[Leo continues the narrative and tells us how love grew and flourished between him and young Brad.]

On the flight to San Francisco, I thought of Brad constantly.

The in-flight entertainment could not distract me. Even the food - which is usually very good in First Class - could not attract my attention; it might just as well have been cardboard.

And, when I slept, I dreamed of Brad; usually waking up with an erection that I hoped no flight attendant would notice.

I knew I was in love. It was like being a teenager all over again. I wondered if this is what people mean when they talk of a second childhood. Our time together in London had made me happier and more alive than I had felt in years.

But I resolved to push Brad to the back of my mind once the plane touched down. I decided not to try contacting him immediately. I wasn't intent on playing hard to get; I just didn't want to drive him away by appearing pushy.

I resolved to make no contact whatsoever; to wait - and hope - for Brad to make the next move.

My secretary was waiting at the airport. Mrs Little - or Tiny as I call her - drove me home.

As usual I gave her a small gift; a Harrods bear dressed as a Beefeater. She was delighted. Tiny is an absolute gem. She has been with me for almost ten years. That's longer than either of my marriages lasted. She is the model of discretion and I trust her implicitly.

Once I'd showered and changed, Tiny and I had coffee on the deck overlooking the bay. I found myself wishing Brad was there to share the view.

'All your mail is on the desk in your study, sir' Tiny said. 'And I've summarised all your phone messages. They're on the desk too.'

'Anything that seems urgent?'

'No sir. All fairly routine' she replied.

'Oh. There is one that seems a bit cryptic. It was a Mr Johnson calling long-distance. He was very specific. He asked me to assure you he has never attended a more enjoyable conference and that he hopes to attend many more. Does that make sense to you, Mr Wallace?'

'Oh yes' I assured her, with my heart singing. 'That makes a great deal of sense. Thank you, Tiny.'

She looked a little puzzled but made no comment.

Once Tiny had driven off, I poured myself a stiff whiskey and went to my study. I sat at the desk and found myself suddenly gripped with nervousness. My hand shook as I reached for the handset. I dialled and heard Brad's telephone ring four times before he answered.

'Hi, handsome' was his cheery greeting.

'I hope you don't answer every call that way' I joked.

'No. I always check the caller ID. So I knew it was you. And, anyway, you are handsome, Leo.'

'I'm already missing you' I confided.

'I miss you too' he replied. 'I feel like taking all my vacation days and flying over to spend them with you.'

'I'd like that' I said. 'But your mother might not be too pleased.'

'Maybe it's time I started pleasing myself' he replied.

It took another two weeks, but I eventually found myself at the airport again, waiting for Brad's flight to touch down.

That morning, I'd spent almost an hour deciding what to wear, eventually settling for jeans and a sweatshirt. I didn't want to look like a businessman. I wanted to look like a lover.

While Brad's travel arrangements were being settled, I'd gone to my offices in the city centre almost daily. Having dealt with all outstanding matters and sat through innumerable meetings, I advised my staff that I would be out of action for at least a week or so and that - if absolutely necessary - I could be contacted via Tiny.

So everything was working out perfectly. The only hiccup came when the arrivals board advised that the flight from Boston was delayed.

I decided to wait in a bar but I didn't want to meet Brad with alcohol on my breath. So I drank Diet Coke and did my best to stay calm.

When the arriving passengers finally disembarked, my heart skipped a beat as Brad came into view. It was no different from the first time I'd seen him across a crowded room in London. He was as handsome as ever.

I felt immensely proud that he was here to see me; that I'd soon be kissing that handsome face and stripping the clothes from his slender body.

We hugged tightly. Throwing caution to the wind, I kissed the side of his forehead.

I was walking on air as we progressed to the baggage carousels. I was a bit surprised that he had just the one small suitcase to collect.

'You travel light' I said.

A blush came to his cheeks as he replied.

'Well, I was thinking I might not need many clothes. I'm hoping to be naked most of the time.'

