Sex and Art - Manny’s Story, part 9

The Saturday of our visit to the art museum started out bright and clear, with a cloudless blue sky and a nice breeze. Now that it was the end of September, the temperatures were starting to cool slightly, a welcome relief from the brutally hot Texas summer. I woke up around 9:00 a.m. and had my usual scrambled eggs with cheese for breakfast. I cleaned the kitchen, straightened up the house a little, then got into the shower to get ready for our day together. As I washed myself from head to toe, I smiled at the thought that Manny and I were going to do something different for a change. Aside from that exciting visit to the adult bookstore, our entire relationship had taken place either in the gym or here in my home. But I wanted more from our life together than just sex and the gym. I wanted us to share the things we liked to do for fun and enjoyment, both his and mine. The art museum seemed to me a good place to start because it was one of my favorite places to visit and also because I hoped it would encourage Manny’s own obvious artistic talent.

I got out of the shower, dried off, spritzed my torso with some Bleu de Chanel and then began the task of figuring out what to wear. Everything in my closet is from Banana Republic, so it’s usually a matter of just grabbing a random knit shirt and a pair of jeans. I decided to step it up a notch today though. I wanted to impress Manny, so I chose a pair of dark tan khakis, dark green button-down shirt, black leather belt and black slip-on dress shoes.  I checked myself out in the mirror and was satisfied with the look; well-dressed, but casual. I had told Manny to come over no later than 10:30 so we could get to the museum when they opened, but at 10:25, I heard the sound of his Jeep pulling into the driveway, followed by his familiar knock at the door. I checked the time on my phone and thought to myself, damn he’s actually early for a change. I opened the door and my jaw dropped. I had gotten used to seeing him in jeans or sweats combined with either a tank top or t-shirt, but today he was wearing an immaculately pressed, dark purple button-down shirt, black slacks, with stylish black leather shoes and belt that matched perfectly. Around his neck he wore a simple white gold rope chain. I’m normally not a fan of men wearing chains, but on him, it looked sexy as hell. “Wow,” I said, my eyes roaming over every inch of him, “you look fantastic.” He gave me that cocky grin of his and said, “Well, I figured I needed to look good, since I’m going to look at art with my man.” He looked me up and down, then walked through the door and put his arms around me. Gazing into my eyes, he whispered in a sultry voice, “My man is looking pretty damned good also,” and his lips met mine as he gave me a deep, passionate kiss.

I returned his kiss with the same fervor as I felt my cock get hard like it always did when I kissed him or touched him. As our tongues massaged each other, my lust started to rise and I knew that if we didn’t stop, I would strip him down and fuck him right there in the foyer. Reluctantly, I broke the kiss, rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Alright stud, we’ve got plans for today, remember?” He gave me a playfully disappointed look and said, “Oh, okay.” He rubbed my erection through my khakis and asked, “But I get this later, right? You promised me, remember?” I smiled, once again thinking how much I adored him. “Yes,” I said, “after the museum though. Now show me your Jeep and let’s head out.” He grinned and walked back outside, while I locked and armed the house and followed.

Manny stood in a proud pose, casually leaning up against his Jeep. I guess he was excited that he finally got to show it to me. It was a two-door model Wrangler, gunmetal grey, with standard black rims and black leather seats. He had removed the top, no doubt due to the nice weather.  I let out a low whistle of appreciation. “Nice,” I said, “very nice. What year is it?” “It’s a 2015,” he said. I did a quick calculation in my head. “So, if your father bought it for you when you turned eighteen, that means he bought it new right?” I asked. “Well, more or less new,” Manny said, “he bought it late in the year, closer to my birthday, obviously. By that time the 2016 models were already out, so he got a really good deal on it.” He grinned and said, “My dad’s a pretty tough negotiator.” I chuckled and said, “Yeah, I imagine he would be.” He tapped the driver side door and said, “I wanted to swap the standard doors for tube doors, but dad said no because he thought they looked ghetto and since he was paying for it,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I couldn’t really argue.” I smiled at him and said, “I like it just the way it is. So, are we ready to go?” “Hop in,” he said with that devilish grin of his.

