hoped for was impossible now. To save face and conscience, he had to fire me.

"Is that what you do, Danny? Is that how you get off?"

"Well," I hesitated, "Sometimes, I guess, when you get built up to a pretty way out pitch. But you got to build up to it. It's an s/m trip. When you get hot for it, it can be fun, but no, It's not the way gays do their thing. Gays are romantic. They like love with their sex. Maybe not love necessarily, but caring. I like to know the guy I make out with. There's a sweetness that goes with gay sex. A sense of sharing intimacies with someone. Another guy that is. It gets rid of some of the loneliness. As is said, two males together make one unit, they make a whole, Jesus! Forget all that. What the hell is the matter with me?"

I looked over at him, sitting back against the locked door. His eyes shrouded by long lashes. Was he looking at me, or were they closed, blocking out the ugliness of the night? His open shirt had fallen away again, and each of his hands played with a nipple.

A great tightness lodged in the back of my throat, and a shock of electric current zigzagged down my spine. I wanted him so much, and my great need led to the inevitable. I reached over the console and placed my hand on his thigh, and traced it up to his crotch.

"Careful, Danny." Was all that he said.

But I continued probing and massaging his erection, He settled back into the seat exhaling a great sigh. It was like the wind had been knocked out of him.

"This is what I do." I bent forward to bury my face in the thin slacks inhaling the smell of his heat.

"Shit, Danny! Let's go back to the hotel. Shit! Shit! Shit!"

and he squirmed in the seat. But he did not pull away.

The attendant took the car to park it, and we rode the swift elevator to the top floor. The drapes were open, and the lights of Century City sparkled in a hazy mist. The maid had turned down the bed. I lit a joint and gave it to him. If something was to come of all this, it was imperative that I keep the mood alive.

As he dragged on the joint, I opened a beer, and when he released the smoke in a fit of coughing, I handed it to him. He moved to a chair by the giant picture window, and sat down with an audible whisper, "Jesus Christ!"

I turned off the lamp so the only light in the room came from outside, shrouded by drops of rain that hugged the window. I knelt down, removed his shoes and socks, and kissed his naked feet, his high arch, and narrow heel. I took his toes into my mouth and separated them with my tongue. I was silently telling him of my submission, of the love I felt for him that was growing beyond all bounds.

He didn't move, nor did he say anything. I pulled away to look at him. To recharge myself with his beauty, and a surge of lust began. He lay back on the chair, resting on his haunches. He had pulled his shirt from his slacks, and it had fallen away exposing his broad chest covered with black swirly hair. His hands were on his nipples, tweaking them with anxious fingers; a nervous habit that seemed to give him pleasure. The stream of black hair trickled down a flat rippled stomach that quivered in anticipation. His eyes were shrouded by dark lashes, not closed yet, but not looking at anything either. He was living a fantasy that was all his own, bearing no smile, though his lips were parted. I could see the bulge of his erection making a tent of the clothes he still wore.

I returned caressing his feet with my tongue, again sucking on his toes one by one. I am yours, Al Potts. I will do anything for you.

My cry was silent, spoken only by my actions. That we had come this far in our relationship was incredible, beyond anything I had dared dream. I licked the soles of his feet, tasting the mixture of soap and sweat. I washed my tongue over the sharp nails. he exhaled his breath with a low moan, and I realized that whatever his fantasy was, it included me and the pleasures to come. Perhaps he was thinking of me as his slave.

I slid my hand under the pant leg to his calves, bristling with hair, firm with solid muscle, and very lightly, I traced my fingers over the warm skin. I told myself, hold it, go slow, there is no need to rush, make it last, let pleasure take over and build of itself.

And his quiet moan was lost in the thunder of the storm outside.

My worship at this altar was illuminated by sudden flashes of lightning that could only add to the growing excitement, and the sound of the rain, pounding on the window, as if trying to come in and join us, rivaled the pounding in each of our hearts.

We played this way for many long minutes. Time expanded as the effect of the marijuana took over. And my rising passions directed me to draw away, to reach to his zipper, to secure the swollen cock trapped inside his clothing. Without my suggesting it, he raised his hips off the chair so that I could pull his slacks down and off. Then I eased his penis out of the confinement of his shorts and pulled them off too. He was naked! Oh my God, Al Potts was naked!

To contain myself, to prolong this delicious moment, I lit more grass and opened another bottle of beer. And afterwards, after we had each taken a draw of smoke and a gulp of the cool liquid, I slipped out of my clothes, so that I was naked too. I looked again at this beautiful naked male animal. At the angular flat lines of his lean and hairy body. How strong he was, how firm the slender muscles were that stretched from his shoulders down his chest and arms to his legs. His hands had left his expanded and agitated nipples, and had found the great mass of pubic hair, and there they cupped the lowhanging testicles and massaged his cock between his wrist and his flat stomach. I bent down and pulled them away from the precious jewel. In a brief flash of lightning I saw his cock, reaching to me, as I reached to it. Jutting out from his loins like a conquerors spear, and bending forward I kissed it.