My dick stirred as he said this. My nervousness dissipated entirely. It was all going to be OK. He really did have feelings for me. And maybe they would go deeper than mere sexual attraction. Maybe there was a chance of real affection.

We didn't talk much on drive to my house. I occasionally glanced at him - as if to assure myself that he really was sitting beside me - and each time he met my gaze with a smile.

At one stage he placed a hand on my thigh and I took one hand off the wheel to squeeze it tightly. I wanted to screech to a halt and have my wicked way with him there and then. I was like a lovesick teen on prom night.

My house is built into a hill overlooking the bay. At first glance, one gets no sense of how large the place is. There is only a brief glimpse of the large deck and the windows behind it before the house passes from view.

I drove up the steep driveway and into the garage. The roller doors closed behind us and we were at last hidden from the outside world.

We leaned towards each other and kissed, deeply and passionately. Brad's hand was at my crotch, encouraging my dick to flourish and grow even harder. It was bliss to be so close at last, but I eventually pulled away.

'There's a very comfortable bed waiting for us upstairs' I said. 'Unless, of course, you're kinky about doing things in parked cars; in which case we can stay here.'

He laughed and agreed that it might be a good idea to go somewhere a little more romantic. He grabbed his suitcase from the back seat and I led him to the glass elevator that runs up through the centre of the house.

'Whoa - a lift' he said. 'I'm impressed.'

'There's a staircase too' I told him. 'But I'm trying to impress you. Plus, I have a thing about kissing gorgeous young guys in elevators.'

The topmost level of the house is where all the bedrooms are located. The gallery along which one passes has floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to the bay. It's a view that greets me every morning when I'm home. Framed by trees and hills on either side, the water sparkled in the distance.

'OK' Brad said. 'I'm impressed.'

I opened the door to the master suite and ushered him inside.

'I hope you don't mind sharing a bed' I joked. 'I haven't made up any of the other bedrooms.'

'I'll cope' he said. And he dropped his valise to the floor and pulled me into an embrace.

After a lengthy and highly arousing kiss, we sprang into action, practically ripping off each other's clothes. Finally, we stood naked in a chaotic pool of discarded clothing.

We moved into each other and I placed my rock-hard dick under his sac so it could glide between his thighs. I was already oozing copiously and so was Brad.

I moved away and pulled down the bedclothes.

Brad mimed a mock sniff of his armpits.

'Maybe I should shower first' he said.

'Maybe I should help you' I volunteered, steering him toward the connecting bathroom.

'Good God!' he exclaimed. 'Your bathroom is huge. An entire football team could fit in here.'

'I know' I said. 'But they keep refusing my invitations. I'll just have to make do with you.'

I turned on all the shower jets and we took turns soaping each other, our hands lingering on all the most intriguing body parts.

'I'm so glad to get my hands on this again' I commented as I soaked Brad's hardening dick.

'And this bit too' I added, as my finger paused momentarily at his asshole.

It was incredibly tempting to have sex under the invigorating water spray, but we managed to wait until after we'd help towel each other dry. And then - our erections leading the way - we moved to the bed and embraced eagerly.

Much as I enjoyed kissing him, I was impatient to slide downward and feel Brad's lovely cock in my mouth again. And to suck on his balls too. His hairless scrotum was like silk on my tongue. My mouth fully encased first one testicle and then the other.

Brad moaned his contentment and suggested we move into a sixty-nine position. Rather than lie side-by-side, he indicated that he wanted to lie on his back with my junk positioned over his mouth.

This enabled me to look down at his beautiful cut dick as it jutted out from its nest of reddish-gold hair. As I watched, a tear escaped its eye and flowed away to glisten on his flawless abdomen.

I was careful not to thrust my hips too far downward. I didn't want Brad to choke. Once or twice, however, he pulled me towards him, my balls resting on his face as he demonstrated his skill at deep throating.

It seemed we had each been looking forward to this reunion. So much so that we rapidly approached a stage where both of us were close to ejaculating. We pulled away from each other.

'What would you like best?' I asked.

