"So, are you willing to go out with her, or not?"

Bobby was pressing me for an answer. He and his wife, Roz, were trying to fix me up

with another of Roz's college friends, which usually ended with a 'crash and burn' scenario.

I didn't want to commit right now. I still had time to think about it. Was turning them down

and losing Bobby's friendship worth it?

Before you think I'm jumping to conclusions, let me tell you about Bobby and Roz's

relationship. They have been married for almost four years now, and it has been the happiest

eleven and a half weeks of Bobby's life. Roz wears the pants in their family, unless she tells

Bobby that he can have a turn. As a pharmaceutical researcher, she makes more money than

Bobby's pitiful commission as an insurance salesman, so she feels she has the right to call

the shots. If she needs a date for a college friend coming to town, Bobby damn well better

line one up, or no sex. Oh, by the way, Roz is 4'11, 97 lbs., and a double D. So Bobby takes

her threats seriously. If I don't go out with Roz's friend, no more "Bobby friendship."

"Do I have to decide right now? I mean, we're not going out until tomorrow evening,

right? That gives us what, about 27 hours."

"Rick, buddy, I need to know now. When I get home, Roz will want an answer."

"Are the two of you going out with "Ms. X" and I?" At least I'd get a chance to scan

Roz's chest for entertainment.

"If you want."

"I want, and tell Roz to wear that peach blouse; you know, the one with the low neckline."

"If that's what you want, buddy."

"And I get to pick the restaurant, not that dive you made reservations at last time."

"Money was tight last month. And "Paul's Steak-o-rama" is not a dive."

I turned away, shuffled some papers on my desk, and responded under my breath, "Only

things that are tight at your house are your wife's pocketbook and her grip on your balls."

I turned back around, and asked again, "Do I get to pick the restaurant, or not?"

With a pained look on his face, anticipating the worst, Bobby replied a quiet, "Yes."

"Good. Seven thirty at "Chez Mark" on Fifth St." I hadn't been there in almost a year,

and at least I'd get a good dinner out of the date. And seven thirty was early enough that if

we had to pull the plug on the date, there would still be time to go out. Don't want to waste

a perfectly good Saturday evening.

"Fuck! Chez Mark is the most expensive restaurant in town. What am I going to tell


"That her friend from Gary, Indiana, has a date for Saturday." And I turned back to

my desk, not really caring what Bobby needed to tell that bitch he was married to.

"Hey, Bobby," I shouted in his direction. "What do they call a cute girl in Gary?"

"I don't know," he deadpanned, knowing a punch line was coming.

"A tourist!" Then I laughed, gave him a thumbs up, and returned to my paperwork.

I really didn't have anything against women from Gary, or Indiana, or anywhere else.

It was just that Roz and her "college friend dates" were beginning to wear on my nerves.

It was no longer about doing a favor for Bobby; now it was becoming an imposition. They were

"okay" people usually, with an occasional bad date thrown in. But all of these dates lacked

the two most important features that I look for when I want to go out----facial hair and a

hard cock!

Actually, there was that one girl last year. She was into sex toys and had a few

dildoes handy, but unfortunately, she also had the "man-stache" over her lip, and I excused

myself early. And that's as close as they've ever come to providing me with a night's

entertainment. So I was not looking forward to tomorrow. I'm a reasonably good-looking guy

with a toned body, six-pack abs, and a ten inch thick cock. Six foot six inches tall, and not

hard on the eyes. I didn't need help getting dates if I wanted them.

Bobby called about five on Saturday to tell me that he and Roz would be picking me up.

That made me nervous! No car? No escape? But they were going to buy me the "Chateaubriand

for two" so I'd have my revenge for being trapped!

Actually, Bobby said that Rita, the mysterious Ms. X, was driving up from Gary, and

would meet us at the restaurant; something about working late. On Saturday, really? Great!

A workaholic ugly research assistant! I was losing ground fast!

