Father, Boyfriend, Lover, Me

Thanks to Andy, Dad’s boyfriend/lover/fuck mate, who happened to be a cop,

I’d heard rumors about him, of all sorts, some frightening, some funny, some….just dumb but the majority of them were just that, rumors about the man who owned all the truck dealerships where Dad worked plus, as I recall, a couple of large truck stops, was to be careful around. What I’d heard? That he had ‘unusual tastes’ preferred younger men but...that was it so I put that out of my mind and concentrated on Jesse, my “fuck to pop his cherry” date here in this hotel.

For whatever reason he’d walked a few steps into the room, apparently saw THE bed where his deflowering would take place then froze. Okay, I could see how that might give him pause, he was a new man to gay life, had been sent to me-largely because our ages were closer-to take his virginity and, just incidentally, give him a crash course in how to have sex with a man. Easy. Maybe if you were Dr. Ruth….but, yeah, I’d had a lot of sex, done many things but taking an absolute beginner from knowing nothing to knowing even a little a bit….

Trying to get him unstuck him from the floor as well his visual attachment to his bed, I put a brotherly arm around his shoulder and ran off every cliché I could think of starting with, “You know, nothing has to happen that you don’t want to happen...”. (I felt like some kid in a Chevrolet with his nervous girl friend saying exactly the same thing. Only he would be fumbling in his pocket trying to snag a greased rubber-We would be going bareback with-just for Jesse-edible lube.) And…. “Hey, we’re just two guys out to have a good time, no worries, see, hot tub, I bet we could get a good, relaxing soak in there.” (Or, back in the Chevrolet. “For Christ’s sake, it’s just the pond, we’ve been in it a thousand times”.) Just not naked which is what I have in mind as does my guy at the pond not to mention our “dates”.

I tried to move him further into the room damn near tripping over him when his fascination with the floor didn’t give. Maybe it was show and tell time. Or at least show… Just as any guy would, I peeled off my outer layer, did the big stretch, sat on the edge of the bed, pulled off my boots, socks. “Gotta say, that hot tub is calling my name...wanta join me?” (And back at the pond he’s down to his skivvies, she’s removed her shoes and sweater but is fumbling with the buttons on her blouse.) My ‘date’ is undoing the snaps on his shirt very, very slowly. But it’s progress.

In a way I wished I’d worn a lot more garments, maybe taking one thing off at a time would encourage him-I have a good body, a little informal stripping might be encouraging?. Nothing for it but go all the way then just as if I was crossing the room to pick up something and….oh, hey!, a hot tub, great! Might as well climb in and get a little soak. Flopped back, closed my eyes, said something dumb about, “Oh, yeah, just what the doctor ordered...” (At the pond he’s stark naked, fondling his balls as if they were a prize she’d just won while she, as gracelessly as possibly, plus having a terminal attack of giggles, has finally shed her clothes and is now standing, a la the lady on the half shell, with one hand over her tits and another over her plug-in at the edge of the water. From here on it’s gonna be two falls out of three with an unexpected pleasure, mud wrestling; I hoped he was prepared for her bawling about how her hair is a mess….)

Lost in the woods with my couple I failed to notice that Jesse had rapidly shed all of his clothes and, in what was almost a belly flop, now in the spa with me. Not beside me, but near me. Progress.

With just a little shifting, I was able to get close enough to do the big brother arm around little brother thing. Worked. In a flash move that almost took both of us to the bottom of the tub, he coiled around me like an Octopus having just found a tasty Lobster. Well, whatever it was, it was progress.

“Easy there bo….” glug burble burble glug and a large gasping for air; As a rule I don’t go skin diving in a hot tub. And, oh shit, now he’s going to do the tears thing….

“Jon, I’m….I’m frightened...”

“Of me? That’s foolishness, why I’m practically part of the family...you know, Andy, my Dad….” I deleted Coach even though that’s where he’d first met me. While there was an easy explanation to all these men, or it was easy to me, Jesse might have some trouble sorting out who was what to whom. Hell, once in a while I had problems; If you’ve just fucked-or been fucked-by your father and his boyfriend then go home to fuck-or be fucked by your lover but...one of the above drops in and everybody fucks…..this was sex education Graduate School, something Jesse was not nearly prepared for.

Well, we were now both well and truly using the hot tub. Having undone the Octopus mode, he was just quietly crying, afraid, sure, of me? No. I put my arms around him.

“Who asked you to do this, cuz, I’m serious, we can just have a great weekend, maybe shoot some pool, there’s a bar, outdoor pool, get some tan, good restaurant...you must have slept…. At least in a bed with a man…..Haven’t you?”

“He said….he said he wouldn’t on account of I’m a virgin and he didn’t sleep with guys who hadn’t been plugged so...”