'I want to feel your cock deep inside me again' he replied. 'I want you to fuck me and fill me with cum.'

'No condom?' I enquired.

'Leo, the last person who touched me was you. Unless you've been playing around, then I think we're as safe as we were last time.'

'We're safe' I assured him. 'My only partner since I last saw you has been my hand.'

So we fucked.

It was not a lengthy process. After all the preliminaries, we were already highly aroused.

Brad lay on his back with his legs on my shoulders. I applied some lube to my middle finger and gently moistened his asshole. I then put lube on my dick and eased it into him.

Even though he was not resisting, it still felt incredibly tight in there. I paused for a while - about half-way inside his ass - and asked him if it was OK to go for it.

'Sorry, Brad, but I'm so close.'

'Don't apologise' he said, jerking at his own cock. 'I'm almost there too.'

I looked down, noticing how his balls jiggled up and down as he flailed away. Pre-cum was flowing freely, providing a natural lubricant for his pumping fist.

My dick continued its journey into the warmth and softness of his rectum. Once my balls rested against him, I immediately began plunging in and out of him at a frenzied pace.

It felt like a homecoming celebration. My cock was where it belonged; hammering away at the ass of the guy I had come to love.

Brad let out a keening wail as he tipped over the edge and shot his load. I felt the tight contractions on my shaft as wave after wave of creamy jizz spurted out of him. It was almost unbearably constrictive. My glans was on fire with sensation.

And then I felt a glorious surge that passed all the way from my balls to the eye of my dick. I was in ecstasy as my cum shot inside him.

Instead of pausing - as I usually do - and keeping perfectly still as my shaft pulsed out its load, I continued to plunge in and out until the flow was exhausted.

We could both hear the squelching sounds as my dick pushed its way through a flooded channel; an ass inundated with steaming cum; an ass I wanted to visit and revisit my whole life through.

The squelching sound returned when we disengaged and Brad lowered his legs so I could lie on top of him. His torso was slick with cum, as was his chin and the pillow under his head.

We kissed, pulled away to smile into each other's eyes, and then kissed some more.

I was tempted to tell him I loved him. I wanted to pledge my undying devotion there and then, on that cum-drenched bed.

But caution reigned. I did not want to rush my fences. This might still be just an interesting diversion for Brad. A west-coast fling before he headed back home to live with Mom and resume his work as an investment banker.

I desperately wanted him to love me too, but not desperately enough to risk rejection. I was acutely aware of the eighteen-year age gap. I felt unworthy of the love of someone so amazingly young, fit and handsome.

After another quick shower, I proposed a tour of the house and a drink out on the deck. Brad snapped open his suitcase and began rummaging for a pair of shorts to wear.

'No need' I said. 'We're the only ones here and no one can see us unless they're using binoculars on some distant cliff top.'

'Maybe so' he replied, 'but I'm carrying a load of Leo-cum. I'd hate to dribble anything on your floors or furniture.'

So I pulled on a pair of shorts too before the tour began.

I have to admit that I am inordinately proud of my house. It was built shortly after my second divorce and it was almost entirely my own design.

My ex-wives had several things in common. They could be delightful sexual partners when it suited them; they never tired of shopping and acquiring haute couture gowns and jewellery; and they both preferred over-the top bedroom decor, with endless froufrou and ultra-feminine embellishments.

So, once I'd decided my heterosexual years were behind me, I celebrated by building a house that reflected my own tastes entirely.

I went for stark simplicity of line and I largely embraced austerity in the decor as well. All walls are white. All tiled areas are in neutral tones and, where there is carpet, it is beige or a very pale grey.

Against this background, I have set brilliantly coloured floor rugs and lamp shades, vibrant original artworks and strikingly original - but comfortable - furniture.

The kitchen, utility areas and bathrooms are similar - almost severe at first glance but nonetheless equipped with the best that money can buy.

After years of suffering, my sensibilities are no longer affronted by kitsch cookie jars, frilly lace cafe curtains or cute figurines.

