Ups and Downs

Hunks Galore

I had been wanting Ron’s ass from the moment I laid eyes on that delectable bubble butt in that enticing red jock strap, so when he threw that pillow at me, I seized the opportunity…and the straps of his jock.

Working together, Rafael and I flipped Ron over onto his belly, and while I grabbed his feet and dragged him to the edge of the bed, Rafael slid under him, wrapped his legs around his neck, and trapped him in a headlock, the perfect position for a face fuck. With Ron bent over the edge of the bed, his ass up in the air, I dived in and devoured his rosebud with my tongue. After several minutes, Rafael and I switched positions, Rafael eating him out and me cock-massaging his tonsils.

With my dick fully primed and Rafael’s begging for more, we swiveled Ron around so that his head fell back over the edge of the bed, where Rafael resumed gagging him with his plump man meat. At the same time, kneeling on the bed, I pulled Ron’s legs up over my shoulders, raising his ass up far enough to meet my invading pole. Rafael and I were positioned in such a way that we could lean forward and deep kiss as we fucked Ron at both ends. Periodically, I could even lean over farther and lick Rafael’s shaft as it pumped in and out of Ron’s mouth.

Ron squirmed and protested, but it was obvious that he was truly enjoying the spit-roasting as much as Rafael and I were, as evidenced by the fact that his own dick stood every bit as stiff as ours.

I grabbed Ron’s protesting cock and beat it to the rhythm of the pounding I was giving his ass. He tried to mumble something through the gag in his mouth, but I knew anyway what he was trying to say: “I’m coming; I’m coming.” I knew this not by his verbal frustrations but by the throbbing of his weary dick in my hand. Sure enough, he shot several streams over his head and onto Rafael’s lower belly and pubic region, the sight of which ignited my own eruption. I pulled out of Ron’s ass just in time to shoot my own volleys of cum over his head and onto Rafael’s belly as well. The stream of Ron’s juices merged with mine to form a river of cream flowing down Rafael’s belly and onto his dick, which pumped the jizz into Ron’s mouth.

Quickly, I leaned forward to lick up the spunk dribbling out of Ron’s mouth at precisely the moment that Rafael dumped his load into Ron’s mouth and across his face…and mine. As I continued to slurp up Ron’s baby batter and mine, Rafael bent over to lick his own cum off of my face. Then, Rafael and I swapped the cum cocktail back and forth before snowballing Ron until he finally managed to swallow most of what Rafael and I had not consumed.

“You guys are going to ruin your dinner,” came a voice from the open doorway.

“Nothing wrong with having dessert first,” quipped Rafael to the young man in the chef’s apron.

“I saved some for you, Kim,” gurgled Ron. The man known as Kim rushed over to swab Ron’s mouth with his tongue.

“Kim, meet our new recruit,” Rafael said to Kim as he rose up to greet me. “Joe, this is Kim.” When I offered my hand, Kim gripped it only to pull me toward him so he could sink his tongue into my mouth, sharing the cum confection with me. Naturally, I was stunned, but not at all displeased.

“Around here, we share,” he smirked.

“Fine with me,” I assured him.

“Good,” he replied, licking his lips as he focused on my dick, “because I’m looking forward to having you share that monster with me very soon.”

“How about right now?” I asked.

“I would love to,” he replied, “but I’ve got to prepare dinner, and besides, Woody sent me up here to tell these guys to hurry up and show you around before Mr. Block gets home ‘cuz he’s gonna want to meet with you before dinner.” Then, as he was walking out the door, he paused and added with a wink and a smile, “And I wanna meet with you after dinner.”

Before we headed downstairs, Rafael wanted to show me the room directly across from mine. It was not another bedroom, but a kind of den. “This is the staff lounge, or break room,” said Rafael, pointing out the kitchenette, a round table with four chairs, two sofas (one of which faced a large-screen TV), a game console, and a work table with hook-ups for laptops or other gadgets. “You can also bring your guests in here if you like.”

Back in the hallway, Rafael pointed to the opposite end. “Down there,” he said, “are two guest suites, including the one where I am staying temporarily, and a guest parlor.” Instead of leading us in that direction, however, he turned to a door right behind us, which led to a large observation deck populated with numerous patio chairs, tables, and lounges. “When we have large pool parties, sometimes the guys like to come up here to escape the noise and activity around the pool.”

“This is a nice place to work on your tan,” said Ron, “and a great place to scope out the eye candy below.”

Brushing aside Ron’s lusty obsessions, Rafael pointed out that the observation deck was also accessible from the balcony outside of my room.

Instead of retracing our steps back down the inside corridor, the guys led me down a spiral staircase to the ground floor and through a door that led us back into the house. The first room we came to down that corridor was a game room equipped with a pool table, a ping-pong table, a poker table, several pub tables and chairs, and a large bar, over which hung one of Rick Chris’s party scene paintings.

Walking back out into the corridor from the game room, I heard moans coming from the room across the hall. Naturally, I figured that someone was getting it on, and they were in a way, but not as I had expected. That room, it turned out, was a large home theater with a massive rear-projection screen and seating for 15 people. The moans and groans I had heard were coming mostly from the porn flick on the big screen, but some may have been coming from the two guys in the front row playing with themselves as they watched the screen action and the couple making out in the back row.

“That closet,” said Ron pointing to a door on the opposite wall, contains hundreds of videos, and the whole system is connected to that laptop (on a table up front) where you can download pretty much anything you wish.”

“Wednesday is movie night,” added Rafael. “Each week, a different member of the staff gets to pick a movie—anything he likes. Of course, you can use the theater any time you want. You just have to sign up for it.”

As we left the theater and headed for the patio, I made a mental note to return to the theater later and see if the guys jacking off were still there or if the couple in the back wanted to make it a threesome.

Continuing down the corridor back toward the foyer, we passed the family room, or great room, where four more guys stretched out on the leather recliners and overstuffed sofas to watch a game on the large-screen TV.

“As I am sure you understand,” explained Ron, “sometimes young gay men just need a place to hang out, a safe haven from the homophobes of the world. Mr. Block has a policy that he will never turn away a gay man who needs a place to escape for a few hours…or even a few days. Sometimes the youth shelter in the city gets full, and Mr. Block takes in the older teens and young men until a space opens up.”

“That’s how Woody got here,” Rafael chimed in. “As the story goes, Woody’s folks kicked him out when he was 15. Mr. Block found him wandering the streets homeless, but there was no shelter for LGBT youth at that time in San Diego, so Mr. Block took him to the apartment where he was living then. By the time Woody turned 18, Mr. Block expanded his outreach and looked for a larger place, and here we are.”

“Oh, and, by the way,” Ron interjected. “The boss still has that penthouse overlooking Balboa Park near Hillcrest, and he lets us use it sometimes…especially,” he whispered with a wink and a nudge of his elbow in my ribs, “when we go cruising the bars and hook up with some hot guy who is too horny to waste time driving all the way out here.”

“Oh, Ron,” scoffed Rafael. “Do you ever think about anything but sex?”

“Not if I can help it,” Ron gloated.

The great room connected to the sparking chef’s kitchen, where we found Kim busily preparing the evening’s feast, and beyond the kitchen we passed through a cocktail lounge with an indoor-outdoor bar where bartenders could serve guests inside the house or out on the patio, and that room led us back to the grand ballroom, which flowed seamlessly into the formal living room on the opposite side. We didn’t linger in either room, but it was impossible to miss the huge limestone fireplace in the living room with the original Henry Scott Tuke painting hanging over the mantel.

Back in the foyer, Rafael led the way down the corridor to another large room.

.“Oh, sorry, guys,” Ron said to the six young men rising from the large conference table as we entered the massive library. “We didn’t know you were in here.”

“No problem,” replied one of the handsome men. “We were just wrapping up,” he noted as they left the room and headed for the patio with laptops and books under their arms.

“My god! How many houseboys does Mr. Block have?” I asked incredulously.

“Oh, those are not members of the staff,” explained Rafael. “Mr. Block makes his conference room available to various LGBT organizations for board meetings and such as well as to students from colleges and universities in the area. Those guys were a study group from San Diego State University. I know most of them because that’s where I went to school.”

Floor-to-ceiling built-in mahogany bookcases overflowing with books on all sorts of topics and in several languages covered the library walls, and four pairs of overstuffed leather chairs with reading lamps between them anchored the corners. It was not difficult to image mature men in silk smoking jackets puffing on their pipes and discussing corporate takeovers from those high-back chairs while handsome young men in black-and-white waiter uniforms served them caviar and 100-year-old cognac. (Oh, did I neglect to mention the 3,000-bottle wine cellar downstairs from the cocktail lounge?)

At one end of the impressive library, an original George Quaintance canvas hung over a magnificent hand-carved fireplace, which stood like a guardian of knowledge over the entire space, and at the other end of the room a grand archway with double doors led to the mahogany-walled office nearly as large as the library, with a coffered ceiling and a large Navajo rug over a hardwood floor. An alcove on one side braced two doors, each leading to an executive suite—"one for Mr. Block and one for Woody,” said Ron. Hmm. Apparently, Woody is more than a mere houseboy.

“There’s no need to go in there right now,” claimed Rafael, “because Mr. Block will probably meet with you in there this evening.” Meeting in the boss’ executive suite, huh? I knew it: if I really want the job, I’ll have to audition for it in his bed.

 To be continued