Whoever this was, I instantly detested him. Plus, whoever he was, wanted me to have Jesse-who was really a nice guy-associate me with the pain that comes  to all men….the first time. Hell, he wanted me to turn out one ready-to-roll stud, all prepared, fucked, sucked, probably eaten out...

And whoever he was….whatever progress I made with Jesse, I, personally, would find out who that jerk was and see to it that he never, ever slept in the same county as Jesse. However…..I knew some men to whom he could and would be referred who had no scruples so long as it was A. Male and B. had an ass. I Smiled thinking about...must have done something, Jesse scooted next to me was in the hesitant stage of maybe putting his arm on my shoulder. To spare him the question as to whether to do it or not, I put my arm on his shoulder.

At the touch he went rigid. Not his cock, his body. “Jon? Uhm...would you be really mad if I didn’t, you know…..”

Well, yeah, I did know but the worst thing, for him and what he wanted was to let him go now for, if I did, he’d never try it again. Never, or never on his own. What I also knew was that what would happen to him, if not with me, now, was he’d hook up with some guy who would give him no choice; Delighted to find a virgin-and a good looking one-he’d be slam dunked and fucked no ifs ands or buts. It wasn’t the sort of experience I wanted for him but was pretty sure that was what his future and his virginity held. I am not a fan of non-consensual sex, particularly when the purpose is anal sex for the first time….which, to most-some believe there’s a psychological cherry that can be popped, I’m just not one of them- is where losing your cherry takes place. I don’t think I’ll be corrected on that one….

We had this room, paid for by my Dad, until Monday when Jesse had to report for duty. If nothing else he needed to sleep in a bed with a man where he did not feel threatened but might enjoy the experience. I mean, my God, the man was gay, told a few people that….I suppose one could be only psychologically, not physiologically that but I wasn’t sure how. It had taken me a year to get coach to remove my anal man head….course I was 14 and he….was significantly older….and extremely generously endowed so he had concerns about hurting me. However once we jumped that fence I was his favorite thing to sleep with….nicely opened to accommodate his grandiose cock plus his balls that almost needed a crane built in his jock to keep them from falling too low.

That wasn’t all I loved about coach….but...many who had seem what constituted his bulge-there must be a word than more fully describes ‘bulge’ as it applies to coach were falling down jealous….he’d made a point of ‘displaying’ to opposing coaches by not wearing anything under his coaching shorts then sitting on our bench, his knees spread wide….didn’t need neon lights, Jesus, his schlong head almost came out the hem on his left leg….Even with a more substantial rise on his shorts, it was impossible to avoid seeing it. (Once a ref suggested he hit the locker room and find something to batten down the balls and the meat, he was getting distracted-later, to his surprise and delight, not only did he meet the coach up close and personal but found one of his players [me] was another tasty dish. We made a point to ‘suggest’ this ref for our games... liked his fairness in refereeing and requested him as often as possible….for the game or us or both. Take him home, shower him, fuck him….I’d suck him while coach did rear entry (after he’d been widened sufficiently)….he returned all the favors...good sportsmen all of us.)

There’d been a plan B circling my head but….to go there now probably didn’t accomplish anything. If nothing else, I was determined to at least get him in the bed and do….something. Just sleep by one another….and for that...I had an assistant...right in the room.

Trying to act as if this were a new discovery… “Hey, how bout a beer or a Bourbon-that’s my drink or...there’s a mini bar over there, bet they’ve even got snacks.” I tried to wipe my brightest smile on my face….with no great success.

“Beer?”

Bingo.

Faster than a swimmer discovering the water was far too cold, causing his nuts to make a beeline for indoors, I was out, dripping, then opening the door to start my turn as bar tender and read the selections.

“Uhmmmm how about a double Bourbon with a beer chaser?” I thought that seemed soothing, relaxing, would lower his resistance….

He looked suddenly….elsewhere. “Gee, that’s what my Dad usually has...”

“Your father is a wise man, just like his son...want it straight or with ice?”

Thoughtfully he took the swan dive and, in remembrance of his father-who wasn’t dead-he got a nice glass filled with two miniatures of Jack Black and a cube of ice. Also a beer. I had a Diet Coke which, in theory, had Bourbon in it...which is why I said it was a Cuba Libre.

Jesse took his glass almost as enthusiastically as Socrates took up his Hemlock….but with differences. Bourbon drinking Dad, swell fellow that I’m sure he is, neglected to tell his son that in drinking, it’s endurance, not speed that counts; The ice cube hadn’t even lost 10% of it’s chilling factor but was skating around the bottom of an empty glass. Jesse seemed to look...happier. Okay it was going to be a dirty trick but….claiming a time out to take a leak I got his glass and...headed for the can.

