Tanglewood Entanglements

I had been dozing on the lounge bed by the pool under the Los Angeles sun when I came back to the present at the touch of her fingers, tracing the tan lines my Speedo created. The fingers glided across my lower belly and went to the creases at the top of my thighs that went into my groin. I had been dreaming of Edward Teng, who had liked tracing that line when we had sex. Thus, I could feel that I was hard.

I felt something else too. I was naked and I felt the thick bulb of the mammoth-sized dildo she liked to use with me, calling it “your man,” playing at my hole. She had told me it had been made to Edward’s specifications, but I didn’t know whether I should believe her or not. I couldn’t have given a reason why it couldn’t have been. She said they’d had it custom made in Los Angeles, where you could get any sort of toy you wanted.

She glided her fingers along my inner thighs, coaxing me to spread my legs—to bend them and place my feet flat on the surface of the lounge bed. A pillow went under my lower back, with me raising my pelvis at the sheer hint from her touch that this was what she wanted. I was the submissive even with Mei Fan. I gasped as she started screwing the dildo inside me, penetrating me to the hilt with the first slide, just as Edward had done, but my more immediate attention went to her mouth closing over my erection, sucking the bulb of my cock, raising and lowering her head so that her luxurious, thick black hair spread out over my belly and the tops of my thighs.

Sighing, I moved my hands to the back of her head and guided the blow job while she worked the thick, stretching dildo in my passage. Using the leverage of my feet, I raised and lowered my pelvis, rocking against her face as she sucked me off, and moving with the shaft filling me inside.

I turned my head toward the pool, where Gordon Chen was swimming laps. I had slept with them both the previous night, first with Mei Fan, where I lay between her legs, her legs wrapped around me, her heels rubbing on the meat of my calves to the rhythm of my thrusts, while I fucked her in gentle waves of rocking motion and fed on her generous breasts. Then, when I returned to my own room, there was Gordon Chen, the forty-five-year-old Chinese movie actor and operatic baritone, who Mei Fan had lured me to California to sing with in a TV musical show. We sang the baritone-tenor duet, “Dio che nell’alma infondere,” from Giuseppe Verdi’s opera, Don Carlos. I had always wanted to sing with Gordon and had been booked to do so at Tanglewood in 2013, but he’d been too ill to perform.

I’d always wanted to be fucked by Gordon too, as the robust Chinese actor had quite a reputation for covering young men in both the theater and on the opera stage. He was a handsome devil, hung, and, I was told, cruel.

He’d fucked me the previous night on my bed in my room. He’d brought a hand whip and had applied it to me, being an expert in what to do to sting but not to raise welts that lasted for a few more hours. He had lived up to his reputation for cruelty. It hadn’t been since that same summer at Tanglewood in 2013 that I’d had a lover that cruel—another Asian, at least half Asian—Chuck Brown, who had fucked me rough and lifted me to new heights.

Gordon had done me well too, whipping me and then putting me on hands and knees, covering me from above, and finger fucking me with his bunched fingers, nearly fisting me, before mounting me and taking me hard and vigorously. All the time he was singing to me in a mesmerizing baritone and I moaned and groaned for him.

Back in the present, my cock was throbbing and I thought I might come if Mei Fan continued sucking me as, she was, so I coaxed her face off my cock. She came up on the lounge bed and over me, her pendulous breasts hovering over my face, her nipples brushing my lips so that I opened my mouth and gave her suck. She settled her puffy labia on the bulb of my shaft, and lowered herself on me. She began languidly riding my cock as I grasped her full hips between my hands, spread her buttocks, and sucked on her nipples.

I felt the dildo being withdrawn from my ass, but only to be replaced by a thick, throbbing cock. Gordon had come out of the pool, dried himself, and straddled the lounge bed behind Mei Fan. He penetrated me deep and began a pace of thrusting that matched that of Mei Fan skewered on my cock. She was fucking herself on me and Gordon was fucking me behind her. His arms went around her torso and pulled her back up into his chest. One hand went to cupping a breast and the fingers of the other disappeared into the folds of her labia, found her clit, and rubbed her there. I moved both of my hands to her breasts, one on top of Gordon’s hand. I moved my pelvis with them, gently pushing up as she pushed down and Gordon pushed in.

Gordon moved his fingers from Mei Fan’s clit back into her folds and then onto a vein running up my shaft from the root. He rubbed me there and I gasped, cried out, and came.

Gordon pulled Mei Fan off me, but only to the side of the lounge bed. He bent her over, with her mouth going back to swallowing my cock, and penetrated her from behind, his hands going to her breasts and working them as he fucked her from behind.