I buckled my seat belt, wondering what kind of maniacal driving I was about to encounter. Manny had said that he tended to drive fast, but he maintained a normal speed as he left our neighborhood, then turned left on Webb Chapel Road and headed for the freeway. I was pleased to see that he signaled every time he made a turn or changed lanes; drivers who don’t signal irritate the shit out of me. Once we merged onto LBJ Freeway though, he sped up until he was doing well over 85 miles per hour, despite the speed limit being 65. He zoomed in and out of lanes like he was a Grand Prix driver, though still signaling when he did so. I’m never comfortable when someone else is driving and his daredevil style wasn’t making it any easier. Roughly fifteen minutes after we passed the LBJ/I-35 interchange and were approaching downtown Dallas, Manny looked over at me, saw my white-knuckled grip on the armrest and grinned. “You okay baby?” he asked. “I’m fine,” I said through clenched teeth, “I just didn’t know that you liked to fly as well as drive.” He laughed, then reached over to caress my cheek. “Don’t worry Eric,” he said, “I always drive like this, and I’ve never gotten a ticket or been in a wreck.” I briefly glanced at him and said, “I’ll stop worrying if you face forward, pay attention and slow it down a little, okay?” He shook his head, smiled and said, “Okay baby,” before slowing down to 75 m.p.h. “Better?” he asked. “Better,” I said, though by now we were leaving I-35 and turning onto Woodall Rogers Freeway which formed the northern edge of downtown, where the Arts District was located.

The modern, rectangular façade of the Dallas Museum of Art came into view on the south side of Woodall Rogers, between St. Paul and Harwood and across from the urban oasis of Klyde Warren Park. I showed Manny the entrance to the underground garage; one of the perks of my membership is free parking and since we were somewhat early, we had no trouble finding a space. He parked in an isolated spot though, far from the stairs that led to the elevator and well away from any other vehicles. He killed the engine and then looked at his phone, then at me, his face displaying that grin that said he was feeling mischievous and horny. “We still have ten minutes until the museum opens,” he said while reaching over and rubbing my chest. I smiled and said, “Yes we do.” Manny leaned over to kiss me, then slowly, seductively, worked his hand down my torso, then past my belt. “Be a shame to let that time go to waste just sitting here,” he whispered lustily in my ear while rubbing my groin. “Let me suck your cock,” he said, his beautiful dark eyes staring into my own, “right here in my Jeep.” I shook my head and said, “No Manny, we can’t,” as I gently removed his hand from my package. He gave me a playfully sulky look. “Please Eric,” he said, “I’m horny.” I smiled, kissed him and said, “You’re always horny Manny; that’s one of the many things I love about you.” I paused, gave him a serious look and said, “But we can’t do that here. I mean we’re in a public parking garage for fuck’s sake, now be smart, okay?” He looked disappointed, but nodded, smiled briefly and said, “Okay.” I kissed him again and said, “Come on, let’s go.”

We took the elevator up to the main entrance. The museum café was to the immediate left as we entered, with the information desk in front on us on the right and the museum store slightly beyond and to the left. Beyond that was the long, wide hallway that ran the entire length of the museum from the front entrance where we stood, all the way to the back of the museum where the sculpture garden was located. I stopped like I did every visit, to look up at the vast entrance atrium that reached all the way up to the fourth floor. The massive front facing window of the atrium was adorned with mounted glass sculptures that caught the sun streaming through and illuminated the entire area with light and color. Manny followed my gaze upward, his eyes wide with wonder and said, “Man, I’d forgotten how big this place is.” I smiled at him and asked, “So, where do you want to start?” He shrugged his shoulders and said, “You decide. I mean, you know this museum better than I do.” I thought for a minute, then said, “Well, some of my favorites works are in the American collection on the fourth floor. We can start there and work our way down to the mezzanine level where the works on paper are. Sound good to you?” He gave me an affectionate pat on the back and said, “After you baby.”