One thing about really nice hotels: Telephones in their bathrooms and I had some calls to make. First up, Room Service. I know  what was in the mini bar and unless he was a much more experienced drinker, he’d finished off the Jack and...I know of no one who could follow that with a double Scotch, Gin, Vodka, Tequila….and, if they did and were in our situation, I guessed there was no pool boy to come and clean the hot tub of alcohol induced vomit. They were told to leave two pints, not a fifth, iced in a bucket along with some sort of substantial sandwiches, meat loaf-although this wasn’t the sort of place where meal loaf was likely to be served. Just something like that. Two salads, some fruit, preferably the sort of orange you can peel (and when it drips on your chest needs to be licked off. By whomever you were with, me for instance.) plus snacks….their choice. No problem, they’d knock and I could retrieve it...only probably a good idea to get it fairly quickly...two bottles of Jack Black could be a temptation. No problem.

The next call was to my Dad who, I felt, set all this up and now his much beloved son needed some advice. I was hardly a sexual novice but dear old Dad…..it was to him I turned for some advice on how to advance the situation from water world to bed. I mentioned the booze but, surprise, he said to watch that….fucking a drunk who had little idea of what was going on was no fun and, in this case, we needed Jesse to be aware of what was going on; Let him have one more double then feed him but...get him out of the water before food, in this case undigested, went into the water. Given Dad’s way of pausing and faltering I had to fill in some blanks. Only other thing...he thanked me, said I was doing a good deed...hardly Dad speak.

I was just on the verge of hanging up when Dad, almost as if he’d just remembered something, said he and I had something to do...later...Okay, fine. I was his son, we’d done a lot of things together; None of them involved the more routine father/son activities but, certainly, one could say they involved getting a good physical workout. (I’d once asked Andy if he could see my Dad and me playing ‘catch’ in the back yard? He looked at me as if he’d been stabbed and said, “NO”.)

Back at the indoor pool. Jesse had found the beer, chugged it and was looking...happier, more relaxed. I wandered by him and was surprised to have him hook out one hand and run it down my cock. That was progress. However my errand was to slip out the door, grab the wheeled tray I’d heard parked there and move it….near a couch. To get more of anything he’d have to get out of the damn spa.  I was easily strong enough to lift him so decided that we’d advance things about by my taking him in my  arms, pausing, getting him upright to be toweled down-I lingered on his cock and balls with hopeful results then plunked him on the couch. Again, in my host/bartender mode I fixed him another, well, last, drink, handing it to him suggesting….too late. Gone.

“Jon?”

“Uhm?”

“I’m sorry I was frightened….it’s just that, well, you know….”

“Jesse, my first time I was terrified, knew I wanted to get fucked cuz the man who was going to do it….was a man I loved but that changed nothing, a first time for anything….”

He gulped. “Do you want to screw me?”

Not for nothing had I been well schooled in male anatomy and how to work it. Gently taking his hand, I put it over my nicely hard cock….. “What does that tell you?”

He giggled.

Well, shit. The pride of Kentucky was too apparent. How you could pass go and end up at approaching slopped in that period of time…..

“Jesse?”

He rolled toward me. “Hummmmm.” He had something to say. “I thought I wanted your Dad but…..I don’t.”

Good, he’s not here.

“I want you.”

I avoided asking, “To do what?” Call room service again, order a pot of strong coffee, dump him in a cold shower then shove him in bed till he fell off the merry go round at somewhat soberpoint.  I smiled, held him, kissed him…he actually kissed back-we’d have to have discussion about teeth when we got below the Middle Dicks line but that was ahead.

“Jon?”

“Um hm?”

“I want to fuck you, is that okay?”

I fell on the floor.

“I never fucked anyone but…..gee, you’re a stud….and….well…”

We were at a sensitive moments, part of plan B had been to get him to do...something to me. Jack me off, blow me, fondle me….fucking, I’d thought, was probably off the table but, nope. Also, looking down, he was hard, not just on the way to hard, hard. I was already on the floor so it was no problem to work myself around then slip my mouth over his glans….just to see what might happened.

In his enthusiasm, he damn near ripped off my uvula in his desire for full insertion. (Good thing I was used to coach and his bull dick.) Pushing him back a bit, putting one hand on his chest to pinch a nipple, I got back to not having the whole pole, just as much as I needed. While I was certain, maybe incorrectly, he’d never heard of ‘deep throating’ there was no reason to think that’s what he meant to do. However, he’d just jumped a whole lot of boundaries and, whether he knew it or now, drunk or sober, he was going to get fucked.

Whether anyone had ever done this to him in the past….who knew? I also suspected he didn’t jerk off very much which meant he was fully loaded-let us just say I’ve had more trouble getting a milk shake through a straw for perhaps a minute later, combined with his writhing, I had a mouth full of his cum. A lot of it. Time to teach him something else; How he tasted. That, I was positive, was not only going to be a new taste sensation, but a wholly new experience.

Holding most of him I worked my way up his body, keeping my eyes fixed on his, I planted my mouth on his then slowly began to drizzle his man milk back into the man from which it had come. He seemed surprised, initially tried to pull away but I’d made a point, while I climbed him, to make sure one hand was behind his head so….even if he attempted to turn away, he was going to be fed.

