The Notes

Saturday was a beautiful day as fall began to change the feel of everything. Even in downtown, you could see signs of change. The small plazas or parks had trees changing color and everyone seemed to be dressing a little warmer. The wind was drier, cooler, so strolling around the city was pleasant. Simon was now an official residence of downtown, having just moved into a condo in the center city. He had gotten settled in the past week and was now rediscovering downtown, finding those places he normally didn't pay attention when coming to and leaving his job with an accounting firm, or hanging out at night in one of the restaurants or bars. Now he was seeing what downtown offered during the day realizing how much he had available in just a short walk. He strolled up Davidson Street through the arts district and saw the main branch of the library. He had lived here since college, going on six years now, and had never set foot in the library, so he turned up the steps at its entrance and went inside.

He browsed the magazine section and wandered through different sections of books and the computer stations set up in different areas. He started to leave without really looking at any books, but decided he would see if anything caught his attention, and if so, he would check it out and head to one of the sidewalk cafes or coffee shops to relax. He browsed the fiction but was overwhelmed by the sheer volume so nothing stood out. He went into biography, then history and finally an art and architecture section. He browsed the titles, not recognizing most of the names. When he came to a book on ancient Greek art and architecture, he pulled it out, remembering how it was one part of world history he had enjoyed in college. He thumbed through a few pages when a piece of paper fell out. He picked it up and started to put it back into the book, but on a whim, opened it up. The first few lines shocked him, realizing it was a note someone was leaving anonymously to someone else. He carried the book and note to a reading table sitting as far away from everyone else as he could and began to read the note.

{I know what you want, what you desire. I've watched you so often, how you pretend you don't want it, that it is not who you are, but you know, deep down inside, you want it. Your cock gets erect when you think about it. When you think about taking my cock in your mouth, of letting it slide across your tongue, of filling your mouth, cutting off your air as your nose buries in my pubic hair so you can smell my masculinity.

One day soon, you'll realize I'm right; I'll be waiting. You'll strip for me, willingly, until you are naked, exposed, showing me your erection you can not contain. You'll get on your knees before me, open my pants and take out my cock. You'll run your shaking hand over its length, kiss it, lick it, and you'll take it in your mouth pushing down its length. You'll take me deeper than you thought possible, for you'll want it, want it more than anything you've ever wanted before. You'll suck my cock, suck it with desire and want and need. I'll hold your head in my hands and let you feel the power of my hips pushing in and pulling out of your mouth, let you feel the hard firm shaft and the smooth skin covering it slide over your tongue. Your body will be against my legs, feeling the masculine hair rub over your torso as you give service to my cock.

I won't hold back. I'll thrust myself into you until I cum. The first I'll push into your throat, the second I'll let coat your tongue, allowing you to taste me, then I'll push my cock through the hot slickness as I pump the last down your throat. When I'm satisfied, I'll pull out and you can savory what is in your mouth, run it over your tongue, swallow it, sating your secret desires.

Then I'll leave you, naked, fisting your own cock. I'll leave you unsatisfied, frustrated, wanting more. You'll dwell on this desire, this need, until next time.}

Simon was actually shaking when he closed the note and laid it on the table. He stared at it unbelieving how it affected him. He was straight, had only really sex with women. Sure there was the groping during a sleep over when he was young, and there were the times a roommate and he would watch each other masturbate in college, telling himself it was just a race to see who could get off first, who shot the most, to see what the other guy looked like with an erection. It never went further and he always pushed those other thoughts out of his head, going out to pick up someone or binge drinking with the guys. But now was different. He stuck the note in the book and returned it to the shelf where he found it.

He left the library and on his way home stopped at a sports bar. It was crowded and the televisions on every wall were showing a different college football game. He let the atmosphere push those thoughts out of his mind. He flirted with some of the women and he drank too much. It worked till he got home, then those thoughts came back. And what he had read in the note.

By Monday, he was obsessed with the note, on who could have written it, and who it was meant. He went to the library during his lunch hour and found that due to budget cuts it was now closed on Mondays. Checking the times he saw it was open till nine o'clock at night. He would come after work tomorrow.

Tuesday time stood still, or so it seemed. But at five o'clock he was walking straight to the library. He made his way to the art and architecture section and quickly found the book. No note. It was empty. Did the intended recipient retrieve the note, or was it removed by a staff person. He thumbed through the book twice, but it was empty.