It is a joy to enter a bathroom that does not harbour hundreds of creams, lotions, perfumes and other aids to feminine beauty. All my toiletries are in mirrored cupboards and I no longer have to contend with carelessly scattered powders and blusher on every surface. I don't have to leave the seat down either.

Brad was suitably impressed by the living areas on the middle level, especially by the way they flowed into each other. Like me, he appreciated the view through every window of the vast area of decking and the swimming pool outside.

When we reached my study, he chuckled a little; because here I have thrown restraint to the wind.

My desk may be streamlined and sleeky simple, but the rest of the room is a riot of bulging bookshelves, burgundy chesterfields, old movie posters, family photos and curios acquired in my travels over the years.

'So which is you?' he asked. 'The simplicity everywhere else or the chaos in here?'

'Both' I answered. 'None of us is entirely on thing or another. We are all a mixture. The simplicity everywhere else is my tribute to the view and the art on the walls. It would be wrong to distract from their beauty.

And, in here, you have my tribute to me, Leo Wallace - sentimental, an eclectic reader, a believer in nostalgia, and a man who has so many interests he needs a cage to confine them.'

I threw together a platter of salad, cheese and smoked salmon. I showed Brad where the bar and the wine racks were hidden - concealed behind louvre doors on one side of the walk-in pantry. I also taught him how to operate the sound system built into the wall under the staircase.

He browsed through my CD collection and selected some vintage jazz. At the flick of a switch, this could be piped to anywhere in the house and also to the deck outside.

We sat outside to eat. It was a fine day - almost warm enough for a swim. The music added to the atmosphere - not too loud, but a pleasant accompaniment to our conversation.

At one stage I moved to cross my legs, but Brad quickly asked me to uncross them.

'Why?' I asked. 'Afraid I'll develop varicose veins?'

'No' he replied. 'It's just that - the way you're sitting now - I have a perfect view of your left testicle and the head of your dick.'

I was thrilled that he might enjoy looking at me thus, but I did feebly protest that we should be admiring the view.

'I am' he said; and his face coloured charmingly. 'I'm admiring you.'

I was suddenly overwhelmed. All my good intentions flew away. I found myself saying things I'd sworn I would avoid.

'Brad' I said, in a faltering voice, staring intently at the pool. 'Do you believe in love at first sight?'

'Not until the night I met you' he replied steadily, his cheeks still flushed.

Tears sprang to my eyes.

'That's what happened to me that night too' I confessed. 'I saw you across a crowded room and I thought I'd never seen a more perfect young man in my entire life.

I had to go out on the terrace to escape. If I'd stayed a second longer, you'd have wondered why a middle-aged guy was staring at you so intently.'

'And I followed you out there and pretended I needed a cigarette' he said.

'Pretended?'

'Yes. Any excuse to engage you in conversation.

And I didn't see a middle-aged guy staring at me. I saw an incredibly handsome and distinguished man. A mature man. Poised, elegant - someone comfortable in his own skin.

A man with smiling eyes and the best tailored suit I'd ever seen.'

I laughed. I suggested that I wasn't so distinguished once the fancy suit was removed.

'Please don't do that' he said sharply. 'Don't feel you need to apologise endlessly for some imperfection that only you can see.

You are in wonderful shape. I love your body. It's strong and manly. It speaks to me. It calls out to me, just as your face and your personality do.

If those things weren't true, I'd be in Boston right now, waiting for Mom to call my office and tell me what supplies to pick up on the way home.'

I thought for a while. I thought deeply. And then I spoke.

'If all those things are true, then maybe you shouldn't return to Boston. Maybe you should stay here, because I warn you, Brad, I feel I need you by my side forever.

I won't pretend I know everything about you. And you, of course, don't know all that much about me. But I think we might already know enough for now. The rest we could discover as time goes by.'

'If that's a proposal of sorts, then I accept' Brad said. And now he had tears in his eyes too.

I tried to stay calm. I had a feeling that I mustn't say or do anything that might spoil the moment. I cast around for something deep and meaningful to say.