We took the elevator up to the fourth floor where the American art collection is housed. The first gallery was mostly colonial era decorative arts, with antique chairs, tables, bureaus and even a massive four poster bed, which caused Manny to say with disdain, “Hell, this is nothing but furniture. Where are the paintings?” I laughed and said, “They start over in the next gallery. Follow me.” The rest of the collection was indeed paintings, arranged more or less in chronological order, from colonial America into modern times. I let Manny roam at his own pace, while pointing out several of my favorite works, such as The Icebergs by Frederic Edwin Church and Lighthouse Hill by Edward Hopper. After an hour or so, we entered the last gallery and I asked Manny what he thought of the art collection so far. He nodded thoughtfully and said, “I like the paintings of stuff that’s real, like the landscapes, still-lifes and portraits. But some of this modern abstract shit,” and his arm moved in a sweeping gesture indicating the works in the current gallery, “just looks like someone threw paint on a canvas and then put a frame around it.” I burst out laughing so loud that one of the security guards gave me a decidedly disapproving look. I got my laughter under control and said, “Well Manny, regarding some of them, I probably agree with you. But the artists who painted them somehow managed to have their work displayed in a major American art museum, so they must be doing something right don’t you think?” He grinned, shook his head and said, “Yeah, that’s true.” By now we had left the last gallery and found ourselves back at the main elevator and accompanying stairway. “Where to now?” he asked. “Level three,” I said. He pushed the button to call the elevator, but I said, “Stairs are faster.” “Okay,” he said, “I’m right behind you,” then under his breath, “checking out that fine ass in them khakis.” I heard him, turned around, grinned and just shook my head; he was incorrigible.

Level three housed the African, Asian and Pacific arts collection, which is mostly artifacts, carved wooded sculptures, ceramics and so on. After roaming the various galleries for about thirty minutes or so, I could tell that Manny had little interest in this type of art. I walked up to him as he was perusing a display case in the Pacific gallery that contained various ornamental daggers and put my arm around his shoulders. “You don’t seem very interested in this section,” I said. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s okay, I guess. I like these knives and the spears back in the African gallery. But the rest of this stuff doesn’t really do anything for me.” He turned to look at me and asked, “Aren’t there more rooms with paintings? And what about the drawings that you told me about, the ones you said were like mine?” I smiled and said, “Sure baby. Let’s go see the drawings in the works on paper section, then we can go visit the European section which has lots of paintings and then we can call it a day. How’s that sound?” “Perfect,” he said and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I kissed him on the forehead, and we headed to the mezzanine level.

The only way to reach the mezzanine was by elevator. During the short ride down, Manny suddenly embraced and kissed me while grinding his groin against mine. He gazed into my eyes with that seductive look of his and whispered, “I can’t wait to get you into bed today.” As the elevator jolted to a stop, I grinned, gave him an affectionate pat on the ass and said, “Save it for later, okay stud?” The doors opened and he reluctantly let me go. I didn’t see anyone else around as we left the elevator, so we had the entire level to ourselves. I took him over to the first set of framed drawings that were on the wall opposite the elevator. A good portion of them were done by local artists and showed Dallas landmarks, buildings and neighborhoods, including Big Tex from the State Fair, the Trinity River bridges and Reunion Tower, all done in a similar style to the drawings in Manny’s portfolio. “So, what do you think?” I asked Manny. “Wow,” he said, “I had no idea that drawings like mine could be in a museum. I pointed to the description placard for one of the drawings. “See,” I said, “graphite and colored pencil. Just like yours.” “Yeah,” he said, “but these are way better than mine.” I ruffled his hair and said, “Not way better. Let’s say slightly better, okay?” He laughed a little and then gave me his boyish, aw-shucks grin as we continued down the display wall.

We had gotten through about half of the works on display when all of a sudden Manny turned to me and asked, “Is there a bathroom on this floor? I need to piss.”  “Sure,” I said, pointing to a long hallway that intersected with the one we were in, about twenty feet from where we were standing, “go right down that hall, then all the way to the end on the left.” Looking around the immediate area, he asked, “Is this section always deserted?” “I guess so,” I said, “but I haven’t visited this part of the museum in years, so who knows?” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned and said, “Okay, be right back,” and headed for the restroom. I continued to look at the various drawings, waiting for him to return, when my phone buzzed. I took it from my pocket and saw a text message from Manny. Come in here for a minute it read. I stared at the message in disbelief. He better not be planning what I think he’s planning I thought to myself. Then again, I thought, maybe something’s wrong. I walked to the hallway and happened to glance left before turning right towards the bathroom. There was a security guard at the other end of the hallway, casually patrolling the gallery. He was walking in my direction, saw me, smiled and said hello. I said hello back and went to the bathroom to see why Manny had summoned me.