That night he kept telling himself to forget it, it was silly to obsess over such a thing. But he lay in bed that night, his cock so hard it ached, as he thought about what the recipient could be doing right now. He could be servicing the writer's cock, sucking it, taking his load, swallowing it. Simon, stroking his cock, soon shot a large load across his chest and stomach, larger than he had done in a long time. The thick puddles slowly ran over his skin until he ran his fingers through it, smearing it over his chest and stomach. He brought his fingers to his nose and smelled it, his cum, and then he stuck out his tongue and tasted it, the salty bitterness of it. What was it like to eat someone's cum was the thought that freaked him out, made him get up and go shower.

Wednesday he kept saying he was going straight home but at five o'clock he was heading back to the library. One more time, he kept telling himself, just one more time. He pulled the book out and there was a note sticking out. He carried the book to a table against a wall, out of sight of most people, afraid they could look at him and know what he was thinking. Opening the book he saw the note was on a page showing a statue of Zeus and Ganymede. He pulled it out.

{Can you still taste me on your tongue?

Did you masturbate after I left or did you leave yourself aching for more?

Next time I won't ask twice for you to stripe. You'll do it without being told. You'll get down on your knees and beg me to let you have my cock, to let you take it out, to put it in your mouth. But I'll make you wait. I'll watch your cock get hard, flex up in anticipation of what you are about to do for me.

I'll blindfold you, put cuffs on each wrist, and you'll hold out your arms and allow it. I'll lead you over to the middle of the floor and make you get down on your hands and knees as I fasten the wrist cuffs to a ring set in the floor. You'll be mine, to do with as I please. I'll make you suck my cock, get it hard, wet, slick. I'll make you take it all the way, penetrating your throat, choking off your air and I'll feel you push into it, wanting it. I'll finger your opening, pour lube at the top of your ass and let it run down over your hole, over your balls. I'll smear it around making you feel dirty, slimed. I'll stroke your hard cock, pull on your balls till they are dark red, and I'll work your hole open. I'll use whatever I have handy to push into you, open you up, prepare you for what you really desire. Prepare you to take my cock.

I'll penetrate you forcibly all the way, letting you feel my body lean on you as my cock fills your insides. I'll push your head down, slap your ass till it is red and hot and your hole wants me to fuck it. I'll pull back and slam back in with urgency for you'll want it that way. I'll watch your ass move back to take me all the way as I push in; I'll listen to your grunts and moans, knowing they are for me. I'll fuck you as hard as I want, as fast as I desire, until I cum. I'll cum in you, deeply, pushing my hot seed into you.

When I'm finished, I'll untie you and leave you to get dressed and get out; my needs satisfied and you still wanting more. You'll want more; want to come back, to pleasure me.}

Simon was hard, so hard it ached. He had to adjust his cock so it could extend out to the side. He sat there thinking about what he'd just read and what it would be like for the guy who is receiving the note. How he is to submit to the writer. He raced home and striped in his living room, so frustrated, so horny to get off. He threw himself on his sofa and stroked his cock, smearing the wetness at the head over the shaft. Soon he was pumping his load over his body, smearing it with his fingers, letting it dry on his skin.

Thursday the note was gone and Friday he was anticipating a new note but the book was empty. He went back on Saturday and was pleased to see a note in the book.

{To our spy...did you get off? Did you run home to a boyfriend, or is it a girlfriend, and fuck? We know you read my notes for you are sloppy. You put them back in the book in the wrong place.

If you find this note, you are to take it with you. Leave the book empty, so I know you can't get enough. To know you want more. Do you want to suck my cock?

I think you really want my cock inside you, however I desire to penetrate you, make you feel me inside of you. I think you want a man to take you, control you, to let you fulfill your deepest desire.

I could be wrong, but I don't think so.}

Simon wadded up the note and stuffed it in his pants pockets, put the book back on the shelf and raced out of the library. It would be Tuesday before he could come back, but did he really want to, or was the question really did he have the guts to come back?

On Tuesday after work Simon finds himself at the library, going up the stairs to the floor for art and architecture. Soon he is holding the book, walking to a table, nervous, anxious, he is almost shaking. He lays the book on the table and opens it up. A note is stuck in the page of Zeus and Ganymede, exactly as before.