'If I took these shorts off' I said, 'then you could see my right testicle and the rest of my mature and distinguished dick.'

We both laughed. We couldn't stop laughing. I felt dizzy and intoxicated.

I quickly discarded my shorts and dived into the pool. Brad did the same. We splashed and frolicked. We raced and then embraced. The water was cold but it didn't affect our feelings for each other.

We both had erections. I got Brad to float on his back so I could admire his perfect cock. Inevitably, that cock found itself in my mouth.

I grabbed some towels from the nearby locker and we adjourned to the poolside settee. We had no lube but there was the small jug of oil sitting by the remains of our salad. It sufficed.

I took Brad from behind, his hips raised and his legs spread wide. I looked down as my dick disappeared inside him. I marvelled at his smooth, hairless buttocks. I wondered how such a perfect and seemingly delicate butt could take eight inches of demanding flesh without protest.

And then I thought of nothing else but the glorious sensation of fucking in such a warm, accepting and wonderfully tight arse.

Eventually, Brad moved to rest on his knees and elbows. We established an almost hypnotic rhythm.

As my excitement grew higher, he begged me to fuck harder and faster. My hips became a continuous blur. I pounded away at a frantic pace, occasionally pausing to luxuriate in the knowledge that I was as deep inside him as was humanly possible.

At one pause, he reached a hand through his legs to fondle my balls as they rested against him. I reached around to grasp at his dick and give his own balls a squeeze. They were riding high. His sac was tight and wrinkled. I knew he was close to ejaculating.

'Do you want me to blow?' I asked.

'I just want you to keep fucking me' he said. 'You've got my prostate in uproar.'

So I kept on going.

I have always been a stayer. My first wife once confessed she compiled shopping lists in her head while waiting for me to finally shoot my load. But I could tell this was not the case with Brad.

He was deeply engaged throughout; thrusting back at me, urging me to go faster and harder and deeper. If I paused, he squeezed on my shaft and took me to yet another level of ecstasy.

At the end, as I plunged into him one last time, I felt and heard Brad ejaculating too. It thrilled me to imagine the cum spurting out of his dick as my own cum burst inside him. I collapsed onto his back, panting and totally drained.

'I love it when we shoot at the same time' I murmured.

'Mmm' he said. 'Actually, I cheated. I blew twice. Once half-way through, and then again when you did.'

'Oh God' I protested. 'You must have been in agony. I'd have stopped if I'd known.'

We separated. My cock slipped out of him and a sliver of cum dripped out of me and onto the cushion below us.

'I'd have told you if I was in agony' Brad said. 'Normally I would have found it hard to endure, but, for some reason I stayed hard and found myself desperate to blow again. I think it was because your dick was at the perfect angle to glide against my prostate.

I don't know if you ever took lessons, Leo, but you are an expert at fucking.'

The original plan was that Brad's visit would last two weeks. As the days and nights flew by, it became increasingly plain that neither of us could bear to be separated again.

Brad rang his mother every morning and she called him every evening. He began to weary of those calls. It irritated him to be reminded of home.

He had already made his mind up about Boston. He would be returning there in order to tender his resignation from the bank, pack up all his stuff and somehow convince his mother that it was time he moved on.

'She's going to be devastated' I said.

'Yes. I know' he replied. 'But it had to come sooner or later. She's had her little boy all to herself for almost thirty years. She must have known I'd meet a special someone one day.'

'But she's probably been expecting you to find a wife and settle down close by. Provide her with grandchildren. Continue to be a part of her everyday life.'

'No' said Brad. 'She knows I'm gay. She says she knew from when I was just a little boy. It was an unspoken secret until my father died, but we've been quite open with each other this past decade or so.'

'I have no right to ask this' I began, 'but have you had many lovers over the years? You're a very beautiful guy. I'm betting the men had to stand in line to date you.'

'No' he replied. 'I've always been too shy, too nervous to play the dating game. My sexuality has been largely repressed.