Ah! How sweet the first touch of a tongue upon the smooth surface of the tip, and I opened my mouth so that my tongue could wash over the whole of it. I held his balls in my hands, and buried my face in his crotch, inhaling the smell of him. It was then I swallowed his cock into my mouth and began the bobbing motion, licking the tender underside, and the suck began. The sweet and all- powerful connection of one male to another. He moaned his acceptance of pleasure, as I sucked taking the whole of his cock deep inside me until he could no longer stand the intensity of it, and with a sudden lurch, raising his hips off the chair, and shoving his cock deeper into my throat, his cry was shrill and piercing, and he shot great gobs of cum into my throat. I swallowed each spurt, tasting him with each one, until he had no more to give. I lay my head in hollow of his lap with a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

Exhausted, we found our way to the bed with the pink silk sheets.

We lay together in a lovers' embrace. He accepted my kisses, returned them, and we fell into a quiet sleep.

No Secrets cont.

Somewhere in the earliest of the dawn, I awoke. The subtle gray light from the east found its' way into the room. The rain had stopped and the only sound was his gentle breathing. We had been lying together, our arms and legs entwind, my face buried in the crook of his head and shoulders. I pulled away as carefully as I could so as not to disturb him.

"Don't go," he whispered.

I leaned forward inhaling the scent of him, mingled with remnant smells of exploded sex, and I rubbed my face in the thick mass of hair that covered his chest. I separated the strands with my tongue, seeking a nipple, and when I found it I nibbled at it, biting and sucking.

"So this is what you do." His voice was steady, making a statement not asking a question.

I continued sucking an tittillating the erect nipple, loving its'

hardness nestled in the hair. My hand found his cock. I had forgotton how huge it was. I wanted to look at him once more.

I wanted to taste his cum again, to feel the fountain shoot to the back of my throat, to give him the pleasure of coming. But suddenly, I lost my aggressiveness. Whatever was to happen to us was now dependant on him. I needed him to tell me what to do, to demand, to order, to take charge. So I fell away from our embrace and left the bed. I walked across the room knowing that he was looking at me, at my naked body. My cock was hard and wanted fulfillment. I wanted him to want me. And then there was a jolt of pleasure when I realized his eyes were centered on my surging cock, his smile was wise and knowing with no hint of embarrassment.

His tongue rolled over full lips, wetting them with his saliva,

"You're a cocksucking queer," he said, but the smile belied criticism.

He was only stating a known and accepted fact. His love partner was male. Not a nelly queen or frustrated travestite, but a red-blooded hairy male, just as he was. I thrust my hips forward lasciviously.

My cock jutted out of its hairy island and waved back and forth, teasing him.

"You dawg, you," he laughed, and jumping from the bed grabbed me and held me to him, his cock meeting mine in a hairy embrace.

Laughing, he pulled me away shoving me back on the silk sheets.

In a lithe movement, he climbed up and sat on my chest facing me.

His eyes twinkled with merriment and pleasure, "This time I want to watch," he said with a wicked grin.

He moved forward setting his lowhanging balls on my open mouth.

I kissed them, sucked on them while he rubbed his hard cock over my face. "Yeah man, I've wanted this for a long time," He slid back and his cock slid down my throat and he fucked it in and out with a set rhythm, and while he fucked, I sucked, and he talked.

"Yeah, ever since we worked together at the beginning I've wanted you.

But you had to be so damn secretive. Shit! Then you had to go and palm Linda off on me. The only reason Linda and me hung together was I could close my eyes and pretend it was you taking my cock up your ass, It wasn't 'til last night when I took a shower and you handed me my scotch that I figured you for gay. Well you'll keep no secrets from me now."

He slid his body off mine and bending over, kissed me tenderly with his open mouth. And then he walked his tongue lower, through the belly hair, to my swollen cock. And he swallowed it into his wet throat. There was a mirror on the wall and I watched him. I watched Al Potts, naked and hairy, macho and gorgeous, giving of himself to me, and I exploded my cum into his mouth, and I watched his throat muscles tighten as he swallowed by cum and swallowed again and again.

His brown eyes were warm and gentle as they looked into mine where he saw my love for him, and he whispered into my ear, "Well Danny, at last there really are no secrets," and his fingers touched my buttocks and separated the cheeks and found their way into my hole and he began the ritual probe. He was getting ready to fuck me....

joe wilson

I hope you liked my story. If you did, please send me an e-mail and tell me so

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Joe Wilson

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