We were so close I could read his eyes and they were very wide open. Whether he knew precisely what he was getting pumped into him...maybe, maybe not. Given his viewing of porn, he might have seen men spitting into each other’s mouth. Or not. There’s a way of making this seem romantic simply by keeping my hand behind his head and grasping him around his  back pressing his chest to me with my other, he should have got the impression that this was good for him. He should be pleased by what was meant to please plus he was the one who more than suggested he wanted a suck job, he damn near choked me out.

It was time for a pause. Back on the sofa, I held him, stroked him, put his head on my shoulder. This was the moment to do what I knew how to do, the soft, vaguely dirty phrases but almost whispered, suggesting my desire for him, running my hand over his body, telling him what a great guy he was, how we’d want each other...how great blowing him had been….how I wanted to feel what he felt like in me, how he wanted to know what it would feel like when I took him….slowly and with all the affection I had. Somewhere in this litany that was beginning to sound like it was lifted from a soap opera he  started to sag; No doubt, the liquor plus the relaxation from finding what it was like to experience fellatio….he was softening, moving toward me with his whole body. I told his soft cock, massaged his nuts, picked him up and took him to bed.

As I put him on the sheet it reminded me of….me a long time ago, after Bob first had me. Laying on my side, tired, grateful, pulling up my legs, holding a pillow like a stuffed animal...then sleeping. I smiled not only at the memory but how much I was actually enjoying this. He was a nice kid….okay, he was a couple of years older than I was...wanted this and though I was puzzled as to why I’d been brought in to stand at stud rather than the man who wanted him, I liked him, I’d do what he needed not for some other jerk who couldn’t or wouldn’t do what a thoughtful lover does but because I’d found what a really nice guy he was, that he deserved this weekend and, yeah, he deserved the best that could be got from me. I sat on the edge of the bed, pulled a sheet and light blanket over him...then went back to the bar, poured out a stiff one and collapsed on the couch. This was not the moment to join him, soon, but not now.

I gave him ten minutes, checked back, yep, he was gone Johnson, the arms of Morpheus held him tighter than a too small cock ring on bull balls.

Fine, taking my drink with me I headed for message central, aka the bathroom, to plunk my ass on the toilet while making a call and getting ready to thoroughly clean myself. Having gone through Dad’s version of speaking, often reminding me of the ‘Hesitation Waltz’, I went for someone a bit more glib, Andy. Caught him on the practice tee at some course, told him to put down his balls and help me with mine. Said he needed a break, told me to give him five, he’d snag a beer and then I was all his. There was a smart ass answer about frequency of how often I’d been all his but I resisted.

As any thoughtful stud/whore/cherry picker does, I’d brought a kit with things I thought, well, knew, might be necessary. One of those was a length of hose that allowed me to, first, heat the water in the sink’s tap, attach it to the hose then shove it up my tail-the spigot part was, it had been a gift, was a replica of coach’s cock which not only relaxed me thinking of him, but insured I would be wide enough for, say, the USC football team to run a quarterback sneak in there.

I dialed my best cop friend-who was my Dad’s lover-as I let the first blast of water shoot out. On hearing his voice I put the receiver where he could be ‘part of’ what was going on. Seemed only fair.

“What the fuck…..?”

“Housekeeping, cleaning the plumbing.” When the last spurt of water came out I flushed the can, not only for the sound effect but so he’d know what I was doing.

“Where’s Jesse…..Jesus, you haven’t already screwed him have you?”

“Andy, you know me, I take pride in my work. Got him sucked off, he got himself about three quarters slammed so he’s in bed dreaming of a Dad who drinks double Bourbons with a beer chaser and needs to tell his kid….slow down with the booze.”

I waited for a response but aside from some birds twittering-plus some really foul language as a golfer explained what really happened when his sand wedge hit a tree stump on the edge of the trap, Andy was quiet.

“ Hey, you in there or out there?”

“Why’d you mention his Dad?”

“Because he does or did...told me all about his old man and drinking double Bourbon with a beer chaser.” I paused. “Daddy must be almost an alcoholic.”

“Yeah, well, Jon, ‘Daddy’ is the one who wants his cherry popped…..I’m busting his later tonight.”

It was only because I’d been trained (well, coached) to not fall apart in sudden situations that I did not drop the phone in the toilet bowl. Understandably, there was a silence at both ends…..

“Tell me your kidding but….I don’t think you are.”

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of a sad story.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Jon, don’t get snarky on me….this is real serious and you’re doing this guy a real service.”

“Like the one you’re doing dear old dad….”

“Look, up front it sounds….well, weird.”

“Up front, underneath, on both sides and in back, it sounds….weird.” I paused only because….I needed to ask a question but couldn’t think which question that might be.