As soon as I entered, I saw what he was up to. He was standing at the far end of the bathroom, next to the last stall. He had his cock out and was slowly stroking it so that it was already almost fully erect. I walked half the distance towards him and asked, “Manny, what the fuck are you doing?” He gave me his typical naughty boy expression and said, “What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m horny and I want you to suck my dick.” I began to get irritated with him and I walked over to where he was standing and said in a raised voice, “Are you fucking insane? This is a public bathroom in a museum. Do you know there’s a security guard out there” “Come on Eric,” he said, “we’re alone in here and I know you want it.” He pumped his cock some more while smiling and wagging it in my direction. “You’ve never turned down my dick before,” he said in a lascivious tone that, under normal circumstances would have filled me with lust, but right now was rapidly turning my irritation into anger. “Damn it Manny,” I said, practically shouting now, “no, we’re not doing this, not here.” I was about to say something else when I heard the bathroom door open, and someone came in. I turned to look even though I was pretty sure I knew who it was. It was the security guard of course.

 He must have heard us arguing and decided to see if anything was wrong. He let the door close behind him, walked over until he was just a few feet away. He just stood there and stared at us in disbelief, Manny’s cock still hanging out for all the world to see. “What the hell’s going on here?” he asked. I started to stammer, “Um, look man, it’s not what it looks like, okay, we were just uh….,” and my voice trailed off, because there was really no good explanation and the guard said, “Yeah, it looks like you two were about to get pervy in here, right?” I couldn’t think of anything to say to that; I was humiliated by the situation and furious with Manny for getting me into it. The guard backed away from us and spoke into his walkie, “Dave, are you there man?” I heard a response crackle through the speaker, “Yeah man, what’s up?”  “I need you to come up to the mezzanine level,” the guard said, “we got a situation up here and….” He stopped speaking, shook his head dismissively, like he had suddenly decided that it wasn’t worth the aggravation and then said into the walkie, “You know what, never mind, I got it handled.” “Cool man,” was the response. He gave us a look of utter disgust and said, “You got thirty seconds to get yourselves together and get out and you’re both lucky I don’t call the cops on your asses.” He turned around and left the bathroom. I glared at Manny, who by now had lost both his erection and his seductive expression. He looked embarrassed as hell. Good, I thought. I was seething with anger towards him, something I never thought I would feel. “Put your fucking dick away,” I said, “and meet me outside.”

I left the bathroom and was relieved to see that the guard was nowhere in sight.  I turned to Manny as he came up the hallway from the bathroom and said, “Let’s go.” He looked confused. “Go where?” he asked. “Home,” I said.  “But we haven’t seen all the drawings on this level,” he protested, “and I thought that’s the main reason why we came here.” He took a quick glance around the gallery and said, “Looks like that guard left, so why can’t we stay?” By now I was so furious over what had just happened that I thought I would snap. I leaned towards him so that my mouth was right next to his ear. “Let’s go,” I growled, “now.” He took a step back, saw the anger on my face and said not another word. I headed back to the elevator and punched the down button. Manny stood next to me with a scared look on his face and I realized that he had never seen me angry before. I don’t get angry very often, but when I do, it’s volcanic. The elevator arrived and we rode down to the main level in silence.  