I had a good friend at college. We roomed together. He wasn't really gay. I guess he was what they call bi-curious. Anyway, one night - after far too much alcohol - we ended up in bed together. We had no prior experience to guide us but we learned as we went along.

That went on for almost three years. He enjoyed fucking and I enjoyed being fucked by him. There was never any chance of a future together. It was just a part of being close friends and room-mates.'

'What was his name?' I asked.

'James. James David Collins Jnr. He died in a car accident just before graduation. He'd been out on the town with a girlfriend. She only sustained a few scratches and bruises. I resented her good fortune. I wished it had been the other way around.'

'I am so sorry, Brad. Sorry about what happened. And even sorrier that I've stirred up bad memories.'

'Don't be sorry' he replied. 'It's something I wanted you to know anyway. It might help you understand me better.

It was devastating at the time. I had always been shy but, when Jimmy died, I retreated even further from society and friendships.

I occasionally went to places where guys could give and receive quick anonymous blow jobs but there has been no steady man in my life since Jimmy died. Not until now.'

It was agreed that I would accompany Brad on his trip to Boston. I felt it was important that I meet his mother and assure her of my good intentions toward her son; convince her that he would be loved and well cared for.

The Johnson family home was typical of those built with old Boston money. It came close to being a mansion but I was not intimidated by it. Nor did I allow myself to be intimidated by Mrs Johnson.

She was imperiously reserved and dignified when Brad first introduced me but, when the gloves came off and she realised I was there to 'steal' her precious son, she became a formidable opponent.

'You're much too old for my son' she insisted. 'Brad is still a child in many ways. He doesn't know his own mind yet. A mother knows what's best for her son, and it's not you, Mr Wallace.'

When Brad attempted to intervene, she gave him a stern rebuke and ordered him to mind his own business. I found this amusing.

'If you think Brad has any money of his own then you're mistaken' she continued. 'Don't let this house go to your head. It's mine. And Brad has only a small income from his trust fund until I die. And I have no intention of dying for many years yet.

That's not exactly good news for a gold-digger, is it Mr Wallace?' And she smiled in triumph.

I informed her that I was not the least interested in anyone's fortune and that money has nothing to do with love.

'Then you're a fool' she snapped. 'Only a fool ignores commercial reality. Sensible people do not fall in love with paupers.'

She was a game old bird. I admired her spirit. And I felt sorry for her too. She would miss her son dreadfully. And, if she persisted in being so difficult, then she might push him away forever.

I stayed at a nearby hotel while Brad packed up all his stuff and continued to pursue his mother's blessing. Each time I saw him, he looked tired and overwhelmed by domestic drama.

I had asked him not to tell his mother much about my own circumstances, but he pleaded for permission to do so. I eventually gave him some company brochures and a recent bio that had appeared in a business magazine.

The next day he looked a bit less frazzled. Now, apparently, the old lady was accusing Brad of being a gold digger and warning him that he'd be a bird trapped in a gilded cage! It made us both laugh.

When we finally left Boston, we still didn't have his mother's blessing. The best we'd achieved was a grudging acquiescence and several predictions that Brad would soon be home again with his tail between his legs. She was wrong.

As soon as we were safely home, Brad and I were in bed and feasting happily on each other's body. At one stage, just as I was paying special attention to his balls, he asked if I wanted to do anything official.

'What do you mean?' I asked, lifting my face to gaze at him enquiringly.

His face flushed pink, so I knew he was concerned about my reaction.

'I mean, would you like us to ... to get married ... or whatever? You know ... s-some sort of official com-com-commitment.'

'Like a civil union?' I asked, pulling myself up the bed to lie at his side.

'Umm ... Yes.'

I kissed him and smiled.

'I think that would be perfect. As soon as I've filled you with cum, I'll start making some calls.'

And then my cock was inside him and we were rehearsing for our honeymoon.

When my jizz eventually burst inside him, I found a mantra running through my brain.

Third time lucky. Third time lucky.

And my two ex-wives were finally and utterly consigned to history.

 

Andrew Tait

[email protected]

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