The sounds from out of doors, plus the cursing of other golfers, all of whom seem to have had a rotten day, were, oddly, comforting. Between us this gulf of silence was like holding hands; Both of us stuck in a bizarre situation, both of us bamboozled as to what to do.

“He’s a cop, isn’t he; Father and son, Jesus, the sort of thing that gets loving publicity….just not for this.”

“Jon, look, this guy is a real good friend….he knows about….us….(I idly wondered which of ‘us’ he meant, there were so many possibilities….) he and the kid came to me….told me, asked what they should do.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a toughy alright. Just out of idle curiosity, what did you tell them? I can only imagine that on the spur of the moment, ‘nothing’ would have been my choice….at least after I could get my breath.”

Another pause, another interval with the birds and the boys swearing that they’d never play that goddam, mutherfucking, cocksucking game again. In other words, not until next weekend-I’d been around this sort of sworn antipathy to anything with hard balls in the past. Not my hard balls, or coach’s hard balls or Andy’s hard balls or Dad’s hard balls  but, you know, white balls with dimples.

“You there?”

“Yeah...I told them I’d think about it….”

“Well, that’s one way to avoid the issue but, let me guess, the issue didn’t stay avoided too long.”

“...next day, Jaime, that’s the father...”

“I guessed.”

“...well, he comes to me to see if Mitch and I will take them home and, you know, bust their cherries.”

“Of all the dumb ass ideas….that’s probably the worst….did you ask Dad?”

“Uh, that’d be negatory.”

“Good thinking….that would have rendered him speechless...”

“I put this off as long as I could….”

“Until retirement?”

“Jon, for God’s sake….I was up the creek.”

“Sorry.”

“Jaime kinda solved some of it, we’re old buddies he’s been to the house, I guess he figured he’s a cop, I’m a cop….I’ve got the place.”

“Okay, now...how does Junior end up at Bob’s one morning mistaking me for my Dad cuz I’m stark naked but covered with dirty laundry? Who gave him Bob’s address?”

I gave it ten seconds.

“Never mind, I can figure it out. It’s okay….what about Dad? He know? Then there’s Bob…..”

“I heard he was out of town for a long weekend, some sort of tournament.”

“You are so full of shit, copper, you never heard that, you checked the home and away schedule that’s in the paper every Wednesday. You knew I’d be alone, fair game, safe sailing to drill Jesse while you reamed out his dear old dad. Jesus, Andy, why don’t we all just get together and have a father/son cherry popping gang bang. Oh….if my man is gone, where’s Dad?”

“Truck show...company, like Freightliner or something, like that, you know, party, new models, crap like that, out in Vegas. He mumbled something, just figured out he’d be gone til late Sunday. He went with the guy who owns all the places he works, sort of a command performance.”

“I assume he knew not to expect much in the way of conversations, funny stories, jokes…..Not with Dad.” I suddenly had a thought… “Andy, this guy isn’t, you know, queer, like us?”

“Wouldn’t know Judy Garland from Barbara Bush, that answer your question?”

“They’re both dead?”

“He wouldn’t know that either.” Which satisfied that.

Sitting on the toilet wasn’t the best place for sexual philosophy but… “Andy, it’s really sad that father and son can’t work this out...no reason we can’t, uh, referee, give pointers...Assess penalties? Illegal use of hands?”

(I thought of our buddy who really was  a referee...also, he was far more used to dealing with the young, something Jesse was, young. Beyond that, I knew he was good in bed…. that was wishful-or did I mean wistful?-thinking. However, I, too could check the in town/out of town schedule and ask him to drop by, Coach wanted to give him some pointers…)

“Jon, please, I’m in a bind here.”

“Yeah, and took me with you. Jesus, Andy….I’ll go with what you say, they’re nice guys just afraid...although of what….I’ll get mine done ditto yours and Sunday afternoon, we’ll have a family reunion right here although at some point….you and I slide out. There’s just so much we can do and, frankly, I think we’re doing too much.”

“Shitty deal...”

“But it’s the one you got.”

“You’re more like your father all the time.”

“Thank you, a better compliment you couldn’t have paid me...now...I need one more ass full of water and you probably need to play the back nine.”

“Hey, kid, I know Mitch and Bob love you but….your ‘other’ dad...”
“I love him, too and buddy, you look at my tools lately? I ain’t no kid.” Then hung up.

Rarely is an enema, at least if done solo, a comforting thing but...since what I was doing was killing time, in this case, it was. Even after the second drainage-all clear-I continued to perch on the can...it was vaguely comfortable and, as with most toilets, had an air of familiarity. Kinda was sorry I didn’t have that pile of dirty magazines many men are said to keep for ‘toilet reading’. For lack of anything else to do and because I has having ‘nasty thoughts’ based on reading material I didn’t have, I shucked it down, felt good. Wondered if I should clean the inside of it as well?