{You want it don't you? You're ready to give yourself to me. Are you ready to come to me, submissive, naked, down on your knees, ready to serve my needs? I'll let you suck my cock, let it slide over your tongue, and push into your throat. To let you feel me fill your mouth. I won't cum in your mouth. Not this time. This time you'll submit completely to me, for you'll lay on your back, hold your legs up, open, ass spread, hole exposed, wanting me to penetrate you. To fuck you. You'll beg for it, beg me to fuck you harder, to push in deeper, until you feel my body slam against you, letting you feel my fuck. It'll be exactly what you truly desire.

Thursday night.

10 pm.

Under the 277 by-pass at First Street. Outbound side.

A car will pick you up.}

Simon looked around to see if anyone was looking at him, seeing him sweat, shake with nervousness. He thought it had to be visible, his nervousness. He stuffed the note in his pants and left quickly.

Thursday night and Simon was standing under the overpass on the sidewalk. He had to park several blocks away and walk over. It was drizzling rain and cool for October. He was early and he paced back and forth under the protection of the bridge. A police cruiser came by and slowed, so he kept walking in one direction until it was gone. At ten o'clock he looked down the street at the light traffic. None of it seemed to be coming for him. Then he saw it. A black Mercedes sedan pulled out of a side street a few blocks up and came his way. There was something about its slow progress, the methodically way it approached. It came to a stop by him and the passenger side window lowered. The driver leaned over looking at him.

"Are you waiting per the instructions?"

"Uh...yes...yes I am."

"Get in the back."

Just like that Simon found himself in the back seat heading toward an old money neighborhood. The driver offered no conservation and for some reason this was better for Simon. The car turned down a drive of an old house in the Federal Style. The car pulled around to the rear, through a gate at the side of the house and stopped in the middle of the parking court. The back of the house had a large wing extending back, then a covered walk leading to a detached garage which had three garage doors and one regular door. The driver didn't turn, didn't turn off the engine, he just spoke calmly for the first time since he got in.

"You're to go through the door in the garage. Take off your clothes, fold them neatly and put them on the bench just inside the door. You're to wait in the first bay of the garage. There is no car in that bay and the only light on will be over it."

Simon hesitated, not believing he was actually considering going through with it; submitting to a man, submitting for his sexual pleasure. The driver waited patiently, aware of his hesitation, his fear of getting out and going in to the garage. Simon finally reached for the door handle and got out. He walked to the garage and went in. As he was told, the only light on was over the first bay of the garage. The entrance area was only about eight feet deep so there was a another room along the back corner. A bench sat along the wall. He looked across the garage and could make out an older Mercedes convertible and the shadow outline of a Jeep in the last bay. He took a deep breath and began to strip. Each garment he folded carefully and placed on the bench. When he was naked, he walked over to the empty garage bay and stood under the light. His cock began to thicken, to rise up, as he thought of what could happen. What was going to happen.

How long he stood there, naked, he didn't know, but he heard the door open and then he came in. Distinguished, tall, dark haired with some gray at the temples he was dressed casually in dress shirt and khakis. He walked up to the edge of the brightest circle of light. Simon stood waiting; then with nothing said, he dropped to his knees. The gentleman came over and stood in front of him, close enough to smell his cologne, close enough to see the weave of his wool pants. Simon reached up to undo the man's pants, hands shaking so bad he struggled to bring them together at the man's belt.

"Stop."

Simon stunned by the man's sudden command he jerked his hands back and looked up at him for the first time.

"You're really scared about doing this. This is not some role play for you. Get up off the floor."

Simon stood up, realizing he was taller than the man but his appearance, the way he carried himself made him seem larger than life. He gave Simon a smile that seemed to have a frown mixed with it.

"Follow me, I think we should talk a bit."

Simon followed him across the garage around the old Mercedes and Jeep to a door on the far wall. It led to the covered walk which led back to the house. Inside they went through a small mudroom into a large kitchen and den.

"Take a seat and I'll fix us a drink."

In a few minutes the man came around the sofa and handed Simon a straight whiskey. He sat in an arm chair to the side of the sofa, leaning back, relaxed, and sipped his whiskey. Simon finally settled back and began to drink slowly.

"I'm John, and your name is?"

"Simon."

