He was one of those people that live at the fringes of your life. Liked and valued, but within a certain and very limited scope. He owned my favorite restaurant, a chic little place that sucked out a large chunk of my paycheck as I tried to pamper a lover I was doomed to lose to someone with a larger paycheck. I went to the restaurant to drink a hell of a lot of expensive wine the night I realized I was single, and tried to sort out a lot of feelings. Like relief. Profound, almost ecstatic relief. Anger, too. At myself, that it took this long. A deep desire never to attend the symphony again for the rest of my fucking life. I got plowed. This was so far beyond drunk it was impressive. Victor was a good man, and I was a good customer, so rather than call the cops, he took me home with him.

When I came to the next morning, I became intimately acquainted with Victor's bathroom. Very intimately acquainted. I have a dim memory of Victor himself, urging aspirin and water on me before I collapsed back into the comfortable bed and passed out again. Later that night, I morphed back into a human being. Sort of. I followed the sound of music and was assailed by the smell of cooking food. My stomach indicated that it now thought food was a good thing, so I kept walking. I found the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. It was Victor, but it wasn't. The Victor I knew was a severe, formal man, who dressed exclusively in dark, three-piece suits. Before me was a version of that, only this version had careless hair and wore a baggy Packers T-shirt and ratty shorts. He examined something in the pot on the stove with a critical eye, then turned and grinned at me. 'I'll cancel the coroner,' he said. 'I think you're alive.' I stared at him. Gaped at him, actually. His grin widened. 'Yes,' he said, chuckling. 'It's me. It's really me. Or perhaps, the real me is more appropriate.'

He settled me on a stool at the counter and gave me coffee. Incredible coffee. I just sat and inhaled it for a few minutes before I started to sip. I watched him as he did cooking things, wondering when and where he had acquired that to-die-for ass and the heart attack smile. I got pissed off at my ex-lover all over again. Every time I'd been in the restaurant, I'd been so focused on pleasing him that I didn't notice...anything else. Victor bent to look in the oven and the shorts pulled tightly across his ass and I nearly choked on my coffee. He was barefooted and had long, dancer's legs. My cock shot to attention, and I stared down at it ruefully. I looked up to see Victor watching me. He smiled, glanced into my lap, and said 'oh, yes. You're definitely going to live.' I stared back at him, then smiled slowly. 'You're going to live, too, apparently,' I murmured. He grinned. 'Oh, yes. Finally.'

We went at each other like two adolescents who had just discovered that really good thing that you could do with a hard cock. We hit the floor in a tangle of tongues, limbs and cast-off clothing, kissed each other hungrily then slid into a hot, nasty 69.We sucked each other's cocks with naked lust until we had formed one writhing, aroused mass. We came at about the same time, and ended up nearly choking to death on the flood of cum that erupted. We managed to figure out which leg belonged to whom and got untangled. He leaped up suddenly, saying something about a sauce. I stayed on the floor and sipped the red wine he handed down to me and admired his body. A lean, taut dancer's body. Or a gymnast. 'High metabolism,' he said without turning. 'That's good, because I eat constantly.' I blushed. 'You knew I was staring at you.' He pointed at the polished steel refrigerator door. 'I'm staring at you, too,' he said, laughter in his voice. 'I'm just being subtle about it.'

He fed me an extraordinary meal, then I did the dishes while he sat on a stool, still naked, and told me things. Lots of things. Some big, some little, all fascinating. I had the kitchen reasonably put back together and my dinner sufficiently digested to give my cock the freedom it needed to sit up and beg for attention, which it did. Victor stared at it, eyes gleaming. He licked his lips, eased off the stool and went to his knees. He started nibbling on my feet and worked his way up my legs. By the time his tongue flicked across the head of my cock I was shaking and oozing precum. He closed his eyes, braced his hands against my knees and slid his mouth down the length of my shaft, his lips tightening at the base. I gaped down at him. I could feel the top of his throat. He just kept sliding his mouth up and down, and each time the swollen head of my cock felt how incredibly deep he took me. I spread my feet, balanced my weight and gripped the counters for support. I felt as if my knees would buckle. I stared down at him, wondering if he'd always been that beautiful and how the hell could I have failed to notice. He sucked me with total concentration. My cock felt huge, swollen beyond its limits, sliding in and out of his hot, wet, tight mouth. My balls were full and ready to erupt, but I gripped the counters tighter and held on. I wanted this to last. Forever if possible. His eyes snapped open and he stared up at me. The dark eyes spoke warm, tender volumes and they sent me over the edge. I started to cum helplessly, pulsing long, hot streams into him, which he swallowed greedily and continued to suck. I finally had to beg him to stop. My cock was so sensitive a breeze would have driven me insane. Victor's talented mouth nearly killed me. He helped me to the bedroom and dumped me in his bed, then crawled in next to me. I wrapped arms and legs around him and held on as the room spun.

I said something that sounded like a long string of consonants with no vowels. 'Yes, yes,' Victor murmured patiently, stroking my arm. I tried it again after the room stopped spinning. 'I'm going to fuck you until you are weak and helpless.' And, after that testosterone-dripped line, I passed out and slept. When I woke up, I followed the cooking smells to find him. He was just putting something in the oven and setting the timer for an hour. I grinned. That should do it. I walked up behind him quietly, grabbed him around the waist with one arm and clapped a hand over his mouth. I stared at our reflections in the shiny refrigerator door. 'Did you think you could just take ownership of me, body and soul?' I growled. 'Did you think you could just explode into my heart and ruin me for other men?' With laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes, he nodded. I buried my face in his neck to try and hide my own laughter, but my body was shaking too much. I raised my head, grinned at him then tongued his ear. 'Payback time, you bastard,' I said, and dragged him back to the bedroom.