We took the stairs down to the garage and got in his Jeep. He turned to me and started to speak, “Look Eric, I….,” but I held my hand up and said, “Don’t say a word to me until we get to the house.” He sighed, started the engine and we drove back to my place. I didn’t speak to him at all until we were inside the house. I shut and locked the door and turned my full fury on him.  “What the hell were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that?” I yelled at him. He looked a little sheepish and said, “I’m sorry Eric. I didn’t think we would get caught.” I shook my head and snapped at him, “Yeah, exactly. You didn’t think.” I hated feeling this way towards him, but my anger wouldn’t let me stop. He looked defiant all of a sudden and said, “Well, you didn’t have a problem having sex in that video store, did you?” I stared at him in disbelief and said, “Jesus Christ Manny, are you really going to compare a sex shop with a public art museum? A place where families with kids visit? Really?” He looked foolish as he realized the absurdity of what he had just said. I glared at him, trying and failing to get myself under control. “Do you realize what would have happened if that guard had called the police?” I asked him, my voice still cracking with rage. “How do you think your father would feel, having to bail you out of jail for something like that? And who do you think he would have blamed, you or me?” He looked stricken at the thought and lowered his head in shame. “I work in a bank Manny,” I said as my anger continued unabated, “what do you think would happen to my job if my boss discovered that I was arrested for something like that?” He raised his head to briefly look at me and whispered, “I’m sorry,” but I only barely heard him as I said, “You’re not an idiot, Manny, okay? So, for fuck’s sake, don’t ever act stupid!”

 That last word hit him like a smack to the face; I even saw him flinch as I spat the word at him. He looked at me again, said, “I’m sorry,” once more and then I saw the tears start to flow as his face crumpled and he started to sob uncontrollably. He came up to me and wrapped his arms around me in what felt like a desperate embrace, his head on my shoulder, his tears soaking my shirt. “I’m sorry Eric,” he said, “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” He looked me in the face, his own a wet mess, his eyes red. “You’re right,” he said, “that was fucking stupid, I won’t ever do it again, I promise, please don’t be mad at me,” and he once again held me tight, his body wracked with sobs. I felt like an asshole all of a sudden; yeah, I was angry with him, but I didn’t want to make him cry. A gentle scolding would have been enough; I didn’t need to fly off the handle like that, especially not at him, this beautiful and sensitive young man who I loved so much. Shame and remorse caused my anger to dissolve, and I held him tight and said, “Manny it’s okay baby, don’t cry. I’m sorry I yelled at you, that was wrong, please baby, stop crying.” I ran my fingers through his hair as a comforting gesture, trying desperately to calm him before I started crying myself. “Come here baby,” I said, “look at me,” and he took his head off my shoulder and looked me in the face; he had stopped sobbing, but the tears were still flowing down his face. I kissed his forehead, then looked him straight in the eye and said, “I’m sorry Manny, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, okay?” I wiped his tears away and as I did so he said, his voice still shaky, “I made you mad though and I’m sorry.” He wiped the rest of his tears away himself, then looked at me and asked, “Do you still love me, Eric?”

His question made me feel like my heart would tear in half. I pulled him to me and kissed him fiercely and passionately on the lips, then broke the kiss long enough to say, “I will always love you Manny. No matter what, you hear me?” I gazed into his eyes and saw that he knew I meant it. He nodded, showing the beginning of a relieved smile on his face. “And I won’t ever make you mad again,” he said. I kissed him gently on the lips and said, “Yes, you will.” He looked taken aback, like he wasn’t sure if I was serious. “It happens sometimes when two people are in a relationship,” I said, “That’s just how it is.” I smiled and said, “I’m sure at some point I will do something stupid that will piss you off.” He laughed a little, then shook his head with a wry smile and said, “I can’t imagine that ever happening.” “But it will,” I said, “and what’s important is that we deal with it, forgive each other and move forward. Okay?” He looked suddenly very thoughtful, as if I had revealed an obvious truth that had previously eluded him. He looked directly at me with eyes that seemed somewhat wiser than before. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said, “and I love you more than anything.” I pulled him back into a tight embrace and said, “I love you too Manny. I always will.”

I broke the embrace, stood back from him a little and gave his shoulders an affectionate rub, then brought my hands up to gently caress both sides of his face. “I need some rest,” I said. I took him by the hand and said, “How about we lay down for a while?” and he gave me a smile that let me know he was more or less back to normal emotionally. I led him into the bedroom, where I stripped down to my boxer briefs and undershirt. Manny did the same, leaving him in just a tank top and his usual bikini briefs. I laid on my back and Manny got beside me, his arms wrapped around my torso and his head resting on my chest. We laid there for a few minutes, then Manny said with a chuckle, “Sure beats spending the afternoon in jail, right?” I laughed a little and said, “Most definitely. I’ve never been to jail, and I never plan to go.” I looked at him and said, “And we both know you’ll do anything to stay out of trouble, right?” He grinned and blushed a little as he realized I was teasing him by referring to the day we first met. “Yeah,” he said, kissing me softly on the lips, “and anything for you.”