I looked over to the pool where the pool boy had materialized and would have been skimming the surface of the pool to remove leaves with a long pole skimmer if he wasn’t preoccupied with watching Gordon fuck Mei Fan and Mei Fan suck me. He didn’t leave; he stood there on the other side of the pool and watched. He was young, but not underage. I had no doubt that Mei Fan and Gordon would be sharing him somehow, before the hot Los Angeles sun went down, Mei Fan with her magic lips and generous breasts and Gordon with his own long pole.

Maybe I’d be there two. Mei Fan had coaxed me to come to L.A. and let it all hang out. It was all hanging out.

* * * *

“The movie is doing really well,” Mei Fan said. We were in her living room, drinking martinis and waiting for Gordon Chen to join us to go to dinner. We could hear him upstairs, attending to business—or, rather, we could hear the pool boy getting a taste of Gordon’s specialties.

“So I understand,” I said. I knew what movie she was talking about. I don’t know what she’d done behind the scenes. but a movie called The Mysterious Edward Teng had come out before Christmas. It covered his escape from Communist China to Taiwan and his rise in the musical world to symphony conductor. It also briefly touched on his murder at Tanglewood in 2013. I’d seen the movie, of course. Nothing in it squared with what I knew about Edward Teng. But then there was so much about Edward Teng that I didn’t know—and so much more that Mei Fan wouldn’t want the public to know about Edward Teng. The movie certainly had sanitized the scene of the circumstances of his death, other than the film ending with a clothed male body floating face down in a swimming pool with a slick of blood radiating out from it. Even that was off, though, from what I knew. Edward had been naked when they found him in the pool at Munch Cottage.

One of the titillating aspects of the movie, which had aided the box office, was that Mei Fan, Teng’s wife, had managed to use veto power to the movie’s content in the form of being listed as both a producer and consultant. More titillating was that she insisted on taking on the role of herself in the movie. I had to admit she’d done a creditable job of that, though. She was, after all, a movie actress. Another interesting element, for me, at least, was that Gordon Chen played Edward Teng.

“In that vein,” Mei Fan said, “Tanglewood is doing a tribute concert to Edward this July.”

“Are they?”

“Yes, and that’s part of why I invited you to come out the L.A. and sing a duet with Gordon in a TV program.”

“Really?” I said. I had no idea what she was getting at. I still hadn’t decided whether Gordon was living with her here in her L.A. home—or just how close their relationship was. Gordon was a good actor, but I had no idea how he had landed the role of Edward in the movie. Mei Fan’s insistence, perhaps? There was no question that they were fucking. They had been fucking the night Edward died—I saw them. I’d managed to discover too that Gordon had fucked Rachel that night before going upstairs with Mei Fan. He’d come across the two having a bit of a go at each other in the Steinberg Cottage living room, he’d cut in and gotten them separated. Mei Fan had watched him fuck Rachel on the sofa and then he’d taken Mei Fan to a bedroom upstairs and fucked her there. I resented it when I found that Rachel was fucking everyone but her brother. But then I’d been fucking everyone, including her brother.

Rachel and I parted soon after the summer of 2013. I didn’t know where she was now nor did I care what she was doing. I knew she was singing in regional opera companies. I saw her name go by from time to time. I wasn’t doing much better myself. I doubted that Rachel thought of me anymore either.

“They want to do the same concert at Tanglewood that Edward conducted the night before he died. It’s set for Saturday, July 27th—exactly six years after the original concert. They want you to sing the ‘Pearl Fisher Duet’.”

“And Jacob?” I asked. That was significant to whether I had any interest in doing that, although any appearance at Tanglewood was a feather in one’s cap, but I hadn’t seen Jacob or talked to him since Tanglewood 2013, and I never hoped to. That duet was emotional and sensual. I didn’t know if I could get through it with Jacob again. I didn’t know how I would react or whether I could even get through the duet without breaking down.

“Jacob will be conducting. Edward can’t. He was Jacob’s mentor and Jacob is almost exclusively conducting now. So, they want the original baritone signed for the concert to sing the duet.”

“Gordon?”

“Of course, Gordon. Speaking of which, he should be here by now. Dinner will be getting cold. Could you go check on him?”

I found Gordon in his bedroom. He had the pool boy under him and he was strapping him and fucking him. The pool boy seemed to be having a good time. Later that night I was put in the pool boy’s position, and I had a good time too.

I agreed to sing with Gordon at Tanglewood on July 27th.