Doors that come with locks do so for a purpose. This was a really good hotel so, apparently, someone occasionally oiled the hinges. Had they not, I might have got a two second heads up that I was about to have company: Jesse.

Okay, what he’s seeing is me with my cock in one hand as well as the cock headed enema hose in the other. It’s reasonably easy to explain one, my meat, but the hose?….until I had an idea.

Jesse stood there holding his meat looking a man seeking a standing urinal.

Putting a lot more enthusiasm into than I felt….

“Hey, Jesse, just finished, your turn…..and while you’re here….great time to show you something you need to know how to do.” Okay, holding what, to him, looked like a garden hose with a cock on the end probably was spooky even though I had a perfectly good explanation. Well, it was perfectly good if you were a little further along the sexual path than he was. Also, it crossed my mind to wonder how much his little nap had sobered him? My guess? Not much.

The quickly given answer was...nope. Sober men do not (there are exceptions) piss in the sink, forget that they’re not done and turn around.

Whatever else I knew, one thing was a certainty; Jesse had never heard of water sports whatever he’d just done.

His almost did a face plant sliding in his urine-somehow I caught him so the fall damaged nothing-didn’t say, it screamed, Jesse was still fricasseed, soused, lights out, stupefied…..he was plastered. Apparently drink number two had met up with drink one which added up to his 86-ing himself.  

While he was on the floor it seemed a good idea to do some advance preparation as well as mop up. He was also going to need to be showered-something about sleeping with a piss scented man, don’t know, just doesn’t do it for me. Carefully moving him a little closer I stuck the hose in him then slowly turned on the water. Didn’t even notice, just rolled his head on one side...and snored. Okay...when he was full, got him up then seated on the john and let what was in come out. Second time was even easier-and coach’s cock was something to notice-a good chance to at once clean him and widen him...although as it was as a nozzle, it had been stepped down a size or three. My only chore was to avoid slipping on the gold showered floor, getting Jesse into the shower then...clean up; Dirty l aundry and Jesse were becoming synonymous.

How I looked forward to calling housekeeping and telling them a carefully edited version of what happened then getting a lot of towels-plan ahead and, thank God, the in room spa provided an excuse for almost anything moist...an explanation of an over exuberant young man, having too much fun….the floor in the bathroom? Accidents happen, add a mop to the other things….I was sure they would understand, just leave them outside the door. I was tempted to ask for a fully loaded cart, including floor cleaning materials but that...was pushing it. That was my plan just as soon as I off loaded Jesse and got him back in bed. It crossed my mind to ask if they had, oh, fifteen, twenty yards of para-cord but backed away. Assuming, as I’d asked, for several changes of sheets, I could probably figure out a way to secure him….if that became a necessity. (Okay, the thought of tying him down, ass up, gagging him then fucking him was somewhat arousing….maybe if we got to know each other better...in a few months. Maybe Andy and I could do a sort of twofer side by side.....)

This really was a fine hotel-go Dad!-so the shower also incorporated steam , something that had great appeal to me even if my fuckee candidate to be wasn’t interested. Laying him on the bench, I turned up the steam until, if you walked in, just who or how many were in there….no way of telling. I will say his occasional snoring followed by a honk took something from the atmosphere but at least we’d both be deep clean, particularly after the shower. Yep, we’d be two squeaky clean men, in and out, just perfect for a friendly fuck.

It took some work, hauling bodies that are not helping and are almost dead weight can be a trial. One good thing, in my talk with housekeeping, and also leaving a $50 bill on the bed-going cheap has undesirable consequences-helped. The bed had been stripped, changed and, Thank You ladies, yet another set of sheets left should they be needed. Also a mop and bucket... One might think they’d serviced this room before when occupied by two good looking men who, so far, had ordered up nothing but liquor and them. Later, I’d add another couple of $20’s-no way you could over tip and, for those who may not know, while it may seem that reception, recorder of credit cards, smiling welcome to their hotel, it’s really those who work below the direct line of sight that can make or break your stay. Ergo, the freshly made bed, flowers on a table, an unloaded room service tray neatly stowed to be available but not obtrusive, lots of mints on the pillows, extra pillows and a card wishing the ‘guest’ a pleasant evening as well as an invitation to call if anything more might be required.

And let us not forget room service waiters. Not unusually nice, good looking young men working their way through something or other who, on occasion, have dropped by after their shift was over would be happy to have you work your way through them. All these good, hardworking people, almost forgot maintenance who, when you need them, you really need them can make your stay….pleasant.

Somehow a chapter of AA, while possibly required, wasn’t something housekeeping could provide...although Jesse in the future….

My bedded buddy looked, as he had before, innocent, wrapped around a pillow, seemingly happy-I wondered how he might feel in, oh, eight or nine hours? Would the sight of the Jack Black bottle cause him to shudder? Questions to be answered.

I collected the mop and bucket….