He gave me that sultry, seductive stare that never failed to arouse me. “You promised me something earlier,” he said “before we left this morning. Remember?” I gave him a cool stare, marveling at how hyperactive his sex drive could be. “Yeah,” I said, “I remember.” He ran his hand over my chest, playing with my nipples through my undershirt. “Can I have it now?” he asked. “All yours baby,” I said, my voice and expression giving way to lust. “Thank you,” he said in a husky tone. In a flash, his body was on top of mine, grinding against me, our mouths locked together, tongues roughly entwined, his hands savagely running through my hair as he held me close to him. He broke the kiss and gazed at me with fierce desire. “I want you so fucking bad right now,” he said, and then his mouth was once again on mine, kissing me so intensely it seemed that he wanted to dominate me with his lust. He sat up, his eyes never leaving mine as he tore off his tank top and tossed it aside. He pulled at my undershirt, saying, “Take this damned thing off,” and I lifted my torso off the bed so he could pull it up and over my head and then throw it on the floor.

He brought his face down to my chest and inhaled deeply, breathing in my scent. He looked up at me and said, “Damn, I love the way you smell,” then he pushed my arms up and back so he could bury his nose in my armpits, first the right, then the left. I felt him sniffing and snorting like an animal in heat. “Fuck man,” he said, “your musky man scent drives me fucking wild,” He sat upright and pointed to his groin, where his hard cock was barely contained by his sexy bikini briefs. “Look what you do to me baby,” he moaned, “how horny you make me.” He ran his hands over my chest and said, “I’m gonna make you crazy horny now,” and he lowered his face to my chest again and started licking and sucking my nipples. I loved having this done to me; it’s a sure-fire way to get me horny and he knew it. He would lick and suck on one nipple while gently caressing the other with his thumb and forefinger before switching places. I felt my cock get hard almost instantly. I was moaning and writhing from the pleasure he was giving me. I heard him say between licking and sucking, “Yeah baby, you like this, don’t you?” and I said, “Oh fuck yeah Manny, I love when you do that to me, you’re making my dick so hard.” He looked up, grinned wickedly, then reached down to grope the front of my underwear. “Damn, baby, you are hard,” he said. He gave the nipple he was working on one last lick, then said, “Guess I need to take care of that.” He moved down to my groin and gently, slowly pulled off my boxers briefs, then immediately swallowed my cock.

“God damn,” I said, “that feels so fucking good baby.” He took his mouth off, looking at my cock as though it were a prize he had earned. “Tastes good also,” he said and took it back in his mouth, sucking it like the expert he was now. I thought back to that first day, how inexperienced he was, choking himself on my manhood the first time he tried sucking it. Now he was pleasuring me orally with the skill and technique of a master cocksucker. I felt not only pleasure but pride at how well he was sucking me. His sexy young mouth, dripping with hot saliva, slid up and down my cock, his tongue working my shaft also, making me throb uncontrollably. He pulled his mouth off, licked his lips while smiling at me and asked, “Want me to lick those nuts also?” and I nodded and said, “Fuck yeah baby, whatever you want,” and he went down on my ball sack, licking every part of it, getting it wet, giving me even more pleasure. He took my left nut in his mouth, gently massaging it with his tongue, then he did the same with the right one. His nose was buried in my pubic hair the entire time and I could hear him mutter, when his mouth was free, “Damn, I love the smell of your junk, fucking love it baby.” He lifted his head up and said, “I gotta have more of that cock man,” and went down on me again, deep throating it all the way to the root, slurping and sucking like he was starving.