"Simon. A name I've not heard in a long time. Nice name, Simon. I must apologize for letting you get caught up in a little game that I had going with a...shall we say friend? But why did you come if you're so nervous about it?"

Simon hesitated, unsure how to respond, then he started and it all came out. To this stranger, John, a man he has just meet in the strangest of circumstances, he told how he had only had sex with women, but how he had thought of sex with men often, but never allowing himself to really consider what it meant or what it entailed. He rambled on for a long time, until finally he said all he could and realized he was no longer nervous. No longer shaking with fear, but was now relaxed.

"So you desire to have sex with a man, but you fear what it could mean, or do you fear whether or not the sex will be pleasurable...or something else?" John asked.

"I don't know...well...maybe a little of both."

John laughed and set his empty glass down on a side table.

"It'll mean nothing more than what you want it to mean. So you seem to have bi-sexual tendencies, or could it be more than that? Could you prefer men over women and that bothers you? So what! You should live as you wish."

Simon nodded he understood.

"Listen Simon, you are attractive and seeing you naked just makes me want you even more, but I'll not force you, nor will I expect some role playing games from you. I'm going upstairs to my bedroom. The last door to the right from the top of stairs is my room. I'll be there if you want to come up. If not you'll find my driver is waiting in the garage with your things. You can leave at any time."

Simon sat for a while, thinking about John's offer. He thought about getting up and leaving and going back to his life, the way it was, the way it was suppose to be from everyone's expectations. Then he realized it was everyone else's expectations he was living his life around. He got up, sat his glass on the island of the kitchen and went through the doorway John had gone through earlier. The stairs were in the hall. Upstairs he made his way to the door and saw light coming from underneath it. He stood there for what seemed like a long time, but eventually he took a deep breath and knocked.

"It's open Simon." A calm casual voice responded.

He opened the door and found John sitting up in a large bed with layers of blankets folded back. John had a sheet pulled up to his waist but his chest was exposed. He appeared to be early forties but his body was well toned, firm and smooth. He obviously took very good care of himself. The only light was a lamp on the nightstand, which John changed to a dimmer setting.

"Simon, come."

Simon moved to the bed as John turned to a sitting position on the side of the bed. John reached out and pulled Simon up close, between his legs. He ran his hands over Simon's chest and stomach, around his waist and over the cheeks of his ass. He rubbed over his cock and balls, held them up and leaned over and began to mouth them, licking his balls, tonguing over his cock, taking it in his warm wet mouth. Simon began to respond quickly, his cock growing erect as John's mouth moved over it. Simon looked down and watched his cock slide in and out of John's mouth, coming out wet, glistening in the dim light. He saw John's own cock as he was stroking it slowly. Simon watched his hand move up and back down, he looked at the dark head and knew he wanted it, wanted to do to John what he was doing to him. He pulled back and eased down on his knees. He looked up at John who leaned forward and kissed him. Softly, tenderly he kissed him on the mouth, then he leaned back, his cock flexing up, its curve letting it arc back to his stomach. Simon leaned over, picking it up with one hand, he touched his mouth to it, and then he put his tongue to the head and tasted it, the sweetness of the pre-cum, the way the slick head felt on his tongue. He pushed down, taking it in his mouth, feeling it slide over his tongue and push to his throat. Simon liked the way John's cock felt in his mouth, they way it filled the void, slid over his tongue as it pushed through his lips. He liked being down on his knees, taking a cock, John's cock, in his mouth. John ran his hands through Simon's hair feeling his head move on his cock.

"Simon, get on the bed" John whispered, barely audible, but breaking Simon out of his trance, his blind lust as he was working John's cock in his mouth. Simon got up and on the bed. John pushed him over on his stomach, running his hands over the curve of his back and the rise of his ass. He spread his cheeks and leaned in, pushing his face into Simon, running his tongue up the cleft of his ass, over his opening. Simon had never felt anything so good, so forbidden. He grabbed handfuls of sheet and arced up to John, pushing his ass back to him, opening himself up more. John probed him, made him wet, as he tongued him. He would push his wet tongue into Simon, feeling him respond. He ran his fingers over his balls and cock that were lying smashed against the bed. Simon's cock was red and wet, and John smeared it over the head, teasingly, slowly, before he lightly traced the line from his balls up to his opening. John rubbed it, pushed against it, then he penetrated Simon, pushed one finger into him, slowly, all the way. He twisted it around, moved it in the hotness of Simon's insides. He pulled back and pushed two fingers into Simon. Simon bucked up and pushed back as he grunted and groaned into the pillow his face was buried. Simon rose up, turned to look at John opening him up.