If he’d never slept with a man before, that time was upon him. Carefully inserting myself behind him, I uncurled him just enough so that we were nicely spooned. If there was an oops, it was that my cock was a little too near the gates to his ass and was chubbing up. Under about every other circumstances, I’d have let nature take his course, let my snake crawl in his hole just enough to be comfortable. That, however, was for later after he’d been de-virginized and that hole was open for business; For now we’d sleep back to back.

In fact, it reminded me a bit of sleeping with coach, really no sex just a sort of sexual intimacy that didn’t require an act, just two men, sleeping, happy the other was there. Whether Jesse was happy I was there was a question to be answered but, for now, as I reached over and dimmed the lights, all was comfortable, warm and that good clean man smell...some say, and I do, better than leather in a new car…..

Time passed…...

Holy Mother of God!!! I woke up only to find we’d shifted  and now….I had fucked him in our sleep. (I had done that, rather frequently, with Coach not to mention my Dad and Andy-okay, they’d done it to me as well-and we all agreed… we liked it, also it just came sort of ...naturally.) At least that’s the conclusion I came to considering my cock was in his ass up to my furry crotch. Also, in his sleep, he was pressing himself against whatever was in him, moaning, saying things that clearly did not suggest he was in any pain rather the opposite, he was loving his first fuck even though he didn’t know yet he’d had it.

What I had to assume, as there was no other answer, was that somehow we’d got back to the spoon position and I, as I’d done so often before, hardened up and slid into him. Given his brief romance with alcohol, he’d relaxed to the point that my insertion, and his deep sleep, did not cause an internal reaction except for the pleasure he was so obviously having.

Well, you may leave a sleeping dog lie but I wasn’t balls deep in a dog so...I proceeded as I might have. Now that I was awake and suddenly alert, played it like it laid. Got one hand on his dick-no surprise, it was hard-plus another one playing with his nipples-instant reaction, and I thought his cock was stiff before….so now, we’re our own little sex machine; He’s fucked, I’m getting off, he’s also getting milked plus his tits were luxuriating in fingers that knew what to do. (Coach was huge on nipple play even if it did leave him dripping his special-to me- sauce without touching his massive beast of a man’s persuader; Five minutes of pinching, pushing, rubbing and he’d drizzle enough precum to make a dressing for a very large salad. Followed by a tureen of thick, spicy, jizz. Touch the organ in question and be prepared to have to repaint the wall.)

It was time for Jesse to realize the new facts of life. What I could not believe was that….he’d slept through this but, maybe, Jack Black had anesthetic qualities of which I was not aware….I moved from playing with his nipple to pinching it plus squeezing his nuts to the point where even sleep wouldn’t keep a man from feeling a little sting or something unpleasant.

He was beginning to loll, move his arms, try and do what every guy does in their sleep, hold onto his cock but was finding...that seat had been taken. I bit the edge of his ear.

“Welcome to studville….come on, just a little further toward being awake...need you to feel for real what you’ve been enjoying...come on...”

He rolled his head toward me, smiled, pushed his ass back harder….

“I’ve been fucked, haven’t I?” He had an expression that was both amazed and….happy.

“Well, kinda in the process of it, sorry you missed the opening, you have a great tail, some man is going to be very lucky. Want me to go a little further? Hurt anywhere?”

He put his hand over my hand that was holding his dick.

“Jon, please, just back out and go in again….us non-virgins like to  be fucked more than once in a night.”

As I slipped out I turned him to me, took his face in my hand then gave him a very serious kiss. “Okay, I didn’t shoot in you and, boy, I want you to have my seed so I can lick it out then feed it to you….sound good to you?”

Must have, he suddenly spasmed then shot his first non-virgin load.

“Lick it up.” (Which suggested to me that Dad was going to be a Dom and Son his loving Sub. Worked out nicely, don’t go to strangers.)

Not quite to to my surprise, he did. What I was discovering was that he had always wanted all of this but when his father entered the picture….things changed. While I could see why ‘Dad’ didn’t want to be the first-according to Andy, he needed to be taken the first time himself. (At some point he and I would need to compare notes…)

On his other side, facing me, his lower lip still shellacked with his own sperm, he clearly was ready for...whatever.

“Hey, got an idea while I wait to fuck you again, how’d you like to fuck me? I think I’d like that….in one way, ‘til you’ve fucked another guy, you’re still sort of a virgin…” I smiled at him. “You wanted me to relieve you of your virginity and that’s part of it.”

He had beautiful eyes, big, black in the semi-darkness. His soft skin, his great tits, now up, hard, his tang out, nicely rigid, expectant. I could see when I suggested he mount me, he was instantly involved, wanted to, was, in a way, grateful to be so easily offered the task. In the pleasantly shaded room, I could see him sweat slightly in anticipation.