He stopped sucking my cock, then sat up, looked at me and said, “I’m gonna ride that dick now, okay?” I was so horny now, I could barely gasp out, “Yeah, fuck yeah baby.” “Grab the lube,” he ordered as he straddled my lower body. I reached over, pulled it from the nightstand and handed it to him. He finally pulled off his briefs and his beautiful brown cock sprung free, hard as a rock. I reached down to touch it as he poured lube on his fingers and then shoved them up his ass. He did this several times, enough to get his hole dripping wet and ready to take my cock. He gave me a lustful look and said, “Oh yeah, my ass is ready, now let’s get that big dick ready,” and he poured lube directly on my cock, moving his hand up and down the shaft, getting it good and slick while sending waves of pleasure through my body. He held my dick in position as he lowered his ass down. He got the head of my cock inside him first, saying, “Oh fuck yeah, I been wanting this all day,” then thrust his ass down, impaling himself on my cock. The rush of pleasure was so fucking intense that I gasped in astonishment, “Holy fuck baby, that feel so god damned good, I fucking love your ass Manny.” He smiled and said, “Yeah, love having my man’s big cock up my ass, love it baby,” and he started moving his hips in a nice, steady rhythm, sliding his tight, sweet hole up and down my dick. I was intoxicated by sight of his tightly muscled body, his big brown cock, bouncing up and down with his movements. He grabbed his own dick and started stroking it while grinding his pelvis against me, taking every inch of me up inside him, an enraptured smile on his face.

His face was alive with sexual pleasure as he continued to ride my cock. He knew just how to slide his ass up and down to make my dick feel good, to make me horny and aroused beyond reason. He saw from my face that I was enraptured by what he was doing to me. “Yeah,” he said, “you’re loving this aren’t you baby?” “God yes,” I said, “your ass feels so fucking good on my cock.” I could not take my eyes off his cock though. He had stopped stroking it, focusing on gyrating his ass along the length of my thick, pulsating tool, so now it swung free, all eight inches of him bouncing around like a freed beast. I realized why I couldn’t stop staring at it. I wanted him to fuck me with it. I reached down and wrapped my hand around his girth while looking in his eyes. “I want this dick inside my ass now,” I said. Manny looked a little surprised and said, “Damn baby, really?” “Yeah, really,” I said as I grabbed the bottle of lube and handed it to him. “Get my asshole wet,” I said, “and fuck the hell out of me.” He didn’t have to be told twice. “Yes sir,” he said, pulling his ass off my cock. I immediately spread my legs as wide as I could and he got between them, popped open the bottle of lube and poured some directly on my hole, using his fingers to push it inside me. “Oh yeah baby,” I moaned, “that’s it, get my ass ready for your dick,” as he shoved more lube up my tight hole. He withdrew his hand and said, “Yeah that sexy ass is ready to be fucked,” as he slicked up his own cock. All I could do was stare at the sight of him applying lube to his beautiful manhood; God, I wanted it so fucking bad. He had his cock head up against my hole now. “You ready to be fucked now?” he asked, those gorgeous dark eyes holding my gaze. “Yes baby, fuck me,” I growled, “slam that big, beautiful cock in me, fucking tear me up!” and I felt his cock head rip through my hole as he power drove all eight inches into me at once.

“Aw fuck yeah, that’s it,” I said, “give me that cock, fuck me like an animal,” and the lust smoldered in his eyes as he said, “Yeah, you horny fucker, take my fucking dick,” as started power fucking me, slamming his cock in and out of my ass as hard as he could, hitting my prostate with every thrust. I was in ecstasy. I’m aggressive and dominant when I’m a top and a totally submissive slut when I’m a bottom. I love getting fucked while I’m on my back because it makes me feel like a whore and I love feeling that way when I’m giving my ass to another man. Especially when I gave my ass to this beautiful young man who I loved more than anything. I pulled my legs as far back as I could so he could get deep inside me. I ran my hands over his back, then down to his ass, caressing his tight, firm cheeks as I felt his powerful hip thrusts driving his cock into my fuck hole. He gave me every inch with every thrust, filling me up, making me willingly surrender to the savage, animalistic fucking that I had begged him for. I loved being his slut, his lover, his whore, his fuck toy to use whenever he wanted. I loved that he would give me his cock whenever I wanted it.