"Okay, I'll be ready at seven." I hung up, not giving him a chance to deliver any

more bad news. Really, I could be ready by six-thirty, but that gave me a chance to have a

few double whisky cokes. You know, a little preventive anesthesia.

Bobby drove up to my apartment building at five minutes after seven, and Roz greeted

me with a big kiss when I climbed in the front seat. She was sitting in the back, giving me a

chance to stretch my legs in the passenger seat, something that a guy who is my height really

appreciates. Either that, or she liked to imagine that Bobby was chauffeuring her around.

I chose to believe the former. She was wearing the peach blouse. Good.

Chez Mark was the best restaurant Milwaukee had to offer, located just off of the

lobby at the five star Clairmont Towers Hotel. Coat and tie were necessary just to get past

the door, and I'm sure that to get a good table, Bobby would have to grease the palm of the

maitre'd at least to the tune of fifty dollars, maybe a hundred. Good.

We were ushered to our table, with Bobby taking up the rear. He had a pained look on

his face. A hundred! Getting better all the time. I ordered two double whiskey and cokes.

Bobby shot me a quick frown. I just smiled in return.

After the first was gone, I asked Roz, "Hey. Do you know what they call a pretty

girl in Gary, Indiana?"

Bobby kicked me, hard, under the table, and I responded with, "Fuck!"

Roz looked at me quizzically, not knowing what to say.

To cover my outburst, I told her, "I'm lactose intolerant, and I had cottage cheese

for lunch. Damn, I've got bad gas. Will you excuse me?" Without waiting for an answer, I

got up and headed for the restroom. As I passed Bobby, I told him, "Order for me, and don't

make a mistake!" Then off I headed, drink in hand.

I gave myself twenty minutes in the restroom to make the story seem plausible. When

I returned, there was another double whiskey and coke sitting at my place at the table, and

Rita had joined the group. She was, well, plain. That assessment was being gracious, without

being too generous. She had her platinum blonde hair pulled back away from her face into a

bun at the back. She had a serious lack of makeup going on. Yep, plain just about does it.

Bobby and Roz had actually made a better choice than most of the blind dates that they've

set up for me.

Dinner dragged on through five courses, with Roz and Rita droning on and on and on

about pharmaceutical research. As interesting as watching paint dry. They interspersed those

comments with vignettes of their time together in college, where they both participated in

the science pentathlon, and collected signatures to have the science classroom building renamed

after their favorite professor who was retiring. Good thing that some nameless, faceless

server kept putting those double whiskey and cokes down in front of me. I was also thinking

that it was good that Bobby was driving me home. The only way to save this evening was to

finish getting shit-faced drunk!

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry. Let me help you with that," the waiter squealed. It took

a moment, but then it finally registered---he had dropped a cup of coffee into my lap! I

jumped up, called him a few choice obscenities as I patted at my right pants leg with my napkin. A beautiful pair of white linen pants, destroyed.

I looked up at him to scream again, but stopped mid breath. I was staring at a walking

wet dream. He looked to be no more than twenty, with short jet black hair framing the

alabaster skin covering his face. A thin line of black facial hair framed his cheeks and chin,

meeting up with a pencil-thin Fu Manchu mustache. His broad chest and pert pecs where covered

by a too small crisp white cotton shirt, and his black dress pants bulged in all the right

places. I could feel my manhood waking up!

"I'm so, so sorry sir. Let me take you to the restroom so that we can get you out of

those slacks and see if you have gotten burned. I can call 911 if we need to." He grabbed

me by the hand, not waiting for an answer. He made a short stop to return the coffee carafe

to its warmer, and hurried me to the staff restroom. When we got there, I pushed him in

between the sink and the urinal, and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Since when does a five star restaurant serve cold coffee?" I asked.

"When they need to rescue a patron from "death by boredom," he responded with a twinkle

in his eyes. "Each time I brought you a drink, I could see that you were sinking deeper and

deeper into despair. Somebody needed to do something to save you."

I looked at him with a thankful nod.

"What was a good looking guy like you doing out with that other couple and their aunt?" he asked innocently. I broke into laughter. Then a horrified look shot across his face.