I threw him on the bed and mounted him, pinning his wrists down beside his head. 'Mine,' I snapped, and took his mouth with my tongue, thrusting it in deep, sucking his tongue hard as he thrust it back at me. I slid my mouth off his, down over his jaw to his neck, and nibbled and sucked the skin. He moaned and threw his head back to give me complete access to his throat. I covered it with little nips and licks as he trembled. I licked my way down his chest to his nipples, and teased them both with light touches of my tongue. He whimpered at me, arching his back, trying to thrust an erect nipple in my mouth. His whimpers were becoming desperate when I finally fastened my mouth on his left nipple and sucked hard. He gasped, and I felt his rigid cock hit my abdomen. He was dripping precum. I worked on both nipples until they were scarlet bullets on his chest, then took his hands and ordered him to pinch and twist them while I watched. He performed for me, driving himself into an orgy of lust. His eyes burned at me. I grinned, moved my body back and lowered my mouth to his cock. I stopped and let my face hover over his groin, my mouth open. He howled and thrust up with his hips. I kept moving my mouth every time he hit me with his cock, and he nearly went mad. Finally, I dropped my lips down around his swollen, purple cockhead and sucked hard. He yowled, back arching, limbs twitching. I gave his cock the best I had, licking and sucking him, relaxing my throat to slide him all the way in and lock my lips around the base, sliding the thick shaft out again with just a hint of teeth. When I discovered how much that effected him, I let my lower jaw bounce and 'chattered' up and down his cock, turning myself so that every inch of his throbbing and helpless cock felt my teeth. I chewed on his spongy head with my front teeth, nipping him gradually harder and harder. His eyes had glazed over and his mouth was frozen open in a helpless moan.

I turned him over roughly and yanked on his hips to put his sweet ass in the air. He buried his face in his arms, shoulders down and fought for some kind of control. He couldn't find any. When I bit his left ass cheek and sucked the flesh in, branding him as mine, he let go and screamed. 'Oh, do it! Do it to me hard!' I covered his ass with love bites, rough biting/sucking movements of my mouth that were demanding and possessive. I reached between his legs and grabbed his balls and tightened my fingers around them enough to hold him motionless. 'Mine,' I said again. I had been reduced to one word, but that one word was more than enough. I slid my tongue up the crack of his ass. Every time Victor thrust back at me I squeezed his balls to hold him motionless. Finally he was on all fours vibrating from his effort not to move. I let go of his balls and spread his ass cheeks apart with my thumbs. I licked my way around the hole, not touching it, and Victor stayed motionless, in agony, wanting my tongue in his ass so badly he could barely breathe. When I decided he waited enough, I gave him what he wanted as hard and deep as I could.

His head went down and his hands came back to grab his cheeks and spread them wide open for me. His fingernails and knuckles were white with the effort of stretching himself. I buried my face in his ass and fucked his tight hole with my tongue. I exhaled sharply and vibrated my lips against his pucker, and had to help Victor back up to his knees. That sensation had caused his arms and legs to collapse. I made him reach out and get the lubricant to hand back to me. He got it on the third try. I slicked a finger and just impaled him with it, fucking his hole hard and deep. The only sound he could make was an unstable wavering cry. He'd lost control of his balance and sense of direction. Nobody had ever wanted my cock as much as Victor wanted it. As soon as I thought he could possibly take the pounding I was going to give him, I squeezed the tube all over my cock, gave it a fast couple of strokes, lined it up with his hole and thrust my hips forward. Victor went face first into the pillow, his tight ass slamming back against me.

I grabbed his hips and fucked him. Hard. Fast. With an odd kind of fury. I held on to him and pounded my hips against him so hard my own teeth were rattling. I glanced down at him once, to see him balanced on clenched fists, his face scarlet, eyes huge, mouth open and gasping. My balls felt as if they would just explode as the full, heavy sack banged into him. I clenched my ass muscles, wanting to ride him for as long as I possibly could...or longer. He clenched his ring around my swollen shaft, and the pain was glorious. He was so damned tight. So unbelievably fucking tight. His ass was going to milk my cock, I knew that, but I was going to fuck him limp first. It became an odd sort of duel...who would explode first. In the end, an end that came when both our bodies were starting to protest and weaken, it was a tie. Two winners. We started to scream vicious obscenities at each other simultaneously as our cocks just erupted. My orgasm was so damned intense I actually put up a shaking hand to make sure the top of my skull was still there. There was hot cum everywhere. I pulled out of Victor's ass gently when I realized his babbling was a request for my huge fucking cock to exit his hole. I pulled him close and held him, then was a sport and got up and pulled whatever it was out of the oven when the timer shrilled. Victor remained out for hours.

I'm still at the restaurant a lot, though my status has changed. I'm no longer a valued customer. I'm the owner's lover, which means I get to wander around the kitchen with my hands in my pockets and taste everything. When my ex came in with his new, very rich love, I bought them the most expensive dinner, complete with the finest wine. I mean, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have Victor. And Victor is all that matters.


Morgan Grayson

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