He fucked me with an intensity unmatched by any of our previous encounters. I wanted it to go on forever, the wonderful feeling of him slamming his cock in and out of my ass, stretching my hole, satisfying my slutty lustfulness like no one ever had before. I felt the pace of his fucking intensify, his grunts and growls louder now. “Oh, fuck baby,” he moaned, “your ass be driving me wild, so fucking tight around my dick,” and I growled back at him, “Yeah that’s it Manny, fuck me, fuck me and fill me up with your cum.” He was sweating now, his perspiration dripping on me, his musky, youthful scent emanating from him, permeating my senses and further inflaming my lust. I started stroking my cock as he continued to ram his tool into my raw hole. I could tell by his breathing that he was close to cumming. “Oh baby,” I said, “you ready to give me that load?” His face was tense, his jaw clenched, like he was trying to hold off his orgasm. “Don’t want to cum yet,” he said, “ass feel too fucking good,” as he pounded away at my fuck hole. Then he started moaning, growling and snarling all at once and the sounds he was making made me even more aroused and I started to jack my dick even harder. He was thrusting like mad now. “Damn, can’t hold it baby,” he said, “can’t fucking hold it,” and then, “Oh shit Eric, I’m cumming, I’m fucking cumming. Oh yeah, take my fucking load baby!!!” and I felt his cock throb, pulse and shoot a huge, warm load of cum in my ass, drenching my insides with it. He kept fucking me, pumping more cum in me with each thrust. I couldn’t hold my own load either and I cried out, “Oh fuck Manny, you’re gonna make me cum also,” and he said, “Yeah baby, shoot that load for me,” and even though he was still fucking me, he looked down at my cock as I shot load after load of sticky wet cum all over my stomach and chest. “Damn Eric,” he said, “you had lots of cum in them balls, didn’t you?” I was so drained of energy that all I could do was nod and he grinned as he continued to pound his meat in me until his balls were drained as well and he slowly lost his erection and slipped from my hole.

He collapsed on top of me, the sweat on his body mixing with the cum on mine. He kissed me softly on the lips, then rolled off me so that we were laying side by side, both of us on our backs and out of breath from our intense fuck session. Manny looked over at me and said, “Holy shit, that was amazing.” I kissed him, smiled and said, “It was awesome baby. You tore my ass up something fierce.” He looked a little bashful and said, “Well, I gotta give my man what he wants, right?” “Damn right,” I said, “and you always do,” and then kissed him again. We lay there for a while, slowly coming down from our erotic high. About two or three minutes passed, then he asked, “So is that what they call make-up sex, you know, the kind of sex you have after an argument?” I nodded and said, “Yup, that definitely qualifies.” He was silent for a moment and then said, “I guess I need to piss you off more often then, huh?” I burst out laughing and said, “Very funny smartass, but let’s keep that to a minimum, shall we?” He gave me a wise grin, ruffled my hair and said, “Just messing with you baby.”

I stretched, then sat up in bed and said, “Feel like having a drink?” “Sure,” he said as he got out of bed and started looking for his clothes. “No baby, don’t,” I said. “Don’t what?” he asked. “Don’t get dressed,” I said, “I want to keep you naked as long as possible.” He grinned, shook his head and said, “Horny bastard.” “Guilty,” I said, “now head for the kitchen.” I watched him as he walked in front of me, his back muscles and ass gorgeous in the afternoon light streaming through the windows and I wondered yet again how a man my age had managed to get a young man as beautiful as Manny to fall in love with me. We got to the kitchen, and I got the rum from the liquor cabinet and was about to get the tequila when Manny said, “Hold on a second. What drink are you making for yourself?” “A mojito,” I said, “why?” “Make me one too,” he said. “No tequila?” I asked, “since when?” He shrugged his shoulders and said, “You make me want to try new things Eric.” I realized then that I was having a definite influence on him, far greater than sex and the gym. I felt both pride and humility at the thought. I made the drinks and we sat on stools at the kitchen bar, sipping and chatting. We were halfway through our drinks when he asked, “Can we go back to the museum another day, if I promise to behave myself?” I took his hand, kissed it and said, “Of course we can.” He was silent for a minute. “Do you really think my drawings are as good as those in the museum?” he asked. I thought hard before answering, wanting to encourage him, but not mislead him either. “I think with the right training,” I said, “we could one day see your work hanging in a museum somewhere or being displayed at an art show.” I kissed him and as I gently caressed his face, I asked, “Have you ever considered applying to art school?”

To Be Continued