He suddenly put his arms around me, I could feel tears on my shoulder...I held him back. We lay there for a bit, whatever was going through his mind was...good. I considered if he was thinking about his father, their first mating, what that would be like? Two men, newly brought to the sexual place where men see each other as sex objects to be used but, in their case, as a father and son….now with one more thing they could do together. Sure as hell beat golf.

“Hey, stud, want me to walk you through this or ….I bet you can figure it out...ready? Lets do it doggie style, that’s going to be a little easier for you plus it gives you some of my tools to play with….”

That said I started up on my hands and knees, having prepared earlier, my ass was good and greasy with….that edible lube. Okay, I can defend using that shit; I wanted him to learn to eat out his partner and my icing what was there with, I gag when I think about it, Strawberries-it was even red-at least it might be easier for him. Of course, if I chose to clean his prick….oh well, I’d eaten a lot worse things.

Jesse was just one surprise after another. “Hey, you know, I saw a video of a guy being rammed by a Great Dane, kinda like this...doggie style.” Okay, I’ve seen those videos myself and even at gun point I am NOT going to be fucked or fuck an animal. Never. While this wasn’t the moment to tell him, he’d at least noticed the position which, I guess, was something helpful.

“Remember the position the guy was in? On top, your cock right at my ass hole? Okay now, what I want you to do is slowly move your body forward so you start to enter me, enjoy it, this is supposed to feel gooo…...Oh, yeah, I got your head just easy, slowly, lay on my back until you know you’re all the way in then rest, enjoy being in a man’s hole, your whole cock eaten by that consumer of men...only thing it’s going to want….to be fed. Easy, now, run it back and forth, don’t need to go too far, just so it makes you feel even more aroused, you’re the stud fucking the mare, it’s your sperm they want, just think about how good this feels...oh, yeah, eat that stud meat, chew it up, make it breed you…..get the juice flowing,…...C’mon Jesse, some good hard thrusts and you’re there…..”

I could feel the warmth of his man milk in me. He collapsed on my back, his sweat almost causing him to slide off.

“Pull that fucker out, I gotta eat it, slurp on it then stick my tongue up your ass….roll over…..oh yeah, you’re going to be a stallion, still got a hard pole, give it to me, I wanta eat my man…..” He clearly was into this for as I licked his cock slit, he spurted a nice little amount. Covered my cheeks. Grabbed him, had him lick his milk while I just licked him, played with his nuts...he was still really hot…

What he’d asked for, he’d now get. Pushed down, I straddled his thighs, working quickly to get my pecker back to full tension then with no subtlety stuck him like a pig, all the way in. This time he cried out….

“Now you’ve really lost your cherry….”

Working fast, I rabbit fucked him, almost to the point of coming, rolled off, seized his head, put his mouth at my cock. Didn’t have to tell him what to do. He grasped it all, pulling me deep...not even a small choke when I shot that last bit of jizz that’s always there….One hand was massaging my balls, the other-he remembered!-caught a tit, ran his nail into the side….and no doubts, we were having sex. Not only would Jesse never be a virgin again, he’d found something else he liked to do.

I hoped Andy and his Dad were having the same romp.

We lay there not quite wholly together but only too aware of the man next to each other. His hand was on my cock, one finger down to tease my nuts…..

“In the morning….will you do me again?”

I took him in my arms. “In the morning, afternoon, in the hot tub, on the coffee table but….deal…..you gotta do me. We’re gonna do a 69, soo relaxing, so good tasting but now….shower. Nothing like scrubbing someone you just fucked cuz...you know their body, they know yours...the warm water, the soap, just stand there, hold each other, think about...later...see, here’s what I know, sex with a man you like, never really ends, it just waits ‘til the next time. You never get completely soft when you think about sex or him, that’s how it is for me with my Dad, Andy and, I bet, you got a stallion coming for you, good thing is he’s going to find his own boy stud to match him…

I sent him ahead and-Jesus this was getting boring-stripped the bed and remade it….well, it would feel good for both of us….plus we had all tomorrow….I wondered how early I could call housekeeping? Jesse and dirty laundry….

The Jesse who met me in the shower was….waiting for me. Anxious to find something...new. He was wet, grabbed me immediately, wanted to be kissed, to kiss, to cup my nuts in his hand, squat down, put them in his mouth, look up, want me to...stroke him, give my approval, signal whatever I wanted..he wanted me to do it, desired it, welcomed it...But all I did was hold him and dump most of the bottle of mens soap on both of us. Something about foamy and slick and closeness...shame they can’t put beds in showers, great place to fuck.

He held me fondly, affectionately, his eyes closed.

“Jon..”

“Uhm?”

“Promise me you won’t do it.”

“Do what?”

“That thing my da…...I heard about, your father wants you to do. Please.”

I pulled him closer, stroked his back…. “I’m a big boy, I haven’t a clue what you mean or what you’ve heard...so...”

….. reached down, gave his balls a good squeeze and kissed his neck….