"You mean that older woman was your date?"

"Your gesture was more humanitarian that you could imagine. I may nominate you for a

Nobel Peace Prize."

'You're not going back to that table, are you?" His voice betrayed his level of disgust.

"Have to. No other pants, and no other ride home."

"Wait right here," and he took off without telling me what he was up to. In about ten

minutes, he returned, black dress pants in hand, and he told me to take off my coffee-stained

linen slacks.

"First, tell me what you are up to. I don't like being in the dark, well, except when

I'm with a stud like you." I looked at his name badge. "Jonnie."

"Thank you, sir!" He blushed, turning crimson. "Well, I went back to your table and

offered regrets, saying that I felt responsible for the accident, and that I was giving you a

ride back to your apartment to change clothes, and that you would text them later to let them

know if you would be joining them elsewhere."

"So let's go! I'd like to get out of these wet slacks."

"I don't have a car."

"Well, how the fuck is that going to work?"

"My brother, Jack, tends bar here, and I told him that we had an emergency at home.

He's getting someone to cover him behind the bar, then going to give me, us, a ride home. In

the meantime, let's get you out of those wet things and into these pants."

"If those are yours, I won't fit. I'm taller and heavier, obviously, than you."

"These are Jack's. He's about your height and weight, six foot four and two hundred and

fifteen pounds. I'm not done growing yet, and maybe I'll get taller and a little bigger. I'm

only eighteen."

Fuck. Young stuff!

Jonnie helped me remove my slacks, then grabbed his server's towel and dried off my leg,

rubbing close to my crotch several times. When he went to make another pass, I shifted my

weight slightly so his hand ran into my package, tightly held in my white briefs. He gasped,

and looked up at me. I nodded. He pulled them down quickly, and began to circle his tongue

around the engorged head, then up and down the stiff shaft. I think I could drive nails with

it right now, and he was driving, too----driving me insane.

He fondled my balls, then dove down over my stiff cock and took it about half way down.

That means he got about five inches in, and I wondered if given the time, if he could do better. He pulled off, stood up and licked his lips while looking into my eyes.

"Gotta go check on Jack, see if he's ready to go. He said he'd punch out and take the

rest of the evening off." With that, he was out the door in a flash. I pulled my briefs back

up, and put on the snug fitting black pants. I even had time to take a piss, wash my hands,

and comb my hair. Then Jonnie returned.

"Jack off yet? I asked.

"Only once, when you were first seated in my section," Jonnie responded, straight-faced.

It took a minute for me to realize what he had said, and I began to laugh again. This time,

Jonnie laughed along with me.

"I meant......," I began, but Jonnie interrupted.

"I know what you meant. Just wanted to let you know my motivation for destroying your

slacks. Sorry about that. I'll pay for them."

"I'm sure you will." I winked.

The twinkle in his eye was back. Jonnie's brother Jack met us in the parking lot. My

god, two walking wet dreams in one family! We got in the car, and hurried to their house, an

apartment that the two young men shared. They didn't even ask if I wanted to stop by my

apartment to pick up clothes.

We spent the rest of Saturday evening, and almost to dawn on Sunday, fucking each other's

brains out. It was hottest for me as Jack fucked his brother with his eight inch fat dick

while Jonnie sucked down my ten inches to the root. Yeah, he could do it. And he also knew

how to fuck with his seven and one half inch fat slab or meat. I came at least four times,

once in Jack, once in Jonnie, and twice down Jonnie's hot throat. Jack came four times, too,

breeding me twice. But Jonnie beat us all, breeding both his brother and I twice, and

delivering his first load of the evening down his brother's throat as he let me watch close up.

The shower after was almost as hot as the sex. Then we crawled into Jonnie's bed, and

had a three-way spoon, with me in the middle. As I drifted off to sleep, I decided to come

clean with Bobby and tell him I was gay. Maybe Roz would leave me alone then. I didn't need

any more blind dates. My social calendar had filled up, quickly. And so did my ass!



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