"Fuck me" was all he said as he lay back, pushing his ass back onto the fingers twisting around in him. John slid up beside him, as he pulled his fingers out and then pushed them back in, fucking them through the ring of Simon's opening. He kissed his way up Simon's back, following the curve of his spin, the broadness of his shoulder blades, the smoothness of his neck and along the hairline. He lightly nibbled at Simon's ear, tongued it, ran his tongue down to his neck as he shifted position, got up between Simon's legs, pushing them further apart.

Simon felt it, the round head of the cock that was going to penetrate him for the first time, that was going to sink into him, to fuck him. To fuck with a man, to take his cock, to feel him inside; he wanted it. He pushed back as John pushed forward, spreading him open, penetrating, stretching him tight, hurting slightly.

"Oh, FUCK, John, fuck" Simon roared as John slid into him, pushed inward, filling him with cock. John held himself up over Simon's body, watching the tension vibrate his skin, the sheen of it as he began to sweat. He watched his cock emerge from Simon as he pulled his hips back and he watched it sink in, all the way, till his hips slapped against Simon's ass. Simon grunted every time he pushed into him, until his pace quickened, slamming his cock through his insides, hammering away at him, shoving his cock into the hot slick depth of him. The bed creaked and shook as John worked his cock forcibly through Simon's insides. John dropped down on Simon's sweaty back and felt his heat, felt the slickness of his skin as he slid over him, as he fucked his cock into him, pushing himself hard. He grabbed Simon's balled up fist and held him down as he thrust his cock into him, over and over he pushed it through Simon until he couldn't take it any more. He shoved in hard and begun to come, pushed all the way in he shot deep into him, and as he pulled back, he coated his insides, slicking them up. He kept stroking his cock slowing down slower and slower until finally spent he fell still.

Their breathing was hard, almost gasping for air, but after a while they settled back down, and John eased over to Simon's side. They kissed casually, relaxed as they ran their hands over each other. John ran his hand down and gripped Simon's erection, feeling it swell in his tight grasp. He stroked it slowly, until the head was wet, and the whole an angry red. John eased up over Simon, held up Simon's cock and eased himself down on it. Simon watched his cock disappear into John. Watched as his cock slid from view into the hot depths of John. John began to move up and down, working the ring of his opening over the length of Simon's shaft, feeling it stretch him open, enjoying the penetration, the pushing up in him, the probing into his depths. He worked himself into a faster and faster pace, working his ass over Simon's cock as Simon rubbed his thighs, his sides up to his chest, and down to his cock that was getting hard again, bouncing off Simon's stomach every time he came down hard. Sweat made his skin glisten in the dim light.

Simon sat up, wrapped his arms around John, pulled him down and close, feeling his hot sweaty skin, his hard breathing. He kissed him on the neck, ran his tongue over the salty skin. He rolled him over, and between his outstretched legs he penetrated him again, all the way, pushing in as far as he could, and he began to fuck. Fuck a rhythm, a pace he rarely did with any of the women he had been with in the past. He fucked hard, he held John down and he pushed against him, feeling his own heat, his desire, push him, drive him to thrust his cock into John, shove it into him. He sweated and grunted as his hips thrusts through the rhythm of his fuck. John held on to him, begged him to fuck him harder, to push himself harder, to drive his cock as deeply as he could and fill him. John wrapped his arms around Simon's neck and pulled him to him, kissing him, mouth and tongue dueling, moving over skin, whispering into his ear to fuck him, to fuck harder.

Simon shoved in hard and shot the first deeply, as he pulled back the second coated his path and on the third he slid his cock through the hot slick insides of John and pumped more into him. He thrust his cock through it until he was spent, and he kept pushing and pulling it through his load, through John's warmth, until his exhaustion brought him to a stop.

He lay next to John for a while, eyes closed but not asleep. John ran his hand through Simon's hair and then down his back and sides, feeling how relaxed he'd become.

"Simon, I know you need to go to work tomorrow and my driver can take you home now if you want, but I'd like you to stay till the morning."

"I'd like that" Simon replied as he snuggled up next to John